i ♡ fem kazu

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Three days ago, you found yourself in an unfamiliar land. Rain pierced through your clothes and you stumbled blindly through the deluge until you bumped into a group of boys. At first, apprehension overtook you— but they folded you amongst their ranks with understanding. Their situation and yours were quite similar, all being out of place and time. Despite this, there seemed to be a cool distance between you and the boys.

You and the boys— all somehow named “Link”— encountered monsters and strange phenomena that could only be described as magic. To the Links, it was completely normal and they navigated their reality with ease. To you, however, it was making your mind skip a beat. How was any of this even possible? You came from a world ruled by science and logic, and every moment seemed to bring about a new impossibility. Their world was nothing short of mind-blowing at every step, and you were finding it difficult to handle. A rift in experience stood between you and everyone else. You were so different from them, after all.

Maybe conversation could help bridge the gap?

Yet the thundering rain continued for days, and holding a conversation proved difficult with the constant pitter-patter of foliage. Every attempt to speak was punctuated with a “what?!” or a “huh?!” and you figured it would be best to save whatever you had to say for another time. Maybe it wasn’t even worth it. Maybe you’d be home— warm and dry— soon enough.

—————

After another long day of walking and fighting, the group stops to set up camp. The rain had waned throughout the day until it finally sputtered out with a cough in the afternoon.

The ones they call the champion and the traveller manage to start a weak fire with slightly damp firewood, and they begin to prepare a meal together while chattering with excitement. The smith raises an eyebrow at their discussion but turns away to set up camp and organize supplies with the sailor. You’re not sure what ‘special ingredient’ the champion and traveller are talking about, but you know actual warm food after days of soggy rations sounds divine.

The ranchhand, the knight, and the veteran disappear into the verdant woods to scout the area while the old man and the captain attempt to wipe down their armour. You decide to help by hanging everyone’s clothes up to dry, including your own outer layer drooping sadly on the line. With nothing to protect you from the wind, every slight breeze sets your teeth chattering. At least it might dry your clothes faster. You stand alone in your task, trying not to turn back as laughter breaks out amongst the boys.

The sun’s rays peek through the trees as it drifts below the horizon, eventually giving way to the evening. As you watch the last bit of sunlight disappear, you notice a curious sight. At first you think it’s nothing unusual for once, just the stars coming out. There’s so many, and they’re so bright. It should feel familiar, shouldn’t it? But a slow chill crawls up your spine.

These stars are not your own.

Even the comfort of the night sky only reminds you of your distance, and you search desperately for a familiar constellation. Miles away from the brilliant lights of a city, this should have been easy. But you’re not on Earth. You’re far, far away from home.

Humans have always used the stars to navigate their world. They’re familiar and watch over every person from cradle to grave. For millennia, they’ve been our anchors in the sky. But for the first time, a human stares at the sky and a stranger’s stars stare back.

It’s too much. The monsters; the magic; even the mundane— all of it feels so wrong, and you feel the desperate pull of your heart trying to drag itself home. A deep ache settles within you, and it leaves you hollow.

What are you supposed to do?

You sit with your feelings for a moment. You name them.

Homesickness. Loneliness. Fear.

You detangle your woes piece by piece, and the intensity dulls, if ever so slightly. But it lingers.

What can you do? You go over a mental list in your mind.

Take deep breaths.

You can do that. In, and out. In, and out. Your heart rate begins to reign itself in.

Count the things you can see.

OneTwoThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNine Ten sets of clothing, dripping wet, dangle on a line. You wring them all out, water dripping down to your elbows.

Talk to a friend.

Your hands still. That’s not an option here.

Or is it?

There seems to be a cool distance between you and the boys, but perhaps it’s you keeping everyone at arms length.

It’s easier to stay distant, to acknowledge the reality that you’ll have to say goodbye one day by never getting close enough to say more than “Hello”. But you’re here right now, and you don’t need to make it all on your own.

Talk to a friend.

You wring out the last piece of clothing— the knight of Skyloft’s white cape, speckled with mud— and smooth out the wrinkles left behind. The others have returned from their scouting trip and pass around some berries they found. They look good.

The rain has stopped, hasn’t it? Why not give conversation a try again?

You walk back to the camp and sit down. The knight notices you and holds out his hand, full of clumpy fruits that resemble raspberries. You can pretend they are. His hands are covered in small cuts— presumably from thorns— and you smile. It seems everyone else is just as enthusiastic for fresh food as you are.

As you pop the berry into your mouth, you cringe. The knight chuckles.

“Sour, right?”

You nod, and take a seat on the log next to the veteran, who is attempting to wring out his hat. He hums in acknowledgement and you hum back.

“Ready to experience the best cuisine the land of Hyrule has to offer?”

You grin. “I’m excited to have something warm for once.”

“Yeah, well, the traveller’s helping cook. Maybe put your hopes and dreams on hold,” he says with a snicker, throwing his cap back onto his head.

“Why? What’s wrong with his cooking?”

“You’ll see.”

The champion takes a long sip from the stew he helped make, savouring the taste. He nods in approval, humming a happy note. “Tastes good to me.”

“That’s thanks to the special ingredient I’ve been saving just for now,” the traveller says, grinning from ear to pointed ear. “It’ll knock your socks straight off!”

The veteran grimaces. “How much you wanna bet it’ll knock the newbie straight out?”

You laugh, feeling more at ease. “How bad can it be?”

The traveller cheers. “That’s the spirit!”

Everyone aside from the champion and traveller exchange nervous glances. The smith shakes his head, eyes filled with terror. Oh. Okay. Great.

Easy laughter bubbles up from the other boys as you groan. You rub your arms, trying to quash the chill still rattling throughout your body. The ranchhand, noticing your plight, gestures for you to move closer to the fire. You both totter forwards, holding your hands out to the heat. Warmth curls around your fingers, and you rub them against your face. Heat radiates off of the ranchhand like a brazier, and you shuffle ever so closer.

The old man glances up from carefully drying his armour, eyeing the clothes dangling on the line.

“Excellent work hanging everything to dry—” he comments as he gives a sly half glance towards the captain. “—even if you had to do it all yourself.”

The captain scoffs. “Old man, I thought you of all people would understand. It would be insulting to the armourer if I let their work be ruined by something as trivial as rain.” He glances over at you, eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Thank you, so much. What would we do without you?”

“It’s the least I can do,” you say, thinking his praise to be overly lofty for what you actually contributed.

“I would have helped— really —if it weren’t so damned difficult to dry chain mail with a wet cloth—”

“Excuses, excuses.” The veteran’s dry voice crows out, interrupting the captain.

“Is that what you think?” The captain’s voice sharpens, but he maintains a jovial demeanour. “Why don’t you take over for me, if you think it’s so easy?”

The veteran takes one glance at the mail in the captain’s hands and waves him off. “No thanks, someone has to be on the lookout while you scrub your nose with armour polish.” He leans back, making an excessive show of looking around the camp.

“Some lookout you are,” the captain scorns, ignoring the veteran’s further taunts and turning his attention back to the sopping wet cloth in his hands.

The ranchhand rolls his eyes at the exchange, changing position from crouching to seated by the fire. He eyes the stew, giving it a slight whiff. His nose twitches, but he makes no comment.

You both still for a moment, watching the flames dance beneath the pot. Bright imprints fade to dark spots on your retinas, and you rub your eyes.

The loud clang of the champion striking a pot lid with a ladle stirs you.

“Dinner’s up!”

The others draw towards the fire and take seats on the logs and the still muddy ground. After weeks of travelling, you supposed cleanliness took a backseat. For most of you, at least. The captain carefully adjusts himself on his log and you swipe at any stray leaf litter before taking a seat between the veteran and the knight. The sailor and the smith pass out bowls to the others, and you decide not to comment on the amount of fresh mud dripping from the sailor’s shirt. That must have been what all the laughter was about.

Although… you still don’t have a bowl. Fair enough, you didn’t happen to have one on you when you came from Earth. No problem, you could wait for someone else to finish, or use the pot lid as a plate—

Your reasoning is interrupted by the appearance of stew in a bowl held out to you. You look up, and see a smile warmer than a forge.

“I have a few extras,” the smith says, “so you won’t have to drink from the pot or anything.”

You smile and take the bowl from him, grateful.

“Careful—” the smith warns.

“Ooh yeah, it’s hot.” You adjust your grip on the bowl.

“No, just, be careful.”

You pause. Right. The secret ingredient. It can’t be that bad, right? Maybe… no. Warm food. It doesn’t matter how it tastes, you just need something that’ll warm you from the inside and out.

Preparing for the worst you raise the bowl to your lips and…

“How is it?” The traveller and champion watch you expectantly while the others cautiously sip.

… It’s fine. A bit off, sure, but nothing worse than whatever you’ve reheated at home. You dare say that the soggy rations you’d consumed for the last three days were almost worse.

“It’s good.”

“Mmh… so, nothing strikes you? At all?” The veteran presses a curled finger to his lips, eye twitching.

You come from a world of hyper-processed ‘food.’ You literally eat stuff like this for breakfast.

“Yeah, it’s fine. A few flavours I’m not used to, but it’s more a ‘culture shock’ sort of thing, I guess.”

The traveller deflates. “Darn. I was hoping it would be a real zinger for the newbie.”

“It surely was a ‘zinger’ for the rest of us,” the old man says flatly.

The traveller perks back up, and he offers seconds with the champion. The rest politely refuse.

You polish off your bowl, and the knight pushes his towards you.

“I’m not very hungry.” He donned such an innocent smile, you’d almost think he was telling the truth.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter; this half-nasty stew resembled ambrosia to your tastebuds after days of soggy hardtack. You sip from the bowl, chewing on tough meat chunks that turn into stringy bits between your teeth. Small veggie pieces melt in your mouth. The knight looks you over.

“What was that all about, back over by the clothes?”

You nearly spit out your stew.

You rap your fingers along the base of the bowl, staring at the colourless vegetables which are punctuated by weird pink chunks. The others chatter as they clean up, none taking notice of the intense gaze the knight is casting over you.

Talk to a friend.

“Mm… just looking at the stars.” A moment of silence. “They’re, uh, lovely.”

Dodging the truth of the matter.

He nods.

“I never realized what a treat seeing the night sky was,” the knight muses, “Where I’m from we live above the clouds— and the stars are close enough to touch!— but on the surface there’s all sorts of things in the way. Knowing that a clear sky is a rarity down here makes me want to appreciate it like I never have.”

“Mhm. That’s true.”

The knight looks you over again, gaze less intense. His irises seem to reflect the dark sky more than the warm fire. If you look close enough, you can just make out pinpricks of light from the stranger’s stars in his eyes.

He stretches, leaning back on his arms. He sighs, and you follow his gaze towards the dancing flames.

“You know,” he says, “I might know how you feel.”

He glances over at you, gauging your reaction. You say nothing. He continues.

“Like I said, I came from an island above the clouds. When I first established a settlement on the surface, it was difficult to adjust, to say the least.”

“But you had your people with you, right?”

“That’s true. But then, I ended up in another place, another era. Everyone I knew… hm… we Links realized that I’m the first on the timeline our eras exist in. It’s been a few hundred, maybe thousand years since my time…”

“Oh. I… I’m so sorry.”

He relaxes, throwing an arm up. “Hey, it’s alright! They’re alive back in my era, just not here and now. It’s the same with you and your world. You’ll see them again. One way or another, the world won’t be so unfamiliar.”

You hum. One day…

He gives you a soft smile. “Every one of us is in the same situation. You’re not alone— we’re all doing our best in unfamiliar lands. Yeah?”

You crack a smile. “Yeah.”

You gaze into the fire together, the light burning shadows into your eyes. Mumbles and chatter flit in and out of earshot as you enjoy the moment.

“-‘s cold-”

“-they dry yet-?”

“-still wet-”

“-idea-!”

Glancing up, you see the sailor holding up a giant leaf. You remember him using it as an umbrella the past few days.

He trots forwards, aiming himself towards the clothesline.

Hm. What is he doing?

He raises the leaf over his shoulder, ready to swing.

Ohh, he’s using it as a fan to dry the clothes. Clever.

Memory strikes just too late— you didn’t clip the clothes to the line. You didn’t have any clips. There’s no clips on the clothes. They’re free. Not clever.

You pounce forwards.

“THEY’RE NOT-”

You’re too far. He swings.

“…attached.”

Colourful garments float away, drifting through tht sky like kites and snagging on nearby tree branches. The knight stifles a snort. Chaos ensues. Yelling and incredulous ruckus echo through the camp, and the sailor shamefully shoves the leaf back into his bag. The champion springs into action— though not before snapping a photo with his weird iPad thing— clambering up the trees and pulling clothes down from the branches with a huge grin on his face. Even the knight gets up with a groan and joins the fray, presumably searching for his cape.

Maybe now wasn’t the time to divulge your deepest, darkest fears, but talking to a friend lightened the load— if only ever so slightly.

The sailor approaches you with a sheepish expression and hands you your own outer layer, still damp with new bits of leaves and dust on it.

For now, you need to redo what you’ve done, hanging clothes on a line.

You take it with a smile.

But this time you have the whole chain to lend a hand.

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a/n: My first LU fic! If you have any constructive criticism on the characterization or anything, lmk <3 I haven’t had the time to properly study the characters yet so I did my best 😭