"Run."
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She jumps ditches, ducks branches, the basket in hand. She knows what she has to do.
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"Take him, girl. Take him to where he'll never be found."
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The basket swings, striking a root. The trees call her on.
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"You've brought shame on our family. Shame on this house."
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Her throat burns. Everyone turns their backs. She's invisible. The invisible girl.
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"And I tell you, if I ever see his face..."
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She pants for breath, her heart racing.
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"If I ever see his hair..."
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She reaches the river, screeching to a halt.
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"If I ever hear his voice..."
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The basket swings. A baby's cries fill the night.
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"If I even hear his name..."
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The basket falls. The letter falls with it. The crying intensifies, and she turns away, shaking.
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"You'll be sorry."
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~~o00o~~
(Prologue)
~~o00o~~
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It would be fair to say the Montague family stretches back a long way.
They've never moved much, every generation inhabiting the same old townhouses along Montague Street. There's a classic family debate, whether they were named after the street or the street after them. It's the hot topic of most family gatherings, especially ones with copious amounts of alcohol.
In the Montague family, everyone chips in. The family trade is construction, building properties, fences, and sewers. It's a simple life, waking, building, sleeping and living. For what else is there? It's just the way it's always been, easy, slow-paced, a familiar lifestyle.
Nothing special has ever come of the Montagues.
At first, George Montague was no different. Having grown up alongside his brother Gerardo, he'd long since aimed to continue the tradition of construction. His aunts and uncles hadn't had children, so the onus was on him, after all. You've got such strong hands, his mother always enthused. You're so strong!
These truths filled George with confidence. Strength and power had always been a family trait, but he'd inherited them particularly well. After all, any builder needs strength to lift the bricks day by day, any builder needs power to lay stones. George was quite proud of the muscles he'd built while constructing, and that's what led him to compete in the First Annual Onett Weightlifting Championships at just 18 years old.
Now, in those days, the Onetian sporting industry was just up and coming. Many were starting to realise that sport was exciting to watch (it certainly beat public execution) and for the 'masculine' men, it provided a healthy alternative to the theatre. Organised sporting events saw a major boom throughout the Industrial Revolution and brought major opportunities for profit, which is why Mayor Carpainter (who later went mad and formed a cult, but that's another story) commissioned a strength contest. It would be a spectacle for the ages, he said.
It certainly was. This was the first time that anyone in the Montague family had done anything exciting, so naturally, the whole family piled into the Topolla Theatre to watch. It was to be a gradual match, the weights would increase throughout, and contestants were to tap out when it became too much. According to the Chair of the Weightlifting Committee, the last one standing would win a mystery prize.
The competition was difficult, but George won, to his family's delight. The prize was marriage to Electra, the Chair's dashingly beautiful daughter. George gladly accepted the offer (he'd never been a great courtsman, after all) and the pair were happily married within a month.
Fast forward thirteen years.
Everything was wonderful. George had inherited the construction business following his Father's death, and Electra had scored a job as a maid to the up-and-coming politician Geldegarde Montolini. Money was coming in fast, and the happy couple were even planning to move into one of the big suburban bungalows to relish in their good fortune. But the icing on the cake was when George entered the Onett lottery, winning the £100 jackpot.
It was perfect. That was just enough money to finalise the move, with a little bit extra for a celebratory meal. George had the idea of a picnic, perhaps in the Western Forest, which Electra strongly agreed with. And so, they roasted a lamb, cut it up, baked some fresh bread, bought some tomatoes from the local market, and loaded it all up in a hamper.
"This was a fantastic idea," Electra glowed, taking George's hand. "Simply fantastic."
George smiled as he took in the pleasant scenery. Fresh April flowers bloomed from all corners, bright rays of sunshine dazzling from above. Dew shimmered like diamonds on the wildflowers, mesmerisingly beautiful.
"It really is splendid," he said. "It's nice to have some peace from all the construction."
"And Geldegarde's orders," Electra added, softly laughing. "You know, I might quit that job. See if there's something else I can do."
"You reckon?" George smiled at her, loving the twinkle in her eyes. "You know, that might not be such a bad idea. We're moving up in the world, my dear."
Electra laughed, her hair flowing back. To George, she was the most beautiful woman on earth. She was perfect, even. He swung her hand, looking for the perfect place to start their picnic.
But Electra stopped. "Hey, George. What's that?"
George squinted, looking to where she pointed. There, by a tree, was something that looked wholly unnatural. Could it be a fallen branch? But no, it was too small for that. Electra approached it, George followed, and soon became apparent what it was.
A basket.
"There's a baby in there!" Electra realised with a gasp. She quickly lifted the poor thing into her arms, maternal instincts taking over at once. It looked sickly, as if it had been there for some time.
"By God," George murmured. "Whatever is that doing here?"
"You don't think he was abandoned, do you?" Electra rocked the baby, which was beginning to squirm. "You don't think he was left here to die?"
George looked closer at it. The baby seemed perfectly happy, but hungry, trying to grab for Electra's nose. It produced an agitated gurgling noise, and Electra patted his head.
"We can't leave him here," she decided. "It's not right."
"But wherever can he go?" George asked. "The orphanage is full, and you know what happens in the workhouses."
"If you agree, he could come with us," Electra said. "We've been trying for a child for so long... what if this is fate?"
"Fate?" George didn't believe in such things. "Electra, this child could be diseased, he could be cursed, he could even be Jason's," he said, dropping his voice down. "Do we really want Jason's genes in the family?"
The baby made another noise at this, flapping his arm toward George's face.
"What else can we do?" Electra asked. "Who else would come across him? It's a real stroke of luck that we did, I say. Besides, I feel it. I feel like he's the one for us."
But George noticed something else, a scroll of paper sticking out from the basket. "What's this?"
"I think it's a letter," Electra said. George picked it up, unfurling it. "It must be from whoever left him," Electra said, bobbing the baby up and down. "Go on, read it out."
George cleared his throat. "If you find him, you have a choice. You can take him, or, or..." He looked up.
"Or?" Electra said.
"...or you can kill him. There's more," George said hastily, scanning the page. His brow scrunched as he tried to decipher the messy handwriting. It looked rushed, like whoever wrote it was in a hurry.
"What does it say?" Electra asked, sounding worried. George looked up, his eyes meeting hers.
"It says his name is Toon Link."
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~~o00o~~
Chapter 42: Conversation of Two
(Toon Link)
~~o00o~~
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Life update: I'm standing by a river in my underwear, in the middle of a dark and mysterious forest, with nobody for company but my long-term crush.
In other words, all my fantasies are coming to life at once.
How did I get here? Well, Villager and I left the train pretty swiftly, and despite the pressing threat of inevitable doom, we made our way through the trees. A restless night's sleep led us into a frankly terrible breakfast of old vegetables, and then we agreed to begin our search for Ness and Lucas.
Unfortunately, I'm easily distracted.
The river rushes below our feet. It looks very wet, and very cold.
"I bet you won't jump first," I say. Villager grins at me.
"I bet you're scared."
"Scared? I'm not scared of anything!"
"Except mechanical monsters that used to be people," Villager says. "And Porky, Crazy Hand... Red being controlled by a chip on his neck..."
I roll my eyes. "Anyone normal would be scared of all that. We nearly died, like, a hundred times."
"It's all crazy," Villager says, shaking his head. "You fought well against those Future Humans, though. If it weren't for that, we'd be finished."
"Oh yeah?" I grin. "In that case, I'll be sure to remind you of that for the rest of your life. The Great Toon Link, slayer of cyborgs. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
"Here's what I think," Villager says, and just like that, he pushes me into the river. I emit a spectacular splash, shrieking, pondweed and mud covering me from head to toe.
"You - You traitor!"
He jumps in after me, laughing. "You're the traitor! You're the one who snored all night!"
I laugh too, grappling at him. This is how it always seems to be with Villager. We edge toward deep topics, but within seconds, we're back to goofing off. While it's kind of great to have someone who appreciates my chaos, I suppose I wouldn't mind being serious now and again. I mean, the guy's an enigma. He spends all his energy caring about other people, and then hardly says anything about himself.
"Y'know, I'm really worried about Ness and Lucas," Villager says, surfacing with a pondweed moustache. "What does Porky want with them? What's his plan?"
"Cause as much suffering as possible? Bring death to the entire world?" I swipe Villager's moustache away, laughing. "He probably got rejected from Art school, and is taking it out on the world."
"That's... a little overdramatic."
"I'm a homosexual theatre kid, what do you expect?" I splash him again. "You know, about Ness and Lucas, if they don't get together this week, then I'll be fuming."
"All alone in the forest, nobody but each other for company..." Villager laughs. "It's just a shame Lucas is the most oblivious person ever. They're basically made for each other, come on. Can't he see that?"
"Says you," I say, poking him. "You're still yet to appreciate my full glory."
"Yeah, because all this is a mess," Villager says, suddenly looking pained. "I don't know what I am, remember?" He lies down flat on the water, spreading his limbs. It's quite a view.
"Excuses, excuses," I say, copying him. "But for real, I'm here for you if things get too hard. Sexuality's crazy, and I'm kind of an expert in it these days. Trust me, trying to deal with this chaos alone? It's a surefire path to depression. Would not recommend."
"Aw..." Villager looks appreciatively at me and I feel that fuzzy feeling again. Godammit.
"How do you think Red and Pit are doing?" I ask, deciding to change the subject before I pop a boner from his fucking expression.
"Uh, I'm not sure..." His eyebrows scrunch together with concern. "Pit's hopefully looking after Red, but God knows. I'm surprised Red was even allowed to do this week, given the state he was in. You gonna swim, by the way, or just lie there?"
"Yeah, I'll swim," I say, rolling my eyes, turning onto my front. "But, agh, I still can't believe Red was under Porky's control. Is that even possible?"
"Apparently," Villager murmurs. "Porky's got a lot of impossible power, by the looks of it. And what was that about him following you around as kids?"
I gulp. "He was a massive creep, basically. He kept showing up and offering us ice cream, or asking if he could join our games. We were all kind of weirded out at the time, but looking back it's just... fucked."
"It sounds it," Villager says. "I wonder what Ness did to rile him up so bad?"
"He took too long to ask Lucas out," I say. "It's a cunning ruse, you see. Porky created a load of tension and disaster, drawing them closer together. And everyone knows the protagonists end up kissing."
"Oh, they're the protagonists, are they? What are we then, side characters?"
"Comic relief?" I suggest. Villager throws pondweed at my face.
"Way to underplay our true value."
"Nah, think about it," I say. "The Adventures Of Ness and Lucas. Ness and Lucas would be the tragic, will-they-won't-they protagonists, and we'd be the funny sidekicks who end up as everyone's favourites."
"One of which who dies at the end," Villager says. "Shotgun not me."
I laugh. "As if we'd die at the end. We're not important enough for that, come on."
"Not important?" Villager splashes me. "We're all in this together, remember? Or were you planning on hiding when we get to New Pork City?"
"Ness and Lucas are the ones with powers," I remind him. "Bravery's fun, but I am inclined to self-preservation. We have about a 99% chance of being slaughtered."
"Not if we don't tempt fate," Villager says. "Just don't say things like what could go wrong, or this is easy."
"...And don't confess your undying love for me before a big battle."
Villager dunks me, laughing.
We haul ourselves onto the bank a little while later, dripping wet and shiny. I lie on the grass, hoping to be dried by the non-existent sun, and Villager lies next to me, kind of just smiling. He looks peaceful. He deserves some peace, I think, especially after these last few days. Not only did we nearly die, but he's dealt with Red's shenanigans, a million people being homophobic, and he even dressed up as a girl with me, which I still can't quite believe.
His smile makes me want to move a little closer, perhaps to snuggle up to him, but I know I can't, not unsolicited. Villager might not mind a hug or two, or a few jokes about my crush on him, but cuddles? Yeah, he might not be so keen. Which is fine, but... still. This crush is becoming a little crazy. It's mixing with all my thoughts about who the hell I am (which is still a bit of a mess) and whenever Villager is around, I keep thinking about kissing him. Not that I know how kissing him would be, but… agh. I've imagined it, probably way too much.
"I'm cold," Villager complains. "We should've thought about this. Entering a river in winter? Pretty terrible idea."
"We should've skinny dipped," I say, shrugging. "If only we had more body confidence."
Villager splutters at that, his cheeks glowing a rosy red. I laugh. He's so fun to mess with.
"So, what's the plan?" I ask, water dripping everywhere as I sit up. "We can't just walk through the forest like this. Perhaps we'll have to huddle for warmth."
"You're such a pervert," Villager sighs. "Perhaps I'm not into huddling with scrawny, blonde gits."
"Hey!" I exclaim, deeply offended. "It's all muscle, this! Whatever do you mean?"
"Keep telling yourself that."
"You're mean," I whine.
"I am indeed."
"...It's less fun when you admit it."
"Too bad," Villager says, sitting up. "We're not here to have fun. We're here to stop a ruthless villain."
I roll my eyes. "Porky can wait."
"Sure, let's wait for him to kill millions."
"Fine," I say, though I still sigh, sure to give him my biggest eye roll. "Let's get dressed. Our underwear will dry as we walk, I guess. We'll just have to look like we pissed ourselves for a while."
"Fashionable," Villager deadpans, but he scoops up his clothes from the ground. "I'll go behind that oak tree, you behind that bush?"
When we're both all dressed up and fabulous, we reconvene by the river. Villager gives a nod, and I give an awkward one back. Now that we're setting off, I suppose there's a real sense that this is really happening. There's no more time to stall, no more time to be two stupid teenagers messing around in the woods. We're going to find Ness and Lucas, find Pit and Red, and begin our journey into the grand city of Onett. After that, New Pork City. After that? I don't know. Hopefully, Villager kisses me.
As we begin to walk, another thought surfaces.
Ryu.
Ever since he fell, he's been haunting my mind. I didn't know the guy particularly well, aside from him being my History teacher, but I can't stop thinking about him. I had no idea about his magic, even. In fact, Ness and Lucas were the only ones he really spoke to, and I'm fairly sure he saw me as an inconvenience.
The funny thing is, I've never seen anyone die before.
Is it stupid? That whenever I close my eyes, it just repeats? His brave face, torn apart by the lightning. His body, falling to the floor. His life, there, and suddenly not.
It's sickening. It's scary. What if that were Villager? Or Pit? I'd lose it. I'd lose it completely. Few things terrify me more than Death, that fear of the awful unknown. Not my own death, I'm surprisingly at ease about that, but the deaths of people who I love. I'm not sure if I could stomach it. I'm not sure if I'd even be able to process it.
"You know," Villager begins nervously. "We've eaten all our food. Are we going to have to forage? How far away is Onett?"
"I don't know." I rub my arm, a nervous habit. "I don't fancy killing any animals for meat, that's for sure."
Villager shivers. "Me neither."
We fall back into a morbid silence. It feels wrong to start making jokes again, to start prodding Villager for laughs. I kind of want to take his hand, and maybe he'd be okay with that, but I force my hands into my sodden pockets instead. It wouldn't be right.
"How about we run?" Villager says, breaking the tension. "Come on, I'll race you to the others."
I nod, grateful. We begin hurtling down the bank — I've always been alright at sport — hurtling past tulips, wild grasses and boulders. Villager's slower than me (shorter legs!) and I feel myself pulling ahead, my dark mood lifting. I jump a fallen log, swerving around a gorse bush. I dunk under a low-hanging branch, and then-
"Watch out!" Villager screams.
I screech to a halt. There, just ahead of me, is a gigantic drop. Villager catches up to me, touching my shoulder, and I look at him in silent thanks.
"Idiot," he mumbles, but he doesn't say anything else. He looks over the edge, his dark hair billowing in the sudden wind. "It's a waterfall, I think. Ness and Lucas must be down there."
"Can we get around?" I ask. "Or are we going to have to risk our lives?"
"Around," Villager decides. "The railway doesn't take a fifty-foot drop, so it must level out near there. We'll have to go into the forest, though."
"The forest?" I pale at the thought. Our most recent forest adventures have resulted in several near-death experiences.
"It's still light," Villager reasons. "Besides, the others will be waiting. What could possibly go wrong?"
I bite my lip. I've seen enough terrifying things in the last week to last me a lifetime.
"It'll be okay." Villager takes my hand. "I promise."
That brings me back down to earth. "Okay," I say, smiling, and we head on in.
It doesn't end up being as bad as I thought. The trees are nice, and they let plenty of light in, especially when we keep to the cliffside. There are even snowdrops scattered among the roots of some taller ashes, making the area feel spacious and pleasant.
"So," Villager says. "When we get to Onett, what are we going to do?"
I think. "Well, we're gonna stock up on supplies, and then we'll head into New Pork City, where the six of us will take on ten thousand Future Humans and the most powerful man of all time."
"Loving those odds." Villager kicks at a stray branch. "Remind me, why are we doing this again?"
"Because it's the right thing to do," I say mightily. But a distant cry comes from the forest, and I tense. "What the hell was that?"
"It sounded like they said 'blue'," Villager says, frowning. "But-"
At once, a man explodes from the forest, blocking our path. He's fully nude, painted blue, and he stares at us as if we're not human.
Villager blinks. "...Okay, what the hell was in that river?"
"Blue!" The man exclaims. "Blue!"
I point up at the sky. "That's pretty blue. It won't be blue for long, though, and we're kind of in a rush. Catch you later, hm? I know some good restaurants, could we arrange a date?"
"Are you seriously hitting on him right now?" Villager sighs, studying the man's azure features. "Mr Blue, can we help you? He's right, we're kind of busy..."
"Blue!" he says.
"Right," Villager says, catching my eye. "Uh, Toonie, should we just..."
"BLUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
He charges. I yelp, dodging his blue arms, crashing into Villager. Suddenly, from around us, several more blue people emerge, holding spears and looking very angry. They swarm us, and there's nothing we can do except raise our hands.
"What the hell is going on?" Villager shouts, and I can only shrug. The blue people begin to push us into the forest, and I go along with it, trying to find Villager's hand among the fray. But we're shoved past a great hawthorn tree into a clearing — with blue trees, blue grass — and a blue cage is opened in front of us.
"Maybe they want to give us a present!" I exclaim, but I'm immediately proven wrong. The blue people shove us toward the cage, prodding and poking us with their unnecessarily long spears. The door closes behind us with a click, and the blue people surround the bars, banging their spears and gnashing their teeth.
"C'mon!" I say nervously. "I thought we were getting along swimmingly?"
Suddenly, the blue people disperse, ducking and bowing. I turn, looking out of our cage into the clearing, where a peculiar man is approaching. He has a big blue moustache, big blue puffy hair, and an enormous blue crown embedded with sapphires. I'm relieved to see that he's actually clothed, dressed in cerulean robes and navy trousers, with blue skin, blue teeth, blue lips — blue everything, really. He's bigger than all the others, and certainly bluer, which can't be good news.
"Well, well, well!" He surveys us intensely, looking at us like a specimen under a microscope. "Welcome to the cult of HappyHappyism!"
A great cheer rings up from the other blues. They wave their arms, bowing to their leader, who looks around, pleased.
"My name is Mr Carpainter," he says. "It is fantastic to meet you!"
"Fantastic!" The blues echo. "So fantastic!"
"Thank you, my ocean-coloured friends!" I say, taking the reins, sensing Villager's fear. "The pleasant welcome is much appreciated. Uh, except for the cage, that wasn't so pleasant, but hey! Cultural differences and all that. I'll let that one slide. What's HappyHappyism, then?"
"An excellent query..." Carpainter stretches his sizable hands. "Happy Happyism is the Meaning, the Way of Living. We are Happy. We are Happy!"
"Happy! Happy!" The blues chorus.
I look around. There must be thousands of them, doing who knows what.
"Happy indeed," I say, trying to smile. "Now, it's been a pleasant visit, but we're really busy, we-"
The blues all raise their spears.
"-we would love to stay and chat!" I finish. "So, uh, what do you do in your spare time?"
"We follow the deity!" Carpainter casts his gaze to the heavens. "I was called upon by divinity — I was called upon by a higher power. There is one mission that must be fulfilled, one that I have been Chosen to fulfil."
"What mission is that?" Villager asks.
"The calling… The calling is to paint everything in this world blue!"
Applause rings out from all of the blues. I catch Villager's eye. That confirms it, these people are insane.
"A noble cause," I lie. "Now, we were actually on our way to-"
"Our deity demands sacrifices!" Mr Carpainter interrupts. "I do hope you understand. He must feed, you see, he delights in the scent of burning flesh."
Villager visibly pales.
"Oh, come on." I try for a winning smile. "Your deity won't like me. I'm all skin and bone, and so is Villager here."
"It is not so, my friend," Carpainter declares, as though I'm the luckiest person alive. "The highest HappyHappy advisor foretold this very moment. The black-haired and the blonde, you see. Our deity is very gracious. He will take your sacrifices with delight!"
The blue people begin to chant. "Light the fire! Light the fire! Light the fire!"
"Fear not!" Carpainter gives a great clap. "It shall be done!"
I exchange a nervous glance with Villager. What an anticlimactic way to die, being sacrificed to a blue cult in the middle of the forest. Yeah... not on my watch.
"Ah, but forgive me, young offerings," Carpainter says. "I am told that our high advisor has come to visit! I must greet her, after all, she has been appointed by the deity himself. Forgive me, great and noble being!" He looks back up at the sky. "Your sacrifice shall have to wait… approximately thirty minutes. But, great blues! Resume your tasks! Reparation from the storm!"
"Blue!" comes the great chorus. At once, the blues pull out paintbrushes and tins of paint, and they begin to dash around, slathering paint on all the trees. Carpainter marches excitedly toward whoever this high advisor is, and just like that, Villager and I are alone in our cage.
"Well, this is shit," Villager says. "What's the plan?"
I try the door. Unfortunately, it is locked. "I'm not sure," I say. "I think we might actually be screwed."
"Seriously? We can't die like this!"
I close my eyes, beginning to pace. I'm good at coming up with plans. Surely there has to be a way out of this — we should've run when we had the chance! This is so ridiculous. So nonsensical. Am I dreaming? I pinch myself.
I'm not.
I sigh. "Maybe this is how it was always meant to be."
"What do you mean?" Villager asks.
"Nobody's even going to know where we went." I sit down, leaning my head on my hand. "We're going to die to some stupid blue cultists, and we'll be forgotten forever. Maybe I was right — we are just the sidekicks."
"Don't give up that easily," Villager says, sitting down beside me, giving me a one-armed hug. "This is - this is so stupid, come on. We escaped Porky, and I think we can escape this lot, too."
"...Do you have any regrets?
Villager frowns. "Huh?"
"So we can die with a clean conscience," I say bleakly. "Maybe we'll go to Heaven."
"Again with the melodrama." Villager gives me an experimental shove. "There's always a way out, you know that. It'll be okay. You're the master of plans."
"Indeed," I say. "But I'm not going to tell them that, am I? Of course I've got a plan, you absolute melon of a boy."
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah!" I spring up, rolling my eyes. "Gosh, why are you always ten minutes behind? Keep up!"
"Because you move at ten million miles an hour?" Villager springs up as well. "I'd say ten minutes is quite impressive."
"Except my plan will have to wait for half an hour," I say, sitting down again. Villager sighs, following suit.
"Way to build dramatic tension. But what's the plan? You can tell me."
"Oh, you'll see." I wave a hand. It's too good a plan to reveal so early. "Don't worry, it's a goodie."
"Seriously?" Villager sighs.
I pat him keenly on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll get us out of here, and I'll look extremely sexy as I do it."
"Sexy?" Villager snorts. "Ha, you're a five out of ten at best."
"Sexy is about more than just appearances!" I nudge him. "We're faced with death, and I've still got you laughing, right?"
"Shut up. You're... average. Average in every way."
"Above average in some."
"Toon Link!" He flushes red. "I — not like that!"
"You said it, not me."
"I did not!"
"Honestly, Villager, you've got such a dirty mind. Who's the pervert now, hm?"
Villager covers his face, and I laugh at him. I kind of love it when he's all flustered. "Stop bullying me," he mumbles. "We should talk about something else."
"Maybe," I say, and we fall quiet again. It's another one of those moments when I want to lean against his shoulder, or hug him, anything to satisfy these butterflies in my chest. He's so fucking adorable.
In the distance, Carpainter cheers. His high advisor must've come bearing good news.
"Hey, I know," I say, turning to face Villager with a grin. "We've got thirty minutes to spare. Plenty of time for you to tell me what happened with Zelda."
"Oh, for goodness' sake." Villager sighs. "You are the nosiest person ever. Your nose is bigger than Wario's. You're just trying to find out if you've still got competition."
"My nose is bigger than Wario's? I thought I was average in every way?" I raise my eyebrows. "Also, there is no competition, I am unbeatable."
"Maybe I should host a fight to the death," Villager says. "You versus Zelda. The winner gets to date me."
"No! That's a horrible idea! I would totally win. But that's a horrible idea!"
Our laughter is interrupted by someone opening our cage, stepping inside with a rather manic expression. "Excuse me?" I say, looking toward the blue entrant. "We're kind of having a moment right now?"
"Blue!"
"Oh, thanks," I grumble. "That really clears things up."
The man marches forward until he's standing over us. He pulls out a thick paintbrush and a bucket of blue paint.
"Blue!"
"I think he's here to paint us," Villager realises. "How lovely."
"What?" I say, appalled. "This is my best shirt. You'd better not, sir-"
But the man skilfully dabs the brush in the bucket, swiping paint over my face, and there's nothing to be done. Soon enough, I'm looking like a deformed sculpture, paint dripping down my nose, even covering my eyebrows. It's a tragic sight.
"Blue!"
"I feel violated," I say as the painter leaves, locking the cage behind him. "He's literally blueballed us."
Villager splutters. "Toon Link-"
"What?" I complain. Feeling a burst of confidence, I sling my arm around his shoulders. "Come on, we've got thirty minutes until my epic plan comes into play. Let's talk, just you and me. My favourite person. A conversation of two."
"Only if you promise to stop talking about balls! And what's that about me being your favourite person?"
"Shut it." I pout, patting the space beside me. Villager fills it promptly. "I want to tell you something, okay? So you'd better listen."
Villager raises his eyebrows, and I grin, suddenly kind of nervous. What I'm about to tell him is still a big deal to me, something I've not quite got over yet. But if Villager is ever going to date me, then I want him to know the entire truth. It's only fair, after all.
"What do you want to tell me?" Villager asks. "I swear, if you're going to ask me out for a second time..."
"It's not that," I promise. "It's... a bit dumb." I avert my eyes, already feeling sheepish. "Well, it's not, but. You'll see."
"I'm sure it's not dumb," Villager says, and I smile, a little heartened by his words.
I take a deep breath. "Alright, so, our group. Us, Ness, Lucas, Red, Pit. Do you ever feel like we're not really that open? About anything? I mean, we have our individual moments, but as a collective, it doesn't always feel that personal."
"I sort of get that," Villager says.
"It's kind of weird." I pause, trying to get this right. "We have a great time and everything, but we're never vulnerable or honest with one other. We all have loads of secrets."
"Yeah, I get that too." Villager looks at me, waiting for me to continue.
"And so," I say, rubbing my arm again, "Given you're considering whether you want to date me or not, I think it's only fair you know a couple of things. Deep things. Since, like, for some people, I wouldn't even be an option because of who I am."
"...You're not about to tell me you're a pedophile, right?"
"No!" I look at him, disgusted. But I lower my voice regardless, afraid of even the blue people overhearing. "Villager, I've... never met my real parents."
There's a pause while Villager processes this.
"I was found," I continue, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Whoever my real parents are, they left me in the middle of the forest. They left me to die in a basket. The people that took me in, they're the only parents I've ever known."
"Toon Link..." Villager says quietly. He places a shaky hand on my shoulder, just listening.
"There were no leads on my real parents," I say. "There was just this stupid note, which said that whoever found me could either take me in or - or... kill me."
Villager grips my shoulder tighter. My throat turns dry.
"Thankfully, I was taken in. But adoption, it's sort of a big deal to some people, I don't know... it's just another thing to keep quiet, right? So, I wanted to tell you."
"Thank you for telling me," Villager says, almost whispering. He pauses as if he's not sure what else to say, and then, he pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. I hug him back, kind of flabbergasted, and he pulls back, studying my face. "I don't think any less of you for that, okay? That's messed up, I don't know why the hell someone would leave a baby to die in the forest, but it's not your fault. I'm glad you were found."
"I'm glad too," I say quietly. "It was kind of weird, I think. My adoptive parents — George and Electra Montague, those are their names — they won the lottery, and they were going out for a picnic with the excess money, that's what they told me. But I was just there, in this basket, the note in there with me. Electra convinced George to take me home... they were going to buy a bigger house with the rest of the winnings, you see, but they had to spend the money on raising me instead."
Villager looks at me. "Why do you call your parents by their first names?"
"I always have," I say, grimacing. "It was George's idea. He didn't want me getting too attached, I think."
"Oh, God."
"Yeah, I know. But they took me in, I guess, so I'm grateful for that. They raised me. And, well, it's a long story, but this is how it happened..."
.
.
.
~~o00o~~
~~o0(17 years earlier)0o~~
~~o00o~~
.
.
.
"What will the neighbours think?" George hissed, Electra unlocking the front door, the wriggling baby still in her arms. "My brother? Your family? If he's not ours by blood, he won't want to continue the family business. And how on earth can we afford to look after him?"
"It'll be fine, George." Electra waved a hand as if to sweep all his questions away. "We'll use our winnings." She went inside, laying the baby on their double bed. "Come one, it's a gift, a miracle from above. Hear that, Toon Link? You're a miracle."
The baby giggled, but George wrung his hands. "What about our plans, Electra? Our bungalow? The lavender garden?"
"Plans change," Electra said simply. George sighed, but he knew better than to argue. Besides, the baby didn't look too bad. He could make something of himself, he just needed to be raised right. And so, it was decided.
He was to be their son.
The baby grew. He learnt to walk and talk, and he was shyer than some, but that was okay. He grew a great tuft of blonde hair, even though he was a little short for his age. He smiled a lot, which helped alleviate George's worries, and further convinced Electra they had made the right decision. The house in Montague street fitted them well. The bungalow would've been too big anyway.
"First day at school!" Electra chirped, brushing down Toon Link's uniform. "Go on, I bet you'll make loads of friends."
"B-But…" Toon Link looked up at her with pleading eyes. "They're all so much bigger than me."
"Everything will be okay," Electra promised, giving him a big hug. Toon Link sniffled, but hugs always seemed to make him happier. "The teachers will be lovely," Electra promised. "You'll have a fantastic time."
"And you've got to start learning business skills, eh?" George clapped him on the shoulder, making sure not to use the full extent of his strength. Toon Link was turning out to be quite skinny. "Go on, kid. Show them who's boss."
Toon Link looked from his parents to the towering school gates. All he knew was the noise of construction, the singing of his mother, everything she cooked, and the little house on Montague Street. There, on the other side of the twisted metal barriers, were other children, rushing around, screaming and shouting. They scared him. He knew he didn't like change, and this was change, a big one.
Still, Electra's warm smile was enticing. It led him in. It promised him everything would turn out okay.
It didn't.
He came home a blubbering mess.
"The other kids were mean to me!" Toon Link cried, rushing into Electra's open arms. "They called me small, they called me a goblin, they said I was ugly!"
"You ought to have fought them back," George grumbled. "If only you'd inherited-"
But he fell short under Electra's stern gaze. A silent reminder: Toon Link doesn't know yet.
"You're not ugly," Electra promised. "And you're not a goblin, either. Those kids were just being silly."
"I don't want to go back," Toon Link mumbled. "It's horrible there. I'll never make friends in that place."
"It'll be okay," Electra promised. "Tomorrow's another day, Toon Link. Say hello to someone, say something nice to them, and they'll be your friend in seconds."
Tomorrow came fast, and Toon Link only went through the schoolgates after Electra promised to make his favourite carrot cake. When the time arrived to collect Toon Link from school, Electra arrived, covered in flour, fearing the worst to have happened again. However, she was met with a very pleasant surprise.
"Is this your mummy?" A very excitable little girl with orange pigtails appeared, looking her up and down. "She looks nice!"
"She is nice," Toon Link mumbled. "She's called Electra."
"I'm Inkling," the girl pronounced, sticking out her hand. Electra took it, quite taken aback. "That's Ness," she continued, waving to a dark-haired boy. "We're Toon Link's friends!"
"It's lovely to meet you all," Electra said kindly. "And wonderful to see you making friends, Toon Link."
"See you tomorrow!" The boy called Ness gave Toon Link a clumsy hug, Inkling following suit with a rather enthusiastic one.
"Tomorrow," Toon Link echoed, his cheeks pink.
From there, things got better fast. There was still a bit of bullying, and Toon Link was very shy, but at least he had friends to stick up for him. Electra got to know Ness's rather unassertive mother and Inkling's kindly father (who was just as enthusiastic as his daughter), which led to occasional playdates of sorts. Whether the trio were rolling down hills or raiding Electra's cookie jar, they stayed together through thick and thin, and life was good.
In time, there was a fourth.
"I'm Lucas," the blonde mumbled, his whisper barely audible above the other children.
"He's Lucas!" Ness repeated, sounding even more excited than Inkling. "He's part of our group now!"
"Very nice to meet you, Lucas," Electra said, shaking his timid hand.
Despite Electra's worries, Lucas fitted in just fine, giving Toon Link a run for his money with his shyness. He was kind, though, and Electra watched him become a much-valued member of their group. According to Ness's mother, Lucas was a rather lonely boy who'd moved from a nearby village, and it was a 'piece of good luck' that he'd run into the others at school. Electra sometimes wondered why nobody ever went round to Lucas's house, but from the little she saw of the boy's distant-looking father, she figured things might be difficult at home. All she got out of Flint while waiting by the schoolgate was that Lucas's mother had died, and she knew it wasn't her place to pry any further.
Life continued to be good for the four children. But as they grew, something else began to fall.
The family business.
"It's a disaster," George groaned, pacing around the elegantly-tiled kitchen. "Construction just isn't popular these days. Ever since Carpainter quit to form that cult, we've been stuck with Pirkle's bloody unregulated market. He's making no effort to invest in small businesses. And Porky, that damned Porky Minch..." George hit his fist into his hand. "His lower prices are turning us out of business. How he can afford them, I don't know. It's a bloody disgrace."
"It looks bleak," Electra agrees with a grimace, poring over a pile of bills and red arrows. "He's monopolising the city. Inkling's parents say it's the same with their painting business; Porky offers the same work but for cheaper. It's the same with retail, with tour guides..." She sighed. "The only thing he's not managed to touch are the coal mines, and that's because Ness's dad pays his workers pittance. What are we going to do, Gerald?"
"Look at this!" George brings out a sheet of paper, placing it on the table. "It's a letter from Porky. He wants to buy our business for 500 pounds — the cheek of it! But the more I look at the numbers, the more it seems we have no choice. We have to agree or we'll go bankrupt."
"But that's everything we have." Electra looked at him in shock. "What on earth will we do?"
"The business is in decline," George said, his head in his hands. "It's a lost cause."
"There has to be another way!"
George hesitated, closing his eyes for a second. "There is, but you won't like it. What we need is money, a big influx of money, and then we can bring our prices down to competitive levels."
"But where do we get money from?" Electra asked.
"This is the bit you won't like," George said, grimacing. "The kid — Toon Link — he's expensive to keep around, and expensive to send to school. We'd have to sell him off to a workhouse, or indenture him to a rich family."
For a second, Electra remained frozen, looking at George with horror. Then, in an instant, she grabbed the nearest frying pan. "Are you suggesting we sell our son?"
"It's just another option," George said, holding up his hands. "If we had enough money, we could revitalise the business. We can get contracts from the council, we can do a stellar job, and build enough loyalty to raise our prices again."
"B-But he doesn't even know he's not ours!" Electra's hands shook. "We're all he's ever known — we can't just abandon him!"
"We were more than kind to take him in," George said coldly. "If it weren't for us, he'd be dead in a basket. Let him forge his own path from here, he's a strong kid. Think of the business — it's him or the business, Electra."
But Electra advanced, trembling. "Do you know what happens at children's homes? Do you know what they do to indentured kids? They're sold off and auctioned as slaves, or as workers at the brothels. They're used as sex slaves, they're beaten, tortured... How dare you suggest we subject our son to that? How dare you!"
"That doesn't have to be our problem," George said.
Electra froze in place. Then, in a burst of rage, she brought the frying pan down on George's head. He fell to the ground with a cry, and Electra screamed.
"George! George! I'm sorry — I'm so sorry-"
"I'm okay," he groaned weakly, forcing himself up. "I'll be fine."
"George," Electra whispered, her hands covering her mouth. The frying pan fell to the floor with a crash.
"We'll... compromise." George winced, sitting down on the nearest chair. "We'll haggle with Porky, make him give us more for the business. Toon Link can stay, but he can start work in a factory. If we're to change our careers, we'll need all the money we can get."
"O-Okay," Electra agreed, still distraught. "Okay."
And so, it was done.
George signed the deal, and six hundred pounds arrived the next day. That'd be just enough to cover their bills, food and school fees for a month, which meant George had four weeks to find a new job, or they'd have to sell the house and move to one of the First Residential District slums. Those places made Electra shiver, with their streets governed by street gangs like The Sharks, with crooks around every corner. On the other hand, factory work for Toon Link was surprisingly easy to come by. He got a job at the coal-sorting facility for two hours every evening, and he'd come home black as a chimney sweep, but importantly, he'd come home with sixpence. Enough to buy dinner.
The weeks trickled by, and things began to look bleak. Toon Link could see it in his parents' eyes, the way Electra had started to pack their things. But just when all hope seemed lost, the opportunity of a lifetime appeared.
"The butcher's stall in the Market has closed," Electra said glumly, coming into the kitchen with a disappointingly empty shopping bag. "What will Inkling's parents think of us? We can hardly serve them vegetables..."
"Gawain's stall is closed?" George asked, looking up from the newspaper with interest.
"That's right," Electra said. "The shop down the high street is so expensive, though. Ah, what can I do? Serve them cauliflower cheese? What do you think, George?"
George's eyes sparked. "I think we should open a new stall ourselves."
"We become butchers?" Toon Link's little head popped out from behind the sofa. "That sounds messy."
"But think about it." George began to pace around the kitchen. "Everyone needs meat, don't they? Why did the old stall close?"
"Word is that Gawain moved up to Orkney, something about seeing his family." Electra took some potatoes out of her bag, beginning to scrub them. "He shut up shop and left nothing in its place. Only told Felicity. "
And suddenly, George's eyes were bright, brighter than they'd been in some time. "Electra, stop scrubbing potatoes. This is it! Get your coat, we must run, we need to get that plot!"
And so, the wheels fell into motion. B.H. Pirkle accepted their bid of 50 pounds for the space, granting them a license to sell on market days. Electra wove a great red and white striped awning, and a farm was found to supply their products. The stall was set up fast, with little Toon Link and his friends contributing as best they could (Lucas's animal drawings were surprisingly pretty) and within a week, the stall was open for business.
It was an instant success. The Montagues were known for selling the freshest, juiciest steaks (of which Ness's mother bought several) and the tenderest, most aromatic chicken. George loved interacting with the customers, possibly even more than construction work, and with his father long dead, there was no pressure of disappointing anyone. Each day, he got up early to man the stall, while Electra quit her job as a maid to tirelessly pore over the statistics. Toon Link continued working in the factory, but he didn't mind too much, glad to be helpful in any way he could. He had three awesome friends, his family was making money again, and he was happy — what else could he possibly need?
The years flew by like nothing. Soon enough, Toon Link was in his final term at the Onett primary school, and just when things couldn't get better, George came to him with some great news.
"Son, the stall's been a massive success. If you like, I think we have enough money to send you to the Boarding School."
"Onett Boarding School?" Toon Link's little eyes lit up at once. "That's where Ness and Lucas are going!"
"It'd be a lot of time away from home," Electra murmured, coming into Toon Link's colourful bedroom. "And he'd be very far away, don't you think?"
"Ah, he'll be fine!" George clapped Toon Link on the back. "Won't you, champ?"
"Yeah!"
"Excellent. Once I've spoken to your mother, we can write the application form together. How does that sound?"
"Great!" Toon Link cheered.
Leaving his son very happy, George brought Electra out into their garden. It was their little space of paradise, lavender and foxgloves blossoming all around. Electra looked worried, but Geogre smiled at her, taking her hands.
"Are you sure the boarding school is right for him?" Electra whispered. "You know how much he hates change."
"He'll be fine, his friends will look after him," George said easily. "But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to ask... when are we going to tell him?"
"Tell him?" Electra frowned. "Tell him what?"
"Tell him he's adopted, that we took him in."
Electra sighed. "George…"
"He has to know," George said, looking pained. "He's our son. He's growing up so fast — he can't live a lie his whole life. It's not right."
"But you know how he'd take it." Electra looked up to Toon Link's window, seeing him playing, so blissfully unaware. "He's just a kid. It's a horrible thing to put on him."
"It's his past," George said gently. "How would you feel if your mother hid that from you? He has a right to know, I think."
Electra sighed again. But she took George's hand, giving a small nod. "If you're sure, we can tell him tomorrow. Just, be gentle, okay? He's a sensitive boy. He gets all funny about these things."
"Of course," George said. "Tomorrow it is. We'll do it together, okay?"
As ever, tomorrow quickly came.
Electra and George collected Toon Link from school together, which was the first sign that something was amiss. Toon Link was suspicious throughout their entire walk home, and when they sat him down at the dining table, he knew that this could only be a few things: either he'd been bad and was being sent away, or his parents were getting a divorce.
"Toon Link, we have something to say," Electra said carefully. Toon Link looked up at her, his lower lip already trembling. Electra lay a motherly hand on Toon Link's shoulder, and it was clear she was trying to look comforting.
"Have I done something wrong?" Toon Link mumbled.
"Of course not, sweetheart," Electra said kindly. "It's just... this might be quite a shock."
Toon Link gulped.
"You're adopted," George said bluntly. "We found you in the forest."
"What!?"
"Well, that's one way of putting it." Electra glared up at her husband. "But yes, Toon Link, it's true. We found you in the forest as a baby, and we decided to take you in."
"Is that how babies are made?" Toon Link looked nervously between his parents, trying to figure out what this could mean. "Are babies usually found in the forest?"
"No," Electra said calmly. "All this means is that George and I are not your birth parents. Your birth parents, well…" She glances quickly at George. "We're not sure what happened to them. We think they might have left you there. Either way, when we came across you, we knew we had to take you in."
"So, you're not my real mum?" Toon Link yelped. "Not my real dad?"
"Of course we're your real parents." Electra came over to hug him. "We just didn't make you, that's all. We love you lots and lots, okay?"
But Toon Link still looked unhappy. "Who did make me?"
"Well, we tried to find out," Electra said, gently rubbing her son's back. She could feel him trembling. "I'm afraid we haven't had any luck, though."
With one final glance at his parents, Toon Link turned and ran from the kitchen. Elmore made to stop him, but George held her back.
"Give him time. He'll be okay soon."
But he wasn't.
In the following days, Toon Link was feverish. Distant. He didn't speak, almost as if he didn't recognise George and Electra anymore. He began coming home later from the factory. He came home late from school. It wasn't apparent where he was going, but Electra figured it wasn't her place to meddle in his personal battles.
That resolve changed when Toon Link dashed through the hallway, crying again.
"Toon Link?" Electra stood up at once, sweeping away the bills she was calculating. "What's the matter?"
"Inkling's gone missing!" He grabbed his coat from the hook, immediately turning back to the front door. "I have to go and find her!"
"Toon Link!" Electra called, but the boy was long gone.
He came home a while later, looking sorry for himself, and he let his mother give him a hug. But he didn't give up, because that wasn't in his nature. School ended a few days later, and for much of the summer, he searched the streets for Inkling and his birth parents. He only really came home for sleeping and for meals, and even those he ate in silence, bursting to go and search again. He spoke to passers-by, nice ones, mean ones, anyone who might have information. He begged, pleading with them to tell him something, anything.
He found nothing.
As the summer progressed, the changes in his demeanour became more and more obvious. Even though many boys would be knocked down by all the stress — not helped by the chaos of puberty — Toon Link developed purpose, charisma. Desperation won out over his shyness. He grew, letting humour become a defence mechanism, and he even learned some jokes in the hopes of swaying the strangers on the street. In his mind, they knew everything, they were just lying to him. But still, nothing came of it. There was no sign of Inkling, nor of his parents.
"I can't find them," he said desperately, clinging to his mother on one rare night of weakness. "I can't find them anywhere. But they can't be gone, right?"
George and Electra exchanged a glance, looking at their son's sunken eyes. In truth, they didn't know what to do, torn between being invasive and trying to help. It was too much turmoil for a child to go through.
Electra blamed herself.
It didn't get any better as the last weeks of summer drifted away. Toon Link seemed downright miserable, and on the night before his first day at Onett Boarding School, he cried.
It was the loneliest night of his life.
But it wasn't without hopeful smiles that George and Electra stood with him at the train station. Away from it all, perhaps there'd be time to process everything that had happened. Perhaps there'd be time to accept it, too.
"Good luck out there," Electra said, hugging him tight. "Send us letters, okay? Don't forget us?"
Toon Link nodded, the very idea seeming to drag him down. But he tugged on his backpack, steeling his gaze. "I won't."
"See you at Christmas," George said, patting him on the shoulder. "Learn well. Always try your best."
"I will," Toon Link said determinedly. The doors to the train opened. Toon Link stepped forward, hauling his many bags, and Elmore gave him a last desperate hug.
"We love you. Never forget that, okay?"
Toon Link turned, his eyes almost seeming to glow.
"I love you too... mum."
.
.
.
~~o00o~~
~~o0(Toon Link)0o~~
~~o00o~~
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.
"And the rest — well, I met you after that, didn't I?"
Villager slowly nods, one arm looped around me, the other one resting at his side. He's a good listener, squeezing my hand at the tough bits, never interrupting except to show he's still paying attention.
"And now we're in the middle of a cult," he says. "How far we've come."
I smile, albeit weakly. "I guess."
"...Did you ever find them? Inkling and your parents?"
I shake my head. "No. There was never any sign of them. Electra — Mother — reckons it was a teenage pregnancy or something. I was ditched because they couldn't look after me. And it feels kinda shitty that George and Electra took me in, spent all that money on school and feeling me, and then I ditched them to look for these people who probably don't even remember me, y'know? But they, my parents, were cool about it. They've always been nice to me."
"They chose you," Villager says, softly touching my arm. "They love you a lot."
"And I don't feel like I've ever repaid them for that." I sigh. "Y'know, I've only ever told Pit all this stuff, and that was in brief. You basically know my whole life story, now."
"I'm honoured," Villager says, and I feel my cheeks colouring.
In the distance, the blues continue to paint. Carpainter speaks to a woman with a regal-looking hat. Some men are busy constructing what looks awfully like a pyre, and I gulp at the sight.
"I should tell you some stuff about me," Villager says, turning to face me. "It's only fair."
"You don't have to," I say. "Just because I did-"
"I want to," Villager says firmly. "How about, and I'm going to regret this, what really happened with Zelda?"
"Oho." I grin. "This'll be good. Go ahead, lover boy."
"Lover boy? Please, never call me that again."
"Or what?"
Villager sighs. "Just — shut up and pay attention. I'm finally gonna tell you the truth about Zelda, who you've been pestering me about for years, so if you can't bring yourself to listen now, God help you."
I shut up and listen.
"So," Villager begins. "Please keep in mind that this was when I was twelve or so, in my first year at Onett Boarding School. I was kind of stupid. I came to school wanting to branch out, to meet some new people, because being with Red throughout the whole of primary school... well, yeah. We were nerds. So, I sat next to Zelda in Maths, I spoke to her, and it turned out we had a bit in common. We ended up becoming pretty good friends."
I nod.
"I met Ness at a similar time, in History," Villager says. "He introduced me to you guys, and I introduced you to Red, and we formed our group. You know all of that. But I didn't mention Zelda at the time, because, well, Ness would've been annoying, Red would've been angry, and you would've teased me. And honestly, I was still a little unsure about everything, because we never really spoke about girls or relationships back then."
"Yeah, 'cause we all ended up gay," I say, and Villager gives me an amused look.
"Some of us. But anyway, Zelda and I were friends, we hung out in Maths, and that was just how it was... until our second year."
"Uh oh."
"Yeah, uh oh." Villager grimaces. "That was when puberty started hitting us all like bricks — except Lucas, who I'm fairly sure still hasn't gone through it — and naturally, because I was stupid, I decided Zelda was nice, and I... ended up crushing on her. I was right though," he adds defensively, when I laugh. "You have to admit, she is good-looking, and it kind of made sense. We were already friends. I wasn't very shy, so I asked her out after class."
"Did she say yes?" I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.
"Absolutely not. She rejected me hard. She basically took it as an insult, and accused me of only talking to her because I thought she was pretty. I wanted to stay friends, but apparently, that wasn't an option, so we haven't really spoken since. It's kind of stupid."
"That's just ridiculous," I say.
"So, it's just been awkward," Villager says. "I got over the crush pretty fast, obviously, but every time she looks at me, it's like she thinks I'm perving on her or something. Which I'm not! Sex is just..." He averts his eyes slightly. "I mean, it's nice, but I'm not constantly thinking about it, for goodness' sake. It's all just this big mess."
"You deserve better," I say. "Such as myself."
Villager rolls his eyes. "I know, I know. I just hate the idea of anyone disliking me, or holding a grudge over me. It's this stupid thing, it makes me feel all guilty."
"She made you feel guilty over a straight crush? Christ, no wonder you're all confused..."
"Shut up." Villager shoves me, but a smile quirks at his mouth.
"So, was that it?" I ask. "That was your romantic life story?"
Villager sighs. "Mostly."
"...Did you crush on Popo next?"
"No!"
"Sure. You're just in denial."
"Goddamn it!" He glares at me. "If you keep bullying me, I won't tell you any more."
"Where's the fun in that?" I complain. "Spoilsport." But I shut up, letting him continue.
"Alright," Villager says. "So, in our third year, my grandma caught my uncle hooking up with this guy. She was furious about it, she called him a sodomite and ended up kicking him out. Mother thought he was possessed by Satan."
"Shit," I murmur. "Hasn't Satan got better things to do?"
"Maybe," Villager says. "Either way, I'm not sure what happened to him after that. I think he's renting a shack in the First Residential District, but I don't know. I've not been allowed to visit. After he'd been kicked out, Mother essentially told me that if I liked guys, then I'd end up like him — living on the street."
I stare at him in horror.
"Yeah…" Villager rubs his neck. "And of course, around that time, a guy moved in next door who was super-hot. For the first time, I started having those feelings for a guy, and it kind of freaked me out. I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do."
"Do we know this guy?" I ask.
"Uh... possibly?" Villager averts his eyes. Definitely. "The point is, I was terrified that Mother would find out somehow, especially as we became friends and started visiting each other's houses. He was probably straight — we never did anything — but, God. It was torture."
"Wait!" I point dramatically. "Mega Man? Did you have a thing for Mega Man?"
"...Okay, yeah," Villager admits. "But I never asked him out, not after what happened with Zelda. I made myself get over him, and I had to ignore him for a whole summer, but it worked."
"Impressive," I say.
"Yeah..." Villager sighs. "I still felt guilty, though. Mother believed in the ancient Onetian gods, and I knew they didn't like homosexuality. So, I kept it quiet."
I nod, suddenly overcome with familiarity.
"And now, I don't really know where I stand," Villager says. "I've crushed on a guy and a girl. If I like guys, I'll be kicked out of the house. Dating a girl seems easier, but I'm kind of scared of them, thanks to Zelda."
"Well," I say, trying to be reasonable. "If you date a guy, your mother doesn't necessarily have to know."
"But she'll find out," Villager says. "She's nosey as hell. And even if she didn't, I'd feel terrible for lying to her."
"Well, you could just wait," I suggest. "Wait until you've moved out and you're no longer depending on her. You can tell her then, and if she rejects you, then it's her problem."
"Mine if she reports me to the police," Villager says darkly, and I fall short.
"Well, I think it's okay," I say, as if that makes any difference at all. "I think you can like who like, and nobody should be able to change that. The law here is ridiculous, but there are better places, places where it's not so frowned upon. They say Twoson's quite progressive these days..."
But Villager sighs again. "No matter what, dating a guy would be hard. I can't pretend it wouldn't be. It's just... a mess, I just don't know what to do." His voice cracks. "I don't know what the hell to do."
I pull him into a hug, sensing his emotions about to overflow. He grips my shirt, and I try feebly to pat his back. "We're here for you, Villager. Everyone in our group. Whatever you end up doing, you deserve to be happy, okay? You make so many other people happy — like the Pits said, you look after everyone in our group."
"Thank you," Villager says, stammering. "I'm - I - gah, sorry, this isn't like me. I shouldn't be getting emotional. You deserve to be happy too, Toon Link."
"It's okay to be emotional," I assure him. "You've been holding it in for so long."
"Y-You're incredible, Toon Link." Villager wipes his nose, coming out of the hug. "People don't tell you that enough, okay? You've been through so much, but here you are, comforting me."
"Shush, you," I say, though a warm feeling spreads through me. "You're pretty incredible, too."
Villager makes a small noise, but then he jolts back in alarm. "Toon Link, g-get ready. Carpainter's coming back."
I curse, trying not to look like a homosexual. Carpainter's not alone, accompanied by the woman with the enormous hat, who looks remarkably greedy as she marches toward us. She's quite plump, and for a moment, I think it's Porky in disguise. But she comes closer, and I see that her face is younger.
"Any chance of that plan?" Villager whispers, but I shake my head.
"I lied. I hoped I'd have come up with one by now."
"Toon Link!"
"Well!" Carpainter interrupts, reaching the cage. "Here they are, Friar Marshmallow. The blonde and the black-haired boys — just as you prophesied."
"Interesting." Friar Marshmallow removes her hat, blonde hair tumbling down. It makes her look almost doll-like, and I shudder. She studies us intensely, running her fingers along the bars, before turning back to the leader. "Carpainter," she says coldly. "Please repeat the prophecy."
"Certainly," Carpainter says, but he fumbles with his robes. "When the sky is dark and the trees are blue, across the forest will travel two. Blonde hair and black hair, children of power, The Deity will Take them on the hour."
"Blonde hair and black hair," Friar Marshmallow repeats. "These children are insignificant. Look!" She grabs Villager through the bars, who yelps. "Brown hair, not black. No powers, neither of them!"
"Neither of them?" Carpainter nervously shifts, his face falling almost comically. "Please forgive me. My great Blues believed they were correct — they, they..." He looks down. "Is the Deity displeased?"
"Very," Friar Marshmallow says icily, roughly throwing Villager back again. "The deity is furious. I will deal with these prisoners; go and sit with Neckbeard in the naughty corner."
Carpainter hangs his head in shame. "I will do as the deity wishes." He walks away into the darkness, and Friar Marshmallow turns to face turns to us, her beady eyes gleaming. My stomach jolts, but I stare back at her, drawing courage from Villager's hand in mine.
"Well, well, well," she says. "What have we here? Ness and Lucas's little friends?"
"Who are you?" I demand. "Friar Marshmallow? That's a stupid name."
She gives a short, robotic laugh. Then, she smirks, bringing out her hands. Suddenly, they tumble from her wrists like hinges, a mighty drill emerging from one side and a metallic claw appearing from the other. They whir loudly, and I jump back as she pokes the drill into the cage.
"I amm Friar Marshmallow," she says. "I am the Highest HappyHappy advisor. I was sent here by the deity. Mad, mad!"
"How do you know us?" I duck beneath the swinging claw. "What was that prophecy!?"
"King P.'s prophecy." She laughs, almost inhumanly, and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
"You were sent here by Porky," Villager says. "He's behind all this!"
"King P. funds the HappyHappys." Friar Marshmallow swipes at me with her drill, and I duck again, beginning to sweat.
"What does he want with us?" I demand, thinking back to that awful cavern. "We're not important! We can't help him!"
Friar Marshmallow cocks her head. "Ness and Lucas were to be here. The two Psychic boys. You are not them."
"No, we're not!" I say, backing away to the other side of the cage. "You can leave us alone!"
But she moves toward the cage's door, laughing. Sparks fly as she drills through the padlock, emitting a terrifying grinding noise. I look frantically for an escape, but the door opens, and Friar Marshmallow steps inside.
"What do you want?" Villager asks shakily. "Ness and Lucas aren't here. We're just - we're nobody!"
"You're their friends," Friar Marshmallow says, coming forward. "I just want to play with you."
"Leave us alone!" I cry, but she turns to me, her eyes blazing.
"Do you not want to play? If you don't want to play, I'll be mad..."
"You're a robot!" I say. "You'll hurt us!"
"Hurting is fun. Mad, mad. King P. built me. King P. is clever!"
I shrink as she advances forward, wielding the drill again. She lifts it up, but she pauses in front of us, staring.
"You are scared."
"No," I lie. "I'm not scared of Future Humans!"
Her smooth face contorts into a frown. "I am not Future Human. They are half-breeds. I am pure. I am King P.'s favourite."
"Then tell us this!" Villager steps forward. "What does he want with Ness and Lucas?"
"That is a secret," she says. Her head cocks robotically to the side. "I have a question for you."
"We'll only answer it if you let us go!"
But she ignores me, the drill slowing to a halt. "If Ness and Lucas were here... what would they do?" She stares at me as if I'm a specimen under a microscope. "Would they let you die? Would they save you? King P. wonders a lot about these things."
"It doesn't matter. Let us go, or we'll snap your stupid metal neck."
"Interesting," she says. The drill starts up again. "Would they save you?"
Villager jumps at her with his fist, but she knocks him down with the claw. He falls with a cry, a gash appearing on his cheek.
"Would they save you?" she asks again.
"Of course they would!" I exclaim. "It's called being friends. You should try having some!"
"Interesting," Friar Marshmallow says. "My programming disagrees. It would not benefit their cause. They only care about each other, you are just... tools."
"That's not true," Villager snarls, dragging himself to his feet.
"This is... pitiful," Friar Marshmallow says, giving a funny robotic laugh. "They do not care. They keep secrets from you. They do not... trust you."
"Yeah? Well, we trust them!" I advance forward, staring into Friar Marshmallow's cold, uncaring eyes. "At least we have friends. Porky's only friends are robots."
"King P. tells me his secrets," Friar Marshmallow says. She smiles, giving the impression of a particularly large and wide-mouthed pig. "I can tell them to you. You can be important. I bet Ness and Lucas will be really impressed if you tell them King P's secrets."
"We don't need to impress them," I say, trying not to lose my temper. "Why are you even here?"
"A trap," Friar Marshmallow says plainly. "One of many... the HappyHappys were glad to hear of my coming. They believe I was sent by their deity. I command them. King P. invented the prophecy himself. He sent me out to fulfil it. I am so glad to serve King P. Don't you want to know his secrets?"
"Not really," Villager says roughly, wiping the blood on his trousers. "How about you let us go?"
"That would be against my programming." Friar Marshmallow snaps her claw, coming forward. "You must hear his secrets."
"Why would you tell us those?" I demand.
"Because I am mad, mad. So mad." Her voice sounds remarkably not mad. "And you cannot stop me, nor can you stop King P's empire. It will be great. The robots will rise, and so will the Future Humans. You will join us."
"No," I say furiously, but I'm met with a claw to the face. I cry out, pain bursting through my cheek.
"You are not needed," Friar Marshmallow says, smiling. "You will be upgraded, just like everybody else. Come closer. You will hear King P's secrets."
"I won't!" I say, but Friar Marshmallow raises her claw again. I shuffle forward, Villager following suit.
"Closer," she says.
I take another step.
"Closer."
I shudder, grabbing Villager's hand. His pulse feels like it's racing.
"Very good," Friar Marshmallow says. "The secrets are as follows: The Future Humans have taken over. They are rising to the top. There will be no more happiness, no more power. There will be no more sadness, no more pain and no more suffering. We will all unite as one. Unite. Unite. Unite."
"Our friends will stop you!" Villager exclaims.
"Shh. This is our little secret," Friar Marshmallow says, pronouncing the Shh like a Zzz. "You will be converted. The Blues will be converted. King P. is on his way."
"I'd sooner die," I growl.
"There will be no death," Friar Marshmallow says. "There will be life. It will be eternal."
"Oh yeah?" I swing a punch at her, but my fist meets metal, and I cry out. She laughs, a grating, metallic cackle.
"Ah, I can almost imagine their faces." Friar Marshmallow says, looking up at the sky. "Ness will be sad when he finds out what happened to his friends. It is his fault. He let you fight his battles for him." She turns to us. "You deserve better. You will be upgraded."
"Future Humans aren't better!" Villager says, but the drill begins to whir again, Friar Marshmallow beginning to laugh.
"I will upgrade you. Upgrade. Upgrade. Upgrade."
"Toon Link!" Villager cries, backing into the corner. I run to him, but Friar Marshmallow accelerates, practically gliding towards us. I look frantically for an escape, trying not to panic, but she grabs me with her claw, holding the drill to my throat.
"You will kneel," she says.
I get down on my knees, shaking. Villager does the same beside me.
"You will become strong," she says. "You will be weak no more."
"D-Don't hurt Villager," I growl, gasping for air. "D-Don't lay a finger on him-"
But she tightens her grip, and I writhe, feeling my airways constrict. Villager comes at her, but Friar Marshmallow knocks him away with the drill. She lifts me up, her claw digging into my throat.
"Let me go!" I exclaim, but she shakes me, staring me in the eyes.
"King P. wants to play with you," she says. "He could torture you. He could dismember you. He could rape you. He likes blonde boys..."
"No!" I feel my vision slipping, but I spit on her face, struggling for all I'm worth.
"He could fill you with metal," she says. "He could make you his. He could lock you up forever. Nobody would notice. Nobody would care... because you are not the heroes!" Friar Marshmallow grips tighter, and I scream, hearing the drill spinning closer. "King P. is the hero," she hisses. "He is saving the world from what it could become. Foolish children, ha, ha, ha."
"He won't!" Villager exclaims, and I cling to his voice, desperately trying to stay conscious. "Ness and Lucas will stop him. Just let Toon Link go!"
The drill edges closer. I shut my eyes, screaming again. Friar Marshmallow grips tighter and tighter, and I can feel it, can feel myself slipping away. She's going to win.
"You will die," Friar Marshmallow says simply. "You will not be afraid anymore."
I won't be afraid.
The claw grips tighter. I take a last desperate gasp, but it's over, it's all over...
SPLASH!
I feel myself tumbling. Someone screams, somebody running to my side.
"Nice try!" a familiar voice exclaims. "Nobody hurts my friends!"
My vision swims. I'm helped to my feet. I gasp for air, trying to understand what the hell is going on.
"Run!" someone yells, and I make out the silhouette: Red, carrying an empty paint tin and looking very angry. Villager pulls me forward, and I stumble with him, focusing on his hand.
"No!" Friar Marshmallow screeches behind me. "Come back!"
But Pit appears, throwing the cage's door open. Villager pulls me out, and I collapse on the grass, coughing up blood. The door slams shut beside me, and I try to look up, just about seeing Friar Marshmallow on the floor, covered in paint and sparking.
"Who's the sidekick now?" Pit says dangerously, staring furiously at her broken form. Villager helps me breathe, colours beginning to return.
"You... You..." Friar Marshmallow gasps, pointing at us with her frantically clapping claw. "You will reap what you sow!"
"No," Red says, throwing his bucket to the floor with a crunch. "We will not. We will never."
"Tell them to - to give up!" Friar Marshmallow emits a particularly violent spark, her body jolting. "King P. will steal their hope. He will b-burn it like fire burns woOD! He will - He will win! He always wins!"
"We always win," Pit snarls. "Porky took my brother. I won't let him take anybody else."
"H-He will!" Friar Marshmallow gives another furious spark. "King P. will be merciful if they surrender. Be - Be kind! Tell them he will win! It - it is nOT-" She jolts. "Potatoes! Apples! Surrender! Sidekicks! Be kind! Be - Be kind to Ness and Lucas!"
But Pit steps forward, shaking with barely repressed anger. "We won't be kind. We will be brutal, we will be relentless, and we will ride into every single one of their battles alongside them. And I tell you - I tell you, there is nothing, nothing that anyone can do to stop us. Ness and Lucas may be powerful. They may be the heroes. But I'm strong too. I've been through a hell of a lot, and I'm stronger than I have ever been before, and if you know, if Porky is as clever as he claims to be, he will run. I am coming, and I will never, never take away the hope of my friends. Not when they need it the most."
"B-But," Friar Marshmallow starts.
"They saved me when I needed it," Pit says. "It's time for us to save them, you bitch. Them, and the rest of the fucking world. Okay?"
She shakes. "B-But-"
"Okay!?"
"She's gonna blow," Villager realises. "RUN!"
Her body begins to vibrate. I try to gain consciousness, but everything's happening too fast, my vision still swimming. The others run for the trees, carrying me like a baton, and I cry out, terrified. The Blues begin to panic all around us, spears flying everywhere, and I duck and dodge around them as they close in, yelling. Pit and Red draw out sticks, bashing them away, and I shout, dodging blades, hands, fists. Behind us, Friar Marshmallow gives one last scream, then I'm being thrown to the floor, and suddenly...
KA-BOOM!
It's over. It's all over.
Villager holds me close, and I sigh into him, giving a short, hoarse laugh.
.
.
.
~~o00o~~
(Epilogue - Seventeen Years Earlier)
~~o000~~
.
.
.
She stumbles over the doorstep, clutching her aching stomach. The bitter winter winds howl behind her, condemning her. The warmth of the bakery is familiar but far-removed, like a constellation.
"Well?" A stern-looking woman stands in the kitchen, her rolling pin in hand. A flour-covered apron lays over her shoulders, her hair drawn back into a tight bun. "Is it gone?"
The girl nods, shivering. "Y-Yes, Mother. I got rid of it."
"Good." The stern-looking woman takes a hit at the lump of dough on the sideboard. "Perhaps now, Felicity, the gods will alleviate the curse you brought upon our family."
Felicity shuts the front door behind her, shuddering. She ran so far, so infinitely far. She can only hope that it was enough.
"And I trust you did what I told you? Drowned it in the lake?"
"Y-Yes, Mother," Felicity lies. "Drowned him - it - in the lake."
The woman makes a small, slightly dismissive hum. "You know why we named you Felicity, don't you? It means fortune, means good luck. But there you go, spoiling your great name, running off with some man…"
"I love him, Mother."
"You're sixteen! Too young, too young to love!" The woman hits at the dough again, making disapproving noises as she rolls it flat. "You must learn to bake, foolish child. How else do you expect to earn a living, hm? You expect some man to pay your bills? Because it won't happen, not in this day and age."
"It might," Felicity says. "Not every man is like Father."
"Hold your tongue, girl!" The woman swipes at her with the rolling pin, not close enough to hit, but close enough to make Felicity flinch. "Get to work, get your apron on, and no more of your cheek. Mr Monotoli's ordered another dozen loaves, and if we're not finished by tomorrow, he won't pay!"
"Yes, Mother," Felicity says, dragging herself toward a lump of dough.
"And don't forget to bake an extra loaf for the gods!"
"No, Mother..."
They get to work. The older woman rolls the dough as flat as can be, before scrunching it back into a ball and beginning to knead. She's always had talent as a baker, but it's never earnt enough to let them move out of their hovel. But it's a simple life, baking. And easy one. For what else is there?
Felicity, on the other hand, she's always wanted more. Yet, seventeen years later, she still finds herself in the same tired bakery, her mother's angry tone ringing out in the distance. Often, Felicity retreats to her tiny bedroom, wondering if she'll ever get out of here, but she supposes those sorts of things don't happen anymore.
She idly picks up the morning newspaper, dusts off the flour, and scans the morning headlines. Some old drivel about criminals, rogues who caused chaos in the forest and defied the government. She reads the names of the accused, squinting; Ness, Lucas, Pit, Red, Villager, and...
Her blood runs cold.
Toon Link.
After all these years, confirmation.
Her son is still alive.
.
.
.
.
.
~ReadyForTeddy