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Chapter Text

Wind wasn't a stranger to weird unexplainable shit happening to him, it was part of the Hero of Courage business— just some perks of the job.

But this was definitely number one in the top ten list of the weirdest shit that has happened to him thus far.

After all, how often do you find yourself staring at your own dead body, as if looking through someone else's eyes?

He couldn't remember exactly how it happened, his memories of the event were still a little hazy, but he knew who the culprit was. Oh, how he knew.

That damn Poe!

To be fair, he kind of deserved it, he did disobey the Captain's orders after all. They were supposed to stay in pairs, fight off the black blooded monsters together, strength in numbers and whatnot.

That damn Poe though… It kept to itself, watching the battle from the sidelines— keeping to the shadows.

It unnerved Wind, to see the thing calmly watching the fight, analyzing them, studying them. He was pretty sure he was the only one of the group who could see ghosts and spirits (and things that don't want to be seen) without the aid of an item— the fact that no one else had glanced that way at all throughout the entire fight confirmed it.

And, well, Wind wasn't planning on it, but at some point he got separated from the others— so lost to the thrill of battle and it's chaos, that he didn't notice the absence of his battle partner until he could barely see the Smithy in the distance.

Listen, he tried to stay close, OK? The black blooded Bokoblins he was fighting just kept moving around! And he wasn't about to let them escape! Plus the Smithy would be fine, Wind wasn't worried about him.

He was worried about something else.

The Sailor was absolutely planning on going back to the main fight after finishing those Bokoblins— he really meant to go back to the Smithy and keep to the Captain's plan!

But chasing the Bokoblins around got him so close to that mysterious lurking Poe, he had to check it out. He just had to, OK?

He couldn't really tell if the thing was infected or not, it looked like one of the Rancher’s Poes— the small ones carrying a lantern around, with a huge scythe in their hands. He should've turned around then, get back to the Smithy, maybe make an off hand comment about the floating lantern in the distance and let the Rancher sort his Poe out.

But, well, curiosity killed the cat, right?

Wind was grateful that the others hadn't noticed his absence yet, especially the Captain. The Poe had noticed him though, but interestingly enough it didn't attack. The Sailor could see the enhanced intelligence in it's creepy eyes then, the telltale symptom of an infected enemy. Still he didn't turn back, not even when the Poe started floating away, beckoning him to follow.

Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but satisfaction brought it back and Wind really wanted to know what this thing's deal was.

So he followed it. In hindsight, it was a terrible idea, especially since he didn't tell anyone where he was going. He just slipped away from the fight after realizing that the others were almost done with their enemies— they didn't need his help at that point.

His plan was simple. He'd follow the Poe, see what it wanted, kill it and then come back to the others. Easy, right?

But nothing was ever easy for guys named Link, though. He should know that by now.

He chased the Poe around for what felt like ages, and it wasn’t until the spirit stopped to stare him down that Wind noticed just how far away from the others he was. Of course it was a trap, what did he expect, really?

He felt the dread climb up his spine then, especially since he had no idea how to kill one of the Rancher’s Poes. Were they weak against light like the ones from his era? Did they possess people as well? 

He went into a battle stance, sword and shield at the ready, the second the Poe raised it's scythe to attack. He realized that he wouldn't be able to dodge the attack in time, at least not with how close he was. So he raised his shield and closed his eyes, expecting the blow, the telltale sound of metal against metal during battle.

But it never came.

OK, let's rephrase that. The blow did connect, just not physically.

Wind felt the scythe go through his shield, yes, felt it go through him, through his very soul . The pain was excruciating, every fiber of his being was engulfed in pain. He felt himself being ripped in two. And then he felt nothing.

It took him some time to get his bearings back. He felt weightless, empty. How was he still alive?

The moment he opened his eyes to check on the wound he noticed two things. One, he didn’t have a wound. In fact, he was completely unharmed. And two, well…he was floating.

It wasn't the floating that freaked Wind out to the point of almost hysteria, though— it was the fact that his body was see-through, transparent.

Just like a ghost.

He could feel the panic getting stronger the more he stared at his hands, at his body. The panic almost overwhelmed him then, until his eyes finally focused on the blue thing laying on the ground in front of him; and when he saw it, he felt his entire world stop .

That was him . It was him laying on the floor. That was his body, his physical body.

He closed his eyes as fast as he could, covering them with his hands for good measure— anything to block the awful sight in front him.

“I'm dead…I died…I fucking died!!” He heard himself yell, but he could barely recognize the voice as his, especially since he sounded so terrified, so broken.

It took him what felt like a decade to collect himself. He was a Hero of Courage, and strangely enough he was still here, in this plane of existence. He had enough experience dealing with spirits to know that if he had died and turned into a ghost, it meant that he hadn't moved on. It meant he still had things to do.

With that new resolve invigorating him, he decided to open his eyes once more and analyze the situation. It couldn't be that bad, right?

OK, no. It was bad, it was so bad.

His body was laying face first on the ground, which meant that… oh Gods, he totally landed face first when he died, didn't he? 

“That's so embarrassing! Why couldn't I die in a cool heroic pose!?” He felt the embarrassment overtake the dread and the panic for a second, the idea of the others finding him dead and faceplanting was just too much.

“Wait! I wonder if I can…” He trailed off as he recalled how some ghosts he had helped before had been able to interact with their surroundings— with objects.

He slowly floated down, getting as close as he could to his body. What was curious though, was that as close as he was, he couldn't see any physical wounds nor blood. What killed him, then? 

Without thinking, Wind grabbed his body's shoulder and turned himself around as hard as he could, momentarily surprised that he could still interact with his surroundings, even as a ghost.

He felt all his resolve fade away the moment he was face to face with himself. Some unconscious part inside of him was still expecting to be wrong, that maybe he hadn't died, that this body was still alive and he was just having an out of body experience.

But he could not deny it after this.

Now, Wind wasn't a stranger to death, especially after all the monsters he's killed throughout the years. He killed Ganondorf for crying out loud! But, well, seeing your own dead body was a completely different thing.

He looked…dead. There was no other way to describe it. He was pale, unnaturally so, all color drained from his skin. What distressed him the most though, was the stillness. There was no rise and fall of his chest, no breathing. Everything was just… still. He kept waiting for something to happen, for his body to suddenly gasp or just move . But it never happened.

He was dead.

What broke him in the end was seeing his own face. Wind knew what he was doing— what he would see— when he turned the body around, but by the Gods, he really wasn't prepared for the sight. 

His face was so pale, it made his closed eyes look sunken in, dark purple circles around them. His face was limp with death, and yet he didn't look peaceful or asleep as some people like to describe their dead. This was different. There was no sign of life in the body in front of him.

He felt his eyes start to burn with unshed tears. How could that be as he was a ghost and couldn't physically cry, he did not know; but he felt the tears streaming down his face all the same.

How would the others react to this? Would they mourn him? Would they take his body back to Outset Island, to his family?

Oh, Gods, his family! The mental image of his brothers breaking the news to his granny, to his sister, and to Tetra and the crew was enough to break his heart. 

And what about him? Would he move on eventually? Or would he stay in this plane of existence, in a Hyrule that wasn't his own, wandering alone for all eternity?

Oh, this was so fucked up!

He was snatched out of his crisis by the sound of creepy giggling. The Poe! He turned around as quickly as he could, looking in the direction the giggling was coming from.The Poe was still there, it had never left in the first place. And…was it laughing at him!?

“You..!” He saw red, how dare this thing laugh at his misfortune! He launched at it, never mind that he was unarmed and a ghost, rage overtaking all his thoughts. He didn't get too far though, the moment he floated too far away from his physical body he felt a pull, like an invisible rope keeping him in place, not letting him stray far from the physical body laying on the ground. He tried once again, but no matter how much force he put into it, his body would not budge. 

He nervously eyed the Poe's scythe, finally understanding what had happened. He had heard the stories, under the deck, the ones the older pirates tell when they think he's asleep. There are a lot of interpretations of Lord Death, but some say it's a hooded figure that reaps souls from people’s bodies…with a scythe. 

Is that what the Poe did? Did it separate his soul from his body? 

He glanced back down slowly, he couldn't see the invisible rope keeping him firmly attached to his physical body, but he could feel it. He could feel it, alright.

Was that why he wasn't fully dead, then? Why he hadn't moved on? Had the Poe missed, had it not fully cut the connection between body and soul, leaving him in a state between life and death?

He glanced back towards the Poe the second it stopped giggling, a malicious red glint in it's intelligent eyes. He saw it raise it's scythe once again, the sunlight catching on the blade, blinding him for a second.

It was going to finish the job, wasn't it? Sever the last remaining link to his body, killing him off for good?

He was about to dodge out of the attack's way, when he heard faint growling in the distance and the metal clanking of chains getting closer. He saw the Poe stop in it's tracks, and with an angry gesture, disappear in a cloud of black smoke.

It was gone.

Wind just floated there, alone, with his own dead body by his feet. The reality that one of his brothers was going to find him was finally setting in and it filled his heart with overwhelming dread and sorrow.

Twilight was sick and tired of always being elected to fetch the younger ones back to camp whenever they decided to wander off. Sure, he had amazing tracking skills and he could turn into a wolf and follow the kids’ scents, yes, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it, though!

It was always the same three troublemakers: the Champion, the Traveler and the Sailor. He was after the Sailor this time, who had wandered off (Ordona knows where) after the battle was done.

Speaking of battle, he was still sore, tired, dirty and sweaty after finishing off that horde of monsters. He barely got a breather before the Captain approached him, asking him to get the Sailor, apparently the Captain had seen the kid slip away right before the battle ended. That man's ability to always know where everyone was during battle was both impressive and creepy, almost supernatural at times.

Anyway, Twilight had been tracking the Sailor's steps for at least half an hour already, walking towards the general direction the kid had gone to and following the trail the kid's feet left on the ground. He could find him faster by transforming into Wolfie, yes, but the transformation hurt, it always hurt, and he was already sore— he wouldn’t transform yet, not until it was entirely necessary.

He had been yelling the Sailor's name for a while now, and he was going to do it again, until he felt his ears twitch with the familiar sound of creepy giggling.

He would recognize that sound anywhere.

That was a Poe from his era— oh, how he hated those things! He's hated them ever since he had to track down sixty of those annoying pests during his adventure; just the sight of a floating lantern in the distance was enough to ruin his day.

But, wait. Poes from his era only ever giggled like that when they would hit him— when they would hurt him. Was someone being attacked by one?

“The Sailor!”

He didn't even think about it, instinctively reaching for the collar around his neck, transforming into Wolfie in a heartbeat. Pain be damned, if his little brother was in trouble then the pain of transformation was worth it.

Plus, he could only see Poes as Wolfie, what with his enhanced wolf senses and whatnot. The only way to kill a Poe was by ripping it's soul out from it's body though, and he could only achieve that as a wolf.

He immediately tapped into his wolf senses to see the scent trail belonging to the Sailor. He had all eight scents belonging to his brothers memorized in case of emergency— the Champion's, the Traveler's and the Sailor's being the ones he was the most familiar with, what with all the times he would go out of his way to find them.

The world through Wolfie’s eyes whenever he used his enhanced senses was always hard to get used to after spending a lot of time in his hylian form. Right now, everything around him looked dimmed, the colors washed out, the environment taking a grey hue. The only thing rich with color was the Sailor's trail scent, a vibrant blue that kept going for a while until it made a sharp turn left, after some trees in the distance.

He ran as fast as he could, the Poe's creepy giggling ringing in his ears. Those things had some nasty scythes, and if the Sailor didn't have an item to see them, then he wouldn't be able to dodge it's attack at all.

Oh, how he hated those things!

He started to growl instinctively at the mere thought of them. The amount of times he was caught unawares by an invisible scythe cutting into his skin while adventuring in his hylian form was too embarrassing to count, but it was enough to make him hate the things forever.

He quickened his pace when he noticed the Sailor's scent trail coming from the same exact direction the giggling was coming from— the sight immediately triggered the familiar overwhelming protectiveness his wolf body felt whenever anyone he deemed family was in danger or in distress.

He was ready for a fight, to pounce onto the Poe, to maybe see the kid (his brother!) hurt or in bad shape, but the scene he stumbled upon was so bizarre, it made him stop right in his tracks and just stare .

What the fuck was going on?

On a first glance he could see that there was no Poe around, at least not anymore. He also saw the prone figure of the Sailor, laying on the ground, probably unconscious. But what his eyes immediately focused on was the Sailor, again, but as a ghost this time, floating sadly nearby.

Seriously, what the fuck.

Twilight couldn't really see if his brother was hurt or not from this distance, just that he was laying on the ground, unmoving. He didn't smell blood though, so that was a good thing in his book. The Poe was clearly nowhere to be found, the strange spirit using his brother's face the only other thing present. 

Was the ghost dangerous? It didn't look like it, but you can't never be too cautious!

Even though he could see spirits as a wolf, he couldn't really talk to them— spirits usually ignored him or didn't acknowledge his presence as a wolf. He couldn't outright talk to the peculiar ghost, but he could hear and see him in this form. He was going to find out what happened and what (or who) was that spirit that looked like his brother, no matter what.

Even if being Wolfie meant not being able to talk, well, he could still try.

Which is why he barked as loud as he could, to grab the spirit's attention and to test if the spirit could see him or not. Fortunately, the ghost immediately looked his way at his barking— surprise, sorrow and desperation present on the ghost’s face.

“Rancher!? Oh, thank the Gods it's you! You can see me as Wolfie, can't you? I need your help!”

The kid tried to float towards him, but stopped mid way, as if being yanked back by something. He could see then, a very faint line connecting both the ghost and his brother together. The more the ghost struggled against it, the more tense it looked and— oh, OK. That's definitely something, alright.

He really needed answers now before he lost his damn mind.

He barked again, so the ghost kid would look at him, and slowly got closer to where he was. When he noticed the kid was facing him, that sad desperate expression still on his face, he pointed with one of his paws at the unconscious kid on the ground and then at the kid floating over him. He then used the universal canine sign for not understanding something— tilting his head to one side while maintaining eye contact.

What happened to you?

“OK. First of all, you have to promise not to get mad, alright? I…uh… I kinda fucked up.”

No shit, Guppy. 

Twilight could tell— thanks to dealing with the Champion's bullshit way too many times— that he was most certainly going to get mad at whatever this was, but he nodded anyway to encourage the boy to keep talking.

“So… I think I died but not really? Like I'm dead but also not entirely? Uh, maybe I should start from the beginning.”

Wait, what. 

What do you mean you died?!  

Had he been able to speak his voice would've probably gotten embarrassingly high and his yelling would've been so loud the guys at camp would've heard it. As it currently was, it just came out as a loud bark that startled some birds in the distance.

“Oi, wait! Calm down!”

He didn't notice he had moved until he was almost on top of the Sailor, the one prone on the ground, the one he thought was unconscious. It was then that he truly analyzed him. He had the faint suspicion that something terrible had happened when he saw the way both ghost and body were connected. Maybe an out of body experience? Or spirit projection? But never actual death.

And the kid was dead, alright. He could see it now that he had gotten closer. The kid was not breathing, his chest still, unmoving.

By now the body was almost completely devoid of color. The lips white, the eyes sunken in and with dark circles under them, so prominent they almost looked like bruises. Even the hair looked washed out, opaque, with no shine or life to it at all. 

He gently nudged one of the arms with his nose, the coldness of the skin startling him. He faintly took notice of the fact that the body was still soft, limp. No rigor mortis yet, which meant this was fairly recent.

Had he been quicker in finding the Sailor maybe he could've done something to prevent this! Maybe if he had turned into Wolfie the second the Captain sought him out and immediately followed the kids's scent this wouldn't have happened!

Wait.

Oh, sweet Ordona, what was he going to tell the Captain?! And the others?! Oh, Gods, someone had to tell the kid's family, as well!

“Snap out of it!” He heard the Sailor's familiar voice right by his ear, snapping him out of his tumultuous thoughts. Oh right. The Sailor was still here, he wasn't entirely gone! He was just…a ghost.

“You're worse than the Captain at times,” the Sailor sighed, rolling his eyes in that annoying way teens do, “anyway, as I said, I'm not entirely dead! I'm still here, as you can clearly see.”

Twilight could see it, yes.

“I think I know what happened, but I don't know how to fix it! Though maybe you could help! Just… hear me out, alright?”

OK, fine. I can do that.

Twilight sat down in attention, to let the kid know that he was listening— anything to distract him from the dead body of his kid brother laying inches away from him.

“Alright, so I noticed one of the Poes from your era lurking while we were battling those black blooded monsters and it looked super suspicious—”

Since when can you see ghosts?!

“—and yes, I can see ghosts and spirits, it's a skill I got from my second adventure. I know you want to ask about it, but it's not important right now!”

Was he that transparent? He was going to ask about it later anyway, after this mess was sorted out.

“Anyway, I followed the thing— don't give me that look, Rancher! I was curious, OK? I know you would've followed it as well if you had seen it, especially since it looked infected!”

OK, fair enough. He would have, yes, but he also knew how to kill those things and the Sailor didn't. He tried to keep his expression neutral, so the kid could continue his tale, but it was hard to do, especially since one of his Poes was involved. He should've seen it and he should've dealt with it, maybe if he had then they wouldn't be in this situation right now. The thought made his blood boil with anger, why didn't he see it?

“I followed it for a while actually,” he heard the Sailor say, “it wasn't until we were far enough from you and the others that it…that it attacked me.”

Twilight didn't mean to make the kid flinch, but he couldn't control the growl that escaped him at the thought of one of his monsters attacking his family. He had to close his eyes and breathe deeply through his nose, to stop the growling and to stop scaring his little brother.

He heard the Sailor cough awkwardly a few seconds later, so he opened his eyes and gestured with his head for the kid to continue.

“OK, so… My memory is still a little fuzzy, but I do remember that that thing attacked me with that huge scythe and I also remember feeling intense pain right after. After that it's all a blur until I noticed I was a ghost and also—that,” The kid said while gesturing to himself and to the body currently laying on the ground. 

“The Poe tried attacking me again, though. Your Poes are huge assholes by the way, it kept laughing at me!” He heard the Sailor say. He had to agree, though, the giggling was so infuriating. “But then it vanished when you arrived. Coward.”

Yeah, coward. I would've ripped it apart.

“You're doing the growling thing, again.”

Oh fuck, sorry.

“Anyway, that's what's happened so far,” the Sailor approached him then, shyly floating down to his level, “please tell me you can fix this? I know my Poes are able to possess bodies, so maybe yours just…do whatever the hell this is? I think it separated my soul from my body, but not fully. Have you experienced it before?”

Twilight sighed deeply, this was going to suck. It was going to suck so bad.

At least he wouldn't be able to see the Sailor's face full of disappointment and heartbreak when he tells him that, no, his Poes don't, in fact, do this.

With another deep sigh, he prepared for the familiar pain that came with transformation and turned back into a hylian.

He wouldn't be able to see the kid, yes, but this way he could talk to him and maybe, the kid would listen.

It was going to be a long night.

The moment he saw the Rancher transform back into a hylian, Wind felt dread and terror grip his heart. 

Why would he do that?! He couldn't see or hear him as a hylian...did that mean he was done dealing with him?! Was he going to leave him here?!

His panicking was interrupted by the sound of the Rancher, now a hylian, clearing his throat. Wind slowly focused on the man and saw him staring right back at him. Could he…could he see ghosts as a hylian as well?

“I bet you're wondering if I can see you in this form and, yeah, no. I can't. I do see you as a small wisp though, if that helps.”

A small wisp? Was that all he was now? At least that was better than nothing. Would the others see him as one too?

“Can you hear me as well?” Wind found himself asking, voice small and vulnerable. He looked expectantly over at the Rancher, trying to gauge his reaction, to see if he heard him.

But there was no response. The Rancher was too engrossed, watching Wind's body on the ground, a pained expression on his face.

So he couldn't hear him, then.

Wind knew it was nonsensical to react this way, but not being heard or entirely seen broke the little composure that he had left. He wanted to be comforted! He wanted to be heard, to be reassured!

He knew he always pushed the older ones away when they went all mother hen on him, but just when he needed it the most, the universe decided to deny him the comfort.

He swallowed back the tears, blinking rapidly so they wouldn't fall. The Rancher may be unable to see or hear him, but he still hated the idea of crying in front of him.

“Oh, Guppy…”

He snapped back into reality at the mention of his nickname, the one the others used for him. It was such a dumb nickname, he hated it passionately at first— especially since he could tell the others would just call him that to tease him and get a rise out of him.

With time, it turned into a term of endearment and well, he didn’t hate it as much now, not anymore at least. 

Hearing the Rancher use it now though, it broke his heart a little bit. The sorrow in his brother's voice and also the fact that it wasn't entirely directed at him, hurt . It hurt badly.

The Rancher wasn't even looking at him while saying it, he was looking at the other him, his physical counterpart, the dead one. 

Wind saw him kneel gently in front of the body, saw him brush some hair out of his body's face, saw him gently stroke his cheek. 

He wanted that too! He wanted to feel that comfort, feel the gentleness!

He never thought he would feel jealous of himself, but here he was, angry sad ghostly tears drenching his face— a ghost who couldn't be seen or heard— while his dead body got all the attention.

“I’m so sorry. This shouldn't have happened. I–I should've gotten here sooner.” The Rancher’s voice was thick with sorrow and anger, his eyes brimming with tears.

Wind was about to protest that, but knew it would be useless. He wouldn't be heard. He knew he could interact with his surroundings, as he had done earlier, so maybe this could work. If not for the Rancher, then for himself. 

He floated slowly towards his brother, and gently put his ghostly arms around him. He felt his arms go through his brother's torso, though, and saw him shiver at the contact. 

“What the— Sailor, was that you?”

Why didn't that work!? He had moved his own body earlier, so he could touch and interact with the environment! Then why didn't it work?

“Maybe I just need to focus…”

He thought hard and put all of his energy into hugging the Rancher, and tried again. This time he felt the touch, he felt the hug . His arms didn't go through, they stayed in position, successfully hugging his brother.

He felt the Rancher shiver in his arms, a confused expression on his face.

“Are you… are you hugging me?...”

Wind just squeezed tighter, using all his energy on that last second of contact, until it ran out, and he felt and saw his arms go through the Rancher, again .

The moment he let go, he saw his brother shiver again and then he heard him sob. Wind saw him cover his face with his hands, trying in vain to stop the tears from falling.

He didn't mean to make him sad, he just wanted to comfort him…

The Sailor floated sadly near his brother and waited for him to compose himself. He would've patted him on the back, but his energy was spent, and he didn't want to abuse his ghostly powers, if you could call them that.

Wind knew that if their positions were reversed, if the Rancher had died and he had found his dead body, he would be inconsolable as well. 

So he closed his eyes and waited.

“OK, enough! Enough crying!” The Sailor was startled out of his musings by the sharp yell and determined tone of his brother. The Rancher was standing now, slapping his own face gently. He stood there, looking directly at Wind, a determined and confident look in his eyes despite the redness and puffiness of his face.

“You said it yourself, Sailor, you're not entirely dead, at least not yet,” the other started, and Wind nodded, not too sure if the Rancher would be able to see, especially since he could only perceive him as a wisp now, “I saw the connection between your body and soul as Wolfie and I reckon that's what's keeping you here!”

The Rancher pointed at him, then, his blue eyes blazing with determination, “You can't move away from your other half, I saw that as well. We just need to get your soul back into your body, somehow!”

“Yeah, but that's clearly easier said than done!”

“You asked me earlier if the Poes from my era usually did this, but they don't. I…I don't know how to fix this… but I think I know who could help.” The Rancher said nervously. He sighed deeply and continued, “Now, hear me out, I know you won't like this part, but we must get back to camp and to the others—”

No no no no no no no!!!

He wasn't ready for that, he couldn't do that! Seeing the Rancher react to his dead body was painful enough, and he could see him as Wolfie! He could see he wasn't entirely dead and still almost had a meltdown over it!

The others wouldn’t be able to see his ghost form— what they would see was the Rancher carrying Wind's dead body and they would lose their minds. 

His own current meltdown must've been big enough to manifest in his wisp form, since the Rancher was looking at him with his Big Brother Face, the one he used when he believed the Sailor (or the Champion) were being unreasonable.

“I know what you're thinking and I agree, it will suck. Nobody likes to see their… their loved ones in that state. The others will not be OK with this, but it's not like you can hide it forever, Sailor.”

“I hate it when you're right, I hate it so fucking much.”

The Rancher leaned down again, and gently—oh, so gently— he picked Wind's dead body up, bridal style.

“The Old Man… I've heard ancient stories from his era, they're told as myths where I'm from, but they could be true…” the Rancher said while adjusting his grip on the dead boy in his arms, “there's a story about a powerful song, full with magic, that heals souls. That could be our best shot.”

Wind had heard about the magic the Hero of Time used back in his era, as well. It is said he could travel through time with the power of a song, that he could change the weather with one, too. But, well, he's never heard of a healing song before.

Please, let it be true!

The Rancher started walking then and Wind tried to keep up. It was still unnerving to see himself like that, the boy in the Rancher’s arms seemed like a stranger to him, now. It took his brother a lot of maneuvering to keep the boy's head from lolling around too much, and the sight of it made Wind feel sick to his stomach. 

Even from afar there was no hiding the truth. The others would notice something was wrong the second they walked back into camp. It was going to be a disaster.

“By the way,” the Rancher said, voice full of apprehension, “the one who sent me to find you was the Captain.”

“For fuck's sake!”

The Rancher laughed then, it came out as a sad broken thing, “I can't hear you, but I bet you cursed, just now.” 

“Yeah, no shit.”

Oh, this was going to suck! The Captain was going to bee-line towards them the second the Rancher set foot in camp.

Wind took a deep breath and released it in a long deep sigh. He heard the Rancher do the same next to him, and then, he heard both their voices saying together:

“He's going to kill me, for real, after this.”

“He's going to kill you, for real, after this.”

Chapter Text

It had been an hour since they finished the battle and set up camp, and yet, no matter how hard he tried, Warriors just couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. 

Nothing seemed wrong, though, at least not yet, but his body just couldn't relax. Not even the Champion giving everyone some snacks helped improve his mood.

He just knew there was a migraine waiting for him, he could feel the faint pressure behind his eyes, the warning sign that misery and pain was on the horizon.

And it was all thanks to a certain little brother’s fault.

It had been a long day for everyone, and yet, the entire camp was on edge— the two missing members of their team making their absence felt. Warriors had no idea why they were taking so long, but what he did know was that he was going to ground the Sailor until he was the Old Man’s age.

“They should've been back by now, right?” The Smithy asked, as if reading his thoughts. The short hero had been especially worried about the Sailor, they had been battle partners after all— the Old Man had paired them up during the last battle and, honestly, it was a solid choice.

The Sailor was sneaky and unpredictable, but he always seemed to mellow out a little bit around the Smithy— Warriors supposed it had something to do with the Smithy's calm demeanor and maturity, it balanced out the Sailor's erratic energy most of the time.

The keywords here being ‘most of the time’, though.

Anyway, the Captain knew the Smithy felt responsible for the kid slipping away during the fight, especially since he kept beating himself over not noticing the other leave, but Warriors knew better. This wasn't the Smithy's fault, no, not at all. 

The Sailor thought he was being sneaky, but Warriors saw him leave, he saw him deliberately trying to stay unnoticed. He knew the kid well enough to know that something must've caught his attention— he probably thought he could check it out and come back before anyone noticed his absence.

He didn’t count with Warriors’ knack for knowing where everyone was in battle, though, and as such the Captain knew the second he left. 

But the kid didn't come back, not right away, which is why he asked the Rancher for assistance; the man always found the troublemakers when they wandered too far from the group.

However, they should've been back by now, yes. He was about to agree with the Smithy, when another voice cut him off.

“Wait, how long has it been?” the annoyed voice of the Veteran replied, but before anyone could answer, he spoke again, “hey, Old Man? How long has it been?” 

“One hour, five minutes and twenty seconds since the Rancher left to fetch the Sailor, but an hour and thirty seconds since we set up camp.” The tired voice of their leader immediately replied back, his uncanny ability to know the exact time, down to the seconds, was always appreciated during these cases. He was sitting on the ground near the campfire next to Sky, eyes closed—  and at a first glance, he seemed calm and unbothered, but Warriors knew him since he was a boy and could recognize the tension in his shoulders miles away.

He was worried, as well.

“You heard the man,” the Veteran said while gesturing with his hands, “it's been too fucking long, they should've been back ages ago.” The Veteran’s tone of voice was full of annoyance and disdain, and yet, his body language betrayed him (as it always did) when it came to his real feelings. He had been working on mending some of his clothes that got torn and sliced during battle, but Warriors could see from where he was that the usually precise and pristine stitches were now sloppy and done half-heartedly— the Veteran’s constant glancing around the camp towards the direction the Rancher and the Sailor left was a clear indicator that he was distracted, probably worried sick.

The Captain usually loved poking fun at that side of the prickly hero, teasing him over how transparent his posturing was, that no matter how many insults he threw their way and his rude attitude, he would never be able to hide the truth: that he cared. That he cared a lot.

This time, however, the urge to tease his fellow hero was just not present. He was too distracted for that, his stomach was twisted into a knot, the worry and anxiety painful and constantly demanding attention.

Oh, he was going to ground the kid for all eternity after this.

“What if they were attacked and got seriously injured? Maybe they were outnumbered—” Sky blurted out suddenly, startling the Old Man sitting next to him. Sky had the bad habit of just saying his thoughts out loud, with no filter applied, even if it was uncalled for. If glares could kill, then the Sky Knight would've been dead; the Veteran’s venomous glare was meaner than usual and completely directed his way. It was enough to shut the Skyloftian up, though, whatever else he meant to say died in his throat, too intimidated by the Veteran’s menacing vibes.

Actually, Warriors had been thinking the exact same thing as Sky, he just didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire, and thus stayed silent, sending a mental apology to his fellow knight for not openly agreeing with him. From the faces around camp, he suspected everyone else had the same thought as their Skyloftian— even the Vet himself, but he was reacting with denial, something he was prone to do whenever the idea of someone from the group being badly hurt came up.

The Veteran opened his mouth to reply— probably to yell at Sky for saying out loud what they were all thinking but were too afraid to say— but was interrupted by the confident voice of the Champion.

“If you guys want, I can grab my equipment and go get them—”

The Champion was barely able to get the phrase out when half the camp shut him down with a loud “NO!”— He then immediately turned back to his cooking, offended and defeated, while the Traveler patted his back with a sympathetic smile.

The Champion meant well, Warriors knew, but he had the bad habit of wandering around and getting lost, and that was the last thing they needed right now. He was already worried sick for two members of their group, adding a third one was just too much for his poor nerves.

“Wait a minute…” The Smithy said, while walking and then sitting down next to the Champion and the Traveler, “you can still help, actually. Can’t you communicate with the Sailor with that fancy item of yours?”

Of course! Why hadn’t they thought about that before?! The Champion and the Sailor could talk to each other— no matter the distance— thanks to the Slate and the Pirate’s Charm being able to connect, somehow.

Warriors could see the realization in everyone’s eyes, the general anxiety around the camp diminishing a little bit. He didn’t even think about it before he heard himself speak, the words coming out of his mouth the second the Smithy finished talking:

“Call him!”

Twilight almost dropped the Sailor the second the Champion’s loud, muffled and worried voice came out of the kid’s bag. He was able to catch himself and tighten his grip just in time, preventing the dead kid from slipping out of his arms. 

Thank Ordona for his quick reflexes!

Still, he had to take a second to compose himself from the fright, his poor heart still recovering from the sudden interruption. He knew fully well that the Sailor owned a magic charm used for communication at sea, a charm that —somehow— could also connect with the Champion’s fancy Slate.

Why was he calling, why now?! Oh, Gods, this was a nightmare! What should he do? If he answered he’d have to hide the body from view, lest the Champion see and freak out. His face was still puffy and his eyes were still red from crying, he wouldn’t be able to conceal that something was wrong. If he didn’t answer, though, everyone would assume the worst and probably come out and get them.

He almost dropped the kid, again , when he saw the word ‘NO’ being written by an invisible hand by his feet on the ground’s soil. His poor heart was going to give out at this point.

Right, the Ghost Sailor. Now that the initial fright had passed he could see the kid's ghostly wisp form floating anxiously near the word. That was pretty smart from the kid’s part, actually, writing on the ground to communicate… Their hylian was different, yes, but simple words like ‘yes’ and ‘no’ were easy to recognize.

“What do you mean by that, Guppy? No to answering?” He whispered, afraid that even if the Sailor’s charm was currently inside his bag, the Champion would still be able to hear them.

He saw a line suddenly appear under the word ‘NO’, underlying it and giving it emphasis, the wisp moving around it erratically. Right, the kid didn’t want anyone to know, but not answering would be even worse.

Twilight’s plan was simple, but it depended on him having control over the reveal. The idea was to leave the dead body near some trees as close to camp as possible, maybe even cover it a little bit with his wolf pelt. Then he’d call both the Old Man and the Captain, explain the entire thing to them privately, show them the dead body and convince them that the Sailor wasn’t fully dead yet, he would probably need the Ghost Sailor’s help to show them that he was still around as a spirit— and then, break the news to everyone else with their support.

It was still going to suck though, don’t get him wrong. In an ideal world, he’d only fetch the Old Man when entering camp, but he knew the Captain was going to immediately run to him and shower him with questions and wouldn't take no for an answer.

He also knew the Captain was going to lose his shit, no matter what, and would probably have a small meltdown over the Sailor’s ‘death’. 

Those two were awfully close, after all.

Anyway, he needed the control over the situation. If they didn’t answer the Champion— and the others decided to come get them— the control would completely vanish. The mental image of suddenly stumbling onto the younger heroes with their dead kid brother in his arms was enough to make him tear up again.

“I’m going to answer. Sorry, Sailor.”

Right before he laid the dead Sailor on the ground, he saw two exclamation points being added to the word ‘NO’ on the soil, the wisp floating angrily next to it. In another circumstance, the display would've made him laugh. Right now though, it just made his heart hurt.

With a deep breath and shaky hands, he grabbed the kid’s bag and put himself in such an angle that it would cover the dead body from view. He fetched the Pirate’s Charm, then, and answered.

“Hello? Champ is that you?”

He tried— oh how he tried— to sound casual, but he was a Hero of Courage, not an actor! If his voice wobbled a little bit and sounded very insecure, well, at least he could say he gave it his all.

“Uh…Rancher? Are you OK?” And of course the Champion could tell something was wrong right away, “wait, are you with the Sailor? We're all worried sick about you two!”

Twilight could hear, then, the voices of all of their brothers overlapping over each other, speaking at the same time, all of it coming from the Pirate’s Charm.

It was a little overwhelming to say the least. Twilight couldn't help but nervously glance at their kid brother's dead body, then. Yeah, he was with the Sailor, alright.

“Yeah, I found him,” he started, he might as well go on with his plan now, “Champ, I need you to pass the Slate to the Old Man, please. I need to talk to him, privately.”

There was a pause, and then the Champion whispered, “did something happen to the kid? How bad is it?”

Twilight could hear the worry in his brother's voice, he also noticed the others had stopped talking, probably listening in on their conversation.

He didn't blame them, honestly, there was no way to hide that something had happened to the kid at that point— had the Sailor been OK he would've definitely been the one to answer, if not then he'd be chiming in and joining in the conversation. The kid not answering and staying silent was absolutely something out of the ordinary.

They were all probably worried sick by now, putting two and two together. Twilight knew that his nervous energy, the fact that he answered alone, that there was no Sailor in sight and his demands to speak with the Old Man was making it very clear that something was up, something bad. 

He might as well prepare them all for what was coming.

“It's bad. It's really bad,” he said, voice shaky, all pretenses gone, “just…please let me talk to the Old Man.”

Age and experience had taught him that whenever he felt a pit in his stomach, it most definitely meant that something was going to go horribly wrong.

The moment the Captain told Time that he had sent the Rancher to fetch the Sailor he immediately felt intense anxiety grip his heart, the reaction was unexpected and completely irrational; the Rancher always brought the kids back and the Sailor was prone to wandering off, so why the anxiety now?

He supposed that he would find out soon enough.

The camp was completely silent, dread exuding from everyone in waves, when the Champion wordlessly and nervously stood up to hand the Slate over to Time as per the Rancher’s request.

Time himself stood up then, he had heard the Rancher’s petition for a private talk and he would do just that, despite the knot that was constricting his stomach at the idea. The moment he stood and started walking out of earshot, he accidentally locked eyes with the Captain.

Oh.

That was a mistake.

Time knew that face, he knew it extremely well, it was his ‘I'm pretending everything is OK but I'm actually freaking out on the inside’ face. He used to see it on the Captain all the time during the war, both himself and the Sailor used to make fun of him for it all the time— they both agreed that no matter how serious the Captain tried to look, they could always tell he was an anxious mess on the inside.

Oh, right. The Sailor .

It was still weird, being older than both the Sailor and the Captain now— what was even weirder though, was giving orders to the Captain instead of the other way around. He'd have to do that now, though, as the man's worried face and nervous stance meant he was seconds away from coming his way— but the Rancher had requested a private talk, and Time was going to honor that.

He gestured to the Captain to stay in place, trying to convey through his one eye that he should stay with the others in the camp. The man didn't look pleased at all, but he followed Time's request, his face outwardly showing his anxiety now.

The small walk it took for Time to be sufficiently away from the others to answer the Rancher felt insufferably long, but Time knew it objectively only took him half a minute to do. 

“I'm here.”

The Champion's Slate was a complicated piece of equipment for Time, technology and magic combined that didn't entirely make sense to him— like how he could clearly see the Rancher in the item's screen, despite the Rancher not being able to see him from his end.

Speaking of the Rancher, he looked like a mess— he had definitely been crying recently— which made the worry and anxiety overwhelm him even more at the sight.

Just, what had happened?

“OK, before I start, can you see this?” The Rancher’s nervous voice interrupted his thoughts; he was pointing at something (nothing) vaguely near his shoulder.

“No, whatever it is, I can't see it.”

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, cause the boy's face fell, the frustration and despair evident in his body language.

“What about an item that can see…that can see— Gods, this is hard,” Time saw him grab his hair in frustration, clearly struggling over how to explain whatever had happened to him. Time just patiently waited for him to continue, the kid was already stressed, he wouldn't press him to talk until he was ready.

“Do you have an item that can see ghosts?” he finally blurted out, shocking the Old Man, the question catching him completely by surprise.

“I do, yes,” he immediately replied, he always carried the Lens of Truth with him, in his pouch, “were you attacked by one? Are you and the Sailor OK?”

The Rancher completely ignored his questions, and continued, “do you have the item with you, here?” 

Time usually prided himself over his patience, but the Rancher’s secrecy over whatever was going on was starting to fry his nerves. Also, where was the Sailor? The fact that he hadn’t joined in the call was worrying, outright distressing.

He must’ve taken too long to reply, since he saw the Rancher anxiously massage his temple as he spoke, “just, please bear with me, Pops. I know you have questions, but I need to know if you have that item here, first.” 

“Yes, I have it with me,” he finally replied, trying very hard to keep his tone flat and calm, trying not to show his own frustration and anxiety even further. The Old Man always carried his magic pouch with him, the one with his masks, lest they fall in the wrong hands. Even during camp, when the others usually shed themselves of their bags and pouches, Time himself never did.

The Rancher sighed deeply in relief at that and pointed at the same place he had pointed at before, vaguely near his shoulder, “can you look here with it, then, please?”

And Time did. 

It took him a little bit of maneuvering, though, grabbing the Slate with one hand and using the Lens of Truth with the other. He awkwardly positioned the Lens of Truth on the Slate's screen, near where the Rancher was pointing. 

It took him a second to process what the hell he was looking at.

That was…the Sailor? As a ghost? 

What the fuck.

“What the fuck,” he heard himself say out loud, as he saw the Sailor disappear and then reappear as he moved the Lens of Truth away from the Slate's screen and then onto the screen again.

“I know, right?” The Rancher chuckled, humorlessly. He looked so tired, so exhausted, it broke Time’s heart a little bit to see him this way. The Sailor… the ghost Sailor, he looked both hopeful and distressed, moving his arms around erratically at the screen.

He almost dropped both the Slate and the Lens of Truth when he heard the voice of the ghost Sailor speak, though. He had been so engrossed staring at his ghostly appearance that the kid’s desperate loud voice startled him, badly.

“Can you see me?! Oh, and can you hear me?! Please say you can hear me!”

Oh, Goddesses, this was going to be a long night.

“Yes, Sailor, I can,” he said while closing his one eye, he had an inkling of an idea of what could've happened and all of the scenarios he was coming up with were filling him with overwhelming dread. The implications of a ghost Sailor weren't lost on him, at all.

By the Golden Three, did the kid get himself killed?! He had seen the souls of the recently deceased with the Lens of Truth before. Goddesses, please don't let it be that.

“You can hear him?” The tired voice of the Rancher snapped him out of his thoughts. He opened his eye and could see both of them, on the Slate’s screen, looking at him with something akin to hope on their faces. It was clear that whatever happened had gotten out of their hands and both kids were counting on him to solve whatever this was.

Right. If they wanted him to help, he needed answers, now.

His initial thought was that the Sailor was dead, but maybe it was something else, not actual death. He had seen enough to believe almost anything by now, the Sailor’s new ghost form could be the result of a myriad of things.

“Yes, I can hear him—,” he started with a sigh and then, using his ‘leader voice’ so they knew he was being serious, he continued “—and before you say anything else, I need you two to explain what is going on. Right now.”

The camp had remained relatively silent after the Old Man's departure, the occasional theory over what could've happened to the Sailor that prompted the Rancher to request a private talk being the only thing discussed between them.

Warriors wasn't part of it though, he currently stood just outside camp, facing the direction the Old Man had left, away from the campfire. He knew the others had noticed his anxiousness, he had tried to hide it, but the longer the Old Man took, the worse his anxiety got.

Why hadn’t the Sailor answered the Champion’s call himself? The kid always had the charm with him during the war, he always answered. The only reason why he wouldn’t that Warriors could think of was if he were too hurt to do so, maybe even unconscious. Which would explain the Rancher’s nervous tone, but not the request for a private talk.

Up to now they’ve all gotten hurt before, it was just something that happened when you’re a hero by trade, so an unconscious Sailor wouldn’t be cause for secrecy, unless it was worse than that.

The thought alone was enough to make his insides twist with dread. Just, what had happened?

“I bet he got his hands on a cursed item,” he heard the Traveler say behind him, probably to either the Champion or the Smithy, “like, maybe he got turned into something nasty!”

Oh, they were still at it with the theories. Not that he would blame them, he had his own ones, but they were much too bleak to share with the younger heroes. That and he’d rather not think about them right now.

“I can see that happening,” Sky chuckled somewhere near Warriors’ left, “maybe he touched the Rancher’s item and turned into a cute little animal. What do you think, Vet?”

There was the sound of footsteps and then a loud smack, Warriors looked back just in time to see Sky yelp and rub his head, while the Veteran walked back to his spot— grumbling the entire time—where he was still trying to (unsuccessfully) mend his clothes.

“I think you talk too much, Sky!” replied the Veteran once he was seated, grabbing his ruined clothes and sewing kit before continuing, “plus there's no guarantee that he'd turn into a cute animal, it could be as the Traveler says.”

“Oh, I'm just saying ‘cause you're clearly experienced in that area—” This time, the Vet practically launched himself at Sky, face red, with either embarrassment or anger, Warriors didn’t know, but the display was enough to make the other heroes laugh.

Warriors silently chuckled along with the others, the tension from earlier momentarily gone. Maybe he was overreacting, maybe it was just as the others said, maybe the Sailor was fine and just in an unfortunate situation. Maybe the kid himself would make fun of him for worrying so much later, for always thinking about the worse case scenario. Maybe everything would be OK.

He would still ground the kid forever though, that hadn’t changed.

His positive thinking was short-lived when he saw the Old Man slowly walking back to camp, his posture stiff and his face serious, pale. Warriors knew then, that something was truly terribly wrong. He didn’t wait for the Old Man to reach the camp before he started walking towards him— to meet him halfway. When he was close enough, he stopped him by grabbing his arm, forcing him to lock eyes with him.

“What happened? What did he tell you? Where are they? ”

The Old Man sighed, deep and exhausted, his one eye looking right at him, “I need you to come with me, I’ll answer all your questions then.” Warriors nodded, afraid he wouldn’t be able to talk thanks to the painful knot in his throat.

Oh, this was bad bad, then.

The Old Man broke free of his hold and kept walking back to camp, probably to say something to the others, who had gotten eerily silent at the sight of their leader, all laughter gone. Warriors just stayed rooted to his spot, every single terrible awful thing that could’ve gone wrong rotating inside his mind.

The Old Man walked towards the Champion first, who stood up when he saw the older hero approach him, “Thank you for lending it to me, it was very useful,” the Old Man began, giving the Slate back to the Champion, “keep it close, we’ll contact you through the Sailor’s Charm—”

“Will you just tell us what the fuck is going on?!”

The Veteran basically exploded then, the frustration, anxiety and stress everyone was feeling being expressed by his one single yell. The Old Man just frowned then, posture straight, his one eye flashing with emotion.

“I will, but not yet,” the Old Man started, tone steady. Before the Veteran or any of the others could interrupt, he continued, “something happened to the Sailor, yes, but we might be able to fix it. The Rancher and I have an idea that could work. I’d rather try that out first, before you see him.”

So something did happen to the Sailor then. Warriors frowned, he did see the logic in the Rancher’s and the Old Man’s thinking, if they could fix it on their own, then sparing the others the trouble before involving them sounded efficiently sound. The Old Man had asked him to come with him, so maybe they thought he could help with whatever it was. The Captain could empathize with the others, though, being left out always hurt, even if it was for your own good.

“We can take it,” the quiet voice of the Champion suddenly said, still standing next to the Old Man, his expression determined while he clutched the Slate to his chest, “whatever it is that happened, we can take it. You don’t have to protect us.”

From where he was standing, Warriors could see that the other young heroes agreed with the Champion, their faces determined and postures proud. The Captain sighed in unison with the Old Man.

“I know and I agree; you can take it,” their leader said, voice gentle, “but it doesn’t mean you should. We’ve all seen enough. If I can spare you from it, then by the Goddesses, I’ll shoulder whatever burden so you don’t have to.”

They all fell silent after that, the sound of burning wood from the campfire the only thing that could be heard. To say the Captain was proud was an understatement, though. Who would’ve thought that that little kid from the war, his Little Sprite, would grow up into such an admirable and respectable man?

Said man looked around the camp then, and locked eyes with the Sky Knight, who was already standing in attention, probably an unconscious gesture from his training days in the Knight Academy. His face was serious and attentive, completely different from some moments ago, when he was teasing and playing around with the Veteran.

“Sky, you’re in charge while we deal with…this.” Their leader said, his voice left no room for objections, “the Captain is coming with me. We’ll be back shortly if all goes well.”

Sky slightly bowed in reply, a gesture Warriors recognized as the equivalent to his era’s soldier salute. The Old Man nodded, satisfied, and then turned around and started walking back towards Warriors, motioning him to follow.

Warriors took in a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever it was that had happened, which— if going by the Old Man’s reaction to spare the younger heroes from it— must’ve been bad.

When they were almost out of earshot, the voice of the Traveler was loud enough for them to hear a muffled: “My bet that he turned into something nasty still goes, by the way.”

Wind didn't like the plan, he didn't like it at all.

The Old Man's and the Rancher’s idea to fix this whole mess? Sure, he was up to it. It sounded simple enough.

Their idea to involve the Captain, though? Yeah, no. 

After they told the Old Man everything, they decided to meet near the camp, but far enough from it that the others wouldn’t see them.

The older heroes were determined not to let the others see Wind's dead body, at least not yet, not until absolutely necessary, and Wind had to agree with them about that.

He knew he would be scarred for life if he were to ever see one of his older brothers dead— even if they came back to life via a fairy or magic— so the Old Man's logic to spare the others the sight of his dead body was solid.

The Old Man himself had reacted well, or as well as one could when seeing a dead body, but Wind suspected it was only because he saw it through the Champion's Slate. He’d have to see it in person soon enough, and Wind dreaded to see that reaction.

He dreaded seeing the Captain's reaction even more, though, which is why he absolutely hated this plan.

They didn't even need the Captain present to do whatever the Old Man and the Rancher wanted to do!

Apparently the Old Man had confirmed that he did, in fact, know a magic healing song, confirming the rumors from the Rancher’s era. Apparently he had used this song a couple of times on people and spirits, and it had helped them move on.

Wind didn't want to move on, though! The Old Man was convinced that that wouldn't happen, since Wind was still attached to his physical body, and that hadn’t been the case for those other spirits he'd helped.

It was still a gamble though, and Wind was willing to take the risk.

Anyway, they didn't need the Captain for that, the Old Man could just play the Song of Healing– as he called it— with just the Rancher present, the Captain was an unnecessary addition.

He had tried to tell the Old Man that, as he could hear him through that item of his, but he insisted the Captain be involved. Something about him being second in command so he should know; but Wind thought it was just excuses from the Old Man's part.

After all, Wind knew him as ‘Little Sprite’ during the War of Eras, and back then, the Old Man would look for the Captain's support and approval all the time. Wind was convinced that even though he was older now— a literal old man— he hadn't grown out of that habit and still sought out the Captain's advice on everything. Nevermind that he was the leader and way older, now.

Anyway.

The Captain being involved and on his way was why Wind was currently floating nervously near the Rancher, waiting for both the Old Man and the Captain to appear, and dreading every second of it.

The Rancher was just as nervous, if the way he was fiddling with his clothes was any indication of it. He had placed Wind's dead body on the ground, slightly propped up on a tree, trying (and failing) to make him look less dead.

Now that it was only him and the Rancher left, he missed being able to talk or interact with someone else. The chat he had with the Old Man through his Pirate Charm thanks to the older hero's item had been amazing, it almost made him forget his unfortunate situation.

Still, desperate for some interaction and as a way to distract the Rancher as well, he floated down to ground level and drew an angry face with his finger. Drawing and writing simple words on the ground had helped them communicate a little, now that the Rancher couldn't hear him in his hylian form. Wind had also noticed that it amused his brother whenever he did, so he decided to keep doing it, to alleviate the sad atmosphere, even if it was by just a little.

As he suspected, the little drawing made his brother chuckle. Wind counted it as a small win, even if the Rancher sounded sad and exhausted.

“I know you don't like this, but it's necessary,” the Rancher sighed, “I just hope the Captain will listen and not completely freak out.”

Wind couldn't agree more. It was the main reason why he didn't like the Captain's involvement. The Sailor had known the Captain during the man's younger years, back in the war, and even if he did a good job hiding it now, he was a ball of anxiety and nerves, most of the time. It was mostly why Proxy helped him talk during the war, after all, he usually got so anxious it’d be hard for him to speak at times.

Just how the Veteran hid his (very obvious) softer gentle side with a snarky rude attitude, the Captain hid his anxiety with confidence and pride. 

But Wind knew better.

His older brother was absolutely going to freak out. It was a fact. Wind doubted he would listen to whatever explanation the Rancher and the Old Man had prepared, he’d immediately freak out the second he'd set eyes on the dead Sailor.

And boy, did he freak out!

Wind knew this would happen, he was absolutely certain of it, but that didn't mean he was prepared for it, though.

The entire scene played in slow-motion. Wind saw the Old Man and the Captain just as they were about to arrive where they were. They had been talking about something, Wind would bet the Old Man was trying to explain the situation— he even had his ghost-seeing item in his hands!

But it was all in vain, just as Wind had predicted, it literally only took one glance towards the Rancher and towards the small dead body next to him for the Captain's face to turn completely white.

They both stopped in their tracks, actually, the Old Man had also paled considerably at the sight. He hadn't seen the Sailor's dead body in person yet, and just as Wind thought, the sight really unsettled him, despite seeing the body beforehand through the Slate.

The Rancher had tried to say something then, but it fell on deaf ears, as the Captain ran the distance between them in seconds, right towards the dead Sailor.

It was pretty obvious the man was running on pure instinct, since there was absolutely no denying that the Sailor was dead at that point, but still the Captain's field medicine training kicked in the second he was close to the dead kid.

He had immediately kneeled down next to the small body, and looked for a pulse, on the kid's wrists and on his pulse point in his neck. Wind could tell that had he been alive, the pressure would've been strong enough to leave a bruise.

The Captain's desperate attempts to find some sign of life in the small body didn't stop there, he put a finger under the nose, probably looking for some kind of breath and even put one of his ears on the kid's chest, looking for something, anything.

But there was nothing.

The Rancher had kneeled next to the Captain then, a hesitant hand hovering near the other hero's shoulder. Wind saw him open his mouth, to maybe say something and snap the Captain out of his frenzy, but he was interrupted before he could.

“H-how long…?” The Captain's quiet, desperate voice broke the silence, and Wind's heart hurt just listening to it. He was clearly asking the Rancher about it, even if his eyes were set on Wind's dead face.

“What…?” 

“How long has it been since he…died?” The Sailor could see that asking that took the Captain a great effort, his voice was strained and his face looked pained.

It took the Rancher a second to reply, probably trying to find a suitable answer to give the other. By the time he spoke, the Old Man had caught up to them, his one eye brimming with unshed tears at the display in front of him.

“An hour and a half? Maybe two hours? I-I'm not entirely sure.”

The Captain frowned then, he was still grasping the Sailor's limp wrist in one of his hands.

“That cannot be. Rigor mortis starts to set in after two hours postmortem. If it's been two hours then he shouldn't still be limp.” 

“Following the Rancher’s timeline of events, I believe it's been close to two hours and twenty minutes since our Sailor…” The Old Man couldn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. It was easy to fill in the blanks.

Wind knew about rigor mortis, he had heard about it plenty of times from the Captain himself during the war, whenever he had tried to teach them important things. The face was the first thing to get stiff, the expression you died with stuck that way, at least for a while.

But the Captain was right, Wind's face was still limp, rigor mortis nowhere to be found. Why was that? Was it because of his… dead-not-dead state?

The Captain didn't stop there, though, as he hesitantly opened one of the kid's eyes— the lack of rigor mortis letting him do it with ease— and gasped loudly at the sight. The Old Man, the Rancher and the Sailor himself (in his ghostly form) all leaned in close to see what the other had seen.

“I can't explain this…” The Captain began, voice trembling, “it only takes a few minutes postmortem for the eyes to cloud over and turn opaque, but… his eyes haven't yet.” 

Wind could see that, even if it was very unnerving and weird to see his own eye that way. His eye was fixed and unseeing, yes, but the color was still vibrant and very much alive, the familiar greenish-blue hadn’t faded yet.

Well, they did say the eyes were the windows to the soul, and Wind's soul was still here!

The Rancher must’ve thought the same thing, as he turned to address the Old Man beside him, “do you reckon this is ‘cause his soul is still here? Maybe the rigor mortis thing is also ‘cause he's still connected to his body.”

The Old Man looked thoughtful, and was about to reply, when a loud sob interrupted them.

“S-so you were telling me the truth…” The Captain sobbed, his breath hitching, “W-when I saw him I thought… I-I thought you had lied… b-but then, this means he isn't truly…?” 

The hope in the Captain's eyes was overwhelming— Wind felt his own ghostly breath hitch at the sight. 

“No, he isn't truly gone,” the Old Man said, the Rancher nodding next to him, “his spirit still lingers. I can show him to you with my—”

But whatever he was going to say was cut off by the Captain's sudden loud crying, the confirmation that there was still hope to bring the Sailor back enough to make all his piled up stress, worry, dread and anxiety flow out in waves.

Wind had never seen him cry this way before, not even during the war, and the sight alone was enough to make him cry as well. The fact that the Captain was crying because of him made his already aching heart hurt even more.

The Sailor had experienced the excruciating pain of getting his soul separated from his body (and don't get him wrong, it did hurt a lot) but he'd take that pain again, any time, than feel the pain he was feeling now— the pain of seeing his older brother bawl at his expense.

The Captain had gently taken Wind's dead body in his arms at some point, hugging him tight as he wept. The other heroes present had given him some space, Wind could see that the Rancher had started crying again, probably overwhelmed by the scene— the Old Man was gently comforting him, though, his own eye tearing up as well.

Wind guessed that they'd use the Old Man's item after the Captain had calmed down, seeing Wind as a ghost would probably push him even more over the edge in this state.

So the Sailor floated close to his brother, he didn’t know if he could hug him as he did the Rancher earlier, but he hoped the Captain could at least feel his presence this way. He almost regretted it though, since as close as he was he could listen in on his brother's weeping. From between the broken sobs and incoherent words, he did recognize the word ‘Guppy’ a couple of times, and that was enough to make him cry even harder than he was before.

Oh, he was the worst brother ever!

He suddenly heard a gasp in between his brother's loud crying, the sound coming from behind them. Wind turned around then, his own tears made it hard to see, true, but not to the point that he couldn't recognize… every single one of his brothers… standing there… watching the Captain weep over his dead body.

Fuck.

They had probably heard the Captain's crying, as loud as it was, all the way over from the campsite!

Wind could see the Old Man and the Rancher jump to meet them, probably to try and diffuse the situation a little, but there was no way to salvage this.

Wind closed his eyes then, in preparation to the shit show that would follow, especially when he heard the very loud and very distressed voice of the Veteran yell:

“ Is he fucking dead?!”