Chapter Text
Legend hates everything about the ocean during a storm.
Each little thing about it just… puts him on edge. The sounds of waves crashing on top of each other in battle for dominance, the howling currents spraying water all across, the ugly and uninviting pitch dark colour that eliminates any hint of sparkling blue in its wake as it spreads to the horizon. Any time he sees it like that his lungs begin to burn with phantom water, and his throat locks up in defiance of the air it’s breathing, shunting his mind back into a state of pure fight for survival while there is nothing to fight.
All that said.
When it isn’t storming, he keeps having to begrudgingly admit to himself that the ocean is kinda nice.
And, well, that he likes it. There is a reason he went out to sail it in the first place.
Sure, it can dredge up memories that hurt like a fucking Lynel wedging its blade into his chest. And there are days he can’t take a single step towards a beach without being haunted by blurred ghosts that escape his memories despite the tight lock he tries to keep them under. Where he fears to see another world crumble and fade away around him just because he feels sand between his toes and hears the crying of a flock of seagulls overhead.
Today, though, is not one of those days.
Today, he’s spitting out lighthearted curses in between one of those dumb chuckles he hates that his voice does without even asking permission beforehand. While he’s assaulted with water relentlessly being splashed into his face, courtesy of a Wind and Wild tag team.
“I swear to the fucking Three I will -!” he tries to complain, but the exact nature of his threat is lost as he stops to cough when another heap of water goes straight into both his mouth and nose.
He can hear the two mischief-makers laugh as he hacks and snorts out whatever got into the wrong pipe. Three damn it, the salt makes it so much worse than it has any right to be.
Screw this, maybe the ocean blows after all.
It’s an empty threat. Even were he to decide today to not be an ocean-friendly day, it’s not as if he could avoid its presence right now. He grumbles as he reaches up for his hat, which, unsurprisingly, feels too wet to keep wearing it now, so he slides it off his head and begins to wring out as much moisture as he’s able.
The midday sun stands high above the Great Sea, its surface sparkling as it reflects unrelenting rays of light, and Outset Island’s beach area has never seen this many visitors crowding it at once.
There are no threats to take care of on a peaceful island such as this, as Wind triumphantly tells them each time. Apparently the Great Sea is only truly dangerous further out, and the last time Outset Island had dealt with monsters close to its shores was when the entire ocean had trembled in the wake of destructive magic during Wind’s journey. It’s safe to say they aren’t at risk of that repeating any time soon.
So, here they are. Nine whole Heroes of Courage, playing around by the beach just by Wind’s grandma’s house. Some, like Wind and Wild, wasted no time stripping down to their swimming clothes and diving into the waves, while others, including Legend himself, chose to remain on the dry parts of the beach for now.
Well, until he was assaulted and the sand around him now soaked.
They’ve definitely still had worse first days in some eras. But it's teetering on that tightrope more with each fucking second.
“Come on, you two, leave mister grumpy no-pants alone,” he hears Warriors’ voice from his side, and tries to snap his hat over his shoulder with very dubious aim. It hits nothing but air, and the captain comes up from his other side with a grin plastered on his face a moment later. Misdirecting bastard. “Him being a bit water-shy is hilarious, but it shouldn’t make him your prime target for the entire day.”
“Excuse you? Water-shy?” Legend snorts at that before he can help himself. An entire tribe of Labrynnan Zora would like to disagree with that assessment.
“What else would you call flinching away from some splashing fun?”
“Not wanting to get my clothes wet, maybe, genius?” he says, waving his damp hat around in a very poignant way. “I’ll have you know, I could give all of you a run for your Rupees in water. I’m just choosing to leave you your dignity.”
“You keep talking, and all I’m hearing is air coming out of your hothead.”
“Strong words for someone whose shins are right next to my fists.”
“Besides, captain,” Twilight inserts himself into the conversation before it can escalate into further banter. There’s a loud splash, and when Legend turns he sees the rancher in the water, currently holding a flailing Wild’s head under. Legend isn’t surprised Wild didn’t hear his mentor coming, neither did he. “Aren’t you the one that can’t swim?”
Oh, yeah. That little tidbit. Despite the potential Legend has stopped using it in banter, it doesn’t get any good reactions.
True to form, Warriors only irritatingly puffs his chest out, hands on his hips. “I've not forgotten. I’m not the one boasting about swimming skills without putting actions behind my words.”
Legend is about to retort to that, because oh, now that was another direct attack that he won’t take sitting down. But before he can even begin, he’s interrupted.
“Oh, oh! Hey,” Wind half-yells half-breathes, and his enthusiasm immediately has the attention of everyone around him. “I have an idea!”
Granted, for a few seconds he shares it with Wild breaking free from Twilight’s grip - flinging his head back out with such force that there’s water coming Legend’s way again. Wild’s hair has gone loose under the surface, enough for the cook to have to part the veil of soaked blond strands in front of his face in order to glare at Twilight.
A slight pat on the shoulder and a smile are the only acknowledgment he gets, before Twilight gestures for Wind to continue.
“We should all have a race! A swimming race!” Wind proclaims once he’s back in focus, and meets Warriors’ eyes just after he’s done. “Landlubbers excused, of course.”
“A race? Who?”
It doesn’t take fine hearing to assign the question to Hyrule. The only surprise waiting for Legend after he turns is Sky - in only a single linen shirt, the least layers of clothes he’s ever seen the sky-bound hero wear - trailing behind the traveler, and the curious look in both of their eyes.
Another splash of water hits the side of his head, and he snaps his head back around with a snarl. Wind’s arms have come up from under the waves, outstretched to encompass the entirety of their number.
“Everybody who wants to! It’ll be cool!” he basically yells.
The clear expectation and childish excitement in Wind’s face as he declares this is the only thing that keeps the snark out of Legend’s throat. He’d never admit it out loud, fuck that noise, but he has a soft spot for when the kid gets like this. Wind tries too hard to be an adult sometimes. If he can stay a child after two entire adventures, then that childishness is worthy of being held on to for as long as possible.
At least in Legend’s curated opinion of having lost his own somewhere down the road.
Twilight and Wild exchange a quick look, and their faces all but confirm they’re both in before they give a nod. It makes Wind’s smile all the brighter.
“I’ll pass,” Sky says with a hand raised in sheepish apology. “I can swim short stretches pretty fast, but I know I won’t keep up with the rest of you towards the end.”
Next to him, Legend can see Hyrule tap his feet on the sand, then his cheek with his finger. His answer is obvious before he gives it, even without some very specific knowledge about Hyrule’s lacking swimming skills in Legend’s head.
“Yeah, sorry, me too. I’m not too great with… all that.”
“But not to worry, sailor,” Warriors’ calls out in that hideous overact of his, and Legend’s eyes roll back so far that he feels dizzy for a spell. Next thing he knows, the captain has wedged himself between Sky and Hyrule, arms around both their shoulders. "Us landlubbers are going to make a fine trio of referees. Someone’s gotta make sure there’s no cheating going on in these lawless waters. What do you say?"
Legend wrings out his hat one more time before he stuffs it between his belt and tunic, then he stems himself up from the sand. His efforts to try and pat his tunic free of gold are foiled by the grains sticking to the dampness of the cloth. Wonderful.
Oh well, they’ll get washed off soon anyhow. “I say we go grab the old man and the smithy, and then you’re all going down.”
Wind almost beams brighter than the burning island sun before he takes off, leading them all back to the house with no time to waste.
Not even ten minutes later they’re all lined up at the shore, most of them ankle-deep in the waves.
Despite the nature of the ocean the temperature is comforting, much more inviting than the piercing cold streams they’ve had to make do with for quick washes lately. It’s enough for Legend to separate it from the recollection of howling winds and ice-like cold seeping into his entire body from being pushed under.
He shivers once to shrug it off completely, before taking one more look across the contestants.
Four is first in line. They didn't have much of an ordeal coaxing the smithy into participating, the combined whirlwinds of Wind and Wild soon outweighing any hesitation. Fastened to his feet are a pair of shining blue flippers, similar to ones Legend himself has used before.
Right to the smallest hero's side stands - or rather, hops - the next tallest, Wind, in little clothing, alternating on his two feet in one of the giddiest moods Legend has ever seen the kid.
Besides Wind comes Twilight, and the rancher's appearance... certainly shows he is tackling the competition in full earnest. Twilight has changed into what looks like full ornate armour, if there weren't parts his skin is still exposed between. Countless small scales cover his arm and torso, a deep blue version of all of their fucking favourite hat shape resting on his head. There are gloves to complete the look, and a pair of flippers on his feet as well.
Wild stands next to his mentor, and Legend honestly didn’t expect to see the champion in anything but his strange blue undergarments. Instead, Wild is wearing clothes of a very similar style to Twilight's, though they look more ceremonial and form-fitting in comparison to the rancher’s more practical attire. A different pair of earrings than his usual are dangling from his ears.
As for Legend himself, the next in line? He hasn’t bothered with anything but putting his hat back on. His advantage will show once they enter the water.
But for now, he swerves his head to his other side.
The last one up is Time, whom they plucked out of a chat with Wind's grandma. Despite the old man's general serious disposition, Legend knows full fucking well a cheeky bastard hides somewhere behind that eye of his, and the spark that appeared in it when they told him of the race only confirms that.
Time has only just gotten in line, patting down an azure blue tunic of the same style as the beige one he usually wears, along with his usual boots and trousers. One could almost imagine a hat similar to Twilight's going with it, but Time's hair is free for the wind to tousle as it sees fit.
Nothing else that could count as swimming equipment is visible on the old man, and it's almost hard to believe that's all he's accrued over his many years. Legend feels the need to prod whirl up his throat and snaps his mouth shut before it can escape. With the competition about to start, it's not like he'd get a non-cryptic answer, anyway.
And he’s also kinda sorta being a hypocrite about it.
At least until he shows his own cards.
“Everybody ready?”
Warriors’ voice calls out from where he stands on the island’s small wooden pier, right alongside Sky and Hyrule, who are dangling their feet in the water. Wild handed the captain his slate earlier, fully set up for its purpose.
Multiple agreements sound off across the line, Legend’s included. Now that they’re about to start, he can’t suppress a grin anymore. Nobody has any idea what he has in store for this.
"Remember, once around the post. First one back on the beach wins. On go!" the captain exclaims, and Legend watches everyone fall into different starting stances. "Three!"
He rolls his shoulders. It's been some time, he wants to make sure his muscles are prepared.
"Two!", Sky chimes into the count.
He puts one foot behind the other.
"One!" Hyrule's voice now.
The magical spark he reaches for somewhere inside him sings with excitement.
"Go!"
All three of their referees call out at once, Warriors' practiced projection the most prominent among them. Just as they do so the slate in the captain's hands gives out a high-pitched sound. Not a moment later, a pillar of ice grows in the water a long distance from the shore.
Legend sprints into the waves towards it, alongside all the others.
He's barely in up to his waist when the growing anticipation finally spills over, unable to be contained. So he halts, spins on his heel in the sand, and calls out, “Hope none of you planned on winning!"
His arms are spread when he lets himself fall backwards, like he's awaiting a soft mattress to cushion his fall, and the feeling once he's fully under might even be greater than that.
Pulsing through his entire being he feels the magic of the mermaid suit spring out from where it usually lies dormant. Feels every single tingling sensation as his legs begin to make way for a single tail, as each of the myriad sea blue scales lay themselves over the previous one to appear. The water around him changes from a cold and uncomfortable weight pulling at his clothes into more and more of a warm welcoming embrace, and he returns that embrace with elated fervour.
Once his tail is fully formed, its magic repelling the dampness from his clothes, he takes a long and deep breath. Instead of Outset’s tropical, humid air, what fills his altered lungs is a refreshing and cool sensation he’s missed ever since his last foray into the ocean, incomparable with lakes or rivers.
Then he kicks his tail and begins to glide into deeper waters many times faster than any Hylian possibly could.
He resurfaces his head and torso after two elaborate strokes of his fin, with careful attention to look as casual as he possibly can. He’s still on his back, arms crossed above his chest while his tail remains underwater, sweeping back and forth in a steady rhythm.
The looks he finds on him are priceless, and worth every single minute of stopping his ego from bragging beforehand.
He’s made up more than the distance he fell behind from the short while the transformation takes with just the two strokes, so he’s floating a decent distance ahead of the others. Without fail all their eyes are fixated on his form, to varying degrees of surprise, fascination, and sheer incredulity. From the sailor’s bulging eyeballs, to Wild’s open mouth that soon leads to him gulping down a good amount of saltwater, to the rancher’s deadpan stare - he couldn’t have asked for better reactions.
Well, except one. One glance over to Time’s side of the row reveals that while the old man is mustering him, his expression holds… more. Recognition, perhaps? Legend can’t decipher the encryption it is sealed behind any further, but he gives a mental shrug. If any of them witnessed something similar before, it would be Time.
There’s still a raised eyebrow, so he counts it as a win.
“Hey, captain!” he calls out, tilting his head just enough to get a good look at the pier. He finds another trio of astonished heroes there, and Warriors specifically looks like he just finished fumbling to not drop Wild’s slate into the ocean. “You wanna repeat that comment about me being water-shy?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, diving back under in an arched flip while Warriors is still sputtering for his first word.
Goddesses, just being fully submerged like this fills him with elation. His body twirls into half spins and elaborate broad sways without his conscious thought, and before he knows it he’s ended up swimming all the way behind Four, and then a full lap around all of them. They’re making headway towards the pillar as a group, but he still outclasses them by a wide margin, easily keeping pace even with all his embellishments.
By the time he’s completed his second lap around their entire number, he figures they’ve all gathered just how severely doomed they are.
He’s proven right when, just before he’s about to raise his fin to splash Wild in revenge for his earlier assaults, the champion is pushed below the surface with a gurgling noise that spreads bubbles all around him. Wild’s flailing arms cloud visibility even further, but Legend catches a glimpse of another gloved hand holding onto his head, unrelenting against his struggles to resurface.
Curiosity gets the better of him, so he kicks upwards and out of the surrounding waves.
He barks out a laugh when he sees Twilight, a satisfied grin on his face, doing his best to stay steady while asserting enough force to keep Wild submerged. There's blond hair floating all around in front of the rancher, right above where he saw Wild struggle.
Twilight has mercy on his protégé after not too long, and releases his hold to let him emerge with a loud, heaving intake of air. He does, however, use the opportunity to dash past Wild and Legend, sprinting his way to safety from revenge.
“That’s cheating!” Wild yells after him once he's caught his breath. “Referees!”
Twilight just shoots back a laugh. "Hey, the hoarder's got this anyway, everything's fair game now!"
"That's not how that works! Just because we can't win doesn't mean you get to sabotage -!"
The bickering continues while Wild swims past Legend's other side, in his best attempt at catching up to his mentor - who seems to easily be keeping his distance. Their pathing is completely destroyed now, choosing a route that makes for the best chase regardless of how it strays from the direct line to the goalpost.
Legend smirks to himself when he sees the smithy, who’s been watching with that observational skill of his, begin to drift to the side and off the direct path now as well. His fin beats once to push him out of Four’s intended way, and their eyes connect for a single moment as he passes him by.
Four’s eyes are sparkling with a deep purple.
And that’s all he needs to know to lean back and get himself ready for a show. There’s a plan cooking in the smith’s mind, and Legend’s gonna do his damndest not to interfere with it.
Four’s goal becomes clear once he gets closer to where Time has reduced the tempo of his own strokes now - but approaching carefully, towards the old man’s backside. From what Legend can see, Time is fully fixated on watching Twilight and Wild’s shenanigans unfold, and Four visibly takes care to produce less noise with each foot of distance he closes.
There’s barely two strokes between them when Four’s grin widens, and he calls out a loud, “Hey, old man!”
Legend lets loose his second bout of cackling laughter in the last minutes when the smith proceeds to throw his arms around Time’s neck. He locks them into place grabbing his opposite wrists with each hand before the older hero has a chance to react, and now their smallest is holding on tight to their tallest.
“I’m sure you can handle a little extra weight, yes?” he says, expression smug as he lets the lower half of his body float above Time’s. “Don’t worry, I’ll get off before we’re back at shore.”
It’s obviously a ploy to conserve sprinting stamina, and such a Four-move that Legend can’t even pretend to be surprised by it. Whenever their smith reveals the thoughts that oftentimes stay locked behind his observational silence, they are elaborate, fully planned out. As if he refuses to speak them out loud before checking them over tenfold.
It’s why Time’s growing smile is so satisfying to see, and Legend raises an eyebrow in curiosity.
Oh, so the old man knows something he doesn’t, is that it?
“May I just confirm something with you?” Time asks, his voice calm as if he didn’t have another hero dangling from his neck. They’re floating still in the water for now, but Legend has no doubt the old man won't take this without retaliation.
Four, on the other hand, does not look nearly as convinced of that. Perhaps it’s due to him not being able to see the absolute mischief the old man is attempting to hide behind his eye. He’s relaxed as he lets the waves keep him horizontal, his reply confident.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Time makes an expression that tells Legend he’s humming before he keeps talking. “Your item enhances your diving ability, but it does not exempt you from needing to hold your breath. Am I correct?”
The words hit Four like one of those Blade Traps he and Legend have bonded over despising.
“Uh,” the smith exhales, confidence all but vanishing from his expression in less time than it takes for Legend to reach up to cover his mouth. The implication behind Time’s statement is more than obvious and he can’t fault Four for quickly unlinking his arms from his own hold.
Time, however, is faster. He brings his hands up to grasp Four’s arms before they can retreat, keeping them locked in position even against the smaller hero’s futile attempts to withdraw.
“Don’t worry,” the old man says, tone sweet as honey, and Four’s face pales in its wake, “I’ll make certain your hold won’t slip.”
“Wait, wait, wait -!”
Time does not wait.
Four's pleas are cut short when the older hero dips his head beneath the waves, dragging first Four’s torso and then the rest of the smith along with him. A couple of kicks later they're fully submerged, and Legend wastes no time to follow their example.
Below the surface, he sees the rest of the foiled plot play out. Four's cheeks are round, and blown up, likely filled with the last gasp of air he managed to inhale. Time, meanwhile, is looking forward as he dives without a care, his legs the only force lending them both speed. The air he pushes from his nose blows small bubbles in a steady rhythm, without signs of discomfort.
Legend can recognize someone breathing underwater by now.
He watches them for a bit, his tail swaying beneath him once for the passing of each second he taps onto his bicep with his finger. Four has stopped trying to escape, accepting the fate he brought onto himself in calm defeat as his hair sways around him, sometimes landing in his eyes without the ability to brush it away.
Once Legend’s tapping count rises to 30 that demeanour changes. With each tap more, the smithy’s expression suddenly grows more frantic, until at the 35th tap he balls one of his hands to a fist and knocks it against Time’s chest as best as he’s able. It’s a signal the old man understands, judging by the immediate swerve in direction that takes the pair back up to break through to the surface.
This time, Legend doesn’t follow. Instead, he finally does what they initially ran into the water for - swim towards the slate-made pillar of ice.
In all likelihood, the old man will grant his de facto prisoner ample time to catch his breath and then dive back under, only to make certain Four has learned whichever lesson he’s meant to. While he’s somewhat interested in Time’s swimming ability still, along with his remaining doubts the tunic is all he has to aid him, there’s little chance he’ll gain any insight while Four is still hanging off the man.
A practiced few strokes of his tail turn him back towards their original destination, and he makes his way to the crystalline sheen of magical ice visible from within the waves. Once there he almost dips his head back out, to make his presence known, before halting in the motion.
He could just quickly show his head.
He could also add some well-rehearsed spectacle to rub in his eventual victory with even more prominence.
Needless to say, his flair for the dramatic rears its powerful head once that thought reaches his mind. Before he knows it he has backpedaled and sunken lower, to give himself ample distance to the surface. A quick decision is made in the seconds he takes to plan out his next movements.
Then he dashes, tail pushing him upwards as fast as he can muster. He breaks out of the water with such high speed that his entire body is flung free of it for a few moments, and the air he rushes through sends chills through his limbs still pearling with droplets. The cold has barely reached him fully when gravity asserts its dominance and soon returns him to the ocean headfirst.
His fin smacks against the surface last, and he feels the impact as the water makes way.
A smile settles on his face. There. If nobody noticed that then they have different problems than incompetent referees.
He changes direction in a fluid turn, back to where he came from. While showing off feels amazing both for the others’ reaction but also his own enjoyment, there is still a race he has to win, regardless of how easily his victory will be achieved. Once he’s touched back on the beach, he’ll be able to take all the time in the world to astonish his audience.
On his way he passes by Time and Four, who the former still holds hostage as he dives. According to Four’s disheveled look the dips have happened more frequently after the first, and he briefly wonders how long the old man is going to draw out his vengeance.
Then he rushes past them, ignoring the look of betrayal he earns from Four.
The distance from the ice pillar back to shore is much faster covered without self-assigned detours lengthening it in multiples. At the speed he’s going he soon sees the beach gain ground below him, and waits for the sand to approach to about his own standing height before he makes to resurface.
His head only just breaks the water’s surface when the sailor's voice echoes out in a triumphant, "I WIN!"
Legend blinks a few times to get the remaining droplets out of his lashes and looks to his side.
Where, sure enough, Wind is standing closer to shore than he’s currently floating himself, his swimming clothes dripping onto the sand as he soaks in the sun with a huge grin plastered on his face.
Ah, crud. He forgot to keep tabs on the sailor. Kid must’ve kept on target while he wasn’t paying attention.
“Alright, you got me,” he groans, as theatrically as he can muster, and leans back to let the waves carry his back. His tail floats up until he’s sprawled out as if on a mattress. “Guess that’s what I get for messing around first, huh?”
Wind’s response comes with a laugh.
“Sure do!”
Legend puts on his usual grumpy exterior in response, but it's shallow. He can still hear the screeching and shouting voices of the rest of the race participants behind him, who he reckons are going to be a while. From the side come footsteps, first hitting a wooden underground and then padded by the beach, and he knows the referee trio is making its way to them.
His mind provides his next plan of action before he even has to ask it.
“Only one thing for me to do now, then,” he says, only lifting his head enough to gauge the distance still left between them, careful to keep his expression neutral.
Warriors is up front of the small approaching group and comes to a halt near the sailor. He can already see the pretty boy preparing for a jab at him, now that the initial shock’s worn off. Perfect.
“Not gonna lie, you make for a cute mermaid, vet. Almost a shame that tail isn’t as sparkly pink as your -”
And before the rest of the words can leave Warriors’ mouth, Legend has splashed said tail into the water hard, and a large portion of it flies straight towards the captain’s face.
Laughter erupts around the beach, Wind’s the most enthusiastic accompanied by the lower timbre of Sky’s soft chuckles and Hyrule’s half-snorts.
Legend doesn’t stay around long enough to hear all of the ensuing string of curses from the captain. He flips back under the surface of the waves, pushing further and further out, and lets the magic in him sing freely for a little while longer.