Work Text:
One of Wind’s least favorite acquisitions from his journey was the ability to see the dead. They were generally polite, at least for as long as they remained unaware that he could see them. That didn’t mean that it was any less uncomfortable to have a constant reminder of what waited for him - what waited for everyone, eventually.
Wind had seen the gamut of ghosts, the young and the old, the silently resigned and the screaming and weeping. Those were the hardest to ignore. But when the group of reincarnated heroes he’d been traveling with over the last several months added their newest member, Wind found that he hadn’t seen it all.
They were a few days into wandering around a new Hyrule, one savage and untamed and utterly fascinating to Wind. There was so much life here, a sharp contrast to the open miles of the great sea, though they shared the same untamable feeling.
Rumors of the hero of the land, conveniently named Link, had them wandering along a well-trodden dirt path through the lands.
“I wonder how old the new hero is,” Hyrule said thoughtfully, “20 rupees says he’s older than Time.”
“Older than Time?” Warriors said, clapping a hand on their unofficial leader’s back. “Impossible.” Time sighed and shook his head.
“Whatever he’s like, I’m sure he’ll fit right in,” Twilight added, ever the optimist.
“I hope he wears pants,” Wind chimed in, throwing a cheeky grin in Legend’s direction.
“Shut the fuck up,” Legend grumbled, brushing invisible dirt off his tunic. “pants are a hindrance and I will die on that hill.”
“You’ll die on any hill,” Warriors remarked, and the group broke out in scattered laughter.
Their walking eventually led them to a tent in the middle of a great field of grass. It was an unusual structure, colorful and open and inviting. The sun was a gentle warming presence, a beautiful day.
The tent was a stable, Wind learned with no small amount of glee. He was fascinated with horses, odd creatures that he’d never seen while on Outset. Their group gathered at the small counter area, and Time approached the man standing there.
“We’re looking for the hero, Link. We have an urgent quest to discuss with him, and we’ve traveled a long way to do so. The safety of Hyrule depends on it.”
He might have been laying it on a little thick, but people generally tended to have reservations about trusting eight fully-armed and armored men.
The man looked at them with the cautious and critical eye of someone who had been fooled before, someone who had something to protect. However, he must have seen something in the earnest and open expressions of their group, since after several long seconds he nodded once and disappeared into the stable.
Wind pushed to the front of their group, bouncing on his toes as anticipation built like a current. He tried not to get distracted by the beautiful dappled mare tied nearby.
“Maybe he’s also a pirate!” Wind exclaimed, visions of someone who could finally appreciate his sailing stories filling him with glee.
Warriors snorted. “Sailor, we haven’t passed more than a pond on the trek here. Somehow I highly doubt he’s a pirate.”
Wind stuck his tongue out in response, scanning the inside of the tent intently.
The man finally returned with a teenager in tow, and Time stepped forward to greet him.
“Damn, I needed those twenty rupees,” Hyrule muttered, toeing the dirt.
The teen’s honey-blonde hair fell in layered waves down to his back, and his bright cerulean eyes sparkled with mischief. Despite the friendly expression, the subtle posture and the grace in the boy’s steps spoke of battle experience, the powerful lines of muscles giving way to a thin figure alluding to survivalist skills. The left side of his body was covered in stretching and curving scars, taking up a startling amount of surface area on his skin.
But that’s not what made Wind stop in his tracks, excited greetings dying on his lips. Confusion and dread twisted his stomach into a knot. His smile slipped.
Standing behind the new hero was…another him, only slightly different. And also a ghost. That part was very important to note.
Wind stared. And stared, and stared. His mouth may have dropped open slightly. The hero’s eyes darted from Wind’s shocked expression to Time. He felt an uptick of tension in the air from his blatant rudeness, but he was so startled he couldn’t wrangle himself into acting polite. Ghosts couldn’t also be alive. He had seen thousands of them; he would know.
Time cleared his throat. “Hello, Link. My name is Time, and my group and I are travelers on a quest from the goddess. I know it might sound strange, but I’ll happily explain more if you’d be willing to speak in private. We have a proposition for you.”
The new hero shifted as Time spoke, restless energy reading through every line of his stance. His scarred knuckles idly clenched and unclenched on the bow slung across his chest.
“Alright. I’ll listen to your request,” the hero spoke, his voice quiet but sure. A crooked smile graced his face, a sharp contrast to the figure behind him.
His ghost was as still as death. The ghost’s eyes, though they were as faded as the rest of him, pierced right through to Wind’s core.
Wind tried to suppress a shudder. The gentle breeze turned cold. This was fine. Totally fine. He could deal with the ghost problem later. He wasn’t sure the newest Link was even aware that he had a semi-transparent reflection.
“-es, of course,” Time was smiling, leading the hero towards the fire near the stable. Oh. They must have still been talking while Wind was having an inner crisis.
Wind trailed after the group of heroes as they settled loosely around the fire, and he watched while they conversed. He considered. His lower lip was close to drawing blood for all he’d been chewing on it, an anxious habit his grandma never could get him to break. The situation wasn’t necessarily a problem. The ghost didn’t seem inherently malicious. But distrust and confusion were a tangled mess that sat tightly in Wind’s chest. He just didn’t understand. How could someone be a ghost but also be clearly alive? Was it dark magic?
Legend broke him out of his thought cyclone with a ruffle of his hair.
“What happened to all that excited energy, sailor? Disappointed in our newest recruit already?” He teased, though there was a harder undercurrent to his tone. An observation, a question, a warning. Wind deflated.
“No…” he muttered. “I just got excited thinking about meeting a pirate. I miss home a lot.”
It was a cheap excuse, taking advantage of his position as the youngest in the group. But at least it got Legend to back off with a slightly awkward arm pat and a knowing nod.
With the attention successfully diverted away from himself, Wind looked closer at the ghost that followed Wild, as Sky had dubbed their new member once he agreed to come along. Wild was chatting with Four and Twilight, his bright energy already infecting the group. His ghost stood behind him, at a military level of attention. Stoic where Wild was animated.
The ghost wore the same clothing as Wild, but his hair was much shorter, neater, and more restrained. His skin was smooth and nearly unblemished. Though his expression came off as blank and severe, Wind could see the sadness that pulled at the corners of his eyes, the weight that curved his shoulders slightly inwards. He hardly moved.
The thing about ghosts is that there were no precedents, no prerequisites of sour expressions or stilted movement to fulfill. Ghosts could be and act however they wanted. And ghosts rarely chose to sit still.
“Hi, I’m Link!”
Wind screeched, toppling off his stump and sending up a cloud of dust. His vision was quickly filled with the creased brows and tilted head of Wild, and a gloved hand was offered to him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Wild smiled apologetically. “I just haven’t met you yet, and I figured since we’d be traveling together for a while…”
Wind blinked, remembered how to breathe, then ignored the ghost suddenly hovering way too fucking close and said,
“Oh. Oh, hi! I’m Wind. And you didn't scare me. The ground just looked…soft. Yup. Soooo comfortable.”
He made the motions for a snow angel in the dirt, sneezed twice, and grabbed Wild’s outstretched hand to hoist himself to his feet. He let go as soon as he righted himself. The ghost stepped back.
“Ok…” Wild seemed faintly amused. “Well, I just wanted to introduce myself.” Wind thought he seemed way too friendly for a guy with the world’s most intense ghost standing over his shoulder. But to be truthful, Wind was also known for being a bit too trusting and open, so. Whatever.
The moon crept higher, and the group set up bedrolls and doled out rations. Wind found himself settled between Sky and Wild, both of whom dropped off into sleep quickly.
Wind shifted onto his back, eying the ghostly figure who was now sitting cross-legged near Wild. He really needed to figure out what the hell was going on.
The ghost swept his gaze over the camp. Diligent. Serious. Weary?
Wind did not sleep well.
——————————————————
Wind woke to the quiet stillness of night, the woods holding their breath as leaves fluttered silently to the earth. His squinting gaze cleared enough to reveal Four crouched next to him, looking expectant. Sleep hung heavy on his limbs, and he whined, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically.
“I don’t wanna get up,” he grouched, even as some important developments from the previous day returned to his memory.
The whole dead-not-dead-maybe-evil-maybe-not new member of their group. Right.
The memory was ice in his veins, and he twitched into a sitting position and kicked his blankets off.
“I’m up!” He squeaked, and Four snorted.
“Ok, Sailor. Sky has final watch, good luck getting him up.”
The smithy smirked and padded away.
Wind grabbed his sword and moved over to their designated watch post, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of the midnight air. A quick survey told him that everyone was asleep, and Wild’s ghost hadn't moved from his place sitting on the ground.
When he was sure nobody else was listening, Wind sucked in a breath and steeled his nerves.
“Psst. Ghost guy,” he whispered, cautiously shuffling closer to the ghost.
The ghost’s eyes flicked to him, disbelief touching his expression briefly before it smoothed over. Right, Wind hated this part. As soon as ghosts were aware that someone could see them, they went crazy with desperation and hunger for the world of the living.
The ghost didn’t go crazy. In fact, he still barely moved beyond a shifting of his weight and a slight creasing in his brow.
“Yes, you. Ghost Wild-“ he paused, “Link, whoever. Who are you? Why are you following Wild around?”
He pointed the Phantom sword to emphasize his point, although it probably wasn’t exactly threatening to an intangible being.
The ghost seemed to finally believe that Wind really could see him, since he rose to his feet and took a step in his direction.
“I’m talking to you!” Wind hissed, frustration coloring his words. For all the things that ghosts were good at, shutting up was not one of them.
A grimace flickered onto the ghost’s face for a fraction of a second before he raised his hands and started to sign. Wind wasn’t unfamiliar with the language, since several of the group were fluent, but he himself didn’t possess a great understanding of it.
Wincing, Wind’s anger bled out of him, and he said, “I’m sorry. I don't understand.”
Hands lowered, the ghost almost seemed frustrated. Almost, because his face was so Din-damned blank and closed-off. They stared at each other.
“Ok, ok. This is fine. Yes or no questions?” Wind prodded, running his thumb over the hilt of his sword nervously. The ghost nodded, and Wind sighed in relief.
“Are you…evil?” Wind squinted at the ghost, studying the minute facial expressions and body language. It was a childish question, mostly born from Wind’s innate dislike of ghosts, but surely it couldn’t hurt.
The ghost shook his head a little more forcefully, his free locks of hair swinging. He didn’t seem offended by the question, and Wind would almost say he looked disturbed.
“Cool, cool. Good to know,” Wind hedged, darting his eyes to the black wall of trees surrounding them to at least halfway fulfill his watch duty.
“You, uh, look a lot like Wild there,” Wind nodded at the sleeping hero nearby. “But he’s alive. And you’re dead. Obviously. You were probably already aware of that.” Great. Now he’s rambling. Get to the point, Wind!
“Is there a reason you’re following Wild around? Are you his brother or something?” That had to make more sense than what Wind was thinking.
The ghost made a gesture between himself and Wild, an equation of two things. Wind’s heart sank a little.
“You are Wild?” A pause, then the ghost nodded his head. Then he frowned and shook it slightly. Very helpful.
“So he died? Or, you died? But he came back to life somehow?”
Ghost Wild (as Wind had decided to refer to him for the time being) nodded his head once solemnly.
“Does Wild…know about you?”
The ghost practically fell over himself in an uncharacteristic display of urgency as he shook his head, making it abundantly clear that Wild didn’t know and shouldn’t know.
The ghost seemed to contemplate something, but the way his shoulders steadily inched higher told Wind that he was growing increasingly upset with this game of twenty questions. Without any warning, he got up and stalked into the woods.
Well. That was one way to end a conversation.
Wind couldn’t stop thinking about the ghost for the rest of his watch, the way his eyes were twin pools of sorrow, and the tense, coiled energy that thrummed below the stiff posture. It didn’t bode well for Wild’s past, not at all.
The moon rose higher into the sky, Wind’s watch ended, and he fell into an uneasy sleep once more.
——————————————————
The morning dawned still and quiet, the familiar sounds of the group preparing for the day filtering around their small clearing. They made quick work of their chores and then headed back onto the road.
Wind tracked Wild’s movements as he cracked a joke with Twilight, as he offered a blue flower to Hyrule with a grin. It made absolutely no sense, how the living hero in front of him seemed so full of life, of wonder, when his ghost self was so restrained and tense. Wind wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers to the questions that swirled with the implications.
Weeks passed, and Wind kept an eye on Ghost Wild. After hours of observation, Wind was starting to see through some of the cracks of the facade that the ghost put up. Sometimes his posture sagged into something softer and slumping, but he almost always snapped back to attention shortly afterwards. He seemed happiest when he followed Wild around when he was cooking, and his neutral expression couldn’t completely hide the shine in his eyes.
He pestered Sky to teach him some basic sign, a request that stemmed both from a desire to show goodwill and the practical realities of communication. After their first lesson, he’d marched right up to the ghost, surreptitiously checked for any wandering eyes, then tapped his hand to his forehead in a salute, palm out.
A brief smile flickered onto the ghost’s face as he returned the gesture, and Wind cheered even as the smile settled back into neutrality. He would make this ghost his friend whether he liked it or not.
——————————————————
The battle hit them with all the grace of a bludgeoning weapon.
Wind could barely hear his cry of determination over his pulse thundering in his ears, as he shifted his weight and thrust his sword into the lizalfos with all his might. There was a reason he relied on speed and agility rather than brute strength while fighting, and his arm muscles ached.
He hadn’t anticipated the way the monster didn’t fall immediately, a snarl twisting its lips in an imitation of a smile as it began to push itself farther onto Wind’s blade, its scaled arm brandishing a dagger that was getting dangerously close to Wind’s exposed midsection. He tried to pull his sword back, digging his heels into the soft earth, but it didn’t budge, lodged into bone or muscle. If he dropped the blade now, the monster's momentum would carry the dagger right into his gut.
Wind would deny that he was a child until he was blue in the face, but he felt like one in that moment, as his boots slowly lost their traction and the monster’s crude weapon inched closer and closer.
Wind opened his mouth to yell for help, but it caught in his throat, and he grunted at the strain of keeping the lizalfos at a distance. Everyone was probably occupied anyway, Twilight had probably already slashed through three monsters this size, Sky would be dancing across the battlefield with stunning grace, and Wind…
Wind was in trouble, and he was scared.
The dagger was now only a hair’s width from his stomach, and his breaths were coming in panicked gasps. His arms shook with exertion. A breeze slightly too cold to be natural drifted through his hair, and he yanked his attention to the ghost now standing a foot away.
Their eyes met, Wind’s wide and teary, and Ghost Wild’s narrowed and determined. The ghost reached out his hand, and multiple things happened at once. The monster slipped forward another inch, blade scraping cloth as Wind yelped and released his sword. A brilliant flash of cerulean light bloomed in the air, and the excruciating pain Wind was expecting never came. Instead, the lizalfos heaved a final breath, guttural roar dying on its lips as it crashed to one side.
Did Ghost Wild do that?
Could ghosts…do that? Wind had never met a ghost that could do anything in the corporeal world. Yet the evidence lay right in front of him, still and dead.
Blood dripped sluggishly from a cut in Wind’s arm, and he felt a chill as Ghost Wild rested a hand on (over?) it.
Wind spared a glance at the ghost, huffing for air as he struggled to pull himself together. He felt faintly dizzy.
“I just,” a hitched breath, “I just need a minute.”
He looked around and realized that in the chaos of battle he’d been separated from the group, and he couldn’t see any sign of any of the Chain. The lack of distant screams or the telltale clash of metal must mean most of the monsters had been cleared out.
Wind shook his head to try and clear the remaining terror of impending death, and turned to study Ghost Wild.
The ghost’s face was still set with grim determination, eyes scanning Wind up and down. Had he always looked that transparent? Wind’s heart clenched.
Ghost Wild looked down at himself, removed his hand, and wandered a few steps towards the trees before stopping and turning back to look at Wind. The heaviness in his movements stopped Wind in his tracks.
Sky’s brief sign lessons crashed into him with the force of a tsunami as Ghost Wild raised his hand to his chin and then made a downward sweeping motion.
Thank you.
Wind's legs ached to sprint towards the ghost, to fling himself at the problem like it was another battle to win. He was rooted in place, his limbs weighed a thousand pounds. He watched, horrified and numb, as Ghost Wild’s whispish form slowly faded into the wind, until all that remained were the swaying treetops and the faint scent of blood.
It was so quiet.
“Wind, are you ok?” Wild. Where had he come from? Shallow slashes littered his body, and he swayed slightly, but his eyes were glued to Wind.
“He protected me,” Wind croaked, feeling rushing through his legs all at once. Gravity won the battle he didn’t realize he was fighting, and his knees buckled underneath him. He finally tore his eyes away from where Ghost Wild had once stood to look at the living, breathing Wild now crouched beside him.
“How did you even find me?”
“I-“ Wild frowned. “I don’t know. I just kind of ended up over here. Who protected you, Wind? Everyone else is waiting over there.”
Wind just shook his head, a few traitorous tears trailing down his cheeks. He barely even truly knew the ghost, but as he knelt in the bloody dirt, all he could picture were sorrowful eyes and an outstretched hand.
Time blurred, and Wind found himself sitting next to Legend and Wild as Warriors treated his wounds. He leaned heavily against Wild, and he was struck by how little he actually knew him. He had been so focused on his ghost, on what Wild knew to be his past self, that he had been distracted.
Wind still didn’t know the extent of the story, had never gotten the chance to truly talk to Ghost Wild about it. He didn’t know if Wild would ever reveal anything about his past himself.
But he was here, and he was alive, and Wind knew how much his ghost wished for his happiness. Wind could do that, he thought. His thoughts drifted back to the ghost.
Wherever he was, Wind hoped he was finally at peace.