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The shortest war in Hyrule’s existence began with a small banana.
Well, not quite. War, Sooga admitted, was a heavy responsibility to be laid on one fruit, especially when blame could be attributed to numerous other pre-conditions. For instance, fault could be placed on Princess Zelda’s invitation to the anniversary festival of Calamity Ganon’s defeat and on the Yiga for being foolish enough to accept it. Blame could also be placed on the illusion of tranquillity during the festival that had hoodwinked the Yiga into letting down their guard. Sooga could also blame himself for the war too, for in his haste to appease Master Kohga’s great excitement ( think of the food , his master had laughed gleefully) he may have neglected security.
But that banana. That, Sooga hypothesised, had been the tipping point.
It started with Master Kohga’s yell of “ Sooga! ”
He appeared at once. Too quickly, for his Master yelped in response and thrust out the thing in his hands -- said thing (which happened to be Terrako, Sooga noted) beeped shrilly. Sooga patiently waited until the worst of the flailing was over before approaching and taking a knee.
“I answer your summons,” he greeted.
The Yiga boss lowered Terrako and glared. “I told you to quit doing that,” he muttered. “One of these days you’re going to give me a heart-attack.”
Sooga remained kneeling.
Kohga huffed. “Oh, get up!” When Sooga did not, his Master shook Terrako and gritted out, “I recognize your summons -- or something like that, come-on Sooga I hate this Hylian formality shebang!”
That was close enough to formal procedure. Sooga stood back up and asked, “Do you need me for something?”
“Oh, yes I do,” Kohga spat. Sooga stiffened instinctively – but it seemed Master Kohga’s anger wasn’t aimed towards him and so he shoved down self-doubt to listen attentively. “We got a big problem, Sooga. Enormous!” His boss spread his arms as if to illuminate the magnitude of the issue -- Terrako beeped in alarm, for his situation under Kohga’s armpit seemed more precarious by the second. “You hear me?”
“Yes,” Sooga replied automatically.
“An affront to our entire clan,” Kohga continued without stopping. “The greatest of insults to me personally --”
Sooga felt a tremble go through him and he found himself taking a step forward automatically. “Have they hurt you?” He asked vehemently.
Kohga’s blink was almost audible. “Hurt? Oh, no,” the Yiga boss answered distractedly and Sooga felt every muscle in his body relax. “I’m too smart for their tricks -- bah, I invented them! But the others…” He heaved a sigh. “We’ve lost half our forces, Sooga.”
Outrageously unacceptable. Sooga fought to keep the emotion out of his voice. “How?”
“The classic banana-on-a-string trick,” Kohga fumed and raised said fruit in distress. “They’re all just -- chasing them around like great big oafs!” His master flung the banana then across the room -- Sooga watched it with his heart in his throat. “I mean, I’ve taught you guys better than that, right?”
“You have.”
“Good, good.” His Master hoisted Terrako up and eyed the guardian as if daring him to disagree.
Which brought Sooga to another question he’d been meaning to ask. He drew closer and noted, “Is there a reason you have kidnapped the Princess’s guardian?”
Kohga looked at him. Then, with a tremendous start, his boss leapt. “Right!” he declared. “Our hostage. I caught this guy with the method of destruction attached to him, so I took him.”
That was a smart move. But Sooga was dubious about whether to trust Kohga’s immediate suspicions about the Princess. He quite liked her; after all, she had come to the Yiga Clan’s base alone with an invitation to the festival, which suggested strong self-confidence. He said, “There is no way of knowing this was specifically done by Princess Zelda –”
“This is her personal henchman at the scene of the crime!” Kohga argued and thrust Terrako directly in his face. Terrako, unperturbed, waved a hello at him. “It’s espionage, I’m telling ya, espionage!”
He was right. Sooga was too influenced by bias to see the truth. “Have there been any other victims?” He asked Kohga.
“Ten others!” Kohga growled. “Two of our best men were eating banana-splits that were, and I quote, ‘just sitting there’! The other eight got distracted by similarly placed objects. It’s trickery, plain and simple!”
Sooga found his hands on his sword-hilts. “Name the target,” he scowled.
Kohga batted him down. “Patience,” his Master said and a touch of glee came into his voice. “I have just the four in mind.”
Between them, Terrako chirped eagerly.
The first of the four to be attacked were the Gorons, picked for the lack of security around their encampment within Hyrule Castle. In fact, they were quite easy to track down; Daruk was sprawled in the castle’s armoury before the massive forges of the blacksmith, snoring loud enough that echoes were heard down the hall. There was no need for stealth, for a horde of horses could probably stomp through the entire castle and the Goron would’ve been none the wiser.
They crowded around him quietly anyway. “Do you have the weapon of choice?” Kohga asked him.
He did. The Hylian bartender had been a tad confused when he asked for it, but easily caved when Sooga put a bit of pressure on him. “Here,” he said and presented the glass of whipping cream.
Kohga giggled; then he cut himself off and harrumphed seriously. “Now this is the trick with Gorons,” he told them all and took the glass of whipped cream. “They sleep like, well, rocks, but are extremely sensitive to touch. So you just gotta,” and his Master, with an agility that put Sooga’s to shame, tickled Daruk’s hand. The sleeping Chieftain stifled a snort in his sleep and his hand opened.
Ahs and Ohs filled the room. Master Kohga preened at the compliments, though he tapped a shushing finger over his mask. “Okay, now the rest is easy,” he continued and without any fanfare, shook the glass of cream all over Daruk’s hand until it was empty. “Now, who has the feather?”
Another scout inched forward to present it. Kohga snatched it and, with the grace of an artist, began to tickle Daruk’s chin. Daruk sniffed; then he lifted the whipped cream hand and scratched his face. When he was done, he resembled the King of Hyrule.
Out of all of them, Terrako laughed the loudest.
The Zora were next, which had been the subject of much deliberation within the Yiga. A great deal of reluctance went into the initial planning stage -- Mipha had saved many Yiga lives during the great battle and most of the clan were very fond of her for that reason. But war was war, and despite many protests, Master Kohga himself had laid the foot down. “We cannot pick favourites,” he told them all, voice quivering. “The Zoras will assist the Hylians once word gets out. We must strike deliberately now.”
So that was how they found themselves hovering over her in the rafters of the castle, watching her talk fondly to a fellow Zora Captain. Sooga was the one holding the weapon -- no one else had wanted to do it, even his Master (who was carrying Terrako, therefore I couldn’t possibly do it, Sooga ), so the burden had been placed on him.
He looked at his Master. They were in the perfect position to strike, but in that moment an inkling of regret was filling his chest. It seemed the general consensus, for a few scouts shifted uncomfortably and someone sniffed.
Master Kohga sighed. “In war, we must make hard decisions,” he told Sooga and signed to drop the pie.
Sooga hardened his heart and when the pie went splat! , no one laughed.
Revali’s attack, however, had been embraced so enthusiastically it had been a fight over who would attack him -- which was why Sooga was selected, for he’d been the only one ambivalent enough to be trusted not to mess up. It was an incredible honour. Not because he had anything personally against the Rito (unlike half the Yiga scouts, who took Revali’s insults to their bowing technique personally) but because Master Kohga, above the shouts and jeers of Yiga out for blood, had sighed and personally picked him. He would not let his Master down.
“-- and I told him he was full of it,” Revali was saying as Sooga inched his way across the ceiling rafters. “There is no way anyone but me could make twenty targets in one gliding strike. But you know what this fool does?”
“What?” The Rito Captain replied.
“He takes out his bow.”
The banana cream pie was in position. Sooga glanced across at Master Kohga. His boss shook his head and signed, not yet.
The Rito Captain said, “That’s outrageous.”
“I know.” Oddly enough, Revali sounded delighted. “He couldn’t do it, actually -- only hit eighteen. But he’s getting better. For a knight, at least.”
The Rito Captain took a step ahead of Revali.
Master Kohga signed: Go.
To the cheers of his fellow Yiga, Sooga ripped down from the ceiling and put his full force into the throw.
Ten hours after Revali’s elimination found them at the entrance of the Chieftain's quarters in heavy Gerudo disguise, pensively rechecking their appearances in a nearby mirror. Master Kohga was the most nervous Sooga had seen him -- his sense of courage from all the past victories had seemingly evaporated. “We must think this carefully through,” he repeated to Sooga for the fifth time that night. “We’re in her territory now.”
Sooga shared his nervousness. There was a tradition within their Yiga community to play tricks on the Gerudo; a fun pastime, but one that made the Gerudo uncannily perceptive of any shenanigans occurring within their village. Even the drowsy attendant standing before them was more dangerous than the common Rito.
Yet she was drowsy; a good weakness, Sooga mused. It seemed Kohga spotted it too, for his Master loudly greeted the attendant with a falsetto, “Hey, shouldn’t you be out partying?”
The Gerudo attendant frowned. “My Chieftain requires me here,” she replied back. “Why are you here?”
Damn. He exchanged a quick glance with Kohga, who seemed just as lost for words as he. Fumbling for an excuse, he said, “I was sent to fetch something the Chieftain wants to give to the Princess.”
“At once,” Master Kohga added hastily.
Unfortunately, Sooga’s excuse didn’t quite fly. The attendant squinted. “And you?” She questioned Kohga.
Kohga laughed uncomfortably. “I -- uh, well, I’m here to replace you!” He offered. “Boss said I had a bit too many last night and well, ha! Here I am.” He held out his hands. “Here, I’ll take your spear too. Save you the trip back to the armoury, ay?”
The world seemed to hold its breath as the attendant considered his words. Sooga felt like immediately diving towards the nearest window to make his escape; but before he could start plotting routes, the attendant suddenly smiled. “Thanks,” she told Kohga gratefully and handed over her spear. “I haven’t had a night to myself since I got here.”
Kohga was wide-eyed -- but then something clicked and his Master rolled his eyes, feigning resignation. “Well, it’s your lucky day,” he told her; then, slyly added, “Oh, by the way, hot tip: the bar down by the kitchens gives out freebies every hour. Super nice guy.”
“No wonder you’re on shift,” the attendant laughed back. “Here’s a tip back: keep an eye out for Yiga. Urbosa says they’ve been lurking about. Have fun.”
“You too!” Kohga grinned and waved -- then she was out of sight and his master slumped. “Oh, that was too close,” he muttered.
They went to work quickly, freezing at the slightest sounds in the dark. First thing to be set up were the spring-lock pies -- once Urbosa sat down in her throne, the plan was that six different pies would fling and hit her, assuming they survived the trip. If not, a secondary bucket of water would come crashing down from the ceiling. If that didn’t work, the throne itself would buck her out of her seat. And if that didn’t work, well, that’s when the multitudes of springlocked pies hidden in the ceiling would come in. It was the most intricate of traps laid yet.
“You think that’s a bit much?” Kohga asked him when it was all said and done.
Sooga said, “No.”
“Ah, you’re right.” Master Kohga shrugged. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
They both pondered on that for a moment.
“I’m going to add one more pie,” Kohga said.
The next morning, Sooga awoke to the sound of his Master screaming and upon appearing within his chambers, was quickly greeted with the sight of Urbosa standing over Kohga. She was, to put it kindly, an absolute mess, caked in what looked to be the remnants of about every trap going off at once. Sooga immediately assumed her intentions were hostile and drew his blades -- in response, Urbosa drew hers.
They were stuck at an impasse then. Kohga reluctantly broke the tension with a, “Hi. What -- what’s the problem?”
Impa answered that question; Sooga hadn't seen her behind Urbosa, but she popped between them then. “You guys have been pulling pranks on the Champions,” she scolded them. “Stop it.”
“Well, tell them to stop pulling pranks on my Yiga and I’ll stop,” Kohga replied with a huff.
A stunned silence fell upon the room. Eventually Impa found her voice and said, rather loudly, “What?”
Master Kohga and Sooga shared a look. Then Kohga said, a little embarrassed, “You…haven’t been pranking us?”
“Yes?”
“Oh,” Kohga said after a moment.
Urbosa groaned and sheathed her blade. “I cannot believe this,” the Chieftain said -- though she looked amused now, despite her condition. “You thought the Champions…?”
“Well, yeah!” Kohga protested. “My troops were in shatters! Gah, if it's not you guys, who is it?”
“Maybe it's internal mischief?” Impa suggested dryly.
“No, no, no, I forbade my troops from pulling pranks on each other after the Summer War two years ago,” Kohga rejected with a shudder. Sooga sympathised -- that had been a particularly nasty internal war. “But, then again...Sooga, how's our stock of bananas?”
Sooga blinked. He remembered quite suddenly that a Yiga scout had remarked to him about the stock of bananas shrinking -- but he assumed that was a consequence of partying. Abashed by his own ignorance, he bowed and said apologetically, “Master, I just remembered that we have been losing inventory since we arrived here.”
Kohga snapped up. “What?! But nothing could enter our warehouse unless it was the size of a hydromelon --”
They all cut off with a dawning realisation.
Impa said, “That little --”
So ended the shortest war in Hylian history, relayed to the Princess after some humming and hawing about who would report it -- which was how Sooga ended up standing in front of the throne, reciting the tale while holding the squirming guardian. Princess Zelda sighed when she heard it all. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble he’s caused you,” she told Sooga, then took her guardian and narrowed her eyes on him. “ Terrako ,” she scolded.
The little devil-device giggled, unrepentant.