Chapter Text
Ryunosuke’s Journal
It’s been a few weeks since I discovered that small relic in the forest of the Passeri Greenbelt. I’ve had my hands full with meeting with and preparing a couple of the Champions, as well as visiting the nearby lesser sacred springs, so I unfortunately haven’t had a moment of respite to investigate it further. No matter, in the brief snatches of idle time during the day, that curious little relic occupies my thoughts. I know there’s something extraordinary there to be found, if I can just figure it out.
Champion Wilson, the Champion of the Zora, had visited the castle and we discussed the Divine Beast Vah Ruta. He’s quite the enigmatic figure—reticent in his personal matters, but well-regarded for his adept magical healing abilities and his way around a trident. He was here with one of his assistants, a female Zora that cut quite the striking figure with an elaborate swan hat and dress ensemble.
Peculiarly, despite being described as having a generally pleasant disposition, he seemed noticeably agitated and on edge during the meeting, complaining about the slow progress in finding a way to activate the mechanisms within the Divine Beasts. I tried my best to explain to him that there are many skilled researchers working tirelessly with the limited information we have and to be patient, but he huffed off, grumbling about an ongoing stomach issue or some sort he’s been having recently that he assured me wouldn’t affect his ability to pilot Ruta when the time comes. He was quite the joy… This is one of the many reasons why I’m not too keen on doctors…
After he departed Castle Town, I left to go see Ursavra in Gerudo Town. As I’d hoped, she formally accepted my request for her to be the Champion representing the Gerudo. It’s always an exciting and enjoyable time whenever I can see her. I’ve missed her dearly.
She even let me see inside the Divine Beast Vah Naboris! It was incredible to see the intricacies of the engineering up close—I wish I could’ve been able to stay there forever and take in every last detail. It feels almost unbelievable to think these relics were truly made by people, but that thought is what spurs me forward to solve the mystery of how to activate the Divine Beasts and how all the other relics fit into the puzzle.
We discussed my theory about the excavated relics being weapons and she was largely supportive of it. She encouraged me to speak with Father about it, but I described his continued resistance to me talking about the relics and she seemed to bristle at this. She had a faraway look to her then, and said it was times like this when she missed Mother, for she would have listened and knew what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I barely remember only small memories of her. It’s an odd feeling to not truly know what your own mother was like.
But, I do know what Father is like. He won’t want to hear about it, but after Ursavra’s insistence about how significant it could be to pursue further, I have to at least try.
Anyway, like always now, the hero continued to trail me everywhere I went. A vigilant community, outsiders not related to the Gerudo are typically barred from entering the town due to a long history of violence and discrimination directed at the tribe, but special circumstances are made after thorough vetting by the Gerudo leadership—the Royal Family’s close retinue, and, therefore, the hero, included.
I’m still not quite sure what to think of him. After we spoke about the relic, the tension between us seemed to ease just a bit—mostly polite small talk while traveling around, but not as strained as before. It’s subtle, but I can tell there’s an intensity to him that mirrors the fierce look in his eyes that he’s keeping tamped down for some reason. Maybe it’s from the years of training at The Knight Academy to maintain propriety that he doesn’t unleash his true feelings—to fully voice his frustrations at me and speak of my inadequacies. Perhaps courage is being brave enough to still offer some benevolence to those you loathe, even if it’s a mere simulacrum.
Either way, the hero was true to his word: he didn’t tell Father about the existence of the small relic. Small graces, I suppose. I’m grateful for it.
Ryunosuke walks in silence down the long halls of the castle, the hero following close behind—the only sounds are the echoes of muffled footsteps upon the lavish ruby rugs under their feet. He turns the corner to find King Naruhodo walking towards him, each of the king’s strides full of purpose and commanding composure even where no public eyes are around to watch him. He jumps at the sight, freezes as the king passes by without a word. He hears the slight thump of the hero’s knee hitting the ground before the king.
He draws a breath. Wiry, anxious energy courses through him and it gives him pause—grounding him to the spot and making him waver in his resolve. He brings his hands up and gives a swift slap to his cheeks. The sting temporarily suppresses his trepidation, ushers him to act.
“Father, may I discuss something with you?” Ryunosuke whirls around, voice surprisingly level despite the wild jumble in his head.
The king stops and turns to him; his face wears an unyielding veil of displeasure. “You may speak.”
“I-I have”—Ryunosuke threads his fingers in front of him and lifts his head high—“reason to believe that the many-legged relics may have acted as a form of weaponry in the past. If my suspicion is right, then the outside of the blue jewel—”
“And how is that of any concern to you?” The king’s voice booms, seems like it surrounds Ryunosuke from all sides. Ryunosuke’s pulse spikes. “The researchers are solely tasked to determine the purposes of the relics. Your speculation is useless to them.”
Ryunosuke flinches. “Sorry, it’s, it’s…merely a lead to consider…” His voice trembles; shame stains his cheeks a deep crimson. His eyes begin to dart around, frantic and uncontrollable in their movement. “I-It’d be harmless to simply check… Um, it could potentially be helpful and I already consulted with Ursavra—”
King Naruhodo scoffs and Ryunosuke can almost see amusement in his expression. “That woman knows just as little as you about this matter,” he snarls. “I can see why your mother was so fond of her—they both enjoyed coddling you and entertaining your ridiculous whims.”
Ryunosuke tries to speak out—to what end even he doesn’t know, for it’s neither in protest nor in defense of himself—but all that comes out is an embarrassing little whimper of a sound that leaves strangled at the end. His mind drains empty, replaced by a buzzing blankness and the sound of the thunderous pounding of his heart. “I only—”
“Enough. You’ve wasted my time blathering on about an issue that is neither any of your business nor something you know anything about. The magic of your birthright evades you because you keep indulging in these ludicrous flights of fancy instead of putting in the effort to rouse it!” The king narrows his eyes and curls his lip. “Your sole duties are simple: awaken your powers to seal Calamity Stronghart away and organize the Champions that will pilot the Divine Beasts to assist you. Nothing more. Are we clear?”
The mixture of fear and shock roots Ryunosuke to the spot where he’s standing. “Y-Yes.” His tongue feels swollen and foreign in his mouth. “I’m sorry.”
Voice roaring: “If you fail in this, the ruination of our land will rest solely on your shoulders.” He inspects Ryunosuke for a beat, brows knitting further—scanning, scrutinizing. “And cease with that incessant, indolent slouching already! Have you no shame in representing the Royal Family with such tawdry presence?”
Instinctively, Ryunosuke immediately jolts as tall as he can stretch himself, back ramrod straight and arms folded behind him. The king leaves him without a second glance, turning the corner at the end of the hallway.
Only then can Ryunosuke release his breath. With wide eyes and shaky legs, he finally gains control of his body enough to turn around. Mortified, he catches the sight of the hero down through his dark bangs—head no longer bowed in his kneeled position, face contorted in a gnarled and vehement expression Ryunosuke’s never seen before, trembling hand clutching the hilt of his sword. He doesn’t allow himself to question what it means; he tears his eyes away from his gaze and scurries past him with haste, humiliation engulfing him and leaving him adrift.
The shame lingers even hours later—effusive and suffocating like thick chimney smoke. Ryunosuke exits out of his study, past the hero watching guard outside. He’s his eternal shadow—the evidence of the spotlight put on Ryunosuke, drawing focus to his own deficiencies. The hero has seen the illuminated truth and Ryunosuke’s failures now: pleading to a goddess that doesn’t respect him enough to acknowledge him, and shrinking to a father who respects him even less. The hero, with all his successes, will never respect someone who always falls short, who can never compare.
“You really don’t have to follow me everywhere,” Ryunosuke says, like he has any authority anymore. He can’t find the courage to look him in the eye. “I’ll be fine. You’re relieved from duty today. Please go home and rest.”
“No,” the hero simply says. Of course he would defy him, right now, after everything. “You’re planning on going outside Castle Town, aren’t you, Your Highness?” He motions with his thumb towards the traveling bag slung across Ryunosuke’s chest. Ryunosuke had hoped he wouldn’t notice. The hero crosses his arms and gives him a skeptical look. “It’s quite a large bag. It seems like it’d be more of a feat to not notice,” he says, as if reading Ryunosuke’s thoughts.
Ryunosuke stiffens. “Haah…” he breathes out. Maybe clairvoyance was another gift imparted to him by the Triforce of Courage. “You’re correct, but it’ll only be a brief trip.” He begins to walk down the pathway towards the underground tunnel that circumvents the bustle and judgment of Castle Town. The hero is in lockstep behind him. “I have business to conduct with the relic I found earlier and I’ll return immediately after.”
“Even so,” the hero says, “it’s dangerous to go alone, no matter how short of a time. There’s been an inordinate number of monster sightings closer to settlements recently. If it’s as quick as you suggest, then you shouldn’t have any objection with me escorting you for the duration.”
Ryunosuke lets out a sigh. He can’t fault the logic. “Suit yourself. I just figured you, um, had better things to be doing.”
This gets a small laugh from out of the hero—a quick ring of a pleasant melody and it’s gone as fast as it came. What follows is less welcome: “You’d visit the relic despite what the king said?”
Ryunosuke can’t fully parse the tone; it doesn’t feel particularly accusatory or charged in any discernible way. A simple question clarifying a fact.
Ryunosuke purses his lips, tries to swallow down the tension that constricts within him. “I’m merely retrieving the relic to bestow it upon the research team.” Though he doesn’t see anyone else around, he feels a jolt of paranoia of being watched, and he quickly ducks into the stone tunnel entry.
“Your Highness… You said you would lose all access to it if they were to take possession of it. And you’re fine with allowing that to happen?” The hero’s words are barbed now, laced with a sharp displeasure. Ryunosuke secretly yearns for the uncomfortable quiet between them from before.
Ryunosuke’s grip tightens on the strap of his bag. He lets the question hang in the air, the sounds of their footsteps filling the expanse of the tunnel they’re traversing through. “I-I still believe it to be useful,” he murmurs after a lengthy pause. “Just because I’m not the one to inspect it doesn’t mean someone else can’t. Besides, I’m not even supposed to be the one looking into it all…” Sorrow pools heavy in his stomach, weighing him down and leaving him sluggish. “Father was right: I’m merely playing at being a scholar, after all.”
“You’re going to give up that easily?” the hero questions, voice taut with irritation. Not content with having seen him be chastised, now he was mocking him. Ryunosuke feels his blade of condemnation twisting into his back, full of scorn.
“It’s…more sensible to let the experts look at it,” Ryunosuke says low, though the words feel obstructed by the knot in his throat. “I fear if I push the issue any further…” He sees it, clear in his imagination, the incarceration: all his private research prohibited and seized, his father confining him to only the permitted rooms of the castle and the springs of prayer—a warden much less lenient than the hero monitoring his every step. To him, it’s a fate akin to a prisoner being sent to the gallows. “No, it’s better to drop it altogether.”
“Pardon my saying this,” the hero says slowly, careful, but still just as rigid, “but it’s of my personal opinion that you’re making an error in judgment, Your Highness.”
Judgment. No matter what Ryunosuke does, there’s always judgment.
Ryunosuke winces. “And does that make you hate me more?” he grumbles, but it’s as clear as a clarion sounding in a silent room. And he freezes immediately. It’s his inside voice spilling out again, but this time it’s different—he notices it as soon as it happens, words escaping his lips as effortlessly as exhaling a breath.
The hero stops short behind him as well. “…What do you mean?”
Ryunosuke turns around to face him, steeling himself for the confrontation. It’s a conversation he always expected to happen at some point, but not in this way, not at this moment. It’s too late to take back what was said; he figures he has no choice but to address it now with finality.
He pushes his chest out, arms folded behind him, and lifts his head high—trying to project self-assurance, as was taught to him. Despite it all, he can’t rein in his darting eyes. “I may not be overly adept at a great many things, but my powers of observation are one thing I’m sure of and know I can count on.” He draws in a deep breath—a full-body motion that brings him to focus. “But, I don’t need to rely on that to see that you obviously harbor a deep-seated hatred of me. There’s no one else around—you may speak freely here. As your prince, I compel you to tell me the truth.” He tries to evoke confidence in his speech, but his voice betrays him and falters, words shaky and pitched at the end. He has never felt good when trying to weaponize his royal status to his advantage, no matter how often it was drilled into him as being important.
The light from the torches lining the tunnel cast deep shadows across the hero’s face—each contour of his countenance striking and imposing in the contrast. “I—what?” His eyes widen beneath his scrunched brows, blinking furiously. “I’m not sure I follow. I don’t hate you at all.”
An irritated flame sparks deep within Ryunosuke. “Deceit isn’t well looked upon for a hero, especially not when a member of the Royal Family commands your honesty.”
Deep, dark, narrowed eyes bore into his, and the hero draws himself closer, just a step. Ryunosuke feels himself shrink under it. “You don’t need to invoke your status as royalty for me to tell you the truth, for I’ll give it to you freely. Whatever it is that makes you believe I hate you is incorrect. Those aren’t my feelings towards you.” The ties of his red headband whip behind him, erratic.
“The glares!” Ryunosuke points at the hero’s intense expression. “You are constantly giving me that same look like you’re imagining tearing my head off—and you’ve been doing it for years now!”
The fierce look melts away from the hero’s face, replaced with a dazed stare. “Huh?” His headband seems to go limp, slowing to a weak wave in the breeze.
There’s a lengthy pause, then, the hero holds a fist to his chin as his eyes drop down in contemplation: “Years you say? You don’t mean…” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, then yanks out like a thread being suddenly unspooled by deft fingers. “No, it couldn’t be…” A laugh spills out, and then another, and another—unbidden, with a cascading intensity as he throws his head back. The boisterous sound ripples through the tunnel.
“Couldn’t, couldn’t be what?” Ryunosuke feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he gapes at him. “What, what are you laughing at?!”
“Sorry, I must apologize,” the hero breathes out through laughs, his hand clutching at his side. “I think there’s been some sort of big misunderstanding here.” He cracks open his eyes and gives Ryunosuke a smile—bright and vivid, even in the dim light. “It’s the tongue twister, I believe.”
It’s an answer that only brings Ryunosuke more questions. “The…” Ryunosuke’s face twists into an exasperated grimace, his shoulders slumping forward. “...Tongue twister, you say?”
The hero nods. “Yes, well,” he says as he rests his hands on his hips, a smile still stretched wide across his face, “you remember when we first met, surely?”
How can Ryunosuke not? No matter how convoluted the chaotic criss-crossing of roadways in his head can get and how often thoughts will get lost in their journey within his memory, he will never forget meeting the one person who broke the buffer of time he had to unlock his powers before it became obvious to everyone that he was falling behind.
“Yes, of course. And there was a tongue twister…?”
Well, he will never forget the most important parts of that meeting, at least.
“Yes, and you spoke it to me a mile a minute, Your Highness—word perfect the entire time,” the hero says, enthusiasm swelling with each word. His energy is like an instant flash flood—impossible to not be pulled into its current and swept away. “That cursed incantation burrowed its way into my brain and sunk its claws as deep as it could.” He pulls up a fist and leans forward; determination molds his expression. “But try as I might, I could never say it correctly! What an admirable challenge it was! I practiced and practiced for hours on end—even until my tongue bled under its might.”
Ryunosuke straightens with a start. “B-Bled?!” Do all knights have the same level of self-sacrificial dedication to their goals, no matter how trivial the subject?
“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.” The hero’s gaze falls slowly. His voice grows softer: “The repetition became something of a solace during that chaotic time, I suppose…” He trails off, focus going somewhere far-off where Ryunosuke can’t follow. He rests his hand over Karuma.
“Anyway,” he recovers, clearing his throat in the process, “whenever I saw you again, I was instantly reminded of how eloquently you spoke those tantalizing words to me with such a rapid pace, as if I was in a dream. And I repeated that tongue twister in my mind each time.”
The way he speaks invokes authority—commanding attention as a leader would. The emotion imbued there elevates speaking about tongue twisters—about Ryunosuke’s ability to enunciate them, as though it’s some high honor—from a triviality of a pastime to something inspirational. Something enough to galvanize troops to fight alongside him, even. The hero is compelling, he is heroic—
The hero tugs Karuma out of his belt holster and holds the sheathed sword across his chest. He wears a fierce frown. “But, it turned out my mind was as much a traitor as my mouth—I still couldn’t think that damned phrase correctly!”
—He is human, despite it all, just like Ryunosuke is.
Ryunosuke feels himself slump down a bit, face falling with it. “You… You couldn’t even think it?”
The eccentricity of the hero blindsides him—he was expecting to finally get confirmation of his hidden disdain for him, not uncover some hidden weakness he apparently spent years obsessing over. Even he, himself, had abandoned practicing tongue twisters, though not by choice; it was emphasized enough to him that it was a childish hobby not befitting a prince, after all.
Ryunosuke tries to connect the dots. “So, you’re saying that you weren’t glaring at me because you secretly wanted to end me. It was because…” He can’t even get himself to finish the sentence—to fully acknowledge the innocent reason behind something he was convinced for years to be true. Something he had constructed his whole understanding of the hero around—unfairly.
“Because I was focused on mastering the tongue twister, yes.” The hero gives a swift nod. “I even made an oath to never let myself forget the trial of endurance I had to overcome, and the shock you gave me back then. Which is why I wear this”—he points to the cloth wrapped around his forehead with his thumb—“my red hachimaki headband, so that I’ll always be reminded of it no matter where I go.”
Ryunosuke swallows, disoriented by the hero’s sudden whirlwind. It’s overwhelming; he’s never spoken to him this long before, nor with so much emotion. It’s nothing like he ever imagined. “I-Is that so…?”
“However!” The hero’s voice booms against the stone walls. He slides his sword back into her holster and crosses his arms. “In the end, I finally conquered it!”
“O-Okay… Well, congratulations…” Ryunosuke gives a shaky smile. He’s not quite sure what to say—years of royal etiquette training never prepared him for a conversation like this. “But, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand the link between your headband and this oath you swore.”
He leans towards Ryunosuke conspiratorially, mischief flickering in his eyes—distinct even in the low light. He grins. “I’d been meaning to track you down sometime before, but I think it’s time you finally heard this. Listen carefully, Your Highness: red headband, lead headband, dead headband.”
Ryunosuke blinks. The hero continues to stare at him with a maddening grin, like he’s laid out all the evidence in plain sight and is just waiting for him to come to the obvious conclusion.
“Well, I suppose that is a tongue twister…of some kind,” Ryunosuke says, squirming. “It’s, erm, not one that I’m familiar with, however.”
The hero’s smile falls. His red headband stops dead in the air, dropping like lead to drape over his back. “Huh? Whatever do you mean?”
“I’m afraid to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think the tongue twister I said went quite the way you remember it.” He scours his mind for the phrase he could’ve confused it with. “Ah! If I’m not mistaken, the tongue twister I probably said was a famous one: red Dead Hand, tread quicksand, dead cowhand.”
“Huh? What?!” the hero stammers. “Reddead and—ugh! Dead red—augh!”
The murky light can’t obscure the manner in which the hero’s face twists with frustration. The way the light paints his face with deep shadows emphasizes the exaggerated ways his expression quirks this way and that, like a character out of an old flip book cartoon Ryunosuke once saw. Laughter comes to Ryunosuke easily, bubbling up within his chest in an instant—deeply warm and impossible to stop.
Ryunosuke laughs out from behind his hand, though the hero doesn’t seem to notice as he continues to fumble around the words. “I, I apologize!” He inhales a big breath. It feels like a reset of all that came before it in the day. “Tongue tied as tight as your headband, huh? Do your best with it. I’m rooting for you, Hero.” He awkwardly pats the hero’s shoulder.
The hero’s head shoots up. “Please don’t patronize me, Your Highness,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though his tone betrays any genuine anger towards Ryunosuke. Ryunosuke quickly withdraws his hand, like touching a hot cooking pot.
“I-I’m not—I’m being sincere!”
The hero trudges forward, shoulders sagging with irritation and defeat. “Let’s just go and get your bad decision over with,” he grumbles.
“H-Hey!”
The afternoon sun is stifling as it beats down on the open Hyrule Field. Dancing heat waves play tricks on Ryunosuke’s mind, leaving impressions of distant objects that don’t exist. It’s not just once that he swears he sees movement trailing behind them, though nothing is there when he turns to look.
Despite what he said before about the brevity of the trip to the relic, it takes them an hour and a half on foot (Ryunosuke reasoned that inconveniencing the Royal Stable’s grooms to prepare horses on such short notice was too much trouble and much too conspicuous) to reach the Passeri Greenbelt. The field was quiet along the way—clear of monster activity.
“We’re finally… Haah… Here… Haah,” Ryunosuke manages through labored breaths. The shade from the trees is a welcome respite from the heat. He crouches down to clear the brush concealing the relic. “Hello again… Haah… Little one,” he coos. “Pardon me, but I’m going to have to—”
“Your Highness, behind you!”
Ryunosuke’s heart sinks. The hero’s yell barely sets in when Ryunosuke sees the blurring lunge out of the corner of his eye, hears the whistle of steel being unsheathed and sliced against something else. He drops to the dirt, scrambles onto his backside.
In front of the hero, something leaps backwards. The creature is reptilian, but wears plated armor on its head and back. Its coloration is wrong, unnatural—shifting from a deep green to silver with purple patterning. Camouflage, he realizes.
The monster hops on its hind legs, then pounces with a blinding speed to the hero’s side, reaching for a forked, metal-tipped spear that he must have disarmed initially. He doesn’t give it the chance. He swings in an upward arc, slashing across its exposed belly. It cries out, before once again jumping back and away. Its red, bugged-out eyes flick around, as if sizing up its next move.
“It’s fast,” the hero hisses. “Just stay behind me.”
Ryunosuke gasps in a breath as his heart pounds in his ears. He watches the hero: his broad shoulders squared yet still relaxed, feet planted in a near-L-shape, sword held forward from his hip. Karuma, fully exposed, reflects in the light dappling through the trees, but she’s much more resplendent than mere gleam against metal—she’s luminescent with divine power. The hero’s body shifts with a deep breath. He wears confidence like a well-fitted tunic.
The creature springs forward again, slithering low and serpentine to the ground. It rears back in front of the hero and lashes its tail out like a whip. The hero shifts Karuma to block it, then adroitly forces the momentum back to slash upwards, followed by another thrust forward.
It leaves Ryunosuke in a dazed trance, watching him move so—the hero maneuvers, nimble on his feet, engaging in a dance of steel and reptilian tail across the undergrowth. Like a lionhearted warrior.
Each pierce of Karuma the monster takes seems to not phase it—it teeters back, then lurches forward again, no matter the amount of blood spilling out from across its body. Ryunosuke has heard of the reports from knight commanders after their raids against monster camps: even the most fearsome monsters reach a point where their self-preservation instinct kicks in, where they fear for their survival and alter their behavior. There is no fear present here, only the desire to destroy, no matter what it costs it in the process.
The hero goes to stab it once more, and his foot jerks under him. It’s only a few seconds, but the opening it affords is enough—the monster opens its mouth and lashes out a brightly colored tongue, wrapping around the hero’s ankle and yanking him supine.
“Guh!” he chokes out, the wind knocked out of him with the impact.
The monster uses the opportunity to leap for its spear on the ground, then springs into the air—forked tip centered directly down towards the hero.
Ryunosuke’s eyes grow wide as he feels dread freeze in the pit of his stomach. He has no weapons; there’s nothing around for him to even grab to attempt to use as a distraction. His cry wrenches out: “Champion Kazu—!”
“Haiii-YA!”
It appears like a bolt of lightning: a whirl of pink descends on the monster with a swift flying kick, slamming the monster into a nearby tree. Pink bounces off the ground, light-footed and agile like a swift rabbit hop, and jumps to seize the monster by its abdomen, before slamming it into the ground with a loud crack. The monster’s body lies still.
“Champion Kazuma, are you alright?” asks a graceful voice, like chimes in the wind.
When the dust settles, Ryunosuke sees the figure bending over, arm outstretched—a teenage girl, dressed in light pink Sheikah garb with a cherry blossom pattern adorning the fabric.
“Yes, thank you. I had it under control…” the hero grumbles as he’s helped up. She pulls him to his feet effortlessly, as if he weighs nothing.
“Is that quite so?” The girl turns, hiding a small smile behind her hand. Her dark silver hair, pulled back into an elaborate updo with two loops on the side of her head, instantly sparks recognition.
“L-Lady Susato?!” Ryunosuke gasps out. Being Elder Impa’s granddaughter and training to succeed her eventually, she is a transitory fixture around the castle—often bustling around to and fro with purpose. They have only spoken in brief, polite snatches and Elder Impa rarely brings up much of her personal life, but he knows she is quite skilled even at her younger age. But this? He’d never have guessed the extent of her physical prowess.
“Oh!” She jolts up in shock as she turns to him, open mouth still hidden behind her hand. “My apologies, Prince Ryunosuke,” she says amiably as she bows. “Hello. You weren’t harmed, I hope?”
“No, not at all.” He rises to his feet and dusts off his pants. He stares with wide eyes. “Thank you, truly—that, that was amazing!”
“Oh no! It was nothing at all, really.” She lightly shakes her head. “As Champion Kazuma has said, I’m sure he would’ve handled it readily. He already wore it down, after all. I merely incapacitated it after it was thoroughly weakened.”
A huff comes from behind her as the hero crosses his arms. “You’re selling yourself short,” he begins. She turns to look at him. “The truth is: were it not for your quick action, we would’ve been in trouble.” His eyebrows furrow as he purses his lips, eyes growing darker. “My mistake would’ve been costly had you not been there. Thank you for your assistance.”
Her reply is more subdued: “Yes, of course.”
“But, are you not also selling yourself short, Hero?” Ryunosuke adds quickly. “I mean, your entire fight before that point was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it—it was as if you were dancing on air. It was just a result of unlucky footing underneath that even gave it a chance to—”
“No,” the hero snaps. He tightens the grip on his tunic’s sleeve, staring at the husk of the monster on the ground. He snarls through fangs: “Insufficiencies aren’t caused by luck, they’re caused by a lack of skill. Adept swordspersons can compensate for any terrain—it’s no excuse. I was careless and it never should have happened.”
Both Ryunosuke and Susato stare at him. The hero squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath in, then releases a measured exhale.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment through gritted teeth, attention towards Ryunosuke. He sets his feet together, brings a fist to his chest, and bows. “It wasn’t my intention to lash out like that, Your Highness, not to mention it being terribly inappropriate. I appreciate the sentiment, truly.”
Ryunosuke swallows, thrown. “O-Of course. It’s fine.”
The hero straightens and looks back to Susato. Despite the still stern look on his face, Ryunosuke clocks the almost imperceivable shift in his expression—a softening of sorts in his eyes, barely. He nods to her. “Your form’s improved nicely.”
Ryunosuke blinks at the comment. It wasn’t implausible for them to know each other—Susato was active around many areas of the castle and beyond, and the hero surely had considerable business to attend to before he was appointed as Ryunosuke’s guard—but they had trained together, too?
She smiles and ducks her head in a quick bow. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
“Ah, Lady Susato, if you don’t mind my asking,” Ryunosuke says, “but how exactly did you know where to find us?”
She threads her fingers in front of her and casts her eyes downwards. “Oh dear… Well, in actual fact, Your Highness, I saw you earlier slinking around with quite a large bag—”
His mouth quirks down. Slinking?
“—Yes, slinking. Quite suspiciously at that, I must say. Your eyes were darting around rapidly, even more than usual…” She frowns, tilting her head. “So I took it upon myself to keep an eye on what you were up to, lest you were attempting to dispose of a dead body in the Regencia River, or some such.”
“D-Dead body?!” Ryunosuke flinches back with his hands raised in front of him. His face twists with exasperation. “Lady Susato… I worry that the image you have of me inside your mind is awfully unflattering…”
“That’s impossible,” the hero says. “I was around him all day. If he was carrying a corpse inside his bag, I would have noticed.”
Ryunosuke’s mouth twitches. “I didn’t have a corpse—”
“Yes, I considered that as well,” Susato replies as she rests a palm along her jaw. “I concluded that it was nothing of nefarious nature, but I…still wanted to sate my curiosity on the matter and investigate further, I suppose. Please accept my sincere apologies for following you both.” She bows again.
“No, no! It’s no trouble at all,” Ryunosuke says. “Thank you again for your help!”
“Royal Advisor Susato”—the hero gestures with his thumb towards the monster’s body—“will you assist me in taking care of this Lizalfos?” He crouches down and begins stripping the Lizalfos of its armor.
“Yes, of course.” She quickly nods and gets to work.
Ryunosuke peers over their shoulders and gulps. “So, that was a Lizalfos, was it?”
He has heard about them before in books: fast and agile in their movements and highly intelligent compared to other monsters—capable of adapting mid-combat, and applying metallurgy practices to produce their own weapons and armor. They tend to dwell in groups, camouflaging themselves as they lie in ambush, but close examination can help discern the irregular way their outlines distort their surroundings. Ryunosuke sweeps the perimeter with his vision, but he can’t see anything out of the ordinary. He figures if there was another one waiting, it would’ve pounced by now.
“Yes,” the hero responds, “although…” He sets its metal headpiece down with a huff, then glances at Susato. “These colorations… I’ve never seen one that looks like this before. Have you?”
She finishes unbuckling its shoulder piece. “Hmm…” she muses for a second. She pulls a thick, heavy-looking tome out from a pouch much too small to possibly accommodate it. It’s lovingly worn—various ribbons of different sizes marking numerous places within it, and Ryunosuke can see the flash of pages upon pages of careful notes written in pristine handwriting as she quickly flips through its contents. Her brow furrows when she scans the page, slapping the page with the back of her hand when she finishes. “No, the only recorded information regarding Lizalfos are the common green and the rarer, stronger blue varieties. This one is silver… Curious.”
“That’s what I thought,” the hero exhales as he pulls the remaining armor off it.
“Albinism, perhaps?” Susato offers.
The hero shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s just that… It was much faster than any Lizalfos I’ve faced before, as if it’s been augmented in some way.”
Ryunosuke’s mouth goes dry. “You don’t suppose it’s been put under Calamity Stronghart’s influence, do you?” he asks. His stomach wrings itself with worry in an instant.
Ryunosuke’s mind flashes back to some of the history lessons with Elder Impa. One ancient text theorized that shortly after the creation of the world, the Demon King Demise created monsters alongside the animals and various living species the Goddess Hylia and the Fierce Deity made to populate the planet. It was said to be a harmonious exchange—the monsters filled an ecological niche that was needed to maintain balance of the environment. Other texts describe of a supposed betrayal between the gods that led to Demise’s sealing, and of the subsequent consequences of his declaration of war against the Goddess Hylia when the seal he was under waned—leading to hostile monster forces scattered across the land, forever vengeful on their creator’s behalf.
In the present time, these monster encampments tend to live away from civilization and are in a tenuous truce with the other living species, so long as they stay within their own spaces. When the monsters begin to encroach near settlements or become more aggressive, specialized knight squads are dispatched to protect the towns. Every year, Ryunosuke hears that the occurrences of monster sightings are increasing—that the monsters are encroaching closer than before. If Calamity Stronghart, a manifestation of Demise’s curse of hatred and lust for power, is fortifying the strength of its monsters, then that can only mean they’re losing time before it awakens.
The hero frowns as he reaches back into his pouch and pulls out a large sheathed knife. “I think it’s a possibility we can’t rule out—at least not until The Knights Counsel investigates further.”
Ryunosuke scrapes his palm against his perspiring forehead. He is right: the counsel consisting of the kingdom’s highest-ranking knights and commanders will need to be alerted of this anomaly so they can formulate strategies to combat any future incursions.
“Shall I…?” Susato motions to the Lizalfos armor.
As if in perfect understanding, the hero nods with a, “Yes, you’ll be able to get it to a smelter faster than I can.”
Ryunosuke closes his eyes and sucks in a deep, shaky breath to try to calm his nerves. When he opens his eyes, all of the armor is gone. Susato has now procured her own knife—the size of which, Ryunosuke notices, seems as though it’d fit quite snugly within her small pack—and they both carve the Lizalfos in an efficient tandem. They work quickly and smooth—a wordless routine that seems well rehearsed.
“What are you two…?” Ryunosuke questions, eyes transfixed on the scene before him. It makes him a bit queasy, but he finds he can’t look away.
The hero holds up a dripping horn. “Monster parts,” he answers nonchalantly, then returns to his work.
“They have special essences that can be extracted by a potion maker in order to create certain elixirs,” Susato supplies.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Ryunosuke says. He cradles his chin with his hand and hums. “They…can amplify someone’s physical capabilities when combined with the right ingredients, correct?”
The replies come simultaneously: “Yes.”
The hero and Susato finish harvesting the salvageable parts and clean their hands with swift precision. Thoughts flood Ryunosuke’s mind over the opportunities these enhancements can bring: if squads can adapt their training to account for the stronger monsters, if the soldiers can supplement their abilities with elixirs, and if the researchers can determine how to activate and control the relics as weapons, then, then—
Ryunosuke squeezes his hands together. There might be hope; there might be a way they can suppress Calamity Stronghart—with or without his sealing powers. For this ephemeral moment, he allows optimism to settle within his bones.
“If you don’t mind me asking this,” Susato says carefully, rousing Ryunosuke from his thoughts in the process, “but what exactly were you two planning to do out here?”
Ryunosuke and the hero exchange a quick glance.
Ryunosuke runs the calculations in his head; Susato may be but a polite acquaintance, but he feels she’s someone he can trust. “W-Well, you see…” He hesitantly points to the small relic nestled next to a tree and Susato lets out a small gasp of delight. “I spotted this relic one day after a trip from a sacred spring. I was…planning to collect it and turn it over to the research team—”
“And I was trying to convince him it was a bad idea,” the hero growls, gripping Karuma tight. Ryunosuke releases a weary sigh in response. “The prince is brilliant. His observational ability is unmatched, yet the king refuses to listen to his ideas about the relics’ purposes. We need as much help as we can and be willing to be open to all options if we want to be proactive against Calamity Stronghart.” He crosses his arms, face scrunching up into an acrid scowl. “If the prince relinquishes the relic, he’ll lose any chance of being able to examine it further. The research teams have their hands full already with the ever increasing number of large relics they’ve been excavating. This one relic will more than likely be ignored in their possession—it would be more advantageous for us all if he is allowed to continue his crucial research.” He levels Ryunosuke with another fierce glare.
Ryunosuke feels his cheeks grow hot as his mouth hangs open; he realizes it’s unbecoming of him, but he’s too stunned to wrangle his expression back to maintain a semblance of decorum. He can hardly fathom the words he just heard—the hero believed in him? Believed in his ability to find something useful?
He thinks of when they were here earlier, when the hero voiced his agreement in his theory, offered his praise about his deduction. No matter the heady feeling that accompanied the memory, he had since casted it away as private pity—a compassionate show of sympathy to a struggling prince in a place where no prying eyes could observe. But to watch him here, so unabashedly lauding his abilities to another person—even suggesting to defy the king’s orders over it—feels inconceivable. At best, Ryunosuke considers, he’s painfully average; at worst, he’s a liability. He tries to reconcile the images of himself and the person the hero spoke of, and he finds he can’t.
He forces himself to tear his eyes away from the hero and swallows down the bafflement left lingering on his tongue. “It’s, it’s not a simple matter of personal choice,” he mutters. “Father forbid me from studying it further…”
“Oh dear…” Susato tilts her head with a frown as she regards them both, but her eyes keep flicking back to the relic with keen interest. “I must agree that Champion Kazuma strikes a compelling argument—”
“Thank you,” the hero quickly adds, snippy.
“—But if King Naruhodo is adamant against it, then… Hmm…” Her eyes drift back to the relic. “In any case, may I inspect it before you come to a decision?”
“Yes, of course—” The words barely slip out of Ryunosuke’s mouth before she eagerly glides down to look at it from all angles. He points out the scorch marks and she scribbles down notes in a small notebook with fervor, eyes glinting like the sapphire eye of the relic.
“So small,” she croons. “Word is, the Sheikah researchers are tentatively calling the relics of this variety ‘Guardians.’ Oh, what’s this here?” She traces her finger along the paneling on the back of the so-called Guardian.
Ryunosuke peers over her shoulder, watching how her finger bumps slightly against the metal. The depressions are tiny, barely noticeable. “Small screws?” Ryunosuke asks.
“Not quite the same as we use now, but I believe it’s something of the sort,” Susato’s eyes burn with eagerness; she pulls out a small tool from her pouch. “Then that means it can be opened!” She dives in, diligently unscrewing the backing with precision.
“I suppose it’s fortuitous that we have the infamous tinkerer with us, then,” the hero says with a light tone.
“Ah, yes, well,” Susato replies with a small smile, still focused on the Guardian. “As a child, I used to take apart my father’s watches to see the mechanisms inside. Not to come across like a braggart, but I’ve gotten a fairly moderate amount of experience opening things up over the years.”
And an equally fairly moderate amount of experience putting things back together again, I hope? Ryunosuke thinks as he makes a pinched face. The hero barks out a brassy laugh.
“There we go.” Susato removes the back panel of the small Guardian and her eyes grow wide in wonder. “Champion Kazuma, a torch, if you’d be so kind?” she asks.
“Your wish is my command,” the hero replies. There’s a sort of snarky twinge to it—neither bitter nor unkind, but with a sense of underlying familiarity in a way Ryunosuke once again can’t quite place. He obliges, pulling a long torch from a much too-small-pouch with a flourish. He then pulls out a Fire Fruit and smashes it under his foot to light it. After snuffing the small leftover flame on the ground out with his boot, he lifts the torch towards the exposed back of the small guardian, and Susato eagerly peers inside.
The torch, the tome, the knives… Ryunosuke blinks as the pieces connect in his mind, and the realization feels obvious in hindsight. “You both…have enchanted pouches,” he says. It’s both a statement of fact and a leading question.
“Yes,” the hero says, intently staring at the internal components being prodded by Susato.
“Those are quite rare, aren’t they?” Ryunosuke asks.
Susato looks up towards him and smiles. “Oh yes. My father received them from a dear partner of his a while back. He figured with the line of work Champion Kazuma was to be a part of, it would serve much more utility than having to stow items within a normal bag. And it has been very practical for my uses, as well.”
Ryunosuke purses his lips and he can’t hold it in any longer. “I don’t wish to be intrusive, but how do you two know each other?” It’s been a question lingering on his mind the whole interaction, clinging like the stickiest of Chuchu jellies.
They both pause and exchange a look. The hero answers, laconic: “Our fathers were close friends.” He offers no further details and the uncomfortable air left between them makes it obvious to Ryunosuke to not probe further.
“O-Oh, I see,” Ryunosuke babbles out. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. The words spill out quickly: “Um, so what did you find, Lady Susato? W-Without the help of the torch to light the inside, I assume investigating it would be a lot more torch-urous.” He gives an uneasy laugh.
There’s a pause, strained for a moment. Then, a loud snort cuts through the tension, followed by an explosive guffaw by the hero—throwing his head back with each quake of a laugh, vibrant and wholly uninhibited. Ryunosuke returns a nervous chuckle, relieved the atmosphere has tempered; his heart thrums erratic in his chest.
Susato blinks at them, then her face grows brighter again. “Look here!” She points to a spherical, amber-and-taupe-colored fixture set in the middle of the interior compartment, affixed with various cables and wires and gears to its metal casing. All three study the object, enrapt. It’s no mere totem, that is certain.
The hero brings a fist to his chin in thought. “I assume this would be what powers it, then?”
“Most likely,” Susato agrees, tilting her head.
A detail in the crystal-like ball catches Ryunosuke’s attention: a round, protruding port of some kind, like a connector you’d plug something into. The socket is small, like a syringe needlepoint, but the reinforced casing around it betrays its importance. He surveys the interior mechanics, fails to see any loose wires that might be the culprit. Something nags at him further—the port is facing direction towards the Guardian’s back, unobstructed by the other wires around it, as if its path required clearance.
Susato and the hero poke and prod at the inner workings and discuss theories on how it operates. Ryunosuke picks up the metal casing, turning the panel over in his palm.
“There’s a few options here,” the hero begins. “Physical activation with a weapon or a striker object seems unlikely, as the crystal is unexposed and protected. It could also potentially resonate with a nearby source that acts as a trigger. Magic is also another possibility, but…”
“We’ve confirmed these relics were, in fact, ancient Sheikah constructions,” Susato replies. “To my knowledge, the Sheikah weren’t ever particularly adept at magic… Of course we have our skill in the martial arts and some of the tribe display moderate magical capabilities, but to utilize magic in that capacity? …Though, of course, we know very little about the tribespeople from tens of thousands of years ago, especially after the devastating fire of the Kakariko Library burned away much of the records from those times…”
Ryunosuke ducks out from under the shade of the trees and holds the panel out towards the sun and sees it: a pinprick of light in its center. The placement of the hole lines up linearly with the inside socket.
“I’m inclined to agree,” the hero says. “Considering the sheer number of the Guardians that’ve been unearthed, along with their massive size, I think it’s reasonable to assume these were powered some other way. These relics seem mechanical in nature; magic wouldn’t necessitate all these wires and gears to keep it running. Maybe if there’s—”
“A direct port of entry! Yes!” Ryunosuke heaves out through a wide smile, holding up the Guardian’s backing. “Take a look at that!” He points to the pinpoint and then to the socket within the Guardian. “If something’s inserted through the back, directly into this crystal, it could be fueled by it. See right here”—he positions the metal panel up to where it slots in—“these holes align perfectly.”
“Oh yes! You’re quite right, Your Highness!” Susato jerks up with wide, engaged eyes, fingers splayed out in front of her face.
“Brilliant find, Prince Ryunosuke!” the hero exclaims with a marked enthusiasm. There’s a keen glint to his eyes, like flint sparked, brimming with something—pride?
Ryunosuke feels himself squirm under their bright gazes, feels the inside of his chest bloom with appreciation—warmth like a burning fire igniting within his ribcage. Despite it, he can’t contain the nervous smile forming on his lips. “I-I can only deduce that they used some sort of thin needle”—a small shudder courses down his spine at the thought, memories of physicians giving him injections coming to the forefront of his mind—“to pipe in whatever fuel energizes it. The only problem is…I haven’t the faintest clue what that fuel could be.”
He rubs his thumb across the back of his arm guard. “When I was younger, I remember finding a book in the Royal Library that mentioned something about the relics. I noted the name of the book and the section it was found in so I wouldn’t forget but…I ended up forgetting where I had placed the note.” He winces. “I wish I knew where to retrieve it… It maybe could’ve given us some leads.”
The wind blows a chill through the trees. “Well, it’s a mystery for another day,” the hero remarks as he looks towards the sun hanging low on the horizon. “It’s not particularly safe being out here when night falls. We should head back soon.”
Ryunosuke nods, content with the progress. He hands the backing panel to Susato, who is fortunately able to fasten it back on. He watches the Guardian with longing in his heart and an ache that roots itself deep in his stomach like an incessant weed, trying to search within himself for which path to follow. He draws a shaky breath.
“Um, Lady Susato, if you’d please…” he begins.
He finds he doesn’t have it in him to remove the small Guardian—not here, not now, when it feels like they’re on the precipice of a breakthrough. The relic will stay here, untouched, and waiting for his return. There will be other chances to hand the Guardian over to the researchers, other chances to heed his father’s warnings. For now, it is enough for it to exist in secret a little longer.
He bows deep, face screwed in apprehension. “Please make no mention of the existence of this relic. I’d appreciate passing along the information about the fuel source to the researchers, but I’d like to be able to investigate a little longer before I have to give it away for good.”
“Oh!” Susato’s eyes grow wide. “Yes, of course,” she says easily with a swift nod, “you have my word.” And Ryunosuke breathes a sigh of relief.
“Thank you for your understanding, Royal Advisor Susato,” the hero says, arms crossed tight across his chest. “It would’ve been best if you weren’t wrapped up in all this to avoid you becoming culpable by association…” He heaves a heavy sigh. “But I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Susato gives a small, warm smile that she quickly hides behind her hand. “I may not have any real authority within the research teams, but I am set to be the liaison between the Royal Family and Champion Sholmes on these matters, after all. It can be viewed as just an extension of my duties, I’d argue.” She holds a finger up to her jaw. “Just a bit more…secretive than initially expected.”
She shifts her weight, quickly becoming more fidgety. “I don’t wish to be too forward,” she says then, “but speaking of that… May I perhaps assist you in your research as well? I-If I wouldn’t be a burden, that is!”
Ryunosuke’s eyes grow wide. “Wha…? Oh, y-yes! Absolutely! You already were such a great help—I would very much be in your debt if you would!”
Susato claps her hands together in front of her, smile wide and eyes sparkling like the stars emerging above. “I’m in your debt for allowing me such a marvelous opportunity!” She balls her hands into fists and leans forward with a sudden fierce determination. “Leave it to me to find the information you seek, Prince Ryunosuke. It will be but a small feat—I simply have to scour the entire Royal Library, compile notes, and then cross reference the information I can find in the Kakariko Library. I will have it done in no time!”
Ryunosuke’s blinks rapidly. “S-Small, you say?! But please don’t push yourself too—” The words barely leave him when Susato utters a quick goodbye with a swift bow and darts off into the shadows, as silent as a rabbit. “There she goes…” he murmurs. “Well, I suppose we should—”
Ryunosuke turns to see the hero watching him sidelong, jaw set stiff and eyes sharp. His pulse jumps in that moment—he believes the hero when he said his looks were not with contempt, but years’ worth of strengthened neural pathways are engraved within his mind like water carved through rock, and apprehension sits heavy in his stomach. The hero doesn’t flinch when he’s caught in the act, merely pinching his brows together an infinitesimal amount, like he’s trying to reach a conclusion in his scrutiny. Ryunosuke can only hope it’s a satisfactory one.
“What is it?” Ryunosuke cautions to ask.
After a pause that feels like an eternity, the hero casually glances away and turns to move. “Nothing. Let’s get going, shall we?”
Ryunosuke frowns. He scrambles to grab his bag and takes a final, lingering look at the small Guardian before scurrying to catch up with the hero to head back to the castle.
“Thank you for earlier,” Ryunosuke says outside his chambers. His eyes flick between the hero and the stone flooring. The emergence of twilight lays a tawny shroud over the vicinity. “Um, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m sure the cooks would be more than willing to accommodate you.”
The hero shakes his head in a swift, fluid motion. “I appreciate the offer, but I must return to my training before night falls. Thank you, Your Highness.” He holds a fist to his heart and bows.
Ryunosuke furrows his brow in dismay. “You aren’t tired? You’ve been out and about all day. Your training can wait until tomorrow, surely?”
“No, it can’t,” the hero bites out. He stands rigid, arms locked behind him. His lips form a tight, grim line. “My performance earlier was completely unacceptable. I can’t possibly indulge in something that hasn’t been rightly earned—not when the consequences are so dire. I’ll do better. I have to.” Each word is fanged, caustic. His left hand goes to clutch Karuma and he sucks in a sharp inhale. “Thank you for your generosity, but I must take my leave.”
Ryunosuke’s face falls. “I—ah, I see…”
“Have a good evening, Your Highness.” The hero nods again, then turns to leave down the hall.
“Good evening…” Ryunosuke watches as his figure grows smaller and smaller, until he’s out of sight completely. In the solitary silence, he feels the dull pang of disappointment.