Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stumbling upon a mysterious dark portal in the woods is not the most auspicious start to his day, Link, Hero of the Four Sword, decides. It’s probably not the weirdest, but it’s not a great indicator of things to come.

Link jumps in. It’s hasty, perhaps—

(-Vio!- -But what if it could lead to Shadow?- -We should still talk about it, first!-)

But after some stumbling around and a killer headache, he’s quickly met with eight other armed men who all look a non-insignificant amount like him. Which is slightly weirder than the portal? But, well…

Doppelgangers are also not something he’s unused to, so.

From the moment they all collide (not quite literally, but close enough), things are chaotic. There’s yelling, a bit of drawing swords, and more than enough blame to go around about the creation and nature of the suspicious magic portals they all apparently just came through, willingly or not. Someone is groaning out, “Damn it, of course this happens the one time I leave sword at home to go to the market!”

It’s one of the older teenagers, dressed in a red outfit with a blue cap and a pink streak in his hair (which seems like either not quite enough colors, or just a complete fashion disaster to the Colors in his head, but okay), frantically checking his pockets. “Hylia couldn’t give me five minutes of warning? I only have half my items on me!”

A boy in a blue lobster shirt, seemingly the youngest person here, points at the hilt sticking up over the teenager’s back. “You have a sword, though? Right there?”

The teen blinks at the boy before glancing over a shoulder. “What? No—” He stops. “I meant my other sword. I always take two swords with me on adventures.”

There’s a pause at that.

“Why?” The lobster-boy asks.

Mister Pink-Streak squints at Lobster for a long moment. “In case one of them breaks…?” His tone is cautious, almost tentative, and something about the sentence rings false for Link, but another teen, also in blue but patchwork, long hair tied in a loose ponytail, is nodding sagely.

Link scoffs. “You probably need better swords, then.”

Pinky rounds on him. “Don’t you dare talk like that about my—!”

Only to freeze.

“…Sword?” he finishes weakly.

Link tilts his head. “I’m only telling the truth; if you’re that worried about your blade breaking, then it probably isn’t good enough.”

But Pinky doesn’t seem to be listening anymore. “Fuck,” he curses, gaze flicking rapidly around the clearing and looking like he’s actually, fully taking in the rest of them, before coming back to rest on Link. “This is time travel, isn’t it?” He groans, slumping backwards to throw his face towards the sky with the sound. “Nayru-damn it. I hate time travel.”

Link sees a couple of the others—the man in full armor and the one with the scarf—make commiserating faces. All the surrounding conversations have come to a stop by now, swords and threats put away without injury. There’s a sense of wariness about many of them, still, but the air of hostility has, in general, given way to curiosity.

“You’ve time traveled before?” Someone asks—a brown-haired teen with floofy hair.

(-It looks soft. Do you think he’d mind if we asked to touch it?- -I think it’s very likely he would, being as we’ve just met- -Not the time, Red!-)

“Yeah,” Pinky says. He sighs once—a long, tired sound—before visibly gathering himself. “Alright, then, let’s get on with it.” He turns back to Link, and, for a second, Link thinks he sees something almost…mischievous? In his eyes. “What’s your name?” The teen looks around. “All of you. I’m Link.”

“Oh. Strange,” Link says. Interesting. “That’s my name, too.”

Pinky rounds on him, face the picture of exasperation. “It’s what.”

Turns out? They’re all named Link. They’re all Heroes, too.

(“Your name is Link?” Pinky-now-also-Link demands. Link frowns at him.

“Yes?” It isn’t that confusing of a declaration, is it? They did just go over this—they’re all named Link.

“You were a hero?”

Link’s eyes narrow.

“I am a hero, yes. The Hero of the Four Sword. Is there something wrong with that?”

The teen blinks. “What? No, I just—” He stops abruptly. Shakes his head. “Sorry, never mind.”)

It’s more startling to some of them than others, apparently.

They quickly hit upon the problem of names.

“What are we going to call each other?” One of them speaks up. It’s one of the older boys—or man, really, since he seems to be about early-to-mid-twenties—the one with the scarf. Scarf-man. “Trying to do this without some form of nicknames for everyone is going to get both confusing and old, very quick.” He shoots a look at both the oldest of them—the one in armor—and the youngest—Lobster—and mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like: “Trust me, I’d know.”

(-Oh! We could tell everyone what we’ve been calling them?- -Yeah, I don’t think that’ll go well- -What? Why not?- -I don’t think we have any room to throw stones when it comes to names, in any case- -Wonder whose fault that is- -What? Blue, you don’t like your name?- -No, that’s not…- -Why didn’t you ever say anything?- -Never mind, Red-)

They decide on occupation or description-based labels, at first. Scarf-man, who’d suggested the whole thing, becomes the Captain, Wolf-Pelt Guy becomes the Rancher—

(“I also work at a ranch,” the oldest of them says, when it’s his turn.

The Captain stares at him for a moment, before smirking. “How about we just call you ‘Old Man,’ then?”)

Lobster becomes the Sailor, while the other boy in blue, the one with long hair, becomes the Cook-slash-Champion. Poofy-hair, in the brown and green, decides to go with the Traveler.

Then it’s his turn.

“Well, I’m a blacksmith, so…” he shrugs. “Just call me Smithy, I suppose.”

Next to him, the still-unnicknamed (at least officially) Pinky, lets out a quiet but audible scoff.

(-What was that about?- -Oh, let me at him!-)

“I’m sorry,” Link says, whirling on the teen, voice the chilliest possible version of polite. “Do you have a problem with that? With me?”

(-…Or we could let Vio at him. That works, too- -…Yeah-)

Pinky seems startled for half-a-second, but—again—he recovers quickly. “What? No. No, I don’t have a problem with you.” He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath to himself.

Yeah, Link isn’t convinced.

“What are you going to be called, then?”

“Me? If we’re going by descriptions, well…” Pinky taps his chin. For some reason, the movement seems familiar. “Hmm. I don’t really do much besides adventure, really, it’s just kind of one after another for years now, and ‘Traveler’ has already been taken…”

“’One after another’?” The Rancher echoes. “How many have you had?”

Surprisingly, the teen seems to have to actually take a moment to think about it, making little motions with his fingers like he might be counting in his head. “Six? Not including this one, whatever it’s going to be. Yeah, this’ll be number seven.”

The Captain whistles. “Wow, a veteran, huh?”

He gets back a shrug. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

It’s at this point that the Traveler pipes up, a look on his face—Link recognizes it as a mixture of dawning realization and awe. “You’re…oh, wow—I’ve heard stories of you! They call you the Hero of Legend, in my time.”

The tips of Pinky—the Veteran’s—ears turn red. “Oh, um. Cool. Good to know I’ll be remembered.” Link smirks at how flustered he looks. But then, the Veteran—his eyes widen as he looks between the Traveler and Link. He makes a face, then nods once. “Legend works, too—if we wanted to use our titles or some shit. Since we’re all Heroes, yeah? What’s everyone else’s?”

Scarf-man—the Captain—smirks. “You want us to call you Legend?”

The red at Pinky’s ears spreads to his cheeks. “I’m just saying! They sound a little more like names, alright?!”

“He’s not wrong,” the Old Man nods.

“Weird names,” the Captain says.

“Cool names!” the Sailor corrects. “I want to be called Wind! That’s way more awesome-sounding than Sailor!”

They go around again. The man with the white cloak becomes Sky, the Traveler becomes Hyrule; the Captain, Warriors. The Old Man…

“Time, I suppose,” the Old Man says. A lot of the others react to that.

(-The Hero of Time? A lot of them seem to know of him- -Weird. We’ve only heard of the Chosen Hero, the Hero of the Skies, right?- -Yeah- -Maybe he comes sometime after us?- -Guess he’s a pretty big deal-)

The Rancher becomes Twilight and the Cook, Wild…

Then it’s back to Link, again.

The Veteran—Legend—is staring at him, still. It’s making him a little nervous.

He shifts in place. “Well, I’ve had a few titles, like Hero of Men or of Minish, but…” He makes a face to himself, then nods, deciding. “Four. I’m the Hero of the Four Sword, so call me Four.”

Time nods. “Four it is, then. Alright, we should—”

Legend makes a noise—kind of strangled and half-choked? It’s sounds like he’s dying, in all honesty.

Link—Four, now—jerks his head around to glare at the teen, but Legend’s already spun around, facing away from the rest of them.

“Okay, what?!” Four snaps, anger bubbling over. “What is your problem?!”

“NOTHING.” Legend doesn't so much as turn his head. “NOTHING, I’M FINE!”

“Yeah,” The kid—Wind—mutters next to Four. “Sure sound fine.”

“Everything in this forest is gonna know where we are, now.”

“I think they already did from how much yelling we did earlier, with the bumping into each other and all that.”

“Oh, right. Good point.”

Legend walks away. Still yelling, still not looking back. “LET’S JUST—GO THIS WAY.”

That’s how everything starts.

They begin travelling together—it’s the adventure to end all adventures. They grow closer, the nine of them, friendships evolving and changing as they get to know each other, these eight other heroes, perhaps some of the only other people in all of time and space that might truly understand them.

That first meeting does set a precedent, though, in one aspect:

Legend is weird.

“I have two, actually,” Hyrule admits, as they sit around a campfire at night.

“‘Zelda’s?”

Turns out the name ‘Link’ and the hero schtick aren't the only things they have in common.

“How did that happen?” Four asks. “Are they mother and daughter?” Zelda is a very common name for girls of the royal family, in his time (Dot always said it was in honor of the First Queen of Hyrule, Zelda I), but he doesn’t think he’s heard of multiple people being named Zelda at the same time. It seems like it would get confusing.

Not as confusing as nine ‘Link’s, but still.

“Well, no—actually.” Hyrule rubs the back of his head. “One of them was born in my time—I saved her during my first quest. The other was put into a magic sleep for hundreds of years because she wouldn’t tell her brother where she hid the Triforce of Wisdom? Impa told me about her later, so then I went to find Aur—oh, right. We’ve been calling her Aurora, after the old story.”

Some side-commentary breaks out, at the explanation.

(“Impa?”

“Hey, I know an Impa too! She’s really old; she’s in charge of Kakariko Village.”

“Mine’s not, she’s a general.”

“‘Hid the Triforce of Wisdom’?”

“Her brother did that to her?”

“Well, her brother and an evil wizard.”

“Hyrule, everything you say about your time makes me so worried.”

“Sorry? It’s not so bad.”

“You know, somehow I don’t believe you.”)

“Then the Zelda born in your present day is still ‘Zelda’?” Time asks.

Hyrule turns away from Twilight. “No, she decided that wouldn’t be fair—so we call her Dawn.”

Warriors sighs, leaning forwards, elbows resting on knees. “Are we doing nicknames again? If we all have at least one Zelda…”

Across the fire, Wind raises a hand, bouncing slightly on his log. “I don’t need to! Tetra’s been Tetra waaay longer than she’s gone by Zelda!”

“The Zelda I know already has a nickname, as well,” Four speaks up. “I called her Dot as a kid.”

He still does. She likes it better than Zelda, he knows.

“Why ‘Dot’?” Hyrule asks.

Four motions to his face. “Freckles. She has even more than you do.”

Hyrule blushes.

Four chuckles, tuning back into the others.

“—fits them, and matches with our nicknames?” Warriors is explaining. “That way it’s easier to remember. I think ‘Artemis’ fits mine.”

They go around, deciding the rest. Fable, Lullaby, Dusk, Flora…

Sky is last.

“Sun,” the Chosen Hero says. “Since I’m Sky. And also…” he smiles. “She’s my sun.”

Wind immediately makes a retching sound. Four feels himself smile at how absolutely lovestruck Sky sounds.

Warriors laughs and leans over to clap the earliest of them on the back. “I know that look! That’s the face of a man hopelessly in love!”

Sky doesn’t deny it, just keeps smiling.

Four looks at the others.

(“Are you married?” Twilight asks, looking wistful. Time watches on, content.

“Not yet,” Sky responds. “But I asked her a few weeks before all of this started—we’re going to wait until we get more of a settlement down on the Surface, have a proper ceremony and celebration. Everything she deserves.”

“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.”)

He sees Hyrule and Wild exchange grins, leaning over to nudge at Wind as the young sailor continues to make exaggerated disgusted noises.

Meanwhile, Legend…

“Vet?” Four asks. “Are you alright?”

Legend’s staring at Sky with wide eyes. He looks like he’s having an existential crisis, or something.

At Four’s voice, his head jerks over to him, blinking rapidly. He swivels quickly between him and Sky a few times. Hyrule, Wild, and Wind stop their playing to watch.

A moment later, Legend settles on Four, glaring.

“You’re a dick,” he says, emphatic. Before—

Turning away. Back to the conversation, like nothing happened.

And Four, bristling with indignation and confusion both, can only think one distinctly Blue-tinged thought:

What the fuck?

(When Time asks the five of them later, why Four decided to suddenly lunge at Legend across a quarter of the campfire as the others struggled to hold him back, Legend will alternate between ignoring the Old Man and staring blankly, like he doesn’t even know what they’re talking about. Four and the others push Legend about it once or twice, as well, and get the same response, like he’s developed selective hearing.

In the end, it’s easier to ignore it, just like the Vet. It’s not the first time Legend does something strange, and it’s certainly not the last.)

To be fair to the Vet, he’s not the only strange one. They all have their little idiosyncrasies; Four can’t be certain, but he’s willing to bet that most of them are…‘parting gifts,’ so to say, from their adventures.

Hyrule is overly jumpy. Time hates the full moon while Wild loves it. Wind has some of the strangest curses Four has ever heard, Sky can fall asleep anywhere, Warriors has an unhealthy attachment to his scarf, and Twilight can turn into a wolf on command (not that most of the others know that, at first). None of them have exactly had it easy and that manifests differently for each of them. But Legend?

Legend isn’t just a little weird. Legend is ‘refuses-to-go-in-any-form-of-water-or-wear-pants, has-vaguely-rabbit-tendencies-ala-Twilight-and-Wolfie, made-friends-with-a-flying-blue-bear’ levels of weird.

(“A flying blue bear,” Warriors repeats. “Oh, yeah,” Legend says, nonchalant. “His name was Moosh.”)

Legend grows accustomed to his new nickname what seems like immediately, even faster than Time. He takes just about every story from any of them with a kind of resigned air, like he’s seen so much shit he’s ready to believe anything.

(-After six adventures, wouldn’t you?- -Yeah, okay. Point-)

Some of the others make a game of it, getting into bragging competitions to see what the vet will even react to.

(-Are we sure it isn’t just to brag?- -That too-)

Time’s story about the moon is the thing that finally does it—and even the rancher isn’t sure if the old man wasn't just pulling their collective legs.

(-How do you think he’d react if we showed him us?- -I’m honestly not sure if he’d be surprised or not- -We’re not risking it- -Calm down, Blue. Red was just wondering-)

So. The vet’s stranger than most. That’s okay, Four is pretty strange himself—he tries to keep his moods steady, even as the Colors trade off and sometimes battle for dominance, or the switches jumble him up—but he isn’t always perfect, and, out of all of them, Legend is the one who seems to take his particular oddities most in stride. Four’s thankful for that, really, and he isn’t here to judge anyone. In fact, he enjoys spending time with Legend, the little they do. Four’s by no means the one Legend is closest to; that would easily be Hyrule and his obvious respect for the older hero (and the obvious soft spot the Vet has for his successor). They don’t have the chaotic but friendly relationship that Legend does with Wild, who quickly turns out to be Hyrule’s partner in crime (and in getting lost), or the bond formed from the commiserating looks Legend often shares with Twilight, who near-instantaneously lands the…dubiously enviable position of Wild’s mentor and minder. Or Legend will spend his time bickering with Warriors, or teasing Wind. Really, the only people in the party that Legend seems to seek out less than Four are Sky and Time (both of whom he, at times, seems to almost-purposefully distance himself from, for some reason).

When they do interact, though, Legend is pretty easy to be around. The Vet is smart, and he has a general air about him that makes Four feel at ease. He could easily see them becoming good friends, in time. The vet's idiosyncrasies—though many—are harmless. It takes a while for Four to figure out why his gut keeps focusing on Legend's strangeness. Part of it probably stems from their first meeting; Legend’s own focus on Four, along with his abrupt outbursts and not-quite-explained sentences. Maybe Four could have learned to forget that alongside everything else, accept their first meeting as part of Legend’s version of the various inherent quirks they all carry.

Except…

“Master Sword?” Hyrule repeats.

It’s still the first week, the lot of them getting to know each other as they travel. With how many of them seem to know the sword that rests on Sky’s back, it was bound to come up, Four supposes. Not that he’s included in that number.

“You haven’t heard of it?” Wild asks Hyrule. “Everyone told me it was necessary to defeat the Calamity—maybe I could have hit Ganon with my ladle, instead.” Walking next to the cook, Twilight makes a despairing sound.

“It’s also called the Blade of Evil’s Bane, or the Sword that Seals the Darkness,” Warriors chimes in. “Maybe you’ve heard one of its other names?”

“Titles,” Four hears Legend mutter from a few paces away.

“She,” Sky corrects the captain, voice mild. “Those are her titles, like the Goddess Blade or the Master Sword, but the spirit of the blade? Her name is Fi.” He reaches a hand to his back, touching the blade’s hilt for a moment. The gesture seems incredibly fond, to Four. He wonders what that would be like, to so clearly love the sword you wield, the blade that you yourself forged into something greater. Four understands it, to some extent, but his relationship with the Four Sword is…significantly more complicated, he thinks.

“Zel—Flora told me about that,” Wild says. The cook’s eyes are bright and curious. “That there’s a spirit in the sword. She spoke to her once, actually.”

“She doesn’t speak as much, anymore.” Sky looks sad. “Her purpose—to help me forge the Master Sword from the Goddess Blade—was fulfilled. But she was my companion, on my quest. She still is. She’ll always be, as long as the Master Sword exists. Even when she doesn’t speak, she’s still there, helping in her own way.” Ahead of them, Four sees Time shift as they walk, but the old man doesn’t say anything.

(-Wonder what that’s about- -Complicated history, perhaps?- -Not really any of our business, you two-)

“She’s strong, then?”

“I’d say.” Warriors claps a hand on Hyrule’s shoulder. “In terms of fighting evil, that sword is in a league of its own.”

Four frowns.

(-None of them have even heard of the Four Sword, have they?- -We put so much effort into it, so much of ourself, into it- -A league of its own, my ass, ours works just as well-)

“Huh.” Hyrule shakes his head. “I’ve never heard of it? I’ve always just used my Magical Sword.” The traveler gestures to the ruby-studded sword on his back.

Four drifts closer, his interest piqued.

(-Never heard of the Magical Sword before- -Well, we haven’t heard of any Heroes other than Sky, maybe he’s from our future?- -A blade that hasn’t been forged yet?- -I wonder if he’d let us see it!-)

“May I take a look?” Four asks. “I’d love to see the differences from my own work.”

“Oh! Um, sure.” Hyrule doesn’t look sure, but he unfastens the sheath from his back and hands over the blade anyway.

(-He’s a good kid- -Blue, I’m pretty sure we’re only a year or two older than him, at most- -So? Still a good kid- -I guess-)

Four smiles. “I won’t go anywhere.”

The blade is well made, well balanced; a feeling of magic and care has been worked into the metal in that way that only the best weapons can boast.

“If Traveler didn’t use the Master Sword, what about you, Vet?”

“Yeah. I’ve taken her with me a couple times over the years.”

“Think anything happened?”

Four turns the sword over in his hands, testing the weight and the sharpness of its edge, even as the conversation around him continues.

(-Silver-steel alloy for aiding with magic conduction?- -Rubies for power- -I bet it’s super good with fire!- -Don’t get any ideas, Red-)

The more he looks, the more Four realizes: the technique worked into the blade, the way it was forged, it seems almost…familiar. It isn’t his work, he doesn’t think—not unless his style changes a lot in the future—but there are definitely similarities.

Interesting. And possibly a mystery for another time. Regardless…

“It’s beautiful,” he says honestly. “Whomever made this was truly skilled.”

“Thanks,” Hyrule smiles. “I found it in a graveyard, and the old man there said I could keep it since I could use it.”

“…Right.” That’s…not the weirdest thing Four has ever heard. Part of him wonders if old men often hang out in graveyards, in Hyrule’s time. Was the sword just in the graveyard? Or in an actual grave? How did Hyrule find it? Did he specifically go grave-robbing looking for a sword or something else to find? Is it normal to take weapons from old-and-possibly-dead men? Four has questions, but most of him isn’t sure if he wants the answers.

“How about you, Smithy?”

Four, halfway through handing the Magical Sword back to Hyrule, looks up to find most of the group staring at him. “Sorry, what?”

It’s Twilight that explains. “You said you forged your own blade?” Ah. When he was showing Wild his dagger. “It’s that one on your back, right? The Four Sword?”

Four nods. “Yes.” He shrugs the blade off his shoulder, taking it in two hands to show to the others—it seems so small compared to all of theirs. But, then again, so is Four. It’s the right size for him, that’s what matters. “This is the Four Sword. I’ve used it to seal away the Wind Mage, Vaati, and later, Ganon.”

Warriors whistles, looking impressed as he eyes the sword in Four’s hands. “Seal Ganon? Didn’t realize something other than the Master Sword and the Princess could do that. And you made it? Impressive.”

Legend scoffs. “You don’t need the Master Sword to beat that pig.”

Warriors grins, a gleam in his eye, and Four mentally sighs, because it’s quickly become apparent that there’s nothing Warriors loves more than sparring, in both its physical and verbal forms. And with how so completely unwilling Legend seems to be to take anything lying down, the teen has quickly become Warriors’ favorite target. Not that Legend seems to mind.

“Oh yeah? What’d you use, Vet? You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

“Different things each time, but weren’t you listening?” Legend jerks a thumb at Hyrule. “Fi might make it easier, but our Traveler here didn’t have her either, and he beat him back twice.”

Four watches as Hyrule smiles, the teen’s cheeks turning a little pink at the praise, however indirect. It’s obvious to all of them that their humble traveler has a bit of, well, hero-worship for their veteran.

(-That was terrible, Green-)

Their general timeline is still a mess. They know Legend and Hyrule fall next to each other, at least, but they have no idea when that is in relation to the others. The little Legend has said of his time and adventures doesn’t seem to match up with any potential ‘after’ the rest of them might have. But other than Wild, who’s said that the previous hero came ten thousand years before him, they’re not sure which of them might come after the two, either. Hyrule might have been able to pick out his direct predecessor by the veteran’s ludicrous number of adventures, but ‘Hero of Legend’ is a title that could feasibly belong to anyone, given enough time.

“The Four Sword is powerful, then?” Twilight asks, as Warriors and Legend continue their back and forth.

Four nods. “Yes. The blade was named after the four elements with which it was forged.”

(-It’s…not quite a lie- -It’s not quite the truth, either- -Well, we already decided we wouldn’t say anything unless we have to- -They might understand! They might not treat us like the villagers do!- -They might not understand, too. We can’t risk it- -Yes. Not unless there’s no other option-)

His secret isn’t worth a life, but he’s not going to just share it willy-nilly.

(The Colors swirling at the back of his mind settle reluctantly at the thought.)

“Forged with all of them?” The older teen looks impressed. “The only thing I ever had with any connection to the elements had a fairy inside it. Does it control them?” Twilight asks, wrinkling his nose a bit.

(-Rancher doesn’t like magic, does he?- -It’s true that he doesn’t seem to have quite as many magic items as some of us- -Can’t really blame him, magic mostly causes problems- -I like it!- -You like fire magic, Red-)

Four chuckles. “Perhaps not to the extent that it seems Traveler can call the elements, or some of Veteran's items, but…it’s definitely attuned to nature.”

“Cool!” Wind exclaims next to him, listening in. “I wonder if it feels anything like my Wind Waker?”

That question is a little too close to asking to try it for Four’s liking, and he’s about to redirect, when, sure enough—

Wild moves closer to them, a hand half-reaching. “Can I see?”

“No!”

Four’s mouth is already open and ready with a denial, when he realizes:

He wasn’t the one who spoke.

He looks up to meet Legend’s wide eyes. He sees the vet’s face pale, but when he blinks—

Legend whirls to face the cook, looking annoyed. “We don’t need you breaking another magic sword, Wild! And this one might not just reform!”

Wild pouts. “It was an accident, and the Master Sword turned out fine.” He does look a little ashamed, though, as Wind laughs next to him.

Sky frowns at the reminder of the day before, while Legend makes an inarticulate noise of frustration, shaking his head. “That’s still Sky’s best friend, even if we all wield her. Rancher! Back me up! Isn’t he yours, or something?”

Legend takes a step back as Twilight gets dragged into the bickering, which devolves further. Wind calls out encouragements and jeers in equal measure alongside Warriors, while Hyrule watches with a gleam in his eyes, and Time ignores them all with ease.

Sky falls back to Four with a sigh. “I can’t keep up with their energy.”

Four hums, eyes still following their pink-streaked veteran. There’s no way Legend hasn’t noticed, but he refuses to meet Four’s gaze, and the direction he backed off from the squabbling was on the opposite side of the group.

(-Hmm. Interesting- -Do we think that was redirection, or not?- -That sounded a little too knowing, right?- -A little too worried, yes- -I didn’t think any of them knew about the Four Sword- -We’re not sure he does yet. Don’t jump to conclusions so quickly- -Are we going to ask him, then?- -Yes, most definitely- -Yeah- -Later. No need to draw attention-)

“Getting tired?” Four teases, setting his musings aside for the moment. “You’ll turn out like the Old Man.”

Sky laughs. “No, no. I just…” Four watches as the chosen hero’s eyes drift to the veteran, as well. “He called her my best friend.”

Yeah, Four’d noticed that as well. He just hadn’t thought it as noteworthy as the outburst before that. But maybe to Sky… “Was he wrong?” He asks, neutral.

Sky shakes his head. “Not at all. It’s just…interesting, that he picked up on that, I guess. Not many people do.”

“You called her your traveling companion. I think all of us know what that means. How close you become on an adventure.”

“That’s true.” Sky nods. “What about you, Four? Did you have a companion on your travels?”

(-Can’t tell him about us, but…-)

Four smiles, hand moving to the decoration at the end of his hood. “On my first, there was an older mage who’d been cursed by the same enemy I was trying to stop. We ended up traveling together. He was…a voice of caution and wisdom for my younger self, when I was too reckless or impatient.” He grins up at the other Hero. “That was more often than I’d like to say, thinking back. But he taught me well.”

Sky laughs. “I see.” He smiles back, soft. “He sounds like a good mentor.”

Four nods. “He was.”

His eyes drift back to Legend.

Patience was perhaps the most important lesson that Four learned from Ezlo, back when he was that original version of himself. As he is now, with the lesson learned and combined with enough stubbornness for four people, Four is more than capable of waiting for a proper time for answers.

He finds one the next evening, when he and Legend are sent to gather firewood together.

“So…”

(-Oh, great start there, Green- -Quiet, you-)

“Yeah?” Out of the corner of his eye, Four sees Legend glance at him for a moment before turning back to scan the forest floor for fallen branches and kindling.

“When Wild asked to see my blade…” Is it his imagination? Or did Legend just tense for a moment, at that? “And you said no before I could…” Four trails off, letting the implied ‘What was that about?’ hang in the air between them.

“Oh, that.” Legend hums, seeming disinterested. “Well, we saw what the cook did to Fi, right?” There. Fi, again. Four wonders if Legend is familiar with the spirit in the Master Sword, to so consistently call her that, or if he’s just copying Sky. “And besides—” Legend nods towards the blade on Four’s back, “that sword seems important to you? From how you act with it. I just…” the vet shrugs. “Figured you wouldn’t want one of us touching it, that’s all.”

It’s casual, almost shy or embarrassed. Four…doesn’t know Legend well enough to say if it’s an act or not. He doesn’t think Legend’s lying, per se, but he isn’t sure Legend’s telling him the full truth, either. And he doesn’t know the vet well enough to say if he should press or not.

“Okay.” Four nods, accepting this, however hesitantly. “Thanks, then.”

Legend, picking up a small branch, waves a hand dismissively, looking awkward. “Don’t mention it, Smithy.”

(-Okay, we won’t mention it- -Doesn’t mean we’re going to forget it, though- -Yeah, exactly-)

Their journey continues. They all get more used to each other’s habits and quirks, growing closer as is normal on a quest. And it starts out mostly unintentional, but…the more Four keeps a conscious eye on Legend, the more he notices.

It’s never anything huge, or even worrying. Maybe he shouldn’t be noting these moments at all, but…

(That moment, with the Four Sword. The sheer panic, in his voice. Like he knew.)

Legend has a tick where he puts his hand at the side of his belt, like he’s going to touch or grab something. It doesn’t seem like anything more than a gesture, but, those first few weeks, Legend always looks a little sad as he pulls his hand away. When Wild asks him why, the vet says: “I usually keep—my other sword, at my side. It’s strange not having one there.”

“I could lend you one of mine?” The champion offers, fingers twitching towards his slate.

Legend waves him off. “Nah, it’s fine. Wouldn’t be the same, you know?”

“But…don’t you want another one? In case the first breaks?”

“What?” Legend frowns. “Why would—oh. I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks, Wild.”

Four, watching, squints.

They’re fighting together for one of the first times—it’s a small skirmish, but one that becomes more and more spread out as the action drags on and the monsters verge on being routed. The sound is loud, the battle hectic; Four doesn’t have experience fighting with this many allies, even when he was split.

(He doesn’t think many of them do, apart from the captain. It makes the chaos worse.)

He’s ended up next to Wild, Twilight and Time close by. Across the clearing, Wind, Warriors, and Sky are grouped together, while Legend and Hyrule fight back to back even farther away.

Four fights, using a combination of styles from all of the parts of himself to his advantage, trying to keep track of all of his companions.

From distance, he sees it:

A bokoblin, sneaking up behind Legend as the veteran turns to deal with a moblin flanking Hyrule’s side.

Four doesn’t think. He just yells.

“BEHIND YOU!”

Even as the words leave his lips, he curses himself internally. Useless, there’s no way for Legend to know he’s talking to him with so many on the battlefield and from so far away, barely even a chance the vet can hear him over the fighting.

And yet—

Legend spins, blade slashing out in a deadly blur of gold, beheading the bokoblin in one swift strike.

An attack from a lizalfo forces Four to turn back to his own group of ‘problems’ as Warriors might say, but ever so faintly he hears a call of “Thanks, Sharps!” from the vet.

The fight carries on, the moment swept away, but the memory of it sticks in Four’s mind.

Or, how about:

They’re walking through a forest that Four doesn’t recognize in a time-period alien to him.

Faintly, he hears a half-muffled giggle from behind him—the sailor. Realization strikes, and Four quickly turns to pin the other with a glare and a firm:

“Don’t even think about it.”

Wind, still holding the writhing bug he was about to slip into Four’s hood, levels him with an admittedly impressive pout. “Aww…”

“Legend?”

Hyrule’s voice, questioning. Four turns in time to see the vet staring with wide eyes. Glancing at the traveler, Four almost misses the way Legend’s face flushes as the other teen looks away.

What was that?

Legend collapses next to Four as they camp that night, setting all of his gear on the ground before lying face-down in the dirt.

Four stares, bemused.

“Legend?”

Legend groans once.

“Are you alright?”

“My life is very strange, and none of you know the half of it,” the vet tells him, conversationally, without looking up. Then he goes back to silence.

Hesitantly, Four reaches out, patting the other teen on the shoulder twice before pulling away.

Only for Legend to reach out and grab his arm as he tries to draw it back. “No.” The vet blinks, looking up at Four, then to the point where he’s grabbing Four by the wrist. Up to Four and back again. “Oh,” Legend says, something weirdly like wonder in his eyes.

Four wonders if it’s too late to run, and pretend they’ve never even started to become friends.

Four is sitting at the campfire with Wild, waiting for the others after a particularly party-splitting switch, when Twilight walks in holding a pink rabbit.

Four glances up, then does a double-take, because Twilight left to scout with Legend. “Rancher? Where’s the--?” He looks at the bunny. It’s wearing a familiar vest, and there’s an entirely too-human expression on its face, an unusual intelligence in its eyes. “Vet? ”

Wild whips his head to Four, then back to Twilight and the creature in his arms. His eyes are wide. “Wait, what? Vet?”

Twilight nods, looking a little amused. “He accidently picked up my transformation item. I guess it works differently on different people?”

The rabbit crosses its little arms, swinging in Twilight’s grasp as the rancher lowers him to the ground. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, and Four feels his jaw drop. Once on the forest floor, Legend lopes towards his discarded bag. “Laugh it up.”

“You can talk?” Wild says.

Legend turns away from his things to give the cook a stink-eye that looks strangely at home on his rabbit-y face. “I’ve got a mouth, don’t I?” he pauses, considering, then to the air: “Although, people who get stuck as trees and the like can talk, too. I guess a mouth isn’t required.” He goes back to digging through his bag.

“You…sound like you have experience with this kind of thing,” Four says slowly. His movements are certain, too, even in the animal shape he’s wearing. The vet is a fast learner, sure, but--he should theoretically be stumbling about in a skin that’s different enough that he no longer has opposable thumbs.

(-Definitely prior experience- -Well, it is the vet. Should we even be surprised?- -I guess not- -The talking is pretty neat!-)

“Yeah,” Legend says, voice muffled from the fact that he’s now sticking half his small body into the bag. “Happened a bunch on my first adventure.” He removes himself again long enough to glare at the three of them. It’s…not very effective, to be honest. Since, well—bunny. “Don’t tell Wars. Or ‘Rule—goddesses, the traveler cannot find out.”

“I don’t know,” Twilight says, smirking, “it’d be a shame not to show him something as cute as a bunny we found.” At the same time, Four:

“But you don’t care if we know?”

Legend shoots Twilight another worse-but-still-rather-unfrightening glare before going back to the bag. “Why would I?” He says to Four. “It’s not like you won’t—”

The vet stills.

Four exchanges a look with Wild and Twilight.

The rancher leans forward, smirk falling as he frowns. “Vet?”

Light flashes and suddenly Legend is standing before them, human once more. “Son of a bitch,” he says, whirling on Four with a triumphant grin.

Four is startled enough he almost misses the small item Legend deftly catches out of the air by its string, before tossing it to Twilight, who slips the whatever-it-is over his neck and under his shirt.

“Legend? What is it?”

Legend blinks a few times, before laughing. He’s still smiling a little, even as he looks away. “Sorry, don’t mind me. Just figured something out, that’s all.”

Four exchanges another confused glance with both Twilight and Wild. They only give equally baffled shrugs in return.

There’s more, of course there’s more, little moments and glances, too knowing or out of place or just strange:

Legend comes over as Four is inspecting weapons one evening, leaning companionably into his side. “What’s up, Sharps?”

“Why do you call me that so much?” The nickname makes just as much sense as the rest of any of Legend’s interactions with him, and Four feels rightfully annoyed by it, just about then.

Legend is silent for a moment. Then he laughs. “Because when we first met, you looked ready to stab me.”

(-That has to be a lie- -It might not be? Legend’s weird- -Not that weird, right?- -Does it matter? The guy’s practically allergic to a straight answer. He’d never tell us either way-)

Four sighs.

Four isn’t sure what all of it means, exactly. If it all connects together, or if he’s just making something out of nothing. But four different sets of instincts are telling him that this (this everything, with Legend) is important. That there’s something there, even if he might still be struggling to see it in its entirety.

(-So, what have we discovered?-)

It’s not just that Legend is weird. It’s that Legend is specifically very weird around Four.

Everything is spinning.

-Badportalnotthisagaindon’tlikeitmakeitstopcalmdowneveryonefocusfocusfocus-

His head hurts, they can’t stand, thoughts tumbling and drifting and never quite connecting—

(I

We

Me

Us)

Someone takes their hand, helps him up.

He—

(Whimpers

Says: “Thank you.”

Groans

Apologizes: “Sorry.”)

“Four?”

“Migraine,” they say.

More words crowd, want to come out. He bites their lip.

Opens their eyes.

Flashes of brown-green. Two-toned. Behind that, more colors, varied.

Hyrule, in front of them. Surrounding him, a forest. Above them, the sky.

Words, talking. That’s all Vio can hear. Green’s head is too busy to parse. Come back to Blue when he can think his own thoughts, much less hear anyone else’s.

Red’s ushered along; they all start walking.

They try to marshal their thoughts, glue their pieces back together; scattered and too close. Break and re-forge. Come back stronger.

Link, he thinks, in time with the spiking pain of each pounding footstep. Four, Four, Four. Link. GreenRedBlueVio. Four. Link. Green, Red, Blue, Vio.

It works—maybe? In a way. More like himself, but—his pieces, still disconnected. Missing parts, holes in his mind and it hurts, hurts the way a hole in the body usually does, an open wound.

Unsteady flow, he thinks, they think. Disconnected. But not distinct. Migraine. Cause? Effect? Both?

It’s hard to think.

He’s set down, helped into a chair.

Dimly, Link recognizes an inn.

Town. They made it to a town.

“The migraine makes it hard to think,” he rambles aloud. The light changed—did time just pass? (Hah. Haaah. Time. Pass. Like he was blocking the light—wegetitcomeonSHUTUP!) “Could I think before? Did the thinking cause the migraine? Or did the migraine cause the thinking?”

“Why don’t we try to get rid of it first, okay?” Someone is talking. “Let’s find you some quiet, Smithy.”

“Okay.”

Up a set of stairs.

“Stay in the room,” the same voice says. “And I’ll be right back with something to help.”

“Okay.”

He finds a bed. He sits down, and, just—

Stops.

Holds his head. Breathes.

Time passes.

Then:

“Here.” The same voice. The vet.

Four lifts his head slightly, though his eyes don’t focus.

A warm cup is pushed into his hands. Four accepts it passively; grips out of reflex. Ceramic, heavy and grounding in his hands.

“Don’t drop that.” Legend sounds amused. Slightly concerned. “I had to bully the innkeep until they let me into the kitchen. Be a real hassle if I had to do it again.”

He went to all the trouble? Nice of him. So, if we did drop it, he’d make more? Secretly such a softie.

Four lets the thoughts pass, feeling more himself every second, feeling his parts line up.

“Thanks,” he says eventually.

He lifts the drink to his lips, breathing in and sipping—

And startles, hard, at the barest taste. Nearly spills it.

“Careful!” Legend warns. “I just said, Four.”

“This is…” Four trails off, looking up at the vet. Forces his brain into actively parsing visuals again.

He watches as Legend tilts his head. “It’s a remedy for migraines. I thought it might help.”

It does. It does, but—

Four shakes his head. “This isn’t a—it has no medicinal properties.” The drink sits in his hand, warm and comforting. Its color is a soft purple-pink, with shimmering swirls of gold mixed in—honey. And when he inhales—a comforting mix of berry and lavender. He sips again. Milk-based, with hints of floral. Heady and sweet and warm, like a favored quilt.

“Folk remedy, then.” Legend huffs. “And how would you know? You didn’t see me make it.”

Four knows. This color, this scent, this taste—

Cold nights with his Grandfather, whenever he had a bad dream. Sleepy afternoons with Dot, reading in the Castle Library. Red used to make it religiously before bed, each night, handing out a mug to whoever wanted one.

He knows this drink like the back of his hand. It’s—

“Legend, this is my favorite drink. How did you know to make this?”

He turns back to Legend, feeling—a grateful sort of confused. He can’t be upset, not when this is exactly what he needed and he didn’t even have to ask.

(He hadn’t thought anyone else even knew this recipe. And yet, it’s exactly the same.)

Legend’s eyes widen for a moment as Four speaks, before his expression morphs, hanging somewhere between aggrieved and simply done. “Of course it is,” he says, sounding pained. “Just—drink, Sharps.”

And Four—

While better, he still has too much of a migraine to care.

Four drinks, and can’t help but feel—glad—for the vet, never mind how.

(The mystery can wait.)

Here’s the long and short of it, though: they’re all sitting on secrets. Adventures don’t come without secrets and scars both, and some are harder to talk about than others; this is something of which all them are aware of.

It gets hard, sometimes, because it also seems like ‘being nosy’ is a universal trait amongst Links.

(-I wonder if there is a connection between curiosity and the Spirit of Courage?- -Or maybe we just can’t help wanting to know in case it’s a problem we can help with-)

It’s a delicate balance, one they all have varying levels of competency in dealing with. Four would like to believe he’s on the better end. They all have secrets they don’t want to talk about; he’s more aware of that than most, he would say. They all have subjects they’re more likely to be dogged about, too, personal interest or history sometimes blinding them to other issues—and Four knows he is guilty of this sometimes, as well.

Legend, perhaps surprisingly or perhaps not, is one of the best of them about this kind of thing. He listens, he pays attention, but upon receiving any sign of resistance for a question? He backs off. It’s a level of patience that Four doesn’t think quite fits their quick-tempered veteran.

Four’s not the only one to notice, either.

“You never press,” Four overhears Wild say to Legend one day, as the two share an exchange over an old diary belonging to one of Wild’s friends. Wild had hesitated—unsure, for a moment, at whatever he might share—and Legend hadn’t said anything else, simply handed the book over with a solemn nod.

Legend shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “I used to,” he admits. “Used to be a nosy little shit, but, well—I learned.” He smiles; it’s fond. Slightly annoyed, as well, but mostly fond. “A friend of mine used to always say, ‘You’ll get it eventually,’ or ‘You’ll find out when you’re older,’ and then refuse to budge. Frustrated the hell out of me, back then, but…I can’t say he wasn’t right. And besides,” Legend twists one of the rings on his fingers for a moment, before he nods to himself. “There’s people back home—they all have secrets they don’t talk about for one reason or another. Maybe it’s hard for them. Maybe it’s painful, or dangerous, or just none of my business. Guess I’m one of them, too.” He pauses, then shrugs again, a little helplessly. “I learned.”

Wild nods slowly, looking like he’s taking the sudden monologue of Legend’s in. It’s an unusually calm scene for the two of them, Four thinks. “Thank you,” the cook says eventually.

Legend grins, reaching out to ruffle Wild’s hair for half a second—the cook quickly leans out of range with an offended squawk. “Don’t mention it, kid.”

“Only a little older than me, and that’s if were not counting the shrine,” Wild mutters as he moves away.

Legend laughs for a moment, staring after Wild's retreating back. Then, suddenly: “Something you want to say, Smithy?”

Four startles slightly as Legend turns to him with a smirk. Four huffs to himself, walking a little closer.

Something he wants to say, huh?

There’s a lot that he could say to that talk of secrets and what might or might not be their business. The vet isn’t great at hiding whatever’s always going on with him when it comes to Four, and Legend is definitely aware of that fact, but Four also knows that he’s not really any better at concealing how curious Legend’s behavior makes him. Four might ask questions, which Legend then deflects, but overall…

They’ve never really talked about it, he realizes. Four wonders if they ever will.

Not today, he decides, and pivots the conversation:

“You’re good at that.”

“At what?” Legend blinks at him, looking confused, or maybe surprised, and Four realizes that maybe the vet was, in fact, expecting a question about this…whatever-it-is, of things unsaid between them. In that moment, Four makes a split-second decision: he’s not going to pry, no matter how much he might want to. With how respectful Legend is of everyone else’s privacy, it would be rude to do anything else.

Four nods in the direction of the campfire, where Wild is settling down to prepare dinner. “Things like that, with Wild. You’re good with Hyrule, especially. But Wind, too, though to a lesser extent.” Legend is still looking at him, blank-faced, so Four continues. “Teaching, Vet. You’re good at explaining things. Mentoring them. Have you had practice?”

“Oh.” Legend shakes his head with a chuckle. “No, I’ve—it’s the other way around. I’ve never done this before, I’m just taking a page out of a friend’s book when I say all this stuff, trying to imagine what he’d do.” There’s a certain twinkle that Legend gets in his eyes, occasionally. A mischievous, knowing glint, like there’s a joke in something, somewhere, and he’s the only one in on it.

“A friend?”

Legend laughs again. “I didn’t survive six adventures just on my own wits, Four—well, apart from my first. I have a…friend, back home.” At that, Legend smiles. It’s a soft look—even softer than one the vet might give Hyrule at his happiest—and extraordinarily fond. Four’s never seen him smile like this, but it looks right on his face, and Four wonders if Legend often smiles like this in his time, for this friend. “He came with me on most of my adventures. Hell, he basically raised me, after the first one. He’s like my older brother, to be honest.” Legend looks up with a considering hum. “This is the longest we’ve been separated since we first met, actually. For him, at least. He’s probably pretty worried.” Legend gives Four a commiserating, exasperated eyeroll. It does nothing to hide the fondness from before. “Even though I’ve told him time and time again that it’s not his job to look after me. I guess he just can’t help it, huh?”

Four smiles. It’s clear to see how much Legend adores this person. “He sounds like a good mentor. I hope we get to meet him.”

For some reason, Legend laughs once more at that, that same glimmer in his eyes again. “Trust me, you will.”

The days, weeks, pass on.

Four and Legend continue to not-talk about the weirdness between them, even as more moments and realizations pile up.

Legend is…both more and less guarded around Four, in some ways. More open emotionally—but as soon as Four asks about information about his adventures, he clams up. How touchy he is with Four in particular—actually, after that one time at the campfire, Legend just starts handing out physical affection to Four like candy. It’s nothing big, at first: leaning into him when they’re sitting next to each other at camp, propping an elbow on top of Four’s head when they’re standing next to each other, ruffling Four’s hair when teasing him.

Red and his love of touch aside, Four thinks he should be annoyed with it. At least one of the parts of him certainly is. But there’s a certain way that Legend does it, this nearly-imperceptible-yet-definitely-there air of pure happiness and almost wonder, that he doesn’t seem to have when interacting with any of the others. Four doesn’t understand it, but he doesn’t want to…

Blue gets outvoted. Four lets Legend continue, even as the veteran graduates to slinging his arm around him by the campfire at night. And though Blue never stops grumbling, even he stops minding, eventually. It’s…nice.

They don’t talk about it, any of it. Four never really asks, and Legend never tells. Not that Four stops…

Well.

Four can tell himself that they’re all sitting on secrets, that he’s not going to pry, and he won’t. But that doesn’t mean that he’s not going to pay attention, and try to solve it himself. Curiosity is a vice all of them share. And, well, if Legend doesn’t want Four to be curious about the oddness that is so clearly connected to him in some way, Four doesn’t know what to tell the vet. (Yes, he does: that maybe he shouldn’t be so bad at hiding it.)

(-That seems a little mean, Vio- -Is it wrong?-)

The weirdness—tension—between them remains, fades into a constant low, even as others notice. Eventually, it just becomes another ‘one of those things’ to the group. Personality-trait-like, almost. Something they all know. Wind loves his sister, Hyrule gets lost easily. Legend is weird around Four.

That isn’t to say there aren’t times when issues don’t crop up.

They find the black lizalfos, and an ambush along with it. Twilight chases after it on Epona alone, then chases it back to them as a wolf.

The lizalfos—the shadow—

(-No, nothing like Shadow- -Shadow would never-)

—changes.

And Twilight goes down.

They scramble. Four ends up with Wind, Hyrule, and Legend against the creature as the others frantically try to protect their injured party member.

He charges, Blue’s anger pushing him forward, Green changing it into focus, Vio into an opportunity, and Red’s caution flinging him clear, with Wind’s help, just in time.

(Vaguely, he can hear Legend yelling something in the background.)

At the vet’s direction, they deal with the other monsters. The shadow escapes, despite Wild’s wrath.

Four sighs as the last monster falls, wiping his sword clean and sheathing it.

Heavy, stomping footsteps.

Four turns just in time for a hand to snatch at the front of his tunic, dragging him a half-step and almost lifting him off his feet, and he looks up to Legend’s furious face.

“Spirit, what the fuck was that?” Legend snarls at him.

Four opens his mouth to retort, a demand to release him on the tip of his tongue—

He blinks. Registers. Asks:

“What did you call me?”

Legend blinks back, visibly confused, before he pales, then abruptly turns very red. Four stumbles slightly as the vet lets go of him to fold his arms across his chest. “Never mind that!” Legend glares again. “What the hell were you thinking, Four?! You can’t just charge in against an unknown like that!”

“It was a calculated risk,” Four says, huffing as he adjusts his tunic after Legend’s manhandling.

(-He didn’t answer the question- -He did drop us, though-)

Four will take what he can get.

“Bullshit, it was reckless.” Legend’s eyes are wide, like the terror and desperation from everything that just happened hasn’t quite left him. Twilight has been injured and Hyrule isn’t here; if this is just the vet extending his mother-hen tendencies, Four would very much like for him to knock it off.

(Legend rubs a palm over his face, visibly trying to calm down. He mutters something into his hand, but Four doesn’t quite catch it.)

“We don’t have time for this,” Four dismisses. “We need to regroup with the others and check on the Rancher.”

Legend sighs once, then sets his jaw, focusing back on Four again. “We’re talking about this later,” Legend hisses at him.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Vet,” Four returns.

They travel on. It’s a close call, but the Rancher gets better, his fluffy secret the only thing lost in the encounter.

Or, maybe not the only thing, Four reflects. The balance between him and Legend has disappeared like it had never been.

Four spends the next week being careful to keep just enough distance between them at the campfire so that Legend can’t get his way. He can’t escape the vet’s glares though. Something has soured between them, and Four doesn’t know how to fix it. They all know Legend can hold a grudge—this is not the first long-lasting dispute the vet has gotten into and refused to give up—but Four doesn’t understand why this is such a sticking point. Why won’t the vet just let this go?

Hyrule comes over to Four one night as they set up camp. Wild is cooking, Warriors and Time are discussing their latest fight, a fully healed Twilight is using newfound freedom to scout the area as Wolfie, and Sky, Wind, and Legend are chatting quietly.

Four himself is tending to some of the group’s weapons. He gives Hyrule a distracted greeting, before frowning down in particular at a nick in Warrior's sword, taken when the captain had blocked a nasty strike from a stalfos intent on stabbing Four himself. It was a lapse in judgement, on his part.

“Four, did you know…?” the traveler trails off. Four looks up from his work to see Hyrule fixated on something across camp. Four follows his gaze—

Legend looks away, back to Wind and Sky.

Four hums.

“I only noticed recently,” Hyrule says. “Since before Twilight got hurt. Although after has been…”

Yeah.

“Why…How long has he been…?”

“Since the beginning, actually.” Four hadn’t thought many of the others had noticed. Maybe Time, or Twilight—Twilight has definitely given him a few curious looks about it. Truthfully? Four’s not even sure Legend is aware he’s doing it, most of the time. It's not usually very obvious, but Four will catch Legend staring, sometimes.

It’s become more of a glare since Twilight’s injury, though.

“Huh,” Hyrule says, still staring after the veteran.

A few seconds pass.

Four goes back to his weapon-tending.

“He feels kind of like you.” Hyrule’s voice is low, almost a mumble.

Four turns back to the healer. “What?” He takes a second, as Hyrule’s words fully register. “Wait, sorry—what does that mean?”

Hyrule shifts, looking a little uncomfortable. “Oh, I shouldn’t have—it’s just the magic—but that might be—” He stops. “Sorry, was that weird?”

“A little,” Four allows, but doesn’t let himself get distracted (well, distracted from this, he’s already been distracted from his actual task) because Hyrule’s magic-sense is second to none, amongst their group, and this? This is new information. “What did you mean, ‘he feels like you’? You said something about magic?”

Hyrule bites his lip, humming. “It’s…well…you have a magical signature that is very elemental-focused? I think it might come from the sword. You said it was forged with the four elements?”

Four nods slowly, feeling like he’s stalling mentally, brain frantically trying to absorb all the details and connect the dots at the same time. “Yes.”

“Right.” Hyrule nods. “Your sword practically radiates elemental energy, and you’ve been around it so long that your own signature has melded with it a bit.” Hyrule frowns. “That’s…maybe not ‘melded’? Maybe ‘influenced’? A person’s magic takes on characteristics of the things they’re familiar with. Or, maybe it’s more like a residue.”

Four nods, again. "Sure." Part of him wonders, unbalanced, if perhaps this is getting too close to secrets he’d rather keep, but, well—what’s done is done. He can’t stop Hyrule from looking. What can be seen, will be. ‘Elemental magic’ is fine, is not the most important part to him.

“Well, Legend feels similar, I guess? It’s fading—it’s been fading this whole journey, actually. But there’s a very strong sense of elemental energy on him. Like he’s carried a powerful elemental item around for a long time.”

“Huh,” Four sits back, mind spinning. Absently, one of his hands drifts behind him to touch the Four Sword. In the back of his mind, colored thoughts swirl to life.

(-A powerful elemental artifact- -It doesn’t necessarily mean the same one- -But what if it is?- -Is it because he’s used it?- -If he feels the same…- -That would explain why he didn’t want Wild to touch it, that first week. If he knew the drawbacks…- -We did wonder- -Remember? He kept reaching for something at his side the first couple of weeks- -Reaching for a sword? That he doesn’t have anymore? That’s what he said, wasn’t it?- -Maybe it’s not us he’s staring at all the time- -You think? He’s looking at the Four Sword?- -Could be. Well, right now he’s mad at us, but earlier…could be- -The drink. He said it was for migraines- -That’s always been our line- -Wait, you think…?- -Do you think he’s like us?-)

This…

This changes things.

Regardless of any possibly-made revelations, Four knows patience. Ezlo-taught and Four Sword-tested, Four is patient enough for all the people he can become and sometimes still is. And he still has his principles; he is not in the habit of apologizing for wrongs he does not believe he has done.

And so, inevitably, it is not him that makes the first move.

It isn’t really Legend, either, actually—Time is the one that forces them into it. A few weeks into the stalemate, the old man apparently has enough with their silent war of attrition, and puts them together for firewood-collection duty. It’s an unspoken order to talk it out if there ever was one, though a good half of Four doesn’t feel like listening.

(-Where does he even get off? We’ve gone on just as many adventures as the Old Man, we’ll act however we like!- -He’s just thinking of group cohesion, Blue, it’s not like he doesn’t have a point- -We’re not the ones with a problem, we can work perfectly well with all the others, Legend included- -I’d like it if he wasn’t so mad at us, anymore, though…-)

They gather branches in silence for minute after minute, nothing but the sound of leaves crunching under boot and the rustle of foliage.

Finally, Legend sighs. It’s an explosive sound, loud in the quiet of the woods, exasperated and irritated and exhausted all in one. Four turns to the vet, raising an eyebrow.

Legend scowls. “Fuck off, Sp—Four.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” Legend mutters. “And that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?”

Four pretends not to hear; ignores how the words make part of him want to bristle. Legend’s still acting like this is his fault?

Legend lets out another breath, blowing at a strand of pink hair in his face. “Let’s just…I get it, okay? I get you don’t think you did anything wrong, but Four, there’s not much of a difference between calculated risk and—if you—” Legend breaks off, hand rising to the empty space at his belt. Interesting, Four would have thought he’d dropped that habit. Legend follows his eyes; sees what he’s doing. Aborts the motion halfway. His expression twists into something pained, frustrated. He looks away.

Four says nothing, feeling all parts of him slip together into place. A sensation in his head, like held mental breaths. He watches Legend—the tired set of the other hero’s back, the unbending curvature of his spine. The profile of Legend’s face, in the forest's dim light, looking into the creeping shadows between the trunks and filled with thoughts Four can’t begin to decipher. His expression, a hard and weathered stone, cracking into—Four would hesitate to call it grief, doesn’t know what it would be for, but…it feels close. A kind of sad acceptance, maybe.

Four doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand, why Legend is fixating on this, why it’s affecting the vet so much—

Maybe something from his past?

And it comes back to the secrets, once again, the secrets between them that it takes all of Four not to pry out of the other, to dig into the cracks in the façade Legend lets show and never let go until the vet gives him the truth.

Four is knocked out of his thoughts as Legend sighs once more. “I’m just tired of fighting with you about this.”

Do other people consider prolonged silences fighting, too? Four wonders. Or is it just a Hero thing?

No, wait. Dot has definitely done it to him, a couple of times.

“I mean, really,” Legend continues, almost under his breath. “I know I’m bad, but how are you already this stubborn?”

Four tilts his head. “’Already’?”

Legend looks startled for a moment, guilty, before squinting at him. “Yeah, you’re like, what—sixteen, Sharps?”

“Eighteen,” Four corrects, feeling irritable. The next part slips out without conscious consent. “And if you’re going to lie, at least do it well, Vet.”

(-Vio!- -Sorry! I stand by it, though-)

Legend frowns, something closing in his expression. “What?”

Four sighs.

Okay. Are they really going to do this, then?

(-Legend did say he wanted to talk- -I don’t think he meant about this-)

“I promised—” well, himself, mostly, “decided I wouldn’t pry. Tell me when you’re ready. I know it has something to do with me, but it’s your secret, whatever it is. I get that. But I need to know.”

He slings the Four Sword off of his back, watching the way Legend’s gaze immediately catches on it, snagging for a moment like a persistent bur, before he meets Four’s eyes again.

“This sword,” Four says, eyes firmly on Legend. “You know it, don’t you?”

He watches the vet tense.

Screw it, the Bluest part of him thinks. No use trying to talk around it.

“You’ve used it, haven’t you? You know what it can do, what it does to people.”

He can’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice as he speaks.

Legend’s eyes flash. “‘What it does’? That sword is—”

Four cannot quite hold it in.

“Did it change you, too?”

And Legend closes his mouth with an audible click, staring at Four with pain in his eyes. Indecision. It’s enough of an answer for Four.

He turns away. “So you did use it.”

A moment. Two.

“Once.” Legend’s voice is quiet. “For a very short time.”

Four nods, emotions and Colors all over the place. He lets his eyes move away, roam over the forest floor, the branches they’ve been collecting strewn across the ground. Dead things, left behind.

What, moments ago, he couldn’t keep in, becomes hard to force out. “Did it…?”

The question wavers into the air, uncertain, unfinished.

(Does he really want to know? The sword is his creation: doesn’t that make anything that’s happened because of it, anything it’s done, his fault? Himself included—)

“No.”

Four turns back to the vet.

Legend meets his gaze. “No, it didn’t. You don’t have to worry.”

Four nods, feeling…relieved? Jealous? He doesn’t know. Legend watches him, concern obvious, and Four can do nothing but stare back, wanting to shiver at the way the vet looks at him; like he’s reaching into Four’s soul and pulling out all the parts Four has never let anyone see. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t know how to make the vet stop, Legend isn’t even actually doing anything, Four’s just being paranoid, he’s just worried about us—

Four takes in a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. His fingernails dig crescent moons into the earth of his palms alongside starbursts of pain—like galaxies in his hands.

Stop, he tells himself. Chides, berates. Compose yourself. This isn’t you.

It is, just—not a version of himself he wants to be.

This is the topic that unseats him, that undoes all of his carefully constructed balance and calm, but he can still—he will maintain control. Control over himself. It’s all he has.

Vio’s distractedness, Green’s tunnel-vision. Red’s emotionalism, Blue’s temper. These are just parts of him. They all have their flaws—and he has all of theirs—but he will not bow to any of them. Control over himself. The version of himself he wants to be.

He needs to calm down. Stay calm. That’s who he is. Level-headed, carefully considered, patient.

Above all else, he is patient.

“Is that really how you feel?” Legend’s voice is…strange. Off. Even quieter than before.

It makes Four look up. “About?”

Legend nods to the sword on Four’s back, something complicated crossing his face that Four isn’t in the mood to try to pick apart. “You sound like you hate it.”

Four doesn’t respond for a long moment. He knows Legend won’t push, would simply walk away if he said nothing. But he doesn’t…

Doesn’t what? Doesn’t want Legend to draw the wrong conclusion, even when Four himself can’t be sure it’s actually wrong? Doesn’t want Legend to think that he’ll pry into the vet’s affairs while expecting to give nothing of his own? Does that even matter? Legend already knows his most valuable secret—what more could he possibly give to the veteran? What could Legend give back that equals it?

Or does he just want to talk to someone about this, someone other than the parts of himself, someone who understands, even the slightest bit. It doesn’t have to be an exchange.

Four sighs. “What I feel for this sword,” he settles on, “is far more complicated a word than love or hate.”

Legend nods, the movement slow. He still seems…

Oh.

“What is it?” Four asks.

‘Hesitant’ isn’t a look he’s used to seeing on the vet.

“Would—if you could go back,” Legend starts, “to the person you were before you—before it changed you…would you?”

“Does it matter?” Four wonders aloud. It’s not something within his power, within any of theirs: what use is there in thinking about ‘could have been’s?

But…

Would he?

Legend doesn’t respond. Waits, as Four rolls the question around in his mind, feeling each side of him chime in. It was hard, at first, but good, too:

The trials he’s overcome.

The understanding of himself he’s gained.

The power the sword can give him to protect.

The way he’s never truly alone, can never be.

“No,” Four says. Decides. “I don’t think I would.”

He might have been broken, and still bitter about it: the suddenness of that first split, his own ignorance towards knowing it would happen—how could he have known? Would he have gone through with it, if he had? The kingdom was in danger, Dot was in danger. How much of a choice was there, really?

There are no easy answers to his lingering questions, but regardless…the pieces of himself he glued together came back stronger, more resilient. Even if it isn’t always easy, his new shape more jagged and sometimes sharper-cutting than he used to be; even if he isn’t always prepared for the way his pieces sometimes rub against each other…

Can he not be satisfied with who he is now?

(Can they not take pride in how far they have come?)

Legend smiles at his answer, that strange hesitancy slipping away at last. Four wonders why his response mattered so much to the vet.

Suddenly, it occurs to Four: “If this sword, if it didn’t…” change you, split you forever into your parts, sort you nice and neat into pieces you didn’t even realize you could be broken into— “then how do you know? About…?”

Legend stills for a moment.

Then he sighs. “I was warned, beforehand.”

“And you did it anyway,” Four says. It’s not a question. But it implies one.

And you called me reckless?

Legend makes a face at him. Rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. It sounds suspiciously like ‘stab me.’

“Pardon?”

Legend’s eyes dart back to him, widening. “That’s—” then he pauses, smirking, a shadow of that usual mischief flickering behind his eyes. “You’ll get it eventually.”

Four can only sigh.

(And deny the way his lips tilt upwards, ever so slightly.)

They finish collecting firewood, the task they were nominally sent out to do. (It wouldn’t surprise Four if Time had sent another pair out to actually follow-through, but no. The oldest hero apparently has more faith in them than that.) When they get back to the group, Four internally debates whether to be proud or offended at Time’s approving nod when the old man sees the two of them.

(Legend clearly has no such dilemma, as he flips off their leader the second he gets a free hand.

Four hides a smile.

Legend sees it anyway, and sends him a wink and a grin.)

Things…well, they don’t exactly go back to normal, but they settle into a new one. Legend continues to act weird around Four, or maybe just around the Four Sword, and Four…

He thinks he could be satisfied with this much. He doesn’t know exactly, what it is that Legend’s hiding, but he can see the shape of it, he thinks, and that’s enough for him. They have an understanding again, which the whole group is happy for, and they don’t talk about it, still, but...Four knows he could. Knows that maybe it’s not exact, but that Legend might just be the only one who would truly understand.

Yes, that’s enough for him. He doesn’t need to know anymore, if Legend doesn’t want to tell him.

But, of course, the thing about secrets is that they don’t tend to stay so.

The latest portal drops them in an unfamiliar forest.

Four stumbles as he goes through, falling, Colors bursting into front and center of his mind as the magic forcibly pulls his pieces apart from each other like a painting dropped into a pond. Quiet pandemonium; a contained riot.

(-Everyone okay? Everyone here?- -Yes- -Here!- -Yeah, yeah. Here we go again- -Are the others okay?- -Can someone put a hand over our face? That sun is the worst- -Seems like everyone else is pretty much fine- -Got it!- -Can we stand?- -Thanks, Red- -Are there enemies?- -Think it’s fine- -Don’t see any- -Not fine, this sucks-)

He groans, clapping a hand over his eyes as the sun makes his sudden headache spike.

Someone pulls his hood up and over his head in gentle motions. “All right there, Smithy?” The rancher.

“Obviously not,” he snaps—maybe just Vio snaps. It’s hard to tell, currently. Twilight gives a commiserating huff.

In the background, he can hear the others gathering themselves, quiet murmurs of checking in, sorting out gear, scanning for monsters or tracks.

(“No luck,” Warriors is saying. “I think we’ve lost it again. Find anything, Traveler?”

“No, sorry.”

“That was one of Hylia’s portals.” Another voice. Sky. “She wouldn’t have sent us here for no reason. We’ll catch up to it again.”)

Slowly, as he massages at his body’s forehead and tries to focus on Twilight’s grounding hand on his shoulder, Four’s headache abates, the noise inside his head reducing as his pieces tentatively settle.

He breathes in. Holds. Breathes out.

He pulls off his hood, shooting Twilight a quick smile and taking his first good look around just as Time asks:

“I know a forest is not the easiest for immediately findable landmarks, but: does anyone recognize this era?”

Various noises of dissent and confusion from the others, until—

“Yeah,” Legend speaks up. The vet’s gaze is raised up to the trees, to the way the light filters through the branches in the late morning sun. As they all watch, he reaches out to place a hand against one of the trunks, rings glinting in dappled sunbeams as Legend stares at the tree. Four squints, and just barely makes out a strange set of pock-marks, set deep into the bark. Writing of some kind, perhaps? “Yeah, I know these woods. This one is mine.”

They all take that in for a moment. It’s the first time they’ve been dropped in Legend’s time—Hyrule in particular is looking around with a hungry sort of curiosity, like he’s just itching to explore the age before his own.

“We’ll follow your direction, then,” Time says. “Anything nearby? Places we should investigate? A best spot to camp?”

“Yeah, we…” Legend looks over at all of them for a long series of moments. He seems almost…apprehensive? Visibly unsure.

Four exchanges a look with Twilight, who shrugs, before turning back to the vet. Legend’s gaze seems to linger on Four.

Four quirks an eyebrow in response, an unspoken question of ‘Well? Go on.’

Legend blinks, before blowing out a sigh with a shake of his head and a few muttered words—Four makes out something about ‘Hylia’ and ‘chance’.

(Next to the vet, Wild tilts his head, looking confused.)

“Yeah,” Legend says again, falling into that familiar grin. “My house is nearby. We can head there.”

Legend’s house turns out to be a small cottage—cabin?—on the edge of a town. On the horizon, Castletown and Hyrule Castle itself loom in the distance, looking about half-a-day’s journey away.

The house itself isn’t anything particularly special, though it does look remarkably well-maintained, and…

“What’s that?” Wind asks, pointing to a sign hanging near the door, brightly-painted and beckoning.

‘THE HERO’S SHOP’

‘COME IN, WE’RE OPEN!’

Legend scowls. “Nothing.” He flips the sign around so it says ‘CLOSED’.

“You…own a shop?” Sky sounds confused. Four understands; it doesn’t really seem like Legend’s style.

“Such blatant self-advertisement,” Warriors snickers.

“It’s not mine,” Legend says, aggrieved.

“Sure, Vet.”

“No, it’s—ugh. Never mind, whatever. C’mon.” Legend rolls his eyes, walking inside.

The vet seems tense, Four thinks. He has for the whole walk. A strange mix of excited and on-edge, good nerves and bad nerves.

Nerves for what, though?

They all shuffle into the house behind Legend, and are confronted with…Four can only describe it as organized chaos. Things, everywhere; weapons and instruments hanging on the walls, clothes spilling out of dressers, miscellaneous tools filling draws and chests to the brim. Four isn’t the most adept at sensing magic, but even he can feel its presence from what must be the sheer volume of enchanted items Legend has, just lying around.

“Woah,” Hyrule says, looking a bit dazed.

“You can play all these?” Time asks, looking to the instruments.

“Yeah,” Legend seems a little preoccupied, glancing around like he’s looking for something. “More or less. Got them on quests, had to learn.”

“This is so much stuff!” Wind is grinning.

“Yeah. It’s also all my stuff, and some of it is cursed, and I don’t want you lot breaking anything that isn’t. No one touch anything,” Legend snaps at them. There’s a frown on his face, and Four notes that whatever had him increasingly uptight on the way over? It only seems to be getting worse. “I have to check the other room.”

He goes. The rest of them fan out.

“Veteran seem nervous to you guys?” Twilight asks, wandering over to one of the tables.

“Yeah,” Warriors nods, “Oh, man, look at all these rings. There’s no way he could possibly wear all of these, why does he have them?”

“Because Hylia has a habit of sending me on quests without anything, and each time I have to start all over.” Legend comes back through the other door to glare at them. “I can hear you, you know.” He narrows his eyes at them, before his gaze darts to one in particular. “Sky, stay away from that. It’s not a toy, and I don’t think the Old Man’s ocarina can reach as far as the Harp of Ages if you somehow manage to fling yourself centuries into the past.”

“And what about this one?” Wind asks, lifting up something else as Sky recoils from the harp he’d been admiring.

Legend blanches.

“Don’t touch that! I said not to touch anything!” the vet takes two quick steps over to swat Wind’s hand away from another, likely very dangerous, item, before looking around. “Fuck,” Four hears him mutter under his breath. “Where is he?”

“Were you expecting someone, Legend?” Hyrule asks.

Legend startles. “I—” His eyes flick to Four for a second. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey,” Warriors interrupts, “Vet, do you have a pet bird?”

“Pet bird?”

“Oh, customers—? AHH, WAIT!”

A new voice, quickly panicked. Four looks over to see a bit of a commotion with a man in a purple bunny outfit, who’s ended up on the ground at multiple sword-points.

“Ravio!” Legend practically teleports across the room to shoo Warriors and then Twilight off. “Thank the goddesses. Move the pointy shit, Rancher, he’s a friendly.” He reaches down to help the other person up. The hood shifts slightly; Four gets a glimpse of black hair and green eyes and a face that looks too familiar, before the other boy—teen?—adjusts it in place. “Ravio, where is he?” Legend asks.

Ravio? tilts his head at Legend slightly, like he’s giving him a look from under the hood. “Not a very polite way to say ‘I’m home’, Mr. Hero, especially with company.” He gets to his feet, putting a slight stress on the last word, though Four can’t quite decipher the reason for it. Then Ravio’s turning to all of them. “Who are these people?” He seems to register the same similarities in their appearances that everyone else notices. “…Family, I suppose?”

“What?” Legend frowns, looking thrown. “Sure, I guess, why—” Legend blinks, something flashing across his face. Comprehension? “They’re fine, Rav.”

“Who is this?” Sky asks.

“This is Ravio, a—”

“Business partner!”

“Freeloader,” Legend fires back.

“Roommates at the very least, Mr. Hero!” Ravio says, his sunny grin the only thing not hidden under the bunny hood. “I should charge you for the upkeep I do while you travel!”

“And I should charge you rent, it’s my house you’re using as a shop, and you didn’t answer—”

“Speaking of!” Ravio interrupts, and Four hears Legend make a strangled noise of fury. “Would your family be interested in purchasing—”

“No one’s buying! They’re all broke anyway.” Warriors lets out an offended noise. Legend isn’t paying attention though. “Ravio,” He says, and the other man stills immediately. “Stop deflecting and answer the question. Where is he?” Urgent and serious, Legend sounds like he’s barely holding in panic. It makes all of them wary. “He’s not here, if you sold him so help me—!”

Ravio laughs at that.

At the same time, another sound comes from the merchant, a chiming sort of ring. It reminds Four a little of Fi, the few times they’ve heard her speak. But what’s more interesting is Legend’s reaction: just like that, all of the agitation drains out of the vet; he nearly slumps with relief. Out of the corner of his eye, Four sees Twilight slowly sheath his sword, sees how Warriors watches with sharp eyes. Something is going on, here, and none of them know what to expect.

“No, no, Link,” Ravio is saying, hands raised placatingly. “I’d never. I’ve just been carrying him so he doesn’t have to sit here all day by himself.” A pout replaces the grin. It looks teasing. “He’s very upset that you left without him, you know.”

“It was an accident,” Legend grumbles, but Four—it’s an act, he realizes. Unlike before. And underneath it? Four thinks Legend might look more relaxed and genuinely happy than they’ve ever seen him. “I didn’t expect a portal to whisk me away while on a goddess-damned delivery run of all things.” Legend’s eyes shift to Four for a second, and he says, with a slightly pitched voice: “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Four tilts his head at his friend, watching as Ravio looks in his direction as well, before Legend’s…friend? Business-partner? Acquaintance? Visibly startles.

“Ah. Well,” Ravio says, the bunny hood over half of his face doing nothing to hide his apparent surprise. “That is interesting.”

Four opens his mouth to ask, because this is very forcibly reminding him of the way Legend acted during that first meeting, all those months ago, and what is up with that—

“Alright, enough of this,” Legend says before Four can get any words out. Their veteran makes grabbing hands at Ravio. “Hand him over, he hasn’t come out yet and I need to yell at him for not giving me the slightest bit of warning about any of this.” Legend half-turns, eyeing the rest of their group. “Unless he thinks the fabric of space-time is going to collapse if I give introductions.”

Before any of them can respond to that (beyond Warriors choking out a, “Sorry, what?”), another chime rings out from Legend’s friend—or, no, it’s coming from under his coat. It makes Four think of someone laughing.

Legend grins. “Alright, you just want to have a big reveal, then. You’re so dramatic, Sharps.”

Four blinks.

Wait.

Isn’t that what Legend calls him sometimes?

Legend fully turns to face the rest of them as Ravio seems to fumble for something under his robes. “I want you guys to meet my best friend and companion of six years. He’s come with me on almost every adventure past my first one, and he’s saved my life more times than I can count. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Legend’s eyes seem to linger on Four for that last part, before he turns to take something from Ravio. It’s—

Four can’t help the slight gasp, hand going to his back to make sure that his sword is still there. It is, and he knows, he’s heard from Legend, but actually seeing another Four Sword in the vet’s hands is still a shock, the constant swirl of Colors at the back of his mind pushing forward.

(-He’s got one, too! Another Four Sword- -No, this is the future, so- -The same Four Sword? He said, but- -Yeah, it’s still weird- -He didn’t have it with him, he said he only used it once, he still has it?- -Hyrule said he carried something powerful and elemental for a long time- -He was warned, but then- -Why did he keep it?-)

Legend keeps talking even as the Colors clamor, mock glaring down at the Four Sword in his hand for a moment. “This is, well, he told me to call him Sword.”

(-Wait, wait, wait! He?- -The Four Sword can talk?- -It has a spirit?- -Like the Master Sword and Fi- -That can’t be right, we haven’t met any!-)

“But you’d all know him better by a different name.”

As Legend speaks, the other Four Sword begins to glow, and before Four can do anything, say anything, warn Legend—

(-But how- -He’s not holding it up- -But he already knows!-)

There’s a flash of light, multicolored instead of the white he’s used to.

Four blinks away the dots from his eyes, internally panicking.

(-It split him! Oh no!- -Hold on, there’s only one person standing there, and he’s shorter than Legend- -It didn’t split him? Then what happened?- -Wait, that’s-)

His vision clears as he makes our the new, slightly translucent figure standing next to Legend and, well—Four’s jaw dropped open around the time Legend took the second Four Sword off his friend, and he doesn’t think he’s going to close it for a very long time.

“Hello, everyone,” The Spirit of the Four Sword says with a wave, looking by all accounts like a slightly older version of Four. “It’s good to see you all again.”