When twenty-two-year-old Izuna inherited the title of "healer," she'd expected to feel a sense of pride, or at least satisfaction. But as she stood above the burning corpse of her grandmother, she could muster only resignation. Heavy clouds swollen with rain that refused to fall darkened the sky, casting the proceedings in shadow. The herbs that the villagers had placed around the distinguished healer did little to disguise the stench of burning flesh. A scent Izuna was keen to forget. She stood apart from the rest of the Sheikah, alone in the place of mourning meant for family. She did not cry. It was only when the body had been reduced to ash at last that her expression changed – to one of relief.
Her childhood friend, Impa, came up to her afterward. "Izuna? Are you okay?"
"Of course," she replied in a neutral tone. There was nothing to be sad about, after all. Her grandmother's death had been sudden but expected – at least to her. She had simply gone to sleep and not woken up, like many of the family heads before her. Her death was neat – as neat and orderly as her life had been.
"Are you sure?"
Izuna grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry so much about me. I'll be fine." It was easier this time. By now, greeting death was old hat and she weathered the grief in silent numbness.
Impa opened her mouth to protest. "But-"
There was a tap on her shoulder. "Izuna." Juba, one of the village council elders, and a young man she didn't recognize loomed behind her. "The emissary will be arriving soon; you must return home. Koro will escort you-"
"I want to be alone, Juba."
He frowned. "That's understandable, but your safety is more important. There will be time later for mourning and solitude-"
"With all due respect, Juba, I think Izuna can lay low for a few hours on her own," Impa countered. "Right?" She squeezed her hand, wearing an encouraging smile.
Juba's frown deepened his wrinkles. "I... suppose that's true." He levelled Izuna with a hard stare. "Be sure you stay hidden." She gave a curt nod.
"The second they're gone, I'll come get you, okay?" Impa whispered. Izuna sent her a wan smile before turning toward the direction of her family home. It stood above the village, the closest dwelling to Cotera, the great fairy who watched over Kakariko Village.
The house was cold when she stepped through the door, and emptier than ever before. Her grandfather had built it large enough to house many children and grandchildren, but their family hadn't grown and the rooms remained empty. Oppressive silence bore down on her like a noose, choking her with accusation. As if asking why she dared to live when her worthier kin died. Perhaps company might not have been amiss, even if it was someone she didn't know... How could she be expected to spend days hiding from the Hylians, let alone live the rest of her life in such a house?
Before she knew it, Izuna burst through the back door, her feet carrying her up the hill and past Cotera's fountain. She couldn't stay in there, not with the acrid smell of burnt flesh lingering in her nose and the sting of the knowledge that she was alone in the world. Her chest burned from the exertion and her breaths were ragged, but she didn't stop running, following the path leading out to the plains. Normally there were deer and other wildlife around, but it was strangely devoid of fauna and the usual sounds of nature.
That should have been her first clue that something was amiss, but she ran until a splash of red on the bank of the pond where she and her sister, Azumi, used to play halted her in her tracks. Chest heaving, she crept closer, heart racing. Her breath hitched.
Splayed out against the bank was a person - and not just any person. She didn't need to look at the red uniform or vicious sickle to know who they were. The mask alone, painted with the inverted eye of the Sheikah was damning. A Yiga. What were they doing so close to Kakariko? There were tears in their uniform and blood oozed from their wounds. Her head whipped around in search of others, but they were alone. A scout?
A twig snapped under her foot and Izuna froze, but the Yiga did not stir. Vacillating between the urge to turn her back or take a risk by interfering, she crept toward the injured warrior and knelt beside them, firmly pressing her fingers to their neck. A heartbeat fluttered beneath her touch. Alive then.
"Seiji..." The soft utterance was followed by a pained groan.
She hesitated. They were the enemy; traitors to their tribe, most would say. No one would fault her for leaving them to die or putting them out of their misery. In fact, she would be honored among her people for supporting the "right" side. And yet, Izuna found herself pulling the energy into her hands until they glowed blue, placing them over the Yiga and closing her eyes to concentrate. Abdominal lacerations, a nick in the intestines, and bruising. Nothing she couldn't handle. Izuna allowed the energy to flow out of her and into the footsoldier, breathing deeply. In. Out. In and out. Using this technique took patience and focus, but her grandmother had drilled it into her until she could perform it with little difficulty, and it was done in a matter of minutes.
They groaned, bringing a hand to their head. "I'm... alive?" The inverted eye turned toward her, and they tensed, springing back and landing in a crouch, drawing their sickle. "What did you do, Sheikah?"
She stared up at them wide-eyed. "Healed you?"
"Liar!" The fabric of their gloves strained as their grip on the sickle tightened.
She flinched, blood rushing through her veins as adrenaline kicked in. "I'm not lying!" Izuna squeezed her eyes shut, reveling in her first proper emotion in days. Anything was better than the emptiness, even fear.
They looked down at their torn, bloodied uniform and froze. They brought a hand up, touching the unmarked flesh of their abdomen, and looked at her sharply. "How is this possible?"
"I healed you."
"How? And... why?" Their body was fraught with tension, ready to spring into action at any second. The Yiga clan was known to be savage and treacherous, but was this footsoldier going to attack her even after she'd saved their life? Would it matter if they did? She'd be reunited with her family. With Azumi.
"Would you have preferred to die?"
They didn't answer. The sun had long retreated behind the horizon, and shadows fell over them as the night clawed for dominance over the sky. Izuna's fear ebbed, leaving her empty once more.
"You don't owe me anything, if that's where your concern lies."
"Then why help me if you've nothing to gain?" they pressed.
"You mumbled a name when I found you. There's someone waiting for you to come home, isn't there? Don't keep them waiting."
Their hesitation lasted only a second before they sheathed the sickle. "I won't forget this. And... I'm sorry for your loss." Right, her clothes. The formal white funeral garb was a telltale giveaway, even if it was soaked from the rain and splattered with mud.
The footsoldier formed a hand sign and disappeared in a puff of smoke and tags. They had the right idea. She'd pushed her luck far enough; if anyone caught her outside the village, there would be trouble. Izuna hurried back home, keeping out of sight, but by the time she'd returned home, no one had noticed she was gone.
Days after the funeral, when Impa told her it was finally safe to go out, Izuna followed the well-trodden path down to the village graveyard, sighing as she sat alone below the gnarled tree overlooking the Lanayru Wetlands. "I healed someone I shouldn't have, Azumi," she murmured to the gravestone beside her. There was enough cruelty in the world without her adding to it. A life was a life, regardless of their faction. "I doubt any of the others would understand, not even Impa. But I know you would've… you always understood." A wave of melancholy swept through her, and she sniffled. "I miss you more than ever… I don't know how I'm supposed to do this alone."
Several days after the scattering of her grandmother's ashes, there was a knock on her door. For the most part, the villagers had left her alone during her time of mourning, save for those in need of immediate care, and they rarely knocked in urgent cases. Izuna stood from where she'd been sorting herbs to grind into poultices and peered through the window. Juba and the same warrior whose company he'd tried foisting on her after the funeral. With a reluctant sigh, she admitted them.
The elder took a seat at the table, eyeing the piles of meticulously sorted herbs dubiously. "How are you doing, Izuna? Are you well?"
"I'm fine – keeping busy and all that. You don't need to worry about me."
"Good, good," he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "In that case, there's something I've been meaning to discuss with you." Of course, this wasn't a social call; it never was with the village elders. "As you know, you are the head of your family now. As such, there are certain responsibilities you must fulfill – namely taking up your grandmother's work as the primary healer for the village."
Izuna nodded; what was he getting at? She knew all this already. Originally, her older sister, Azumi, was the heir to their family legacy – a position Izuna had never envied. After her death, however, the burden had fallen on Izuna and she'd been training tirelessly to take over for her grandmother after her inevitable passing.
"However, there is another matter of vital importance to discuss. We wanted to wait to bring this up, but with the prophesied return of Calamity Ganon, we cannot delay." She had only heard bits and pieces of the unsettled mutterings about a prophecy foretelling the beast's return, but her grandmother refused to speak of it in the days before she passed, and Izuna had little time for idle chitchat when there were medicines to be made and patients to tend. But what did that have to do with her future? Aside from the potential end of the world, of course. "The council and I agree that it is in the village's best interest that you marry and produce an heir."
"Marriage? When am I supposed to get to know someone when I'm running everything by myself?"
"You needn't worry about that. The council and I have taken great care in arranging it for you."
"Oh, you have, have you?" she sneered. There hadn't been an arranged marriage in Kakariko since her grandmother was a little girl. "Who, then?"
"Me," said the man sitting beside Juba. He offered her a smile. "I am honored to-"
"Not happening," she deadpanned.
Juba's wrinkles seemed to deepen with his displeasure. "It has already been decided; Koro is an accomplished tracker and an excellent warrior. You will be well-looked after."
Izuna clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. "I don't need to be 'looked after,' least of all by a stranger!"
"You won't be strangers for long. He will accompany you on your pilgrimage-"
She scoffed and shook her head. "Absolutely not!" The nature of the yearly pilgrimages was a secret her family had carried with them for countless generations – ever since the Great Calamity ten thousand years ago. "We have never allowed an outsider to witness our offering-"
"You are to be married; he will not be an outsider for long," Juba groused, his patience running out at last.
"That doesn't change that he will be trespassing on an incredibly personal journey!"
"I swear on my family honor and my life that I will never divulge your family's secrets," Koro asserted, taking her hand from across the table, squeezing it firmly. "You can trust me; I'll prove it to you."
Izuna yanked her hand away. "Is there anything else you need to tell me, Juba?" she asked coldly, ignoring Koro's vow.
"The two of you are to make an effort to get to know each other. Do I make myself clear?"
"Of course."
Izuna only scoffed.
They stood to leave, and Koro cast a troubled glance at her. Juba's eyes were cold. "Make your peace with this Izuna. Things will be better for you the sooner you do. We'll leave you to your preparations."
Despite Juba's instructions, Izuna focused her efforts on avoiding Koro whenever possible. Impa aided her to that end, having been furious when Izuna broke the news of her unwilling engagement. However, as summer turned to autumn, summons came from the castle for Impa.
Impa grinned as she finished recounting her meeting with the elders. "Can you believe it? Me - a royal advisor!" Picking at a thread on her friend's quilted coverlet, Izuna scowled. Impa paid her no mind, continuing to gush. "Just think - I'll be able to make a difference for our people - this is my chance to do something to improve the way we're treated!"
Izuna crossed her arms, scoffing audibly. "That's like the kicked dog appealing to the boot. They'll never see us as more than expendable; you should just stay here where you'll be safe from them."
It was Impa's turn to scowl. "Do nothing? That won't help anyone!"
"Neither will wasting your time waiting on the tyrant."
Her cheeks reddened and she clenched her fists. "I know why you dislike them but be reasonable Izuna. I'm doing this for you as much as for anyone else - I don't want history to repeat itself. I hoped you'd see that... We all need to work together to survive the demon."
Izuna bit her lip, staring up into her friend's honey eyes. "I know... but I'm afraid something's going to happen to you. And I know it's selfish but," she blinked away the tears accumulating at the corners of her eyes, "I'm gonna miss you..." More than she could express.
Taking a seat beside her on the bed, Impa grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'll be back before you go on your pilgrimage. And I promise to write. Often."
Her lips quirked. "Yeah right. You'll have your hands full with your duties."
"You'll be busy too, you know."
"Pfft, with what? Dodging Koro?"
"Exactly." The pair sighed in unison. "Just... try not to be married by the time I come back." If Juba had his way, she would be.
Izuna later learned that Impa's sister, Purah, along with her friend Robbie, had been selected to lead the research facility for the ancient technology they'd unearthed. The pair departed with Impa, taking their eccentric energy with them, leaving the village much quieter than it had been in years. If Impa was sane by the time she reached the castle, Izuna would count that as a win.
Without her friend as a buffer, Koro accosted Izuna as often as his duties allowed and did not accept her demands to be left alone. Avoiding him required increasingly creative excuses. Lately, she'd taken to claiming that she needed to convene with the great fairy, Cotera, for reasons relating to healing and prayer. During these precious hours, Izuna snuck into the fields and mountainous areas surrounding Kakariko village.
Amid one of these excursions, Izuna found herself lounging in the shade of the tree overlooking the pond she and Azumi used to play in as children. Lingering in the places they spent the most time together was the only way to feel close to her, but the passing years hollowed out those precious memories, the warmth they once brought replaced with melancholy.
Heavy footsteps yanked her into alertness and she jumped to her feet. Had the guards found her hiding spot? Her eyes darted around until they rested on a footsoldier half-dragging a larger, brawnier Yiga warrior.
"Please, healer," a familiar voice pleaded. "Can you save him?"
Izuna closed the gap between them, running a blue-glowing hand over the blademaster to scan his injuries. He was suffering from multiple lacerations across his chest and one of his vital organs had been critically damaged. "He's lost a lot of blood." Her healing arts wouldn't be enough to save him and unless she did something drastic, he would die within the hour.
The footsoldier let out a choked sob. "Can nothing be done? Please... I beg you!" They bowed low, their mask touching the grass.
There was one other method to save the blademaster's life, but her grandmother forbade her from ever using that technique, even on their own people. The Yiga Clan was an enemy to the Sheikah; it was bad enough she'd healed this one, but to aid a more elite warrior? That was tantamount to treason. And yet, her heart clenched for the Yiga prostrated before her. She could not deny such a plea in good conscience, no matter how it would look to someone else.
"I will save him."
Izuna molded her energy, placing blue-glowing hands over the blademaster and repairing what damage she could before letting the blue light fade. With a soft exhale, she descended deep within herself, reaching for the source of her vitality. Her life essence emitted a pure white glow as the smallest amount slipped effortlessly from her hands into the blademaster. Deadly wounds knit together at once, leaving nary a scar. There was movement in the corner of her eye - something white. But when she turned to look, it was gone...
The blademaster let out a groan and the footsoldier gasped, throwing their arms around him. Izuna averted her eyes from the intimate scene as the two Yiga put their heads together, whispering in hushed voices. Spots danced in her vision and her limbs were heavy, as if she'd run a long way without stopping. She swayed.
"Healer are you well?" the footsoldier asked hesitantly.
She blinked a few times. "Yes, of course – I'm sorry." Turning to the blademaster, she asked, "How are you feeling?"
"Alive, thanks to you." He clutched the footsoldier's hand in his own. "You healed Ryo before... and now me. Why would you help us?"
"Seiji, she saved you! – you know what they say about looking a gift horse-"
Seiji shook his head. "She's a Sheikah, Ryo, not a horse. We are sworn enemies."
"As long as you don't threaten or hurt me, you're not my enemy."
"And if you were discovered aiding us? What then?"
Every movement was a great effort, but she shrugged anyway. "If saving a life makes me a traitor, then I'm fine with that. It's not like the tyrant king can take anything else from me." Her people were another matter as they controlled every aspect of her life and future, but short of putting her under total house arrest, there wasn't much more the elders could do to punish her. And they wouldn't put her to death – not without her passing on her family's secret arts.
Seiji bowed his head. "We will remember you." Whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen. He stood, pulling Ryo to their feet, and the pair formed hand signs, disappearing in clouds of smoke.
From then on, Yiga warriors sought her out for healing in secret, whenever she could get away from the village. Aside from her yearly pilgrimage, the clandestine healings were all that broke the monotonous routine of her life, and she clung to them like a lifeline.