Hero out of Time
Author notes:
Thetimvh2:You are right, it should have been in the crossover section, I got that fixed so hopefully more people will see the story
Chapter: A Whisper on the Wind
The streets of the Seireitei were eerily quiet as Link walked through them, the strange calm unsettling in a way he couldn't quite place. Even in Hyrule's forests, filled with ancient spirits, the world had felt more alive than this. Here, the air felt... deliberate, like it was carrying an unseen presence watching him from every shadow.
Link's hand drifted near the hilt of the Master Sword as he continued through the maze-like alleys. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts—they had saved his life too many times to ignore now. Someone—or something—was following him, yet no matter how sharply he turned or how carefully he listened, he could sense nothing.
As he rounded another corner, Link stopped in his tracks.
A tall man stood waiting for him, wearing a black kimono beneath a flowing haori, patterned with pink and white flowers. His wide-brimmed straw hat tilted slightly, casting a shadow over his soft, amused expression. His gray eyes twinkled beneath the brim as though greeting an old friend.
Link's hand tensed, ready to draw his sword.
"Oh, no need for that," the man said with a lazy smile, raising both hands as if in surrender. "I'm not here to fight, little wanderer."
Link didn't relax but kept his gaze locked on the stranger. This man's presence was unsettling—not threatening, but... disarming, like he could slip through defenses without even trying.
"You've got sharp eyes, I see," the man continued casually. "But I've gotta say, you've got me curious. It's not every day someone strolls into the Seireitei who isn't dead."
Link's brow furrowed. He didn't understand most of what the man said, but the way he spoke—like they were old friends—was more confusing than the words themselves.
The man chuckled softly, tipping his hat slightly. "Ah, where are my manners? I'm Shunsui Kyōraku, captain of the Eighth Division."
Link gave a wary nod but remained silent, his mind racing to make sense of this strange encounter.
"And you are...?" Kyōraku asked, arching a brow.
"Link," he answered cautiously, deciding it was best not to be rude.
"Link, huh?" Kyōraku repeated, rolling the name over in his mouth like it was an old song. "Now that's an interesting name. So, what brings you here, friend? Did you take a wrong turn on the way to your destiny?"
Link couldn't help but feel that Kyōraku's easygoing tone was deliberate, designed to lull him into dropping his guard. But if there was one thing Link had learned in his many adventures, it was how to remain cautious without showing it.
"I don't know how I got here," Link admitted, "but I was in the middle of something important before..."
"Before you ended up in a place like this," Kyōraku finished for him with a knowing smile. "Ah, happens to the best of us, doesn't it?" He gestured down the street. "Well, no sense in standing around. The Head Captain wants to meet you."
Link tensed at the mention of another captain, unsure if this was an invitation or a summons.
Kyōraku noticed his hesitation and laughed warmly. "No need to worry, Link. Old Yamamoto isn't as scary as people say... well, most of the time." He gave a conspiratorial wink. "Besides, it's best to introduce yourself before anyone else gets any ideas."
Seeing no other option, Link gave a nod.
"That's the spirit," Kyōraku said cheerfully, turning and strolling down the street, hands tucked into his sleeves. "Come along now. I'll keep you company—it's a bit easy to get lost around here."
Link followed, keeping a few cautious paces behind the captain.
As they walked, Kyōraku continued chatting, his voice light and friendly, though his questions were pointed. "So, what's a hero like you doing with so many strange toys? That sword of yours—it doesn't feel like any ordinary steel."
Link glanced down at the Master Sword resting at his side. He didn't answer, but Kyōraku didn't seem to mind.
"Ah, the silent type," Kyōraku mused. "I respect that. But you know, everyone here loves a good story, especially the old man you're about to meet."
Link's hand drifted to the Ocarina of Time in his pouch. A part of him wanted to play a tune, just to feel the comfort of something familiar in this strange place. But he resisted the urge. He needed to stay focused.
After what felt like an eternity of winding streets and narrow alleys, they arrived at an imposing building. Massive wooden doors stood before them, guarded by two grim-faced Soul Reapers who stepped aside without a word as Kyōraku approached.
"Well, here we are," Kyōraku said with a small sigh, as if reluctant to part ways. "Head Captain Yamamoto isn't one for small talk, so I'd suggest getting to the point with him."
Link gave a slow nod, his heart steady but alert.
Kyōraku smiled lazily. "And don't worry, Link. I've got a feeling you'll be just fine. You remind me of someone..." His voice trailed off, and for the first time, a flicker of something deeper flashed across his face—nostalgia, perhaps, or memory. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual easy smile.
The doors creaked open, and Kyōraku gave a small wave. "Good luck in there, friend. I'll see you around."
Link stepped through the doors, feeling the weight of Kyōraku's words—and the strange calm that still lingered—settle over him like a cloak.
Whatever lay ahead, Link knew one thing for certain: his journey was far from over. And in this place of spirits and shadows, he would need every bit of courage he had left.
The heavy wooden doors groaned as they closed behind Link, sealing him inside the Squad 1 barracks. The air felt thick here, weighted with tension and centuries of authority. Large columns rose toward the high ceiling, and despite the simplicity of the room's design, there was something solemn about it—like this was the heart of the Seireitei's power.
At the far end of the room, an elderly man sat cross-legged on a low platform. He wore a white haori draped over his shoulders, and his long white beard flowed down to his chest like an ancient river. A thick wooden staff rested beside him, but Link's instincts told him that this man didn't need a weapon to be dangerous.
The old man's eyes were sharp, blazing with the intensity of a fire that had burned for centuries without ever flickering. This must be the one Kyōraku called "Yamamoto." Even seated and unmoving, the sheer pressure of his presence made Link feel like he was standing at the foot of a mountain—immovable and impossible to climb.
Link swallowed hard but kept his posture straight. He had faced Ganon in his beastly form, battled giant dragons, and wandered through shadowy temples. He wouldn't falter here. But he also knew that if this man didn't want him to leave, there was little chance of escape.
"Come forward," Yamamoto said, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
Link approached cautiously, his boots tapping softly against the smooth stone floor. He stopped a respectful distance away, keeping his hands loose at his sides but ready to react if necessary.
"You are not a soul," Yamamoto said, his piercing gaze seeming to cut through any defenses Link might have raised. "Nor are you one of the living who belong to this realm."
The old man's words weren't a question—they were a statement, as if he already knew more about Link than he let on.
Link shifted under the weight of that gaze but forced himself to speak. "I… don't know how I got here." His voice was steady, but there was a guarded edge to it. He wasn't going to give away too much unless he had to.
Yamamoto studied him for a moment longer, then inclined his head slightly, a gesture that felt like permission to continue.
Link took a small breath, deciding it was best to be somewhat honest. "I was fighting someone… someone dangerous. He used magic I've never seen before, and the next thing I knew, I was here."
The Head Captain remained silent, his expression unreadable. Link wasn't sure if the old man believed him, but at least he hadn't interrupted.
"I don't know what this place is or how I ended up in it," Link added, "but I need to find a way back." His words were simple, but there was a quiet intensity to them—Link had been through too much to stop now.
Yamamoto's gaze lingered on Link's sword, resting at his side. "That blade… it carries a presence. Old and sacred."
Link glanced down at the Master Sword, the familiar weight of it grounding him. He nodded but didn't elaborate. The Master Sword's purpose wasn't something he explained lightly, especially to someone who wielded such overwhelming authority.
The old man narrowed his eyes slightly, as if weighing Link's intentions. "Many beings of power come to the Seireitei seeking answers—or chaos. Which are you, wanderer?"
Link squared his shoulders. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I only want to return to where I belong."
For a long moment, the Head Captain said nothing, the room falling into complete silence. The weight of his spiritual pressure pressed down like a coiled dragon, though Link refused to show any sign of weakness.
Then, unexpectedly, Yamamoto gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "You are far from your home, but your intentions do not seem malicious. That is fortunate—for you."
Link exhaled silently, sensing that, for now, he was not in immediate danger. But there was still no clear path forward.
The old man tapped his wooden staff against the floor once, the sound echoing through the chamber. "Kyōraku was right to bring you here. There is much we do not understand about your arrival."
Link gave a slight nod, grateful that the captain seemed more interested in understanding him than treating him as a threat—at least for now.
"You will remain under watch for the time being," Yamamoto continued, "but you may move freely within the Seireitei. We will speak again when I have decided what to do with you."
Link tensed slightly at the implication that his fate was not entirely in his own hands, but he nodded nonetheless. It was better to cooperate than to make enemies here—especially with someone like Yamamoto.
The Head Captain gave a final, piercing look, as if imprinting Link's presence into his memory. Then, with a gesture, he dismissed him. "Kyōraku will return to escort you. Do not cause trouble."
Link gave a respectful nod, then turned and made his way back toward the entrance. As the heavy doors creaked open again, the strange tension he had felt earlier seemed to lift slightly, though a nagging feeling remained.
He was a wanderer in a world of spirits, with no clear path forward—but the Hero of Time had faced worse odds before.
Kyōraku was waiting for him just outside the barracks, leaning casually against a pillar. He gave Link an easy smile. "Well, you're still alive. I'd call that a success."
Link didn't respond, but something in Kyōraku's lightheartedness made the tension in his shoulders ease—just a little.
"Come on, then," Kyōraku said, turning to walk away with a lazy wave. "Let's find you somewhere to rest. No sense wandering around looking all lost—at least not yet."
Link followed, his mind still racing with questions. He didn't know how long he would be stuck in this strange world or what challenges awaited him, but one thing was certain: he would need to stay sharp if he wanted to find his way back to Hyrule.
For now, he would play along. But if fate had taught him anything, it was that paths often revealed themselves when least expected. And Link, as always, would be ready.