Chapter Text
Ryunosuke’s Journal
Father was beyond pleased to hear the results of the pilgrimage when we arrived back at the castle. “A resounding success,” he said, “the Goddess Hylia finally answering our prayers.” Though, her answer was much like someone leaving an abandoned child on the stoop of a church—unheralded and utterly unreachable thereafter.
The remainder of the pilgrimage was as silent as before. I never once heard or felt anything more during any of my prayers and whatever latent powers I had reverted back to their dormant state, evading me once again. It’s almost as if what transpired never happened at all. However, crucially, I now possess evidence that I’m able to manifest the sealing powers, with Kazuma as my witness. For that, relief is like a wave washing over my entire being. The next step is to figure out how to command it back to me.
Father has decided that pursuing the sealing powers with a newfound, relentless persistence is the best course of action. To that end, he has ordered for Kazuma and I to leave for the Spring of Courage directly in the upcoming weeks. The ever-present warmth of the Damel Forest is a welcome breath of spring, but the thick humidity and consistent rains are always a challenge. Ugh, I can feel my skin crawling from the bugs already.
To make matters worse, I’ve been without the Sheikah Slate for a little over two weeks now. Iris ran more tests on it, then Champion Sholmes flew it to the Divine Beasts for activation so that the Champions could begin their proper training. I’m going through what feels like withdrawals… Thank Hylia that Kazuma can’t read this—he’s insufferable when he’s proven right about things like this; his teasing would be unending!
But, the Divine Beasts…! Champion Sholmes described it: those towering mechs moving about just as if they were their living, sentient, animal counterparts. It was very far away, but I could see Vah Medoh flying around in the air near Rito Village from the ramparts of my chambers this very morning as if it controlled the skies! Truly a technological feat these creatures are… I can understand exactly why they were labeled as divine—just marveling at them from afar, it feels hallowed. I’d very much like to see one active in person. Perhaps Ursavra can show me a demonstration of Vah Naboris’s strength in the future…
Whilst at the lab, Gina came barging in like a raging dust storm, calling for Iris. It was the first I had seen her since everything with McGilded unfolded. My stomach dropped, as it all came rushing back to me. She must’ve felt the same, because she took one look at me and froze, before turning heel and running out of the lab, despite my calling out to her.
Iris said McGilded was threatening her—was threatening a lot of the children she protects and provides for. She didn’t have a choice but to do what he said. I get it, I do. I don’t blame her for what McGilded orchestrated himself. I just wish I could tell her that.
And I wish I could thank her. She snuck back into that horrid mansion after everything, just to help Iris with her Guardian research. Despite all that McGilded did to her, she showed massive bravery and just how much of a kind-hearted person she really is. So, no, I don’t blame her. We both fell victim to McGilded’s schemes.
Anyway, I’m on pins and needles waiting to hear the progress of the Slate and bored out of mind without it…! Hmm… What more to write? Well, Kazuma brought in a low table and kneeling cushion to set up in the corner of my room, for when he no longer wants to sit on the chair he’s claimed ownership of. I have to wonder: is this even my room still?! How he sits in that seiza position with his legs tucked directly under him for so long, I’ll never understand. It makes my knees hurt just looking at him. Oh! Now he’s just asked why I keep staring at him. I guess I better make an end to this entry…
Slate in hand, Iris flicks her bangs. “Well, I spotted some broken code referring to ‘object decompression’ and after some digging, I was able to debug and reconfigure it to work again! And that’s really all to it!” Ryunosuke isn’t convinced it was as simple as she’s passing it off to be. Iris holds up the Slate to a screw sitting on the table, presses a button, and it evaporates into blue wisps up into the Slate. “That was my Science and Analytics Spectacular; thank you for listening!”
Susato claps, eyes sparkling in delight. “Oh, that is absolutely brilliant, Iris!” She pumps down both her fists in front of her. “It seems to be a mechanism simulating the way the enchanted pouches store items. Magic and technology… It’s such a wonder how two things can be so different, yet so similar at the same time!”
“Indubitably so, my dear madam!” Sholmes says with a deep smile, holding a pointed wingtip up to his forehead. “I have found that quite often, things tend to be much more connected than one may realize at first glance. Which is why, as scientists and researchers, we must always be steadfast in our pursuit of the truth!” He flicks his feathered hair.
Iris hands the Slate back to Ryunosuke, him now buzzing with excitement. He shifts Darumy on his lap and feels the now-familiar weight of the Slate heavy against his palms; despite the short amount of time he’s been in possession of it, it feels like something that’s been by his side for ages. A lightness there inside him, as he cradles both the Guardian and the Slate in his arms.
“We’re making good progress with the Small Guardians,” Iris says with a bubbly nod. “Even with them being prototypes, they’ve supplied quite the valuable insight into how their big siblings work.” She gestures with a head tilt to Eggy, diligently sitting at her feet.
“Indeed, my dear Iris,” Sholmes says. “I’d dare say we could even begin test runs against monsters as soon as next week!”
Susato gasps. “Really? That’s… That’s so soon!” There’s a frazzled, almost leery twinge to her voice. “Are you sure they’re in working order enough to do something of the sort?”
He lifts his pipe up to his beak, contemplating a moment. “I do believe so! To say their programming is remarkable is quite the understatement. The ancient Sheikah were truly brilliant minds… The Guardians can instantly determine monster from ally.”
Darumy starts chirping as if in response, eye flashing blue. It shifts closer to Ryunosuke’s face, blocking his view of the Sheikah Slate.
“It’s like it’s your child,” Kazuma snickers quietly, leaning into Ryunosuke. “Fighting for your attention with the Slate.”
Ryunosuke draws a hand along its casing; whether metal is soothed by touch, he’s not sure. “Perhaps it remembers all those years I’ve had it with me. I, for one, sure view it dearly.”
“Hmm,” Kazuma hums, “perhaps, but maybe Iris should examine it further for damage. It doesn’t seem to remember the numerous times you’ve accidentally dropped it.”
Ryunosuke shoots him a glare, but Kazuma just grins back.
“I’ve no doubt after seeing the positive lab results,” Susato says, bringing Ryunosuke back again to the larger conversation. She laces her fingers in front of her and looks down, troubled. “I suppose I merely…” She shakes her head. “No, never mind that.”
“What is it, Lady Susato?” Ryunosuke questions. “If there’s something that leaves you hesitant, I’d very much like to hear your opinion on the matter.”
A hand shoots up to her mouth, eyes grown wide. “Oh! No, it’s not quite hesitancy, but…” Her eyes slip shut for a moment and she draws a breath; determination etches in her features. “I believe it would be prudent to learn their weaknesses.” Her eyes are hardened when she opens them again, keen as a knife’s edge. “We’ve no doubt made great strides in learning more about these machines, yet there remains much we don’t know. If we can establish how much they can handle outside of battle before sending them directly against monsters, then perhaps we can lessen the risk of losing Guardians more than necessary.” She taps her fist to her other palm and raises a pointer finger in the air. “…And we can strategize much more accordingly when it does come time for them to be on the field.”
Kazuma nods. “I agree with Royal Advisor Susato. Stress-testing the Guardians will be helpful in properly utilizing them to our advantage.”
Ryunosuke taps a finger to his chin and smiles. “Yes, that makes sense. I do think we should try to preserve as many Guardians as possible before we send them out to battle.”
Sholmes slumps over himself—a bucket of water snuffing out his hopes. “I have longed to see exactly how many Bokoblins a single laser strike would tear through… Alas, it seems I have been outvoted…”
Iris shrugs. “Oh, Hurley, you’ll be able to see it soon enough.” She jolts up, then, with both her hands covering her mouth. “I almost forgot…!” she says, turning on her heel. “I have a gift for you all! One moment, please!” And she’s racing off to the back of the lab, with Eggy dogging at her heels.
There’s a harsh rapping on the door before it creaks open. The thing that hits Ryunosuke first is the undeniable smell: of fried fish and delicious, greasy potatoes wafting in the air. Even after the tea and cookies Iris provided, Ryunosuke’s stomach rumbles immediately; Kazuma gives him an amused look.
The Hylian man striding into the lab walks with an aloof yet commanding authority—dressed in an olive trench coat and hat, bushy mustache framing a stern face, fish and chips in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. A navy blue brassard is wrapped around his arm, shimmering gold Royal Crest insignia emblazoned upon it.
“Oi, Sholmes,” the man says gruffly, dropping the stack onto the table in front of Sholmes. “Here’s those documents you asked for.”
Sholmes perks up. “Ah, excellent!” he coos. “Thank you, kindly.”
The man nods and turns to leave back, when he freezes in place. His eyes flash with recognition and something else—countenance still held firm, but the slight widening of his eyes betrays panic. “Ah, Y-Your Royal Highness!” He quickly pulls his hat off his head and bows. “Pleasure seeing you here.”
Ryunosuke gives a nervous smile. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. um…?”
“Gregson. The name’s Tobias Gregson, Your Highness,” he says, initial apprehension melting away. “Inspector and Commandin’ Officer of the Castle Town Patrol Knights, Central Division.”
Susato gasps, fingers splayed out in front of her face; the way her eyes shine in recognition, it’s like she’s seeing a star actor right in front of her. “Are you perhaps…the Commander Gregson…” She tilts forward in her seat—any farther and she’ll fall right off. “Cited extensively in Randst Reviews for your contributions?!”
“The one and only, ma’am,” Gregson says as he places his hat back on. His mustache seems to quirk up. Susato continues to gape behind her hand.
“And you are…” Ryunosuke looks from Susato to Sholmes rifling through the delivered papers with reckless abandon. “…Assisting Champion Sholmes as well?”
Sholmes trills out a roaring laugh, folding over himself and clutching his chest. “Quite so! Behold, dear Gregson, true wisdom on display!”
Gregson snaps his head back towards Sholmes with his thick eyebrows furrowed deep. “Ha! Fat chance of it!” He shakes his fish and chips at him, before turning back to Ryunosuke. “The opposite way ‘round, Your Highness. He sometimes helps me with some of my cases I’ve been inspectin’ around Castle Town—unsolved crime and the like. First met him when he was livin’ here some years ago… Waltzed right into a crime scene like he owned the place and ended up solvin’ the whole thing…” He takes a seemingly angry bite of his food and then crosses his arms. “S’posed it’d be worth keepin’ him around once he came back to town.”
Sholmes snickers with a wicked grin. “Oh, what high praise from the Commander!”
They continue this way for a beat, jabbing at each other like siblings squabbling. Ryunosuke can’t help but quietly laugh at it all. He leans towards Kazuma, eyes fixated on the two of them, and whispers, “I can only imagine what a scene these two would be out in public… Wouldn’t you like to see—”
The words fizzle out when he turns and Kazuma’s gone frozen—thousand-yard stare etched into the marble of his pale face, so far away he might as well be on another planet entirely. White knuckles grip around Karuma.
“…Kazuma?” Ryunosuke mumbles, but he doesn’t respond.
“Oh! I thought I heard you there, Gregsy!” Iris cheers when she returns and plops a cardboard box on the table.
Chips go flying. “Y-Y-Your Ladyship!” Gregson rears back in shock—a pink-haired girl a more harrowing sight than the Prince of Hyrule, clearly.
A chip lands on Ryunosuke’s lap and he grabs it immediately. Don’t you dare, says the intense stare Susato gives him and he withers in an instant. He doesn’t see the point in it being an issue—they’re not in public and it’s not as if it landed on the floor. Sure, he thinks, it’s a bit cold now and starting to get soggy, but that’s not a crime—Susato’s glare somehow gets colder. He begrudgingly places it on the table instead. It’s then that he sees her face snap like a rubber band when Kazuma’s in her line of sight.
“Are you thirsty, Gregsy?” Iris skips over to the table and pours a fresh cup of tea. “This is my newest blend I’ve been working on. Please, won’t you give it a try?”
Eggy seems to mirror her ebullience, chittering about.
“Would I ever! Oh, Your Ladyship, your kindness absolutely precedes you!” He takes the cup and slams the tea back, greedily attempting to extract every last drop—pinky finger extended the whole time. “Ahh…” he happily sighs out with a blissfully exaggerated, languid shake of his head; his eyes are almost pleading as they catch the light. “Lovely! That really hit the spot… Your tea only continues to improve each time, though it was already exemplary to begin with, Your Ladyship!” A complete 180 turn in his disposition.
Iris clasps her hands out in front of her. “Oh, I’m so very delighted to hear that!”
Gregson places the teacup on the table. “Unfortunately, as much as I’d love to stay and drink your tea for the rest of the day, I gotta get back to puttin’ this here nose to the grindstone.” He salutes her. “Your Ladyship.” He then turns to Ryunosuke and bows his head. “Your Highness.”
Gregson’s got a foot out of the door when Kazuma shoots out of his chair. Like a bomb—the chair clatters to the floor with an echoed din. “Commander, one moment, please!”
“Eh? What’s it, sunshine?” They both exit, sealing the heavy steel door behind them. Ryunosuke and Susato share a concerned look.
It’s later, when Ryunosuke and Kazuma are leaving the lab, that Ryunosuke folds his hands behind his back and surveys Kazuma’s face. A curious darkness there—as unknowable as churning, stormy seas. Irritation of some sort, too, in the deep furrow of his brow and the carving lines on his face. Ryunosuke bites his lip.
“What was that back there?” he ventures to ask.
Kazuma stops. “What?” he volleys back with a start, the response coming too quick.
Ryunosuke swallows. It’s like tiptoeing around broken glass trying to navigate the conversation with caution, though he doesn’t know the reason for why he has to employ the delicateness. “With Commander Gregson, before…”
Kazuma regards him for a lingering moment, then shakes his head, turning away. He continues walking. “I wanted to introduce myself. Knight business and all.” A dismissive wave of the hand in the air.
Ryunosuke follows quicker. He can’t get a good angle on Kazuma’s face. “Is that so? You seem…troubled, even now still.”
“Come now, Ryunosuke, have you never heard of Academy trauma?” Kazuma lets out a quick laugh, dry. His pace quickens.
Ryunosuke knits his brow. “Isn’t that usually an exaggeration?”
“It tends to be a bit of a joke, yes,” Kazuma says, “but there’s a kernel of truth in it for everyone who’s been a part of the program, I believe. No matter how eccentric some of those commanders seem, they’re menaces in their own right. Interacting with some of them tends to dredge up memories that aren’t all too pleasant, even if you haven’t met them before that point.” A beat, then: “I would caution some amount of vigilance around that man, if I were you.”
A fist up to Ryunosuke’s chin. “Hmm… Well, I can agree that the caterpillars on his face were menaces, certainly.”
Kazuma lets out a sharp laugh, then stops, turns back to Ryunosuke with a grin, amiable now. “Yes, that’s something we both can agree on.”
Relief—if only for a moment. Ryunosuke smiles and joins Kazuma by his side.
“It’s as I thought,” Susato says. She lets out an exhale that seems effortless, despite Ryunosuke having been witness to her duking it out with a metal behemoth just prior. The replicated Guardians Iris constructed for hands-on testing have proven to be eerily similar to the originals that were excavated—Ryunosuke still can’t wrap his head around how she does a quarter of what she does. “The mechanism that fires the laser in its eye is vulnerable after it shoots and its aperture is properly exposed.”
Ryunosuke scribbles down notes in a fury—in his personal notebook, since Susato already chided him for leaving his messy notes in her own.
“I have reason to believe that the bottom of its base is a similar point of weakness,” she continues on. She pulls a finger to her cheek. “Though, it would be quite difficult for any monster to take much advantage of either of these places… What with the lasers and maneuverability of the Guardians and all. Even a nimble Lizalfos would struggle to get close enough to be able to attack without receiving a laser to the face.”
Wood snaps when a shield smashes against a rock, and Ryunosuke and Susato both jump. “Destroying the legs makes them vulnerable as well,” Kazuma grumbles. He’s soaked—viscous liquid clinging to his clothes and heavy enough to droop down even his blunt mess of hair.
Ryunosuke blinks, follows the line from Kazuma’s grouchy, drenched face to the equally-sodden broken shield. “…No luck in parrying, I take it?” he asks.
Kazuma tchs in response, shaking his limbs. “The timing is deceptively difficult,” he growls out. “What did Champion Sholmes put in this stuff, anyway?!” The slime clings to him, no matter how much he thrashes about to remove it.
Susato giggles behind her hand, then she says, “Much preferred to a laser beam at any rate, yes?”
“I suppose so,” Kazuma replies, yet his dour tone doesn’t fully seem in agreement. “I do have to hand it to him—the power of these imitation lasers rivals the actual thing. The sheer force of their impacts have been breaking down these shields.” He grits his teeth and looks back to Susato. “You truly believe reflecting the beam back will work?”
“Yes,” she says, pumping her fists to her sides. “If the aperture is exposed, then sending their beam at the precise angle back through that opening will surely stun it, if not damage it outrightly!”
He sighs, pushing his hair out of his face; the section of his bangs stick back that way. “The theory is sound. The practical application, however, is a much more arduous task.” He groans out again, futilely trying again to shake off the goo on his hands. “And very unforgiving.”
“I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to do it,” Ryunosuke pipes up, leaning forward over his notebook. “Both your sword and shield skills are second to none—if anyone can master the timing, it’s you, Kazuma!”
Kazuma returns his gaze with widened eyes. “Ryunosuke, you…”
Susato smiles wide. “Yes, we both believe in you!”
“Royal Advisor Susato…” He looks back at Susato, then closes his eyes, face steeling once again. “Yes, thank you.”
And even if you can’t get it to work, Ryunosuke thinks, in my mind, you’ll always be the number one knight! …Even if you look utterly ridiculous right now.
Kazuma’s expression drops. “Ngh… You…!” he snarls and he grasps Karuma. His face has gone red under the green-translucent mess—a hot iron warped by the intense grooves welded into his furious face. “I will perfect it, just you watch!” He swiftly turns, grabs another wooden shield, and trudges back to the faux-Guardian. Ryunosuke can practically see the fumes radiating off him.
Ryunosuke slumps forward, face slick with sweat. “…What did I say wrong?” he mutters through gritted teeth.
Susato laughs again behind her hand before folding them behind herself. She looks up to the sky, back down to the ground, slowly turns around, paces sluggishly.
Ryunosuke mashes his lips together. “Um, Lady Susato…?” She flinches at the sound—skittish. “Are you alright…?”
A shocked hand flies up to her face, mouth gone lax. “Oh!” her voice quavers. “Y-Yes, of course!” She abruptly turns away again, hair loops whipping around in a blur. “Just merely thinking, is all. I’m perfectly fine.”
For all the time he’s now spent working alongside her, she’s still difficult to read fully. Dedicated, hardworking, kind—all features that shine through her every action. But he knows underneath that poised and demure veneer lies insecurities she tamps down, insisting it’s unbecoming to voice them. Never one to risk becoming a burden for others, she holds onerous responsibility all on her own shoulders without showing her struggle. She’s perfected wearing the mask of seemingly-facile ease in everything asked of her, but in times like this, it cracks ever so slightly. But, if she’s not comfortable divulging what’s bothering her, it’s not his place to pry further.
Ryunosuke lays the pen in between the pages of his notebook, then raises his gaze up to the sky. The air is fresh and vibrant, with a note of warmth teasing at its edges—the official arrival of spring is only a few days away.
“I’m interested in investigating the shrine found in the Quarry after this,” Ryunosuke says. “Since it’s the week of Farozan, the researchers have the days off and the area will be free to explore privately. Would you…perhaps like to accompany us, Lady Susato?”
Susato spins around, a glint in her surprised eyes. “Oh, I would be honored. Thank you, Your Highness.” And she smiles.
Perhaps spring has come early, after all.
“The southern route across The Bridge of Hylia, to Highland Stable, then north through the Damel Forest seems our best bet,” Kazuma says as they traverse through the dusty entrance of the Quarry. “There’s a path south of the forest that feeds directly into Faron Sea at Martha’s Landing—not too far off route, since you’re so keen on seeing it.”
“Yes!” Ryunosuke replies with a toothy grin. His mind wanders to crystal clear waves sparkling in the sun and warm, white sand underfoot. He can practically smell the spray of saltwater filling the air already. “I’ve always dreamed about visiting the Faron beaches…the descriptions written about them make them seem like pure magic.” He turns his attention towards Susato. “Have you ever been before, Lady Susato?”
She gives him a split-second of a bewildered look before dropping her eyes, crestfallen. “Never.” Cutting.
“Ah.” An icy chill runs down Ryunosuke’s spine. A nervous laugh escapes his lips before he can even think, turning back towards Kazuma. “It’s, it’s quite the detour, I know,” he sputters, “b-but we could always extend the trip and see East Necluda a bit—go visit Hateno Village, perhaps?”
Kazuma stops so abruptly, Ryunosuke almost slams into him. His headband seems almost ruler-straight in the cold breeze that freezes Ryunosuke to the ground right there and then. “No, it’s too early to—” Kazuma says quickly before snapping his mouth closed, stiff. “It’s”—he shakes his head—“it’s much too far away from the Spring of Courage. Not advisable.”
Kazuma and Susato: twin statues of frost and a silent bitterness that Ryunosuke feels unequipped to understand, much less pursue further. He hugs his arms around him, but it does little to brace himself from the onslaught.
Ugh, it’s as if there’s two cold drifts coming from both directions… I feel like I said something terribly wrong…
“No,” Kazuma and Susato both say in tandem.
“It’s quite alright,” Susato says, quickening her pace.
“Say no more of it, partner,” Kazuma says as he makes a beeline towards the shrine.
Ryunosuke slumps down, his face falling in dread with it. Perhaps we should say more of both of your knacks for reading minds…
Susato steps onto the landing in front of the shrine and gestures to its large stone entrance, deftly barricaded. “The researchers have translated the inscription here to mean something akin to: ‘O, valiant one, divinely decreed, sharpen body and spirit through these trials of toil,’” she reads from her notebook, trailing a hand across the door of the shrine in time.
The structure shares the similar bulbed shape of the Guardians, glowing amber spilling through the intricate and winding slit patterns like molten honey through fingers. A small pedestal sits at its base. The entrance is locked shut.
Ryunosuke circles the shrine. “And no one’s been able to figure out how to get the doors open?”
Susato shakes her head. “Unfortunately not.”
“No cracks in its security from the outside?” Kazuma asks as he cradles his chin in his fist, scrutinizing its construction. “Not even a small hole somewhere that can be exploited?”
She frowns. “It’s airtight. The researchers have gone over its façade with a fine-toothed comb and yet have found nothing, I’m afraid. Iris’s drill didn’t do so much as a dent in it, either.”
Ryunosuke presses the Sheikah Slate to the top of the pedestal, but nothing happens. “We don’t even get a hint like with the indented pedestals in the Divine Beasts to give us some direction, huh?” He sighs.
“Champion Sholmes believes that maybe some input into the Sheikah Slate can unlock the door,” Susato says. She tilts her head, contemplating. “I fear that there’s little progress on that front, however.”
“May I?” Kazuma asks and reaches out for the Slate; Ryunosuke hands it to him. He flips it around in his hand. “Maybe there’s a small connector port, like the Guardian had on its outside casing. Do you see anything of the sort anywhere?”
Ryunosuke combs the backside of the pedestal while Susato examines the door, but their search is fruitless. Kazuma’s inspection of the top of the pedestal yields similar results—just a smooth face, with only the etchings of the Sheikah Eye and decorative, circular nodes surrounding it.
“There has to be something we’re all missing,” Kazuma mutters. He grips the sandstone-colored filigree cradling the pedestal to kneel, pressing the Slate face down onto the Sheikah Eye as he balances his weight.
A chime pings. The same sound as turning on the Slate.
“Ah!” Ryunosuke gasps and he leans himself over the back of the pedestal. The amber hues have morphed into a bright azure. He gapes at it, then up at Kazuma again. “Kazuma, what did you—”
“Activation key confirmed,” a robotic voice rumbles out of the Slate, stilted and full of static. Kazuma flips the Slate right side up; he and Ryunosuke share a mystified look. “Access granted.”
The structure rumbles and Susato yelps, jumping backwards with raised fists as the sealed entrance way folds back, piece by piece, like the collapse in a stick-pulling game. Blue light overtakes orange on the outside of the shrine—a glowing halo illuminating the small alcove inside. That same blue irradiates a circular etching in the floor; the all-seeing Crest of the Sheikah is embossed at its center.
Ryunosuke squints at the cramped, exposed recess in front of them. Walled-off, perfectly contained—and utterly empty.
“Erm,” he says, “is there supposed to be nothing inside…?” He fails to see how one would face supposed “trials of toil” in a bare shrine, unless the trial was that of patience. The theory about the shrine being a place of prayer might not be too off.
“How peculiar,” Susato muses, hand resting on the side of her pensive face. “The inside spans the length of the outer walls, so it’s not as if there’s a false room partition or the like…” She points to the glowing design at the center of the floor. “Do you suppose this is some sort of…communication device of some sort—similar to an arcane circle? If we’re going off of the ‘shrine as a means to communicate with the Divine Beasts’ proposal posited… Though, I fail to see how the inscription on the doors pertains in that case.” Deep wrinkles crease her face as she frowns.
“Only one way to find out,” Kazuma says and he enters the space. Ryunosuke and Susato follow behind.
“Unauthorized persons detected,” the pedestal outside declares, consonants crackling.
“Perhaps only Champion Kazuma may be inside…” Susato murmurs. She slides a hand along the wall, but whatever it is she’s searching for, she seems to still be dissatisfied when she pulls back.
Ryunosuke nods and goes to turn back, when he’s stopped with a, “Wait,” from Kazuma. Kazuma holds out the Slate. “Here,” he says.
“No,” Ryunosuke answers with a shake of his head. Delicately, his hands wrap around Kazuma’s and he presses the Slate back towards him. “You take it. Maybe you can get some photographs of whatever happens so we can see after.”
Kazuma stares down at it, at the gentle pressure of Ryunosuke’s touch. Brown eyes flick up, canopied by noble red; he sets his jaw. “I’ll see to it.”
Ryunosuke and Susato exit the shrine and they watch as the circle flares blue, emitting a breathy hiss. The floor rattles and creaks, then the circular area Kazuma is standing on descends.
It’s quiet after, just the pitched sough of wind across stone and gravel. Only a silent prayer between them both for Kazuma’s safety in whatever place he’s sunken into—wholly unreachable.
It’s a tricky thing, deciphering Susato’s furtive glances. Yet, Ryunosuke perceives the sidelong looks his way while they sit and wait near the small, shaded pond area on the outskirts of the Quarry—how the tension twists her features ever so faintly. She wears frustration like a mask spun with sugar—unassumingly sweet on the surface and nearly imperceptible, but one drop of bitterness, and it dissolves no matter how much she tries to maintain composure.
“Um…is there something troubling you, Lady Susato?” he hazards to ask. He can’t keep his eyes from swimming.
She sucks in an audible breath. “No, not at all!” Her hand shoots up in front of gaping mouth, before her eyes dart away. “Everything is perfect—yes, quite like how that frog over there is perfectly poised to jump on that lily pad at any moment!” She clears her throat.
Ryunosuke watches said Hot-Footed Frog. He blinks and it slowly blinks back at him, its large eyes staring like its vision can pierce through the very fabric of the universe itself. It hasn’t moved the entire time, much less any indication of it leaping anytime soon—perfectly happy lazing in the mud, more like it. He can’t keep himself from wondering if its essence would be potent when used in an elixir. “Is… Is that so?”
She flinches, back straightening and eyes just as frantic as before—it’s almost like Ryunosuke’s looking into a mirror. “Y-Yes, indeed it is!”
Ryunosuke frowns. His hands feel clammy; he can’t stop thinking about how awkward it all is. “Well, I’ll trust you at your word… But, I’d like to emphasize that if there’s ever anything bothering you, you wouldn’t be a burden to voice it to me.” He swallows and feels the nerves prick inside his stomach. He tugs at his collar.
They had worked together with more and more frequency now, though not often alone. Maybe they weren’t particularly close yet, but he couldn’t deny the possibility of them growing to be better friends as time went on. As invaluable her assistance is in their research, he values the pleasure of her company the most—especially the silly side of her that spills out from behind the composed dam at the most unexpected moments.
It’s a moment of silence before she sighs, shifting her weight of her seiza to the side. “…Please excuse my bluntness,” she begins and the strain in her voice is palpable, “but I find myself quite envious of you two.” Ryunosuke’s eyebrows lift and she laces her fingers in front of her, like knitting to ease her nerves. “I’d very much like the opportunity to go exploring as you and Champion Kazuma have.” She stops herself. “...Though, I understand it is often under unfavorable circumstances.”
Something bitter sticks to the back of his throat. It’s the reason why they’re even going on this next pilgrimage anyway—to pursue something that was fleeting. What if he comes back empty-handed once again, all after that false hope?
He leans forward. “Wh-Why don’t you come with us, then? We’re to leave for the Spring of Courage two days after the Festival of Farore… I would be delighted for you to accompany us, and I’m sure Kazuma would feel the same!”
Her eyes grow wide, before falling back down to linger at the ground. A slight smile pulls at the corner of her lips, morose. “You’ve both become close that quickly, haven’t you?” she says so quietly, it’s almost hard to make out.
Ryunosuke cocks his head, lets out a questioning noise. “What?”
She shakes her head. “Thank you for your kind offer, but no, sadly, it’s not possible. My duty as the Royal Advisor is to stay within the vicinity of the castle at all times, only permitting travel to and from Kakariko Village. To traipse around Hyrule… It’s simply not allowed.”
“B-But…! Can’t you argue for an exception with Elder Impa? Surely, she would grant you some leeway, especially if it concerned a pilgrimage to one of the sacred springs?”
Susato raises a captious eyebrow. “I think you know as well as I do that Grandmother doesn’t take very kindly to infringing protocol.”
Ryunosuke slumps forward with a grimace. He remembers the numerous times Elder Impa pressed the virtues of always being truthful, of always following established proprieties. Even the most well-intentioned and inconsequential lies would beget more lies. It was a lesson he was often grateful for—except for the times when her uncompromising stringency would lead to him getting in trouble.
“Yes,” he grumbles, “I do…”
Susato giggles that controlled laugh behind her hand. The levity is fleeting, soon being replaced by another solemn expression as she stares at the pond. The frog holds stagnant, almost dutiful in its stillness.
Ryunosuke lolls his head back and watches the clouds drift slowly across the azure. He releases a deep breath. “…Do you resent it?”
She takes a moment to consider it, lips pressed into a tight line. “No,” she finally breathes out, “nothing like that at all.” Her hands are folded in her lap; she squeezes one with the other. “I sincerely enjoy my work and I take great pride in it all. Being able to support you, Champion Kazuma, Champion Sholmes, and Iris…I truly love it. It feels as though I’m making a real difference in trying to help people as our understanding of the ancient Sheikah technology grows. And I wish to become someone Grandmother can be proud of—so that when it comes time for her to depart from this world, she can rest easy knowing she can rely on me to carry her mantle.”
Her eyes slip shut and she entwines her fingers into that lacework once again. “But, I suppose…I desperately wish it wasn’t so restrictive—that the choice between upholding my duties as the Royal Advisor and being able to freely see this world and all its beauty wasn’t such a binary choice that can never hope to overlap.” She inhales, opens her eyes again. There’s a haggard look to her face—a storm brewing behind vermillion eyes, despite how much effort is made to suppress it. She stares off into the distance, across excavated rock and rolling hills. Hushed: “…That’s an awfully selfish thing to want, is it not?”
Empathy swells like a mess of firethorns in his chest. “No,” Ryunosuke says with a shake of his head, though the word catches in his throat, “I don’t think so.”
The frog leaps as quick as a rabbit into the water. Ryunosuke watches as it kicks and glides deeper into the pond, freely gliding underneath with negligible resistance—at ease in the water just as much as out on the land.
He hears Susato suck in an inhale, but she’s quick to tamp down any evidence of it behind her hand. “Suppose it was possible…” he says. “If you had your choice, where would you like to go first?”
“Zora’s Domain.” The answer comes promptly—decisive and resolute. Her eyes wander back out to that vast expanse of field and sky, and a rosy smile blooms on her face. “My dear friend, Rei, has been living there since she started her medical apprenticeship under Champion Wilson,” she says, and the wistfulness spills out like warm green tea laced with a heaping spoonful of honey. “She detailed the region extensively in her letters and made it sound so very romantic. How the acoustics of The Zora Hall carries the lead singer of the resident band’s mezzo-soprano beautifully… The breaktaking Veiled Falls and the imposing Ploymus Mountain in the distance… Oh, how I’d love to see it all with my own eyes. And to see her…” She stills suddenly, jerking her head up. “Oh dear, I’m quite sorry for prattling on. I got lost in my thoughts suddenly.” A light blush powders her cheeks.
Ryunosuke smiles. “It’s nothing to apologize for,” he says softly. He brings a hand up to his chin and hums, “Hmm, well… I don’t know if it’ll work, but I will try to argue in the future that I need my Royal Advisor to assist me during one of my travels. If it’s under official business, then maybe we’ll be granted some leniency?”
Susato’s eyes grow wide and glassy. She holds a fist to her chest. “Oh, Prince Ryunosuke…” Her words warble, ever so slightly, behind a quivering lip.
He gives her another smile before turning his attention back to the pond and its glittering ripples. When he speaks again, it’s said low: “I promise you, one day you’ll be able to explore the vast wilds, too. Maybe it’s not now, but the time will come before you know it. I make this pledge to you.”
He hears her sniff beside him. “That’s truly too kind of you, thank you.”
He sucks in a full breath of that wild around him. “I know it’s not nearly the same, but when Kazuma returns with the Slate, I’d enjoy nothing more than to show you some of the photos of the locations we’ve been.” A giddy little noise of surprise escapes him, coming to a realization. “There was one I’d think you’d like—Kazuma using a spade outside when we got snowed in one day at Talonto Temple. The way the sun reflected on the massive blanket of snow was a sight to behold.”
“Oh?” There’s intrigue in her eyes, but she cocks her head slightly. “Why was Champion Kazuma digging holes in the ground? Did that help displace the snow that accumulated?”
He blinks. “What? Why would…he be digging holes?”
She gives him a blank look. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. You said he was using a spade, did you not? Spades are for digging, so it would follow reason that he was digging holes in the snow…?”
“That’s—oh.” Then, he brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubs it stiffly.
Susato was brilliant—she seemingly knew information about everything, but if she didn’t, then the book she kept on her person at all times would fill in the gaps, no matter how esoteric the topic. So, it’s at this that brings him pause. Surely, she knew, right?
“I believe you’re mistaken, Lady Susato,” he says, pinching the short hair at the base of his skull between his fingers. “Shovels are for digging. Spades are for scooping up loose material—which he was doing to clear the snow from the entrance of the temple.”
There’s a pause before her hands ball up into fists and she leans forward, brow furrowed and frown set. “No, I’m sorry to say it’s the opposite way around, Your Highness. If he was merely clearing snow, he surely would be using a shovel.”
Ryunosuke slumps forward. She seems confident in her position—convincing her otherwise seems unlikely. “Seems we’ve unearthed quite the great debate. To avoid coming across like a tool, what’d you say about burying the hatchet for now?”
The intensity in her eyes doesn’t temper, but she relents anyway: “Yes, I suppose it’s probably for the best that we ditch digging that hole any further—”
A deep rattling from the shrine interrupts her. She instantly shoots up to her feet and runs closer; Ryunosuke clumsily follows behind her. The veil of shadow within the shrine’s entrance peels back when Kazuma steps out from its awning.
Kazuma’s fuming.
“Champion Kazuma, what happ—Oh!” Susato quickly raises a hand to her face, expression squashed together like she ate a lemon.
It takes only a second when Ryunosuke’s within range of them that the smell hits him like a Lynel body checking him at full speed. It’s rancid and sour—he can hardly breathe. His hands clasp over his nose. Goddess, what happened to him? He stinks.
Susato shoots Ryunosuke a dirty look. “What a…pungent odor,” she redirects carefully. “What was it like inside?”
Kazuma makes a beeline to the pedestal and places the Slate face down. “There was a small Guardian inside—around Eggy’s size—and it wielded a technological sword as a weapon,” Kazuma says swiftly.
Ryunosuke’s eyes grow wide at the thought—could Darumy be able to use a sword?
There’s a grating screech of a noise from the pedestal. “Replicate access denied,” the robotic voice ekes out. “The trial has been sufficiently completed.”
“Tch,” Kazuma hisses out, before placing the Slate back down again. “There was a speaker device inside announcing it as ‘A Modest Test of Strength’. It was much more mobile than the large Guardians, but the practice against them this morning made tracking its patterns much more easier.” The same noise and denial comes out of the pedestal again. “Ugh! The blasted thing let out some noxious gas and got the jump on me. One time that sword made any contact—if I can just do it again, I can beat it perfectly without taking any damage! Just let me in!” He places the Slate down again with more force.
Ryunosuke notices the cut on his tunic sleeve when Kazuma shifts position. It’s small and not deep enough to disturb the undershirt below, much less draw any blood—a simple stitching to mend.
“You didn’t…” Susato’s voice drops softer, worry a tight tenor. “Try to parry its lasers, did you?”
The speaker denies him yet again and he throws his head back with a groan, arm falling down to his side limply. He breathes deep and after a moment, turns to face Susato with a troubled expression—a meld of frustration and a peculiar ruefulness. “No.” He looks away. “I acknowledge it’s too much of a risk to attempt right now.”
Susato exhales, shoulders loosening their tension.
“Looks like re-entry is unfeasible,” Kazuma finally capitulates and holds out the Slate to Ryunosuke. “When I entered, there was a pedestal under another Guidance Stone. It imbued it with some sort of data, but it disabled the rest of the Slate’s functionality, so I wasn’t able to take any pictures while inside, sorry.”
Ryunosuke takes it in his hands and taps at the screen. It whirs to life like normal, but he can’t seem to notice anything different within its menus. “I suppose it’s due for another look from Iris, in that case,” he says and Kazuma nods in agreement. “Was that all that happened? What about after you beat the Guardian?”
“That’s the most peculiar thing of all”—Kazuma raises a fist to his chin, gaze trailing distant in thought—“there was someone in there at the end of the chamber.” Both Ryunosuke and Susato gasp out. “One of the ancient Sheikah from The Great Calamity. A monk.”
“Hold it!” Susato clasps her hands close to her chest. “An, an ancient Sheikah?!” The words tumble out fast and fervid. “But how could—That’s impossible! The Great Calamity was ten thousand years ago! It’s inconceivable that anyone could live that long!”
Kazuma runs a hand through his bangs. “As far-fetched as it seems, it’s the truth. The monk confirmed it themselves: they had dedicated themself in this near-stasis for millennia, faithfully waiting for someone with the resolve of a hero to overcome their trial…” He pauses and crosses his arms, closing his eyes. “I’m inclined to believe them. It was a ghastly sight. They were decrepit, just bones and sinewy skin, practically mummified.”
Ryunosuke’s heart feels like it’s made of lead, how it sinks so deeply in his stomach. The sacrifices people have made and still continue to make to fulfill their duties—it’s a never-ending cycle.
Kazuma continues, “Devoted so fully, they transferred whatever life force was keeping them rooted to this world to me and then they simply…disappeared.” He opens his eyes and looks up to the sky; his fingers grip into his sleeve. “But, they seemed at peace with it all. As they were, I can’t imagine staying in that state for any longer is preferable to finally being able to move on. I tried to get any extra information about what was going on, but it was to no avail.”
Susato’s gaze lowers with a solemn frown. “Yes, I suppose after thousands of years of patiently waiting to deliver a message, I also wouldn’t be much in the mood for further discussion.”
“I’m just grateful to have helped bring them some peace,” Kazuma says and Susato nods. His headband catches wind, fluttering aloft in the breeze.
“You said before, that the Sheikah monk transferred their life force to you,” Ryunosuke says. “Do you…feel any different?”
Kazuma shakes his head. “No, not that I can tell.”
Ryunosuke sighs as he allows his body to relax ever so slightly. “It’s best we report this back to Champion Sholmes.”
“Ah, yes!” Susato exclaims. “I’ve no doubt he’ll be beyond pleased to hear these new advancements!”
Ryunosuke taps the toe of his boot against the dirt. “Yes,” he mutters, “he’ll be pleased to take credit for it when it was Kazuma who did all the work, I’m sure…”
Susato shoots him a frosty look, but it’s fragile, breaking almost instantly as she brings a hand to cover the laughs that manage to slip out. Kazuma snorts out a laugh of his own, completely unbridled.
“Ahh, finally we’re here!” Ryunosuke groans out when he collapses backwards onto the hill with all the grace of a Hinox being knocked off balance. As he stretches out onto the prickly, dry grass, the colorful orange and green mask—a long-held tradition of wearing depictions of ancient gods once said to be Goddess Hylia’s appointed overseers over the passage of time and the usherers of spring—previously tied to the side of his head comes loose. He can hear the pop of his lower back, loud like a cannon firing—and just as painful.
It was a bit of a trek of a journey to reach the hill at the base of Mount Gustaf, flanked by the ceremonial Sacred Ground to the east—swerving through the throngs of bustling festival goers drunk off of whistling flutes and pulsating multicolored paper lanterns that swarmed every last inch of Castle Town Square—but it was one that Ryunosuke knew was well worth making: the prime spot to see the fireworks shot off at Hyrule Castle at the strike of midnight. Remote enough that the harsh lights of Castle Town becomes but a subdued hearth of a glow illuminating Hyrule Castle from below, and tall enough in elevation to avoid the chance of anything becoming obscured by the castle, it gives the clearest view of the festival’s big send off before the crowd would set to disperse—whether to be for slumber or for extended celebration elsewhere.
Ryunosuke unclips the Sheikah Slate from his belt and taps into it. “With time to spare, too!” he says with a wince as the contrast between darkness and the harsh glow off the tablet momentarily blinds him. It displays a couple minutes until midnight.
Kazuma sits beside him and chuckles. He plucks Ryunosuke’s fallen mask off the ground before removing his own from the side of his head.
The Festival of Farore: the climactic finale after the week of Farozan and, at midnight, the official first day of spring. It’s a celebration of one of the three Golden Goddesses of Antiquity, Farore, and the turning of a new leaf—shedding the dormancy of winter and embracing the rebirth and prosperity of spring. After the Goddess Hylia’s ascension as the highest-venerated deity however-many-thousands of years ago, these deities lost their prominence and, with it, their authority. It’s traditional holidays like these that have withstood the test of time—despite the inhabitants of the modern world having lost the intimate knowledge of these gods, their legacy still endures through these celebrations.
Ryunosuke puts the Slate back to sleep and sets it aside. He digs into his pocket, saying, “And look what I’ve got.” The flash of a firework illuminates the stick of hard candy he holds out, its wrapper decorated in rich greens and golds that reflect well even under the murky lighting.
“One thousand year candy?” Kazuma asks. He pauses for a moment, then his voice grows pert when he teases, “You’ve stooped so low that you’re quite literally taking candy from children now, are you?” The pale white of his smile shines in the moonlight.
“That’s not…!” Ryunosuke sputters. “Of course it’s popular to give the candy to children, but it’s always been tradition to eat one as a way to encourage good health and longevity—no matter your age!” He huffs, mouth drawing into a tight frown. He mutters, “I suppose I should’ve gotten two, though…” as he fiddles with it.
Maybe I can… The crinkle of the wrapper and the strained grunt that comes out of him when he puts all his effort into trying to break the stick are much louder than he expected in the lull between fireworks being shot off. There’s a slight snap, but the tension holds strong under his force.
“Give it here,” Kazuma says airily with an extended hand, and Ryunosuke grumbles at his failure as he passes it over. Kazuma shifts and his foot falls against Ryunosuke’s.
Ryunosuke’s brow pinches. “…Do you suppose its effect is halved if you share it with someone else?”
There’s a buzzing murmur as the crowd in Castle Town grows restless further away. They’re chanting, rhythmic and rhapsodic, but it’s difficult to make out clearly.
Kazuma hums in thought. “Well, if that’s true”—he snaps the candy stick with an ease that makes Ryunosuke groan—“that still leaves us with five hundred years, doesn’t it?”
Ryunosuke hears the fabric of Kazuma’s sleeve shift, sees the faint outline of his arm move within the shadow. The cascade of fireworks boom and crack light like multicolored sparks spilling off flint and iron. Kazuma’s head swivels towards the noise, yet Ryunosuke’s attention is stuck to what’s in front of him: the way the lights dance and draw highlights across Kazuma’s face, reflecting back in that wide-eyed awe that’s left his features gone slack, but not any less endearing; the sharp arc of the bridge of his nose bright up against the night backdrop, pointed steadily ahead with that same unyielding confidence he always carries; how the small gasp that escapes him colors that self-assuredness with a level of childlike wonder that anchors him from ascending somewhere too unreachable. Noise thunders in Ryunosuke’s ears.
The one thousand year candy broke asymmetrical; Kazuma holds out the longer piece for Ryunosuke to take.
Kazuma’s mouth quirks up into a sharp grin, then he turns back to Ryunosuke. “Incredible, isn’t it?” he asks, voice strained over the booming.
His smile is infectious. “Yes, absolutely,” Ryunosuke says with a light laugh, taking the candy from Kazuma’s hand. Finally, he focuses on the spray of light—the greens and yellows glowing in the distance even more spectacular than he remembered it being.
The candy is overwhelmingly sweet under his tongue. He hopes it won’t cause a stomach ache.