#coa light

Biting back a groan, Slate began to slide himself over to the ravine wall, and painstakingly pull himself up, arms shaking. His bad leg bumped lightly against the side, and he hissed in pain, sweat trailing down his forehead as he dragged himself upward.

The climb only got harder the longer he went, arms shaking and leg aching almost agonizingly, but he kept going, ignoring the hot pain rippling all along his side.

“You deserve this anyway,” Slate gritted out to himself, blinking back tears as his leg burned with pain. “You deserve this, it was your fault, and you completely—“

He bit off a whine, agony pulsing through his leg.

He pressed his face to the wall for a minute and gasped in a breath, then continued to pull himself up out of the small ravine, gritting his teeth against the white-hot pain wrenching through his leg.

“You’re the one who decided to storm off after a stupid argument,” he hissed, speaking aloud mostly to distract himself from the pain. “It’s your fault he was even mad, and he’s perfectly within his rights to be mad because it’s your fault he’s even here—”

His hold slipped and Slate gasped as he fell back to the bottom of the ditch, yelling as pain slammed up his leg so harshly his vision whited out at the edges.

All he could do was lie there for a long time, gasping raggedly as he tried not to cry out again. His leg hurt even worse than before, and he felt oddly dizzy as he looked down at it, something about the angle a little funny looking.

Stupid stupid stupid.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, thinking back to how he’d even ended up here.

An argument had started between him and Sprite, something stupid neither of them really cared about. But it had somehow escalated, until they were both just yelling at each other, ending with Sprite saying it was all Slate’s fault that any of them were here in the first place.

Slate hadn’t even known what to say, words dying in his throat as he stared at Sprite. He’d wanted to defend himself, but how could he?

Sprite was right. It was all his fault.

It was his fault they’d all been ripped away from their homes and families, his fault the Yiga had decided to exact revenge on all the heroes, his fault he hadn’t realized what they were up to and had allowed them to grow powerful enough to even drag all the heroes here to try and kill them—

He squeezed his eyes shut, and put an arm over his face.

He’d just run off after that. Everyone had been staring at him and Sprite, but he hadn’t said a word before taking off like the coward he was, ignoring the few calls of his nickname.

And then he’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he’d tripped on a root and gone falling straight into the ravine.

His leg throbbed again and Slate bitterly welcomed it, watching the shadows grow longer. It had been a while since he left camp and fell, at least an hour by his guess, and he wasn’t sure he was up to trying to get out again yet. Besides, lying hurt at the bottom of a ravine was no less then he deserved. It was nice and quiet down here at least.

“Slate?”

His heart sank at the voice, but he moved his arm so he could peer up at who had spoken. Light’s head poked over the edge above him, multicolored eyes wide with worry, and Slate averted his gaze. He wasn’t sure he’d wanted to be found just yet.

“Slate are you okay? Oh no your leg— don’t worry, we’ll get you back up!” His head disappeared for a moment. “Hey Mini, I found him!”

Slate let out a quiet sigh, and kept his arm over his face as he heard scuffing from the top of the ravine. A rustling noise sounded out, and then there was a hand gently tapping his arm.

“Hi Slate,” Mini said softly, and Slate let out a grunt in response. “Light’ll be down in a second. Your leg looks really bad, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he murmured.

He was sure Mini frowned at him, but then footsteps padded in the dirt and another hand was poking at his leg.

“Holy crow what did you do Slate? This is broken in at least two places,” he said in disbelief, and Slate finally looked at up.

“I fell, okay? I’ll be fine,” he muttered, then winced when his leg throbbed again.

Mini gave him a little pat on the arm. “You will, once you have a potion or two.”

“Yeah but I think his leg will have to be set before we give him anything,” Light said, sounding a little grossed-out. “Which means we have to get him back to camp, because I’m not doing that.”

“I wouldn’t trust you to do it anyway,” Mini teased, but Slate didn’t laugh like he normally would. He merely continued to look up at the sky.

It took some doing, and Slate nearly blacked out at one point when his leg was hit, but Mini and Light eventually managed to get him up out of the ravine, and without jostling his leg too much. They were both a little short to easily support him, but they did their best, and slowly walked back to camp.

Not that Slate really wanted to go, but he hadn’t exactly been given a choice.

They shuffled along in relative silence for a while, Slate occasionally letting out a hiss of pain, and Mini or Light offering quiet encouragement. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been going through the quiet woods though when Mini suddenly spoke.

“Sprite didn’t really mean all of that you know,” he said quietly. Slate didn’t reply, and he sighed. “I think he’s just still upset Era got so hurt yesterday.”

“Yeah, because a cult from my world dumped him in our group,” Slate muttered. “If I’d just realized what they were up to I could’ve—”

“How could you have possibly known, Slate?” Light asked in disbelief. “It’s not like you knew and decided not to act. And you’re being just as hurt from their actions as the rest of us, if not more. Don’t take on all that guilt, okay?”

What’s a little more? Slate thought to himself, but didn’t vocalize it.

“Nobody blames you Slate,” Mini said gently. “And even if Sprite says he does, I don’t think he actually thinks it’s your fault. He’s just... tired, I think.”

“Well he doesn’t exactly sleep very much,” Light snorted, but Mini just shook his head, looking a little sad.

“Not that kind of tired.”

Light looked at him, then nodded a little thoughtfully, and Mini met Slate’s eyes.

“Will you talk to him after we get your leg fixed up?” he asked with a pleading look. “He did look like he felt bad after you left. Plus Era was talking to him, I think he’ll make him see sense. And Slate?”

“Yeah?” he replied tiredly. He felt rather wrung out from the afternoon’s events, and wanted to just collapse by the fire for a while.

“I mean it. It’s not your fault,” Mini said sternly. “It’s the Yiga’s. And you don’t get to blame yourself for their actions.”

“Ap-ap-ap no arguments!” Light said quickly when Slate opened his mouth. “Or we’ll get Gloam on your case, and I’m sure he’s told you this before.”

Slate looked away. “...he has a whole speech,” he admitted, and Light and Mini laughed.

Their group went quiet again after a minute, but Slate felt a little lighter, though the knot of guilt and shame still hung on in his stomach. They needed to figure out how to stop the Yiga before any of them really were killed, but until then... he’d let go of a little of the blame.

But not all of it.

So in one swift move he’d grabbed Light and threw them both out of the way of the monster charging at them, and ducked behind the rock where it hopefully wouldn’t realize they’d hidden. It had snuffled around, but they appeared to have eluded it for now anyways.

Light hadn’t gone into much detail when he’d explained, but apparently on his quest he’d been completely frozen at one point, unable to move an inch. He’d been freed after a length of time Windy was pretty sure he was lying about in order to not make them all worry so much, but ice still bothered him, and ice magic especially was a big no.

And he’d just been shot by an ice arrow.

“Light, are you okay?” Windy breathed next to him, trying to stay as silent as possible.

Light let out a whimper, and Windy tried to get a better look at the arrow in his shoulder, carefully brushing ice off of his chest.

“Windy, i-it’s cold—“

“I know, it’s an ice arrow,” Windy whispered, and Light’s breath hitched. “It’s okay, it’s not too bad. I think it went most of the way through, it won’t be too bad to take out. You’ll be okay once we get out of here.”

“Take it out,” Light said in a strained whisper.

Windy frowned. “Light I can’t, there’s no way you could stay quiet enough, the monster’ll hear us,” he whispered, sparing a peek over the top of the rock. The monster was on the other side of the meadow, but it’s bow was still in its huge paws. “You’ll have to wait until we can get away or I can kill it—”

“It’s freezing me,” Light said in a shaking voice, clutching at Windy’s arm. “I can feel it, it’s freezing me Windy I need to get it out please—!“

“Shh!”

Windy slapped his hand back over Light’s mouth, and the two of them didn’t speak as hoofsteps drew near their position again. Windy didn’t release Light until he was sure the monster had trotted away again, and he gave him an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” he apologized softly, watching Light continue to shiver. “Is it really freezing you more?”

“Yes,” Light whispered, and Windy heard a sharp thread of terror in his voice. “I can feel it, the i-ice keeps spreading. It’s going to k-keep going, get it out.”

Windy slowly exhaled, and pulled Light’s tunic away from where the arrow had hit his shoulder. He only had to tear it a little, and he felt his stomach sink as he got a good look at the arrow wound.

Light was right. The skin where the arrow had gone in was blue and oddly icy-looking, speckled with red where his blood had dripped. And as Windy watched, thin feathery lines of frost slowly spread outward from the impact point.

“Oh that’s bad,” he breathed, and Light swallowed.

“Please take it out,” he whimpered, and Windy exhaled, tugging his bandana off from around his neck and handing it to Light.

“Okay. Bite on this. I’m going to push it through,” he whispered. “You’re right, I don’t think that arrow should be in you any longer than necessary. Try to stay as quiet as you can okay?”

Light nodded, and Windy grabbed the arrow, wincing at the cold of the wood. He tilted Light onto his side so he could see where the tip would protrude, and before he could think about it too hard, pushed the arrow even deeper through Light’s shoulder.

Light managed to bite back his scream, but he clenched Windy’s arm so tightly the other boy nearly cried out himself.

“I know I know I’m sorry,” Windy whispered as he kept pushing. The arrow was almost through, he could see the tip under Light’s skin, along with an accompanying icy sheen. Light desperately muffled a sob in his sleeve and he felt his heart clench. “I’m sorry Light, shh, we can’t let it hear us.”

The bright blue tip of the arrow finally broke through Light’s back, and Windy felt relief hit him, even as tendrils of frost began to curl over Light’s skin on this side.

“Okay, almost done, just need to get the rest out,” he whispered, and Light only gripped his arm again. Windy then snapped as much of the arrow as he could off the back of it. Now it was just the tip and a short length of wood left, and he grabbed the bright blue arrowhead, hissing through his teeth at the burning cold that hit his fingers.

He quickly got to pulling it through, tugging it smoothly as he could despite how horribly cold it was. The tip was slippery, temperature nearly unbearable, but he persisted, and finally the arrow was out.

And the second it was, Windy tossed the horrible thing aside and blew on his fingers, the tips reddened and tingling. He couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like being in Light’s shoulder, and Windy looked down at where he lay, still shivering.

He tugged him up a little, and Light buried his face in Windy’s shoulder, breath hitching in an unusual display of vulnerability. Windy gave his arm a bracing squeeze, and poked his head around their cover, hoping that the monster would be gone. But it was still doing its rounds around the meadow, bow held menacingly in its grip.

Windy frowned as he then worked on bandaging Light’s arrow wound. It looked better now that the arrow was gone, but the skin still didn’t look too good, and felt extremely cold to the touch.

“I think you could use a fairy,” Windy said softly, and Light nodded, tension in every line on his face.

“That would be nice, yeah,” he whispered, voice still trembling.

Windy sighed, and finished wrapping him up, not happy with the sloppy job he’d had to do with what supplies they’d had. But it would hold until they could get somewhere safe, and that was all they really needed at the moment.

“Light, will you be okay here for a couple of minutes?” Windy whispered, and Light swallowed, then nodded.

“Yeah. I’m... I’ll be okay,” Light whispered back, voice still much smaller than usual. “Where are you going to go?”

Windy pulled his shield off his back and sword out of its sheath. He gripped them tightly, and looked out over the rock at where the monster still patrolled, righteous anger burning in his chest.

He gave Light a dark smile.

He’d felt fine only a bit ago, traveling with the others through woods in someone’s time. He wasn’t even sure what had set it off; one minute he’d been fine and then the next his eyes were trying to focus through four pairs instead of one, sending his head spinning.

He’d managed to shake it off enough to get to where they had planned to take a lunch break, but the walk there was awful, feet tripping as they tried to account for six more, almost crashing into trees when his brain thought he was walking next to himself.

Kaleidoscope had slipped away the moment they stopped to try and pull himself together, but the effects had only gotten worse.

And were continuing to do so.

Someone’s footsteps sounded next to him (his own? Was it Green, or maybe Blue’s? Violet’s?) and someone sat next to him on the log, presumably whoever it was who’d spoken a minute ago.

“Kal? Link, hey can you hear me?”

That wasn’t his voice, it must be someone else. It was... Light. That was Light. It wasn’t Link— Kal, no, Green, he was—

What color was he again?

He let out a little whimper, and he heard Light lean closer.

“Kal, are you okay? Should I get Hibiscus?”

He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell where all the parts of him were, he swore Green had been right next to him because he was Violet but— no, he wasn’t Violet, Red had tripped earlier, but— Blue, he was Blue and he thought he should— or was— where—

He breathed in a short breath.

“...T-touch?” he whispered.

He heard Light shift from next to him.

“Touch? What do you...” Light shuffled around a bit, then cautiously put his hand on Kaleidoscope’s shoulder. “...Like this? Is this what you need?“

He hated asking, but he knew he needed it to slot back together and his head was spinning it was already helping he didn’t want it at all—

He made a small affirmative noise, and after a moment or two, felt arms carefully wrap around him. Light’s grip felt a little awkward, but Red—Kaleidoscope leaned into it, his shoulders slowly lowering as the tension leaked out of them. Something about the weight of someone else’s touch helped ground him, and his mind and body began to unscramble themselves.

That’s right, he— he wasn’t one color, he was all his colors. He wasn’t split, he was one person, shattered then glued back together. One body. One Link.

Right?

His shoulders lowered a bit more, and Light’s grip shifted.

“Are you... um, okay?” he asked. Kaleidoscope gave a small nod. “What was wrong anyways?”

Kaleidoscope took a deep breath and opened his eyes, pleased when he looked out of only one set. He didn’t feel like he was viewing himself from a different angle or anything either. Seemed the effects had mostly passed.

He cleared his throat. He’d only explained this to one other person before, hopefully he could get it to make sense. Not that he really wanted to, but he owed an explanation to Light for helping him at least.

“Sometimes it... isn’t right,” he said haltingly. “Things don’t— it’s like I’m still... in four bodies. Things get... mixed.”

Light’s own colorful eyes glinted with sudden understanding.

“I know the feeling,” he said quietly, and Kaleidoscope started a bit.

“I forgot...” he murmured, looking up and meeting Light’s gaze from under the cover of his hood. “You went through this too.”

Light let out a little self-depreciating laugh. “Not as bad as you. Sure my emotions get a little scrambled sometimes, but I don’t usually get all...” He waved a hand. “...You know. It’s not the same.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Kaleidoscope said softly. “I’m sure you’ve had it rough.”

Light looked at him a moment in surprised silence, then nodded, going quiet. At some point he shifted, so instead of a hug his arm was more over Kaleidoscope’s shoulder instead. But he didn’t let go of him, which Kaleidoscope hated to admit was rather nice. He was feeling less messed up by the minute.

“So why does touch help?” Light asked after a little while, startling him a bit. “I mean it feels nice, but doesn’t really do much for me.”

Kaleidoscope was silent for a minute, thinking through his answer.

“It helps ground me,” he eventually replied. He ran a hand along the edge of his cape, and sighed, feeling suddenly weary. “Reminds me I’m only in one body. Zelda figured it out shortly after I returned the Four Sword, it’s the only thing that reliably works.”

He swallowed.

“I’m... sorry for bothering you.”

“What?” Light huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, you didn’t bother me. I saw you were acting weird and followed you cause I thought something might’ve been wrong, and I was right. I chose to come here myself, stop being stupid.”

Kaleidoscope quirked a little smile, and Light grinned in return.

“Anyway... if you feel up to going back, Slate said he was gonna actually make something for lunch, not just leftovers,” Light prompted, and Kaleidoscope hesitated. “Are you ready?”

Kaleidoscope carefully stood up, Light’s arm still around him, and focused on himself for a minute.

His eyesight was fine, and he didn’t feel like he was out of his skin or next to himself anymore. A slight headache rested behind his eyes, but that was pretty normal after his vision was off, and when he took a slow step forwards, his foot went where he wanted it to, no hesitance.

“Yes. I’m fine now,” he said in a relieved voice, and pulled his hood off so he could feel the sun on his face. He breathed deeply, and smiled a bit. “Thank you, Light.”

“No problem. You’d do the same,” the other boy assured with a grin, and began to tug him back towards where they’d left the others. “Now c’mon, I think I smell pie and I want some before Windy the bottomless pit eats it all.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kaleidoscope teased. Light’s appetite was at least as bad as Windy’s, if not worse.

“They’ve got guns Slate!”

“I kinda figured that out!”

Slate began to swerve, making them all a more difficult target as more gunfire came from behind them.

“What do we do?!” Spirit gasped, face white as a bullet whizzed by his head. Windy pulled him down, looking no less worried but slightly less terrified.

“Why are they even chasing us?” Windy questioned with his brows drawn. “It’s not like we’re rich or anything!”

“Well at least they’re crummy shots,” Light commented as they continued to be shot at, but pointedly not hit. “Maybe we don’t—“

The SUV suddenly put on a burst of speed and ended up right next to them, all four of the teenagers on the bike yelping in surprise. The window of the car rolled down and a large figure in an eerie white and red mask stared at them.

“Slate why aren’t you speeding up?!”

“I can’t without crashing!”

The man leaned out a bit, and they all froze as he held a gun out directly towards Slate.

“The Yiga Clan does nothing by halves,” he sneered in a deep voice, then clicked off the safety.

Light felt his heart leap with fear, but then Slate slammed on the brakes, sending the car shooting off in front of them while he swerved down a side road. Light clung on for dear life as he took a few more sharp turns down some side streets and alleys, then eventually ended back up on a bigger road, farther out from the city.

“Think I bought us a minute or two,” Slate gasped, getting back up a speed no doubt way over the speed limit.

“Now what do we do?!” Spirit yelped, sounding a little hysterical despite them no longer being chased, “who’s the Yiga Clan? Is it like some sort of a gang?! Who made a gang angry?!”

“I bet it was you Light!” Windy accused with a hint of a joke in his voice, and Light was about to protest when cheery music suddenly rang out from Slate’s pocket.

They all fell into surprised silence as the tune continued to play.

“Is that your phone?”

“Oh crap if that’s Gloam we’ll never hear the end of it—“

“Who cares?! Pick it up!”

Light snatched Slate’s, well, slate from his pocket, and picked up the call, nearly dropping the phone as they went over a particularly bumpy spot in the road.

“Hello?” he asked hesitantly.

“Light? Where’s Slate? Where are you guys? You were supposed to be back hours ago!” Gloam’s voice demanded through the slate, loud enough that the rest of them could hear it. “I’ve been trying to call you for almost an hour!”

Light swallowed. “Well, uh, we kinda stayed late to help clean up, and then we saw Malon so we stopped to talk to her, and Erune was around too and then we were talking about this restaurant—“

“Forget that!” Windy interrupted, snatching the slate out of Light’s hands, “Gloam we’re being—“

Tires squealed behind them and the black car reappeared from a side road, more gunshots immediately ringing out as soon as they had a clear shot.

All of the Links yelped and ducked down again, bullets grazing the side of Slate’s bike.

“Aw, I just the paint redone!”

“Windy were those gunshots?” Gloam’s voice came through the slate, sounding frantic.

“Yeah, we’re kinda being chased by crazies in masks with guns?” the teenager explained, equally frantic. “Could you maybe—“

More gunshots rang out, and Windy’s voice cut off into a loud cry.

“Windy!”

Light frantically tried to get a look at his friend, who’d doubled over and was clutching his arm, but the gunshots continued, and one of the bullets finally hit true. It punctured Slate’s back tire, causing the bike to veer wildly towards the edge of the road, and Light could only watch in horror as they swerved straight towards a ditch.

“Oh— hang on!”

The Links all screamed as Slate failed to regain control, and the motorcycle flipped over the guardrail, crashing into the ravine below.

———

A black SUV slowly pulled to a stop where the motorcycle had gone off the road, the guardrail blackened and bent.

Two large men got out of the vehicle, both sporting white masks with a blood-red eye painted on the front. The first pointed down at the ditch and the other leaned over the edge with a heavy-duty flashlight, slowly trawling it over the smoking wreckage of the bike below.

They paused at the sight of an empty helmet lying in the dirt, then continued on.

They searched for what seemed like forever, shining the light over the bushes and rocks, but eventually shut off the light, chuckling to each other. They exchanged a few words, then got back in the SUV and drove away, leaving the wreckage to burn out in silence.

The road went still.

And Slate dazedly poked his head up out of the bushes.

“Guys?” he called out hesitantly, wincing as he shook out an arm.

He wasn’t really hurt from the crash amazingly, apart from some small cuts and bruises. He’d managed to jump off the bike and land in a bush, the branches cuschioning his fall, and he’d thought the others had been right behind him.

Evidently not.

“Slate?”

The teenager turned at the voice, several bushes down from where he had landed. He pushed his way towards it through the shrubs, then gasped, quickly shoving his way through the last one when he saw who it was.

Light lay on the ground, awake, but tightly clutching his leg, face twisted up in pain.

“Light! Hylia, are you okay?” he asked, dropping to his side.

Light stared at him, wincing as he raised an eyebrow. “Dandy. Thanks for asking. I feel great, fantastic even. Maybe I’ll take up ballet—“

He cut off into a sharp keen of pain, and Slate looked down at his leg, feeling his stomach churn when he saw the angle it was at.

“That looks pretty bad Light.”

Light growled and managed to pull himself up into a seating position, breathing heavily through his nose. A few tears shone in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away when he thought Slate wasn’t looking.

“‘S fine. Are... are those g-guys gone?”

Slate nodded. “They’re gone.”

Light sighed in relief and let his head rest against one of the larger bushes’ trunks.

“Who the heck were they?” he muttered, face set in a worried frown. “I can’t believe they were shooting at us, that’s like, ten different kinds of illegal. And you especially, what was that about?”

Slate bit his lip. “I don’t know. But they... they seemed kinda familiar,” he said, nervously scratching his neck. Him and Light went quiet for a second.

“Do you know where Windy is?” Light asked next, face worried. “Or S-Spirit? They okay?”

Slate shook his head. “I don’t know. You’re the only one I’ve—“

A pained cry cut him off, and the two boys exchanged wide-eyed looks. Light attempted to scramble to his feet, and Slate quickly threw an arm under his shoulder, helping him up and then rushing off in the direction of the sound. The two shoved foliage out of the way as fast as they could, then Slate froze at the sight in front of them, forcing Light to a stop as well.

His motorcycle’s sidecar was above him, wedged loosely in a cleft between two rocks. It looked like it had somehow been flung there after the crash, separated entirely from the bike, and hung precariously over a deeper part of the ravine, teetering in the breeze as if something had just shaken it.

Windy lay on the ground beneath it, face white and shoulder red.

“Windy!” Slate and Light gasped at the same time, and they stumbled to his side, nearly tripping in their haste. The teenager managed to sit up a little as Slate skidded to his side and helped Light down, but his face was twisted in a grimace. Slate put a hand on his unhurt arm and studied the bloodiest looking part of his shoulder, then steadily met the sailor’s eyes.

“Hey. Windy are you okay?” he asked, looking directly at his pale face. The kid swallowed and nodded, then looked up at the sidecar.

“Spirit’s still... still in the s-sidecar,” Windy murmured, and Light grasped his good arm when he started to list to the side. “I tried t-to climb up and get him, but my shoulder...”

“I’ll get him Windy,” Slate assured through his growing panic, gently propping him in a sitting position. It looked like Windy had been nicked by a bullet from what he could tell, and that more than anything was what was making his hands shake.

Why did I ever offer them all a ride home?

“Light, help him keep pressure on his shoulder alright?” he asked in a voice he had to fight to keep from shaking.

Light nodded, and Slate gave them both a reassuring look which he didn’t really feel.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

He then began climbing the small cliff, careful not to shift any rocks as he went in case they caused the sidecar to break loose. He winced as several pebbles hit his face, and looked over at his poor sidecar, but he couldn’t see anyone inside from the angle he was at.

“Spirit?” he called, but got no response.

When Slate finally reached the sidecar, he swung himself onto what appeared to be a sturdy ledge, and immediately peeked in... then blanched at the sight inside. Spirit lay at the bottom of the car, pale and unmoving. His helmet was gone, and Slate could see a small gash on his temple, trickling blood down his face and getting in his hair.

“Spirit,” he breathed, and carefully leaned closer.

Slate gently nudged him, but Spirit didn’t react in the slightest, and he quickly stretched his hand out to press his fingers to his neck. A steady-enough beat pulsed under the pads of his fingers and he let out a small sigh of relief. He was breathing at least, that was a start.

Slate shifted his footing on the ledge, and carefully leaned his weight on the sidecar, reaching out to try and pull Spirit closer to him. Something shifted as he leaned though, and he froze, listening to a few pieces of rubble patter down the cliff.

The car was too precariously balanced on the rocks. If he continued to lean on it, the sidecar would likely come loose, crumbling the hillside and sending both him and Spirit to the bottom of the rather steep drop.

But leaning on the sidecar was the only way he’d be able to get Spirit out.

Slate groaned to himself and took a deep breath, then moving as lightly as possible, put more of his weight on the car. It creaked ominously, but Slate ignored it and managed to grab Spirit’s arm, tugging the younger boy closer towards him. Something shifted under his foot, and he bit his lip as he tried to tug Spirit faster, but the younger boy’s leg was stuck on something.

“Ohh, come on,” Slate muttered worriedly, but Spirit’s leg wouldn’t come loose no matter how hard he tugged.

He’d have to climb in the sidecar and get it loose himself.

Slate gritted his teeth, then before his common sense decided to kick in, scrambled forward into the car, ignoring the loud groan that rang out.

Light and Windy shouted something below him, but Slate ignored them as the car shifted under his feet. He quickly tugged Spirit loose from where his leg had been trapped, and bundled the younger boy into his arms before attempting to climb back to the ledge where he’d been perching.

But with Slate’s added weight, the precarious balance of the sidecar has been disturbed. And with an ominous crack, he felt the entire thing began to fall down the cliff.

He only had seconds to make a decision, and without a moment’s hesitation, Slate frantically leapt out of the car. He clutched Spirit to his chest with one arm and reached desperately for the ledge he knew he was too far away to grab with the other. Light and Windy cried out again, and Slate felt his outstretched fingers just barely brush the cliffside.

Then he felt his stomach drop as gravity tugged him and Spirit downwards to the unforgiving ground.

Until two hands snagged his.

Slate gasped as his and Spirit’s fall was abruptly stopped, and he held tightly to the younger boy as he looked up at their savior. Era looked down at him, grunting with the weight of the two as his scarf flapped gently in the wind.

“Era?” he gasped out, heart beating nearly out of his chest. The older Link didn’t reply, merely steadily pulled him and Spirit up, not saying anything until they were safely up on solid ground.

Then he pulled them both into his arms, breathing out a great sigh of relief.

“You all are going to be the death of me I just know it,” he said somewhat breathlessly, giving them both a hug. Slate closed his eyes for a second, letting the steady arms around him help calm him down, and sighed in relief as well.

That had been way too close.

Era pulled back a bit, tilting Spirit’s head with the utmost care as he studied the cut on his temple. “Where are Windy and Light?”

Slate breathed in, his heart still thudding too fast, and gestured below them towards the bushes.

“Down there, they’re hurt, but... they’re okay,” he managed to get out, and Era gently gave his shoulder a squeeze. “How’d... how’d you get here so fast?”

“Gloam sent me the location on your phone. I happened to be nearby, thank goodness,” he murmured, brushing a hand over Spirit’s forehead. “He’s coming too, I’d expect him shortly.“

Slate nodded, only half-processing what he was saying. He was feeling a bit distant from everything all of a sudden, and barely noticed when Era gently set Spirit down in his lap and went to go check on Windy and Light. Slate messed idly with the younger boy’s hair while he held a cloth to his injury, and time seemed to blur a bit as he waited, watching him breathe steadily in his lap.

But before he knew it, Spirit was suddenly being tugged out of his lap, and Slate was pulled into a crushing hug.

“Goddesses I’m glad you’re okay,” a voice Slate recognized as Gloam’s breathed as he squeezed him. Slate rested his head on his shoulder, and sank into his arms a little. “Don’t give me such a terrifying phone call ever again.”

“To be fair, you were actually the one who called him,” Era said from nearby, and Slate belatedly realized both Light and Windy were only a few feet away from him. Apparently Era has gotten them both up out of the ditch, though both were rather pale.

“I don’t care who called who, I just don’t want to receive another phone call where I hear you all being chased and shot at,” Gloam said, still hugging Slate. He sighed and pulled back, and scanned his face. “Are you hurt?”

“Not really,” Slate answered quietly. “Some bruises, little sore. The others are worse, did you call an ambulance yet?”

“No,” Era said, checking on Spirit again. “And we’re not going to.”

“Wait, what?” Slate asked, looking over at him in confusion. “Why not?”

“Yeah, a motorcycle crash and bullet wound and everything else would generally be considered a 911 kind of situation,” Light murmured with a raised eyebrow.

Era and Gloam exchanged looks.

“...if these men were who we think they were... it wouldn’t have been wise,” Era said quietly. “Light told me they said they were Yiga clan. And Yiga don’t just randomly chase down a bunch of teenagers. If you went to the hospital they might find you there. And based on what happened here... they had a reason for what they did.”

“What kind of reason?” Light asked in a quiet voice.

Era sighed, but before he could reply, Windy suddenly sagged, nearly falling over backwards. Light managed to catch him, but Windy still looked dazed, and Gloam quickly went to help him.

“‘m alright,” Windy mumbled, and Era shook his head.

“No, you’re not. This conversation can wait, let’s get you all home,” he murmured, standing up with Spirit in his arms. “We’ll call Hibiscus, if he can’t fix you all up he’ll know someone who can.”

The rest of them merely nodded in exhaustion.

Getting them all fixed up enough to get home and then settled into Gloam’s car took some doing, and Light actually passed out at one point, which Slate supposed was a small mercy considering how much they were moving him and his leg.

Era continued to hold Spirit as he settled into the front next to Gloam, and Windy slid carefully in next to Slate, his arm wrapped as tightly as they could get it. Light got set in between them, and as they finally drove off, Slate rested his head on the window, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

His mind was working in overdrive trying to figure out why those masks had seemed so familiar, but he wasn’t coming up with anything. The red eyes printed on them filled him with a sickening dread and anger, but he had no clue why.

And not knowing was freaking him out.

He sighed, and felt Light stir a little from next to him, mumbling a bit. He looked over, then wordlessly pulled Light’s head to rest on his shoulder, the other boy relaxing and falling back asleep.

Ever since Link had returned the Four Sword to its resting place, his irises had no longer been solid blue like they’d been before he pulled the blade. The left one was half blue still, but had red painting the other side, and his right eye was half-green half-violet. The colors never mixed, but moved around a lot, swirling and rippling like the water in the castle moat.

Zelda thought they were beautiful, even if they were a physical reminder of the trouble Link had had ever since returning the sword.

Trouble he’d been exhibiting more and more as of late.

Which is why Zelda had been looking for him, and why she was pleased to have finally located her missing hero after searching for him all morning.

They needed to talk.

“Oh. Hi Zelda,” Link said, closing the book in front of him. Something about shadows and light. “Did you need me?”

Zelda hesitated. “Sort of. I was surprised to find you here, I thought your father had you helping with that training exercise thing today?”

The blue in Link’s eye increased a bit.

“I was. Father gave me the day off.”

He looked back out the window, and Zelda sat down across from him, wincing as her chair squeaked when she scooted it in.

“Your father doesn’t usually give you days off without reason,” she commented gently, “are you feeling okay?”

Link nodded his head. “Yes. I mean, I was...”

He cleared his throat, and the violet increased. “...I wasn’t able to perform my duties to the length I needed to and he thought it best for me to rest instead of impede progress.”

Zelda frowned again. “Did he really say that?”

The blue came back.

“No but he meant it. I could see it in his eyes, he just wants me out of the way so I won’t mess anything up,” Link muttered, and Zelda eyed him, watching as the blue was pushed back as the red opposite it tried to make headway.

He sighed.

“But I don’t know for sure,” Link continued, slumping a little, “it sounded like he meant it that way though, but Father wouldn’t do that, would he?“

Zelda dredged up a smile for him, trying not to act too concerned. Link seemed particularly... unsteady today.

“No, he wouldn’t. I think he’s just worried about you Link,” she said gently. “We all are.”

Link shrugged, the violet coming back, and looked down at the floor.

It had been barely a month since everything with Vaati and Shadow and Ganon. Zelda didn’t usually wake up in the middle of the night too much anymore, (even if she still kept a light on as she slept) but Link had been affected much more differently than she had.

He may have been one person again, but his emotions were still a bit... split, swinging one way and then the other, his eyes sloshing with color. They’d been gradually getting worse as time went on, an extra stern voice here, a snarky comment when it was inappropriate there. Just a few days ago he’d gone from openly sobbing to blank indifference within the space of a few seconds when he’d stubbed his toe.

And Zelda knew it was troubling him more then he let on.

“Link?” she asked gently.

Her hero kept staring at the ground, his eyes flickering a bit.

“Link.”

He continued to stare at the floor.

“Link!”

The hero seated across from her startled, pulling his gaze from the ground up to her face.

“Are you all right? You’re not... did you even hear me?” she asked, concern welling back up in her when Link didn’t immediately reply. He blinked once, then after a minute nodded, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Yes Zelda, I’m fine. My apologies,” he said, the purple in his one eye wavering over the green.

Zelda gave him a look. Enough was enough.

“I called you three times before you answered Link,” she accused, leaning over the table at him. “And you’ve been avoiding me, and all the knights of Hyrule, and barely been eating too. I’ve seen you at dinner, you’re not okay. That’s why your father keeps giving you days off and why I was looking for you and why we’ve both been keeping an extra eye on you, everyone has. You’re not okay.”

She squinted at him, arms crossed. “And you haven’t been for a while.”

Link stared at her, looking like he was about to protest.

Then he obviously reconsidered, drooping in his seat. The purple in his eye wavered, and Zelda watched in interest as the green won out again, almost completely obscuring the violet.

He suddenly groaned, burying his head in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Link murmured.

Zelda patted his wrist, a worried look on her face. “Link you don’t need to apologize, I know it’s not—“

“It’s just so frustrating!” Link suddenly yelled, making her jump as he lifted his head up. “I never know what to feel anymore! My emotions are all over the place my memories are in four, I can’t pick what color clothes to wear and it’s like I have to shuffle through twenty different emotions before I can do anything, it’s so stupid and I hate it!”

Zelda kept her hand on his arm and met his eyes, still sloshing with color.

Link glared at her, then his eyes suddenly filled with tears and he let his head fall to the table again, sniffling as he dropped his gaze.

“I’m sorry Zelda,” he said thickly. “I know you’re busy, and I’m sorry you had to come find me. And that you have to deal with me when I’m such a wreck because I know you have your own stuff you’re dealing with and you’re busy and now I’m yelling at you and—“

He cut off into a hiccup, and Zelda marched herself around the table and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s okay Link,” she repeated, and he looked up at her in surprise, cheeks damp. “You’ve yelled at me plenty of times before, this is nothing new. Leftover magic like this is tricky, you’ll get better at managing it.”

“B-but what if I don’t?” he sobbed, the red in his one eye almost completely obscuring the blue. “There’s already rumors going around about how my quest m-made me crazy, what if they— they’re right? I can barely do anything anymore without o-offending someone! I can’t even just hang out w-with you without yelling! It’d just be easier for everyone to stop trying to deal with me!” he wailed, and Zelda squeezed him tighter.

“Stop talking like that Link, like it or not we’re not leaving you, I’m not leaving you. Some mood swings are hardly enough to make me leave my best friend, no less ridiculous rumors,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’d never leave you to deal with something like that alone, nobody decent would.”

She smiled at him, pulling back just a bit so she could see his face, red still the brightest color in his eye.

“We can get through this okay? And even if it doesn’t ever get better, even if it gets worse, I’m not just going to leave you. And neither is your father. We love you Link, and emotional problems don’t change that.”

Link’s tears didn’t slow, but the red in his eye receded a bit, the other colors slowly flowing back into less frantic swirls.

“But what if it does get worse?” he whispered, sounding afraid of the answer.

Zelda clasped his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Then we’ll make it work. I already told you I’m your best friend and I’m not going to leave you over this. And I will say it as many times as it takes to get it through your thick skull.”

Link sniffled and nodded, his tears finally beginning to slow.

“Okay,” he said after a minute, voice thick. “Thank you Zelda.”

She hugged him again before pulling back, seeing how the colors in his eyes seemed to have evened out and were no longer wobbling around uncertainly.

They were calm, like the surface of a still lake.

Zelda smiled to herself, giving Link’s hand that was still in her own a happy squeeze. They sat there in silence for a bit as Link’s tears gradually dried, ignoring the looks the librarian at the desk kept sending them from across the room.

“Soooo,” Zelda asked, breaking the silence. “That big oak in front of the castle hasn’t been climbed in a while. Since you’ve got the day off, would you like to go for a climb?”

“You know it’s raining, right?” Link replied, voice still a little stuffy sounding. “We’ll get all wet.”

Zelda grinned at him.

“Since when did that stop us?”

Link returned her smile and wiped the last of the tears from his eyes as he stood up. “That’s true. Damp tree climbing it is.”