Link smiled to himself as he watched the Japanese teens from the doorway of the inn. His wards were gathered near Mipha's statue and were excitedly catching each other up on their adventures. Currently, the two new additions to their party were sharing their story.

"…after we finished defending the stables… followed Beedle's instructions… traveled south. We both… prudent to join up with the rest… soon as possible…"

"Speak for yourself, Icy Hot!"

"…would have, but you… complained about me giving you orders."

"You're damn right. I don't take orders from extras!"

Link snorted to himself. The two were different in almost every aspect, and yet they complimented each other well. The first, Bakugo Katsuki, was loud, arrogant, and supremely confident in his own abilities. From what Midoriya and Ashido had told him, Bakugo was the friend they had gone to save, though Link wasn't sure if "friend" was the right term. From the moment they'd been reunited, Bakugo had been abrasive to the others. He seemed to have some level of camaraderie with Ashido and Todoroki, but he clearly despised Midoriya.

And then there was Todoroki Shoto. So far, Todoroki was one of the more unique of the Japanese kids. He was quiet, reserved, and had a penchant for taking things a little too literally. His scar and hair suggested that he had experienced some level of trauma in the past, though what it was, Link couldn't begin to guess. However, despite his reserved demeanor, he interacted warmly with the others, and it was clear to Link that he was actually friends with most of his classmates.

Honestly, his brash attitude reminded Link of someone he'd known, but the exact memory escaped him. The most he could come up with were flashes of blue and something involving arrows.

"…Icy Hot played dunce, I came in behind the lion man and blew him straight to hell."

"It wasn't an academic exercise, so playing the dunce was impossible. And I distinctly remember freezing it solid."

Whatever their status with their friends, they were clearly competent fighters if they were able to take down a lynel. As they continued to argue over the details, it became clear to Link very quickly that the two's powers bordered on magic. He looked forward to seeing what they could do in person.

"Ho, Link!

Link turned his head toward the voice and nodded as Sidon strode up to him. The prince's traditional smile was firmly in place, but there was a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step that hadn't been there until recently. Freeing his sister's spirit had done him some good. "Ho, Prince Sidon. What brings you down here?"

"I had heard that you had returned and wished to see you off properly." The Zora shook his head in wonder. "I still cannot believe it. Ancient Sheikah technology that allows one to travel from here to Kakariko in an instant? It truly is remarkable."

"It's convenient is what it is," Link muttered. "Do you have any idea the amount of time teleporting around has and will save us?"

"I can imagine the tactical implications, yes. But tell me—" he swept his arm out to gesture toward the teens, his fins pulsing in that way that Link had learned signified curiosity "—who are these others? Friends of your companions? They did come with you, did they not?"

"Yeah. They were both in Kakariko when I checked in. Said they wanted to join their friends. Or Todoroki—the one with the red and white hair—said he did; the other just sneered, but didn't say much else."

"Yes, well, I am sure that they'll prove themselves mighty allies!" Sidon flashed his signature grin before growing more serious. "Were you able to relay my offer to Lady Impa?"

Link nodded. As part of his report, Sidon had asked him to tell Impa that the Zora would follow Hyrule's leadership when the time came to take the fight back to Ganon. "She gratefully accepts."

"Excellent!" Sidon chuckled, clapping a hand to Link's back. "I shall send some of our soldiers to act as liaisons. When the time comes, we shall march on the castle together, haha!"

And they would need the help. The battle for the castle was going to be bloody, and that was before they faced the Calamity. The enemy had such large forces at its command, though, to be fair, those forces seemed to be divided at the moment. This League of Villains had accomplished that much, at least, and they would need to be dealt with as well.

So many obstacles. Link pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Yes, they'd freed Mipha and Vah Ruta, but that still left three Divine Beasts spread across the kingdom. Teleportation made travel somewhat faster, but he still didn't know if they could use it on horses.

That wasn't even touching on his promise to Mipha. He'd asked Impa if she thought the Shrine of Resurrection could be used on spirits, but she didn't know. If she had a body, that would be a different matter entirely. She had some theories—something about "providing a fresh Force to generate a new body"—but admitted that her knowledge in the field was limited.

He jumped as a hand clapped on his shoulder. "I'm not an expert on reading Hylians, but your face seems to be darkened by stormy thoughts, friend," Sidon said.

"Just… thinking about how to proceed, is all." Link shifted uncomfortably. "There's too much to do and not enough time to do it."

"I understand." Sidon retracted hand and rested it under his chin. His eyes glazed slightly as he continued, "Sometimes, the duties I have as crown prince seem overwhelming. I even complained about them to my friend Yona. You know what she said to me? 'Don't swim against the current.'"

'Don't swim against the current?' Link frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

Sidon must have noticed his confusion, because he started chuckling. "Maybe not the best example in this case, but my point is, let the future worry about itself. You will arrive at those obstacles when you do; worrying about them before will only create unneeded trouble."

Link just shook his head again before pushing himself forward. The sentiment was nice, but just leaving things for later would only delay the solution. "I'll keep that in mind. If you'll excuse me, I should go gather up the others so we can get started. The road to Gerudo desert is long, and I want to avoid as many delays as possible."

Yagi stared into the dying fire. Its quiet crackling and popping was the only sound breaking the silence in the house. For the moment, he was alone; Young Paya had retired for the evening, and the lady Impa was working with her people. Young Link's report had stirred her to action, and she had been pushing the Sheikah to begin gathering information.

He'd helped for the first while, but eventually, it became clear to him that he wasn't needed. He didn't know much about stealth or espionage or technology. He'd always had David for the tech stuff, and he usually preferred to Smash problems than to sneak up on them. Unfortunately, that wasn't much of an option any more.

The shuddering flames reminded him of himself; clawing at that last bit of life before fading into obscurity and death. He flexed a hand and felt the embers of One for All stir feebly. He chuckled bitterly; All for One had managed to come out on top once again.

Toshinori Yagi was still alive, but All Might was dead.

Shoof-shunk.

Yagi glanced behind him before sliding over to give Impa a place by the fire. "How'd the training go?"

Impa harrumphed as she gracefully slid around him to her special cushion. "For a tribe of former spies and researchers, the rising generation has little out-of-the-box thinking. They've got potential, but there's a long way to go."

He snorted. "I know that feeling. Trying to turn kids into heroes requires similar skills."

"And they all seem to learn those at different rates." Impa shifted around, almost like an old cat feeling for her favorite spot. "So Toshinori, what about your wards? Two more back to the fold for a few days and immediately off to save the world. Are they ready for such a responsibility?"

Yagi rubbed the back of his head. "Even if they weren't, I don't know if I could stop them if I tried."

"Of course you could; you're their teacher—and idol, unless I misread what I saw in those young men's eyes."

Yes, he was their idol. That was part of the problem. How did impressionable young men recover from seeing their hero reduced to a skeletal wreck only capable of accessing his power for a few minutes at a time? From suddenly going from the one saving everyone to needing saving himself? He'd seen the wonder in their eyes, sure, but he'd also noted the shock, the concerned apprehension. Young Bakugo in particular had certainly looked haunted by what he'd learned.

How had Young Midoriya adapted so well?

Slowly, he put his thoughts to words. "I'm afraid I may not be their idol for much longer. I'm no longer capable of the feats they're used to seeing from me."

"So? You're still their teacher." Impa smiled serenely at him from under the deep brim of her hat. "Trust an old woman; even after your fighting days are past, you still have much to give those kids."

That was true. He might not be able to fight alongside them, but he could certainly pass on some of the tricks that he'd picked up over the years. "You're right. Thank you."

"Of course I am," Impa said comfortably. "I didn't get to be over a century old just to be wrong."

That, at least, was a sentiment he was familiar with. Gran Torino and Recovery Girl certainly displayed it often enough. Was it something you inherited when you got older? Yagi was getting up there in years, but he botched things often enough that he couldn't help but feel like that sense of self-confidence was still years off.

His frown returned as he considered his students. They'd certainly grown in their time apart, both in skill and confidence. Yet something lurked beneath the surface of that strength, hiding behind their self worth. Or, well, under Young Bakugo's. He'd seen glimpses of it while talking with the young man, but he hadn't been able to figure it out before he left. Whatever it was had felt hauntingly familiar though. It reminded him of how he'd felt when Nana'd…

When… Nana…

Yagi stiffened as a couple pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in his mind. "Lady Impa, you are right. I am their teacher—and I've put myself in a position where I cannot teach them. I need to go."

"Finally."

Yagi blinked and turned toward the diminutive woman, who was smiling serenely at him. "I have watched you carefully, Toshinori Yagi. In the days since our young friends set out for Zora's Domain, you have meandered. Now, you have found your way again."

Impa rose fluidly from her pillow throne and planted herself in front of him. "It would do no good to set out after them on foot. With the Sheikah Slate, they can cross all of Hyrule in an instant. You would never catch up to them.

"I see the frustration in your eyes. I believe I have an idea of how we may bypass this limitation. Go gather your things; it is high time I paid my older sister a visit, and we've no time to lose."

As night stretched across Hateno, Yneira used the encroaching darkness to slip around the village unseen. She didn't think anyone would remember her, but given her objective this evening, she didn't want herself sticking in any memories. Not when there might be a fresh body in the morning.

She would have liked to be done already, but she and Link had sat down and had a nice, long chat once they'd arrived. She'd wanted full details about what he saw when he'd vanished, but no matter how much she wheedled, cajoled, or even threatened, he was adamantly silent. Oh, he shared a few things—the place he'd been summoned to sounded like Malice's own taint with its hoards of walking dead—but some details he wouldn't speak on.

To her frustration—and relief—he was just as confused about her fancy new mark as she herself was. She crouched behind a barrel to avoid a pair of farmers and slipped a hand up to feel at the spot while she waited. The cloth of her tunic folded under her touch, slipping into the somehow bottomless pit that had appeared on her chest.

It didn't hurt. Given its placement, that was probably for the best. The last thing she needed was for this thing to eat her heart or a lung. Who knew what it would do to her, given the chance.

That thought pulled her back to her task at hand. There was one person she was almost certain would know. And if that hag had cursed her, well, she would have to choose between lifting the curse or losing her life.

The farmers passed, and she darted from behind her cover. There was the hag's house ahead, and—yes, the candles were lit. With one last look around, Yneira flitted to the doorstep, jiggled the handle, and slid into the house.

The interior looked exactly as it had last time. Light from dozens of unflickering candles provided the small structure with light, and from down the short corridor, Yneira could hear the sound of the spinning wheel. With a growl, she unsheathed a sickle and stalked down the corridor and into the main room.

"Well, Child of Dark, I see you have returned." If Yneira's armed intrusion into her quiet evening perturbed her, the crone gave no indication. She hardly slowed as the former Arbiter planted herself directly beside her and placed a blade over her hunched neck.

"I would like to know what in Ganon's name you did to me," Yneira hissed.

"I'm afraid I didn't do anything to you, Child."

"Sandshit!" With a lurch, Yneira used her free hand to rip her tunic open, exposing her chest—and the dark wound. "I know you know what this is. Did you curse me for not believing your little story? Does it grant you power? Answer me, or I swear I will cut you down here and now!"

The spinning stopped. A cold shiver ran down Yneira's spine as the crone turned to her and fully opened her cataract-filled eyes. As she reached a hand up and blindly traced the fiery circle around it, her lips peeled back in a terrible grin, and she began to cackle.

Yneira jerked away, face twisted as the mirthless, mocking laughter she remembered all too well filled the hovel once more. "What is it, you old hag? Answer me!"

The cackling faded as the blind woman gracefully rose to her feet, ignoring the blade Yneira had pointed at her throat. "Oh, I will answer you, Child. I spoke truth; I have done nothing to you. Your blood has awakened. The First Flame calls, and whether you like it or not, you will answer it."

With shocking speed, the crone reached out and tapped the dark mark. "This, Child, is the manifestation of the Curse, the Mark. Now that it has appeared, you will be compelled to seek the land you see in your dreams. It may not happen for years, but happen it must. Like a moth—"

"Drawn to a flame, yeah, I remember what you said." Yneira grumbled.

"Then you have all you need. Go forth; seek the King. Seek Drangleic. Or watch helplessly as your very sense of self slips away. It matters not to me what you do, but you will find no further help here."

"Listen, you obfuscating—!"

Before Yneira could finish her threat, the crone snapped her fingers. A wall of heat blasted into Yneira as the timid candles roared to life and filled the room with fire. The circle of fire on her chest seemed to react, and she gasped. It burned! It was in her skin, her muscles, her bones. She dropped her sickle and clawed at her chest, carving deep ruts around the wound that bled darkness. Somewhere in the flames, the crone's cackle cracked out again, taunting, insulting. She stumbled backward as another wave of fire washed over her, and—

She landed on the doorstep with a thump, the pain in her chest suddenly gone. For a moment, all she could do was breathe, gulping down great lungfuls of blessedly cool air. She glanced down at her chest and was perversely relieved to only see the Mark. The ring of fiery runes around it glowed coldly, and even as she watched, they faded back down to their usual state.

"At least it's not worse," she muttered. Then her eyes went wide. "Wait, if I didn't cut myself, then what happened to…"

Yneira question trailed away as she finally registered the crone's home. The hovel looked like it hadn't been inhabited for years. The door was broken, bits of it scattered around the entryway while the rest hung crazily off its hinges. Dirt was piled up high around shattered windows, and further inside, she could see starlight coming through the roof. It was only as she registered the starlight that she realized that all the candles had vanished.

Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself to her feet, never taking her eyes off the ruin. It had clearly been abandoned for years, which didn't make any sense; the locals knew the crone. Calamity, one of them had even asked after her sewing. She glanced again at her chest and shivered. Had she imagined the whole thing?

Whatever had happened, she certainly wasn't going to get any more answers here. Absently, she pulled her tunic closed again while she ran back through the encounter. There wasn't much; she needed to "seek Drangleic," wherever that was. Apparently, that would help her?

Absently, she placed her main hand on the handle of her sickle—and panicked when she didn't feel anything. A quick check revealed that, while her second sickle was in place, the one she had drawn—the one that she had dropped—was missing. Without a second thought, she drew her remaining weapon and slipped back into the hovel.

It didn't take her long to find the weapon, or what was left of it. When she entered the main room, she spotted the grip sticking out of a pile of dirt. She grabbed it and pulled, unearthing a rusted and charred misshapen length of metal.

'What in Hylia's name was going on here?' Yneira stared at the ruined weapon in disgust before tossing it down and turning to leave. She could puzzle it over on her way, and she really needed to get started. There was only place for her to start "seeking," and Lurelin was a good ways south.

It was, apparently, time for her to pay her grandmother a visit.