Author's Note: I do realize that I've been rather inconsistent in uploading chapters. I crash haphazardly back into the fanfiction world with a bold start to a new story, then fade out after a week or two, then come back in with a teeming wave of chapters before dropping like a lead balloon into the depths of who-knows-where. And, quite unexpectedly, after what seems to be a clear sign that I've given up, I appear again for a brief moment to post a single chapter before dropping right back out again. So let me tell you something: I'm just as confused by my own behavior as you are. If I have a muse, it is a cruel one who flits about my head and tantalizes me when I don't have access to the various canvases on which I paint my imagination, and when I do, she takes a massive shit on my head and leaves me depressed in the corner. So don't expect any consistency out of me. Expect great things, just not consistent great things. But you know what would help? You know what I only have one of and I'd like to have more? You know what would let me on as to whether my story is worth my time and effort? I'll give you a hint...it starts with an "r" and ends with a "w."

The next day, the sheikah were still present, along with the formal stench that followed them. The students moved with little more ease than they had the previous day. Those in Ms. Maxwell's class didn't seem to be enjoying their free first period much, as there was next to nowhere one could go to escape the gaze of an officer. The sheikah did not provide a sense of security as much as they did a sense that the students' security had been compromised; this Link knew and felt full well as he, Zelda, and Ghirahim moved in a circle tighter than they had before, roaming campus with light feet and lighter breath. Every word that left their mouths seemed to drag a tail of danger along behind it, and the only way it could lose this unwanted appendage was to leave their lungs slowly, in the most solemn and quiet of whispers. Indeed, the campus was gripped in an intensified version of the sentiment that was present the previous day.

"It is," Link commented as he brooded on a bench with his two friends, "as if the entire school was suspended in gelatin."

"Strawberry flavor?" Ghirahim suggested meekly.

"I'd say more like pickle flavor." He gazed at the ground as if he'd like to seep into one of the cracks and slither his way home from his dreary prison. "Or maybe not. How about okra flavor? No, not that either. More like stale bread. That could explode if you bite it in the wrong place."

Zelda giggled, stifling her laugh with her hand and leaving the moment of mirth to her eyes. "Minesweeper bread. You have a market there."

"Minesweeper bread flavored gelatin."

"Yeah. That."

They sat in silence, listening to the faint hum of the road a way's away. The sound resembled that of a colony of sedated bees, going about their tasks in a slow and unexcited fashion, broken occasionally by the rogue gasoline engine from an era when bees found pleasure in their work. Link wondered to himself how many people out there knew about the crisis in the school. Were they all passing by oblivious, save for a few? Or did the school's troubles a source of gossip for the town? Did the same silence that dominated the school pervade the road also as drivers passed the sacred shrine to anxiety? Link had seen nothing in the news, which, surprisingly, did not surprise him. He knew there was more than there appeared to be in this situation. The federal officers carried with them, among other things, a sense of open secrecy: you may know, but you may not tell. We will tell you if you ask, but you may not answer if others ask. The whole operation was being carried out not by creatures, but by a singular, reactionary machine that will turn on you and tear you apart if you make the slightest false move; like Nabooru, who had made the mistake of having olive skin, stark red hair and flaming golden eyes.

"It's not fair, is it?" Link asked.

"What?" Ghirahim asked.

"Nabooru's going to kill herself after what that sheikah did to her."

"What do you mean? It wasn't her fault, she just-"

"No, I mean literally. I saw it in her eyes."

"Oh, come on, you can't judge someone by some look you thought you-"

"Ghirahim, I'm worried about her."

Zelda put her arm around him, her heart warmed by his compassion. She gave him a small smile, gently massaging the shoulder on which her hand rested. This reminded Link of the day he had met her and, blushing slightly, he put his arm around her as well, giving her waist a gentle squeeze. "You worry about everyone, Link. That's what's wonderful about you. That's what'll get you far."

Ghirahim smiled and turned his face away distractedly, as if to say he wasn't involved and he didn't feel the need to be under the circumstances.

"Thank you," Link replied. "But what to do about Nabooru? We can't approach her directly, that's for certain."

"Yes we can. We can tell her we're there for her, and just be honest. I mean, what's wrong with just telling about us listening to-"

"She revealed some pretty personal stuff. We don't want to embarrass her-"

"She won't be embarrassed if we do it openly, from friend to friend. And, on second thought, doesn't she already know?"

Ghirahim decided it was time to involve himself. "I say we give it some time. She's not going to resort to suicide immediately-"

"She just might!" Link corrected, his whisper fiercer.

"But what if we approach it wrong?"

Zelda waved a hand anxiously in the air. "There's no wrong approach right now. We've just got to-"

"But we still need to consider a tactful plan!" Link pleaded. "I don't want to make it worse!"

"Look, she may have had suicide pent up inside of her for a long time. Who knows?"

Ghirahim turned to Link. "You say you 'saw it in her eyes.' Do you have anything besides this?"

"Yes. I heard her whisper goodbye."

This silenced all three of them. "Well, this changes everything," Ghirahim said.

It was at this moment that Link noticed a sheikah watching them from under an awning. "Look!" Link whispered. The three of them turned and froze. It was the same sheikah who had caught them eavesdropping. She seemed to be watching them analytically, not even attempting to hide it. Link had, yesterday, considered her a creature of no excess. He was of a different opinion now. She was one of the most excessive creatures he had ever met, hoarding information and not letting a bit of it escape unnecessarily. She was selfish, in her government-approved crusade for truth. Link felt the anger bubbling inside of him.

Zelda could sense this. Her arm still around him, she began stroking his neck in an attempt to calm him down. "Link..." she began. He wouldn't listen. Belligerently, he stood, causing the other two to hold their breath. Grating his teeth together with little discretion, he considered his next move. After a few tense seconds, he mechanically strode away, making it very clear to the officer that it was her from whom he was walking. He didn't look behind him; but if he had, he would see her volcanic eyes pursuing him, a gesture that would surely cause him to falter. Luckily for him, he didn't let down his guard until he was well out of her range of sight.

It wasn't until the sheikah had left when Zelda and Ghirahim followed suit.