Link could hear his piano from the street. It always embarrassed him a bit, how, while he was playing in his own room, he often felt that he had complete privacy, yet when his brother played he could see the true lengths to which the sound of the instrument reached. It felt like a violation of his soul; he had emptied his emotions into the piano. He had told it things he would never confess to any other person, filled it with rage and confusion and sorrow and bliss, bursting with crescendo and diminuendo, as he explored in no particular key or time signature but rather in a fluid stream of consciousness that guided him from note to note like skipping on stones across a river. He wondered how many people knew him second-hand in this manner. He wondered if one day his music would be as popular as his brothers, and if people would no longer know him by his face but rather by this unfiltered vision of his soul. His innermost emotions revealed in anonymity. They would not know him, yet they would know him better than any other did.

Link's music, he felt, was wilder than Daniel's. It drifted often into atonal realms, while Daniel tended to follow conventions, or at least stay in the same mode for over two measures. However, he knew than Daniel possessed a vaster store of musical knowledge than he and could easily imitate his style. But not his passion. While there would always be distinct stylistic elements to each of their music, which could be dissected and imitated, there would always be unique nameless things neither of them could define nor copy.

Link stayed in the dining room while Daniel played; he did not want to disrupt him. Both brothers knew how it felt to be disturbed while inspired, and they respected each other's space. When the music had stopped, Link ventured into his bedroom, where the piano was stored. "Hi," he said.

Daniel smiled up at him from his seat at the piano bench. "Why didn't you come in earlier? I heard the front door open a while ago?"

"Well, I didn't want to interrupt your playing."

He shook his head vigorously. "Whatever made you think you'd be 'interrupting'? Whoever told you not to join in?" Link was hesitant. This kind of loose improvisation was most often individual. It would be hard to pull off with two people, not having any set chord progression to follow. "Come on. I'll start something. You jump in." He sat and thought for only a couple of seconds, eyes half-shut, fingers resting delicately on the keys, before playing a simple yet rhythmic bass line. Link soon got the gist of it and started in higher on the piano, improvising a melody and countermelody. There were a couple unwanted dissonances, as, both being accomplished musicians, neither could avoid the temptation to tinker around in various harmonies. They played for about three minutes until an itch appeared in the back of Link's mind.

He didn't want to tell Daniel about his suspicions regarding Nabooru, but he felt he had no choice. His consciousness would flare up with anxiety if he didn't. He hated to admit it, but his concern for her was not entirely concern. Part of it was a lust for controversy and scandal. Nothing satisfied this more than seeing a seemingly unbreakable authority figure show such prejudice as to push an innocent girl to suicide. Mostly, though, it was legitimate concern. "Daniel," he started, his voice quiet and wispy; it got this way when he was about to say something highly emotional.

Daniel stopped playing. "Yes?"

"Rembember that girl Nabooru I told you about?"

"Yes, the Gerudo. It was nice of you to help her get acclimated to a different environment. What a nice way to put the past behind you."

Link avoided Daniel's eyes. He hadn't told him of his full range emotions surrounding Nabooru: the re-emergence of his fears, the new fear of his own subconscious and its natural prejudice. And to top it all off, he felt a bit guilty bringing up a topic that was privately hers. That word she whispered, "goodbye," was intended for Link's ears alone. He decided not to breach the subject.

"I feel sorry for her," he said. "She's stuck in a world that conspires against her."

Daniel sighed and smiled wanly up at Link. "I know. The best you can do is to be her friend."

"But I want to do more," he continued. "These sheikah; I think they make her feel even more alienated."

"I know what you mean. But listen to me: you can't control what others do. Just worry about your own actions. If she...Whatever she does, it's not your fault."

So Daniel had his own suspicions. Link, though he didn't feel it was entirely justified, decided this meant he could confide to him the true situation. "Listen Daniel. She's going to kill herself. I don't know what I can do to stop her."

Daniel sighed again. A long silence ensued.

"I understand how hard this is for you. But be up front about it. You were always a bit more reserved when it came to emotional matters, but this is not the time to shy away." Unexpectedly, he grasped his brother by the hands. Link felt a bit uncomfortable with this gesture; Nabooru's problems were becoming a point of intimacy between himself and Daniel. "Do what you can, Link. Just do what you can."

Then he loosened his grasp on Link's hands and turned back to the piano. He tried to pluck out a melody, but it was rigid, without life. He got up and walked out of the room. Link, on the other hand, discovered melodies inside of him he never knew he had. He was mistaken, though, as to the cause of Daniel's lack of a song.

Dear Mrs. R. Canan,

Hi! How are you? Is your daughter happy at school? Glad to hear it!

Now, let us reveal our darker purpose. (That was a reference to King Lear. This is his first line of dialogue, if I am not mistaken.) You know what's going on here. A teacher got kidnapped, there are police patrolling the campus. But don't worry about it, she should show up in a couple of days. :) We're not worried. But it seems Zelda has been hanging out with someone who has grown increasingly belligerent toward the Sheikah and might end up in Juvenile Hall, but no worries. The boy's name is Link, and he's really a nice boy, but we're concerned for your daughter's well-being. He seems to have some kind of feud with federal agents. But don't be too harsh with Zelda, she's not doing anything wrong. Nor is Link, really, but we just have to take precautions, you know what I mean? Especially since Zelda was with him when he challenged the Sheikah captain's judgement to her face. Link's legal guardian has been sent a message as well.

-Principal Laura Hopkins :)

Zelda's mother looked up from her tablet to find her daughter blank-faced. "Link didn't do anything wrong," Zelda whispered.

"Then why am I receiving a message from your principal?" she demanded, turning off the tablet and putting it aside. "Who is this Link?" Zelda was silent, lying back on her bed, as her mother stepped forward, her mouth gathered up into a fierce parental scowl. "Was it," she began, "the boy I saw you with on orientation day? The one who had his arm around you?"

Silence again.

Zelda didn't know what to say. The principal's message was odd, so blunt, yet so contradictory in its optimistic tone. Anything she said would sound feeble to her mother. That did not stop her from trying, however. "A friend of ours was being interrogated by a Sheikah. The captain, it seems, from this message."

"Yes; go on."

"We had to stop and listen. She was being asked extremely personal questions, and I swear, it wasn't justified."

Ruth Canan exploded in rage. "You eavesdropped!" she gasped. "You eavesdropped on...a confidential investigation. My god, girl, what have you done?" Zelda closed her eyes, an indignant move, it seemed, to her mother. "How dare you?" she fired into the tense air. Zelda heard only silence. She stiffened her entire body, determined not to move a muscle until her own interrogator left the room. "What kind of questions were asked?"

"Why do you want to know? It is, after all, confidential."

"Tell me. Now."

"I'm not at liberty to tell." She cringed internally at her own sarcasm.

"Goddamn it!" she screamed through clenched teeth. She grabbed Zelda by the face, causing her to jolt upright, eyes open. The hand clamped on her jaw was firm, and regardless of her attempts to escape it, it held her in place. "You, you little asshole, are staying home tomorrow." She stormed out of the room. Zelda could breathe again. She collapsed on the bed again, her face buried in her soft pillow. She was shaking, sobbing. Huge, racking sobs. The worst part was that she had nothing to regret.