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“What do you think of this?” Legend held up an old winter coat. Its sleeves were tattered and its hood was made of a stifling faux fur, and regardless who wore it, the jacket itself also hung to both their knees, making it challenging to move around it when zipped up. “Ew. No,” Hyrule replied quickly.
With a self-satisfied smirk, Legend tossed the jacket to the side. He hated that coat just as much as Hyrule did, if not more. The fabric slumped against the welcoming pile of the rest of the clothes that either didn’t fit the two anymore, or were well past their durated lifespan.
“How about this one?”
Earlier this morning, Time had instructed the occupants of the house - himself included - to spend these next few days dedicated to clearing out their rooms, and deciding what’s worth keeping and what isn’t. It was a yearly activity for them, and while there wasn’t a specific date or event that it was held in, the time between each task was always near perfection .
Hyrule hadn’t been much help himself, laying on Legend’s bed, and mounted comfortably on the pillows and unmade covers. But Legend wasn’t too bothered about that himself, as he always preferred to take lead and do such things on his own. Even so, Hyrule’s one-syllable answers were quite guiding, and before long, the two were working in tandem.
Four sneezed yet again from the floating dust in the garage. Both them and Twilight had decided to tackle the general storage boxes on their own. And it was a process that was blissfully smooth and collected. With Twilight’s strength and tall stature, he was able to pull the boxes down from even the highest of the shelves. And while Four could only help by picking up some of the smaller and lower-down objects, their quick decision making and logical approach to things undoubtedly helped Twilight in sorting through the items.
Though, no matter how perfect they were as a team, distraction was an inevitable fate for them both. Twilight had balanced a few objects on a flimsy table, and swung at each of them with the found baseball bat. The metal was scratched, and the wrapped-up grip was falling apart, yet the weapon was at the perfect weight for Twilight, meaning that his arms weren’t sore from holding it up, and he was given enough heft to send each of the paper balls and other smaller things flying through the room and crashing against the wall with a satisfying crack each time the metal collided with them. This bat was definitely coming back with him upstairs once they were done with all this.
Four on the other hand, was trying nearly everything on. They had a handful of hats worn on, alongside a pair of old rainboots that were a few sizes too big on them. Four shuffled around the room and climbed through the shelves in search of more fascinating objects of the past.
All Four found were labeled boxes, each with a written name of one of their brothers. Four didn’t have a box to themselves though, as Four carried very few objects, and owned even less. Four considered themselves a minimalist, yet with their stark-empty room, the title was doing some very heavy lifting.
“Alright- I reckon that it’s time we get somethin’ done, yeah?” Twilight sighed, leaning on the bat.
Four didn’t say anything, instead just shaking the pile of hats off their head.
Four stood back as Twilight dug his hand through the tool box, before pulling it out with some small garden shears in hand and a noise of triumph. He pushed against one of the boxes with his foot, and pulled the shears alongside the tape, ripping it open.
The contents in each of the boxes were quite obviously in context to the owner, yet some were quite surprising.
The first box that they had opened was filled with old cooking equipment. From stained aprons, to burned and scratched trays, and the plethora of cookbooks- It was evident that this was Wild’s belongings. And when Four quickly checked the side of the box, Wild’s own name was written promiscuously, underlined boldly a few times, to emphasize his ownership on it.
“Anythin’ worth keeping here?” Twilight sorted through the objects that were still perfectly boxed and folded.
“Just the books. Everything else looks beyond use.” They pulled out an apron, fold creases too evident, it was as though they attempted to conceal the multiple holes and burn marks on it.
“Yikes.” Twilight hissed through his teeth. “I agree.”
As they pulled the cookbooks out, dusted them slightly, and flipped through a few pages of them, Four was able to recognize nearly all of their recipes. Pumpkin Stew, Mushroom Skewers, Seafood Curry, Meat Pie , and those were just a few to name. Four’s mouth watered as they skimmed the book.
And the moment that Four found the desert cookbook, all hope of remaining focused was lost. Sticky notes and folded up papers fell through each of the pages, or served as bookmarks in some of his most notable creations. From Egg Tart, to Wildberry Crepes, there was nearly everything in there. And even his renowned Honey Candy recipe sat buried between the masses of pages. Four’s personal favourite was undoubtedly the Fruit Pie. And looking at the instructions and ingredients, it seemed relatively easy to make- They should probably bring it up with Wild one day, as while they would love to have the entire pie to themselves, the experience of baking it together was also just as pleasing.
Yet, some of the contents were a lot less obvious. Upon opening up the next box, it was nothing but even more sports equipment. There was nearly every type of sports ball in there, all deflated and packed to the corner of it. The occasional racket and helmet were found in there as well, and it appeared that whoever this box had belonged to, was quite skilled at this interest of theirs.
Four had to double take at the name to confirm that yes, indeed, the box of sports equipment belonged to the same brash, flamboyant man who used a heart instead of a dot on the “I” in his name.
“This all used to belong to Warriors?!” Four gaped, the name feeling accusatory on their tongue.
“Yeah? Didn’t he ever tell ya ‘bout his countless of overachieving stories from when he was back in Highschool?” Twilight scoffed fondly. “This man o’er here was the captain of nearly every sports team back then.”
Four stared, disbelief apparent in their eyes. There was no way in Hyrule that Twilight was describing the same person who shrieked whenever even the slightest of water touched his hair, or deemed his day as derailed when he found even a single crease in his scarf.
“Ordon above knows how he changed so much since then.” It was true, neither of them have seen Warriors participate in any sports, let alone run. “He still boasts on ‘em every now an’ then. All you’s gotta do is just ask, and you’ll end up knowing much more of your brother than ya ever wished to.”
Tilting their head slightly, Four spotted something quite odd before fishing it out of the box.
Twilight gasped. “Is that-”
It was a book, in which the title had been both scribbled and taped over. It seems as though Warriors really didn’t want the others knowing where he studied.
“Warriors had a yearbook?!”
Just as Four handed him over the book, Twilight snatched it out of their hands and immediately began searching for the ultimate blackmail material; Warriors’ yearbook picture.
A wolfish grin crept onto Twilight’s face as he neared closer and closer to Warriors' year. And Four themselves were beginning to feel quite excited as well, wondering what Warriors may have looked like when he was Four’s age- And of course, to endlessly tease their older brother on.
“I found it!” Twilight broke into hysterical laughter shortly after.
Four peered over to the page, and lost their composure when they saw the near criminating photo.
Warriors stared through the camera lens, deep into Four’s soul, from five years in the past. It looked as though he had witnessed pure atrocities just before the taking of the photo.
“Ordon above, he looks ridiculous!” Twilight cried.
What was even more comical, was the fact that Warriors’ hair was much longer than it currently was, in which his side part - which he still had to this day - had covered much more of his face at the time.
His eyeliner work was also much more notably messy. It was smudged around his eyes, which made him look much more sleep deprived.
“Wow. Very amateur,” Twilight jokingly pointed out to Warriors’ makeup. He weakly exhaled a snicker at the thought of Warriors’ look of horror, after remembering that he went out like that.
“I think it’s intentional.” Four pointed out. “I sometimes see Legend do the same thing.”
“Could be. But I like to imagine otherwise.” Twilight always found great pleasure when it came to teasing and picking on Warriors. And Four would admit it was quite amusing to see Warriors turn crimson as he failed to retaliate against their brother.
“...We should probably keep this box,” Twilight said. “And maybe take the equipment out- They all look relatively new and are still probably in great condition.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m keepin’ the yearbook though.” Twilight added.
The rest of the boxes were much less filled with objects and secrets alike. And Four found it quite interesting to see how everyone wrote their name differently on each of their properties. Hyrule’s handwriting was big and round, the letters bounced off each other as his name was spelt out.
Wind’s handwriting looked nearly scribbled on, as if he was in a rush, or had written with both his non-dominant hand, and with his eyes closed.
Time wrote his full name on his box, and the lines were so straight that Four was convinced he had used a ruler.
Their boxes were filled with the most mundane of belongings, Hyrule had empty photo cartridges thrown in there, alongside burnt film- The visible indicator of his many mistakes. Wind’s box was filled with the most miscellaneous of objects that were found around the house. Four began to think that Wind had used anything in his sight to fill the box just to get Time to lay off his back a few years ago. And Time’s box was filled with old bills and other documents that dated from years back. Four was convinced that if they dug any longer, they were sure to find payments filed before they were even born.
The next box didn’t have any indicator of its owner, so Twilight tore open that one as well. Inside was stored with nothing but instrument repair equipment. From strings, to oils and screws, with even a collection of polishing cloths and sprays that it even impressed Four, the resident repairman. It appeared that whoever had owned it was prepared for any emergency.
They both believed that it belonged to Legend, as out of their entire family, Legend was the most musically inclined- And even if he rarely spoke of it, every time Twilight passed through Legend’s room, he swore he could hear the faint humming and trills of a wind-based instrument. They both kept the box to the side safely, and carefully sealed it back up, mindful to not jostle or break any of the seemingly expensive equipment inside.
And it also seemed that Time wasn’t the only one who had kept heaps of papers in his stored space; Sky had decided to use his limited room to pack textbooks, papers, and documents. They were all covered in the same overly cursive handwriting that Sky’s name was written on the side of the box. Sky was still studying, so the textbooks and papers were much more than relevant- And Sky only stored them here for both safekeeping, and lack of space in his own room. So they both decided to keep all his belongings as well.
Warriors struggled as he tore one of his smaller boxes open. Early in the morning, he had crept down the stairs, and retrieved his box from the top corner of one of the shelves. Once acquired, Warriors pulled some other things over the empty shelf space to erase all evidence of the box's existence.
In the comfort of his own room, behind the bed, and door locked and secured, Warriors discreetly sorted through his old clothing, placing them all back in the closet, as he wasn’t quite ready to part with them just yet. But of course, he was extremely mindful of where they went. The more revealing, exposing of the items were shoved far back in his closet, and the more casual of the bunch were either kept aside to be worn later, or carelessly shoved in any spaces that his overflowing closet offered.
Wild takes a deep breath before beginning to pilfer through his old items. Out of all the challenges he had faced, and persevered, this was one he wasn’t so confident in bypassing with ease.
It wasn’t the act itself, or the effort that bothered him; But more so it was the fact that it had forced him to face his past. The one thing that wasn’t consistent nor clear to him. Wild barely remembers much, yet he’s able to recall just how painful it was.
There had been times in which he couldn’t even resonate with it. That he couldn’t swallow it down, or walk it off with ease. It was just one of those things that sat with him.
And it was like an unwanted guest, like a shadow that no matter how fast he ran, or how clever of a spot he hid, it was always there. He couldn’t have escaped it from forgetting. Because he forgot all but his turmoil.
There were times in which Wild didn’t feel like himself because of it, and viewed his past self as an entirely different entity.
He wasn’t one person, yet not multiple either. It was more of which he analogized with a coin- Two sides, yet same being at the end.
And the worst part was, it got better for him. Wild saw happiness. He was able to forget. He was his own person, and was finally able to kick away the last of his other self. Wild was one being, one person, one body. And it was that autonomy that he relished greatly in.
Even so, Wild decided to have kept his memorabilia. From old gifts, to letters and notes, to even photographs.
While it’s been years since he’s revisited them, Wild was sure that the recognition may hit him like a freight train.
But he had to.
It’s been long enough, he’s waited long enough. He can’t run from it forever, and Wild knew. Yet, he desperately tried to extend that wait of recalling as much as he could. And yet, he took today as a sign. Because if he didn’t get into it, then he was never going to do so, and the anchor was going to sink deeper and deeper as he went on.
He was getting tired of that weight on him.
And so, Wild dug out his old shoebox, the same one he had stolen from Time all those years ago, and had tensely waited for Time to give up in his search, unknowingly letting Wild have the box. He slowly opened the lid, as he couldn’t even remember what he had stored there originally.
The first thing he saw was a printed out photo, with pressed holes in the corner from being pinned on a wall before. He couldn’t even remember how long ago it had been, but it had been a notable amount of time, seeing how his hair barely met to his chest - compared to his current waist-length - when the photo was taken.
He fondly remembered that time. Being known as the 5th Champion.
He knew what it was like, to be belonging to something.
It was his band , his home . The home he longed for all those years, and for it to end so soon after. It was all unfortunate timing, really.
And what was first a satirical musical group made by a few teenagers on the younger end who had little expertise when it came to music, they ended up getting extremely close, and spent a few years as the closest of friends.
Wild still kept everything. His electric guitar was still in the back of his closet, in a pretty light blue, with the Triforce engraved in the side. No one else knew of it besides Legend, as the two worked on repairing it but a few years ago, right before Wild was ready to store it for an extended time period.
And no matter how casually both him and Legend handled it, Wild still wholeheartedly believed it was his fault. When he chose to disband after high school. He knew it was inevitable, albeit it still pained him thoroughly.
Wild could still recall vividly how the others reacted to his choice. Admitting that he had to leave to Castle Town. There was no way he could have kept the momentum of their group going, yet they all acknowledged it as maturely as ever, as though they had been anticipating it.
Urbosa respected him. She respected his choice and was honored to be there alongside Wild. To be in not only a band with him, but to be his friend. She valued that more than anything.
Mipha understood, she always did. She always cared for Wild the most, and was there for him at all times. She told him that she’ll always cherish their fond memories together, not just as the two of them, but as a group.
Revali moved on with ease, he said his goodbyes from his heart- A feat he rarely accomplished, and continued on with life. It was a part that reflected him, and without it, Revali would have been a much different person. And for that, he’s ever so grateful, even if he struggled to show it.
Daruk wished him the best. He was always there to support Wild, when he couldn’t do so himself. He was patient, yet strong, and wore his resilience on his sleeve.
They were all there for him. And they each helped Wild in more ways than one.
Urbosa gave him strength, like an unbridled fury that never died out. It kindled in him strongly and fiercely, and like electrifying shocks of lighting, it always coursed through him, he felt it at his fingertips, as though he was able to channel it. It gave him the strength and courage he once lost all those years ago.
Mipha gave him grace, patience and time, and a chance to heal. Whenever Wild felt as though he couldn’t possibly go any forward, her grace allowed him to rest. To take as much time as he needed, and her kindness always replenished him, as though his life and meaning was brought back to him.
Daruk gave him the feeling of protection, like a flickering guard around him, that glowed and pulsed in time with his heartbeats. It gave Wild that feeling of security, as though he could face anything head on, knowing that the protection always had his back.
Revali pushed him forward, with their constant bickering and their usual fighting, Revali always had something behind his bark- Because he wanted to push Wild. He wanted to push Wild even past the furthest and sturdiest of his limits, because he truly believed that Wild had potential. It was like a gale, a strong burst of wind that guided him forward, instead of letting Wild float aimlessly in spot, slowly sinking.
And how Wild missed them was a tragic understatement to what he truly felt. He longed for them. He longed to be with them again. He felt incomplete without them, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to be given something as cherishable and valuable as them, before having to give it all up due to unforeseen events.
Wild was upset. Wild was upset at himself for forgetting, yet a part considered it to be vital, to protect himself from any more harm. He had to forget, otherwise, he’d spend his whole life wishing for the past to turn itself up again without even realizing he’s wasting his present.
Yet, it was all his fault. If he hadn’t left to Castle Town, if he begged harder, then maybe Time would have listened. Maybe he could have somehow pushed their stay in Central Hyrule to be longer. Maybe if Wild had done a better job at keeping in touch, maybe if he had extended himself to keep things going for longer, maybe they wouldn’t have all fallen out of contact.
Wild refuses to believe that it was part of maturing- To be able to handle such things, and to be able to not falter, and instead grow from them, and thrive, and move forward .
But he can’t. It’s too hard.
He can’t move on, nor is he ashamed of it in the slightest. Wild will always hold on to those last fragments of memories, of who he used to be, how happy he was, and allow those thoughts to lull him, and bring him solace.
The photograph in his hands begins to shake, as Wild’s chest starts to tighten up. It falls out of his grasp, and that’s not the only thing he’s losing touch on. Wild seems to be drifting farther and farther from reality. He’s losing it. And Wild knows.
His vision blurs, and his face dampens quickly. He doesn’t even try to stop it. He doesn’t try to wipe his tears, or focus on his breathing. All he does is watch it happen, but from afar. As though it isn’t even a first person experience to him.
Wild hates that. He hates how it’s as if he’s watching it happen to somebody else. He can't feel it. He can’t feel anything.
And for once, he allows the panic to overtake him. In all of its glory and distance, Wild relinquishes his presence.
Time has been making quick work today. He’s been checking up on the denizens of the house, and assisting occasionally when asked. Four and Twilight had completed their job, meaning that they were sent to work on their own belongings. Legend and Hyrule had finally completed their task as well, in which as soon as he was given approval, Legend took Hyrule’s hand, pulled on their shoes, brought a fair amount of rupees, and left the house with no further delay. It was as if they were itching to go outside, into the sweet release of freedom. And Time had no issues in staying out of their way.
Wind had been mostly distracted throughout the day, unwilling to cooperate and begin sorting all his belongings, and quite frankly, he didn’t know where to start either. So Time had helped him greatly, by guiding the boy by giving direction, advice, and actual assistance. And shortly after an hour, they were both successful in finishing the job.
Sky had already cleared out his room a little over a week ago, so he’s been completely off the hook and asleep throughout today.
However, the only person that Time didn’t hear from was Wild. The boy had been up in his room all day, and while is quite proud thinking that it may have been his sudden appearance of a good work ethic, he’s been up there for quite long, much longer than anyone would need to complete a task like this. And if he was still struggling to complete it, then Time would have no qualms in offering a helping hand.
“Wild? I just wanted to check on-”
Shortly opening the door after a few knocks, Time finds Wild's crouched on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest, and face buried in them. He spots Wild’s unsteady hand to be on his hair, tugging, pulling, twirling, and tangling in the long strands. It’s one of his most notable habits in times of distress. Time wished he didn’t recognize it.
“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” Time quietly closed the door behind him and slowly approached the boy. “Are you doing alright?”
Wild looks up, relieved to find that it’s just Time with him. With a pathetic sniffle, he untangles his hands from his hair and signs, “ No… ”
Both Time and Wild were familiar and fluent in Hylian Sign Language, but both for very different reasons. Time had been required to learn it in his past field of work, due to the many espionage missions and other such stealth-required tasks appointed by Lullaby and the Royal Guard. And even though this was well past 20 odd years ago, he still made an effort to remember it and practice often. As it eventually came useful to him again.
Back when Wild was younger - even younger than Wind is currently - and was first living with Time, the boy was silent. He never spoke, or made any sound. And while it was quite haunting to some, Time approached Wild with nothing but patience. It was a learned skill for Wild, due to his extended silence and refusal to speak for a few years. So, not only was Time able to sharpen up his skills, but also be able to communicate effectively with Wild, and slowly ease him back to a more comforted state, opposed to the recently traumatized one he was sitting at. The familiarity was soothing to Wild, and Time knew.
And eventually, when Wild was a bit more comfortable, his use of signing waned ever so slightly throughout the years, and while he still returns to quietude in his times of turmoil, Time never expected to have to communicate with Wild using sign so soon.
Something in Time shifted as he saw the parallels between current Wild, and the much younger and more timid version of him all those years ago. It hurt Time, to see that Wild had resembled that.
“Was it… Something I did?” Time asked, worried that he might have accidentally overwhelmed Wild by the instruction; Perhaps he should have broken it up a bit for him, to make the task seem more approachable.
“ I can’t do it anymore! ” Wild motioned, hands shaking. Time would have had trouble interpreting it if it weren’t for his experience trying to calm Wild down.
Time was a skilled man, considered extremely intelligent and sharp by others. Yet there were moments in which he didn’t know something, and wasn’t plagued by the knowledge of it. This was one of those moments.
“ I want to forget, Time. ” Wild’s hands shook before he brought them to his face, crying into them. “ I just want to forget .” He broke into a pitiful keen.
Time knew of Wild’s issues with remembering. He knew of both Wild’s casual forgetfulness, and even failure to recall the more important parts of his life. It had been a means of coping, to protect him from the haunting past. To purposefully forget different chapters of himself. Yet, there was only so much saving it had done.
“ ...But I can’t. Because I’m scared, and I don’t want to lose this. I’ve already lost enough .” He signed.
“I know, and it’s okay. There’s no need to be scared, Wild. I’m here for you. Always, and will be.” Time leaned back against the wall, sitting next to Wild, but at a safe distance in case the boy felt threatened or even more upset by the close proximity.
“There’s nothing you have to lose. I promise you. And we don’t even have to do this.” He said, referring to the empty boxes still sitting in his room. Wild leaned towards Time, giving express permission for contact.
“Not today, not ever. I’m sorry, Wild. I would have never put you in this situation if I had known.” He put an arm around Wild’s shoulders, which shook with his sobs.
“ I know. ” Wild gestures. “ I just want to feel… This sadness. I guess, I don’t know. ”
“And that’s okay. You can take as long as you need.”
Wild broke down yet again, this time holding onto the other’s sleeve and resting his head on Time’s shoulder, his long hair hiding his face.
As Wild slowly calmed down, without jostling him, Time discreetly put away the photograph in its box, and placed it aside some place else. The last thing Wild needed was another reminder of his turmoil.
“Thank you.” Wild whispered.