Skull Kid doesn't like to acknowledge his earliest memories. He remembers wet and cold and hurtHurtHURT, and every attempt at recollection has him fast-forwarding to the laughter and warmth of his friends the Giants.

It all comes crashing down when he watches four lumbering figures turn their backs on him. The laughter-suffused memories crack and splinter with every step the Giants take toward the land's four corners, away from him and the game of hide-and-seek they haven't finished.

He seeks and seeks but they've hidden themselves well, and won't come out no matter how much he begs or pleads or cries.

So the imp throws himself into his games. He rolls boulders down the mountain where he and the Giants whiled away afternoons gazing up at the clouds. He unmoors the boats at the coast where they built sand castles and frolicked in the water. He sets loose hordes of insects on the swamp where the Giants taught him to fish with unending patience. He defaces the graves in the canyon where they took turns wishing on shooting stars for rare butterfly sightings and unexpected snowfalls.

Why is it that he never thought to wish for the important things?

Why is it that, in the end, it isn't his cries that draw the Giants out of their slumber, but the people's?

"You have caused the people pain. Oh, imp, leave these four worlds! Otherwise, we shall tear you apart!"

The words ring in his ears and burrow deep into his heart. As he's sucked up by a ferocious vortex, the final shards of all the laughter and warmth he knows, the memories he's painstakingly clung to all this time, crumble apart.

He has nothing.

When he wakes, the imp finds himself in a forest with a haunting melody wafting through the trees. Peeking through a canopy, he sees a band of children that look just like him hooting and cavorting to the music. Barely able to contain his glee, he drops down with an exuberant greeting on his lips.

To his dismay, the children scatter. He picks up a flute they dropped on the ground and blows into it tentatively. Perhaps if he can learn the song, they'll want to come back and play.

They don't, but he keeps practicing anyway.

He overhears the song's name from a group of forest children clad in green, just before he approaches and they back away with frightened looks. "What are you doing out here?" they demand, fingers pointing, eyes flashing. "You don't belong here."

"Why?" he can't help but ask.

A sneer. "Isn't it obvious? You don't have a face. You're one of them. The cursed children."

"I'm not," he says quickly. "I hate my face." In haste, he lifts the flute to his lips. "Look, I can play Saria's Song!"

They eye his mouth and shudder as he purses it to play the opening notes. "Just go back and leave us alone."

Later, in the murky depths of the woods where sunlight rarely intrudes, the imp studies his reflection in a grimy puddle. He's never thought much about his face before, but this encounter has taught him plenty.

From time to time he sees other beings in the woods, large ones with deep voices and sharp eyes. They're called grown-ups. He doesn't like them. They remind him of the people who turned his friends against him.

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But it's okay, because the grown-ups don't stick around for long. The forest makes sure of that.

The first time the imp sees him, he runs. The boy smells different from the other Skull Kids and forest children. At least he's not a grown-up. The imp hides and watches as blue eyes blink in confusion at the empty clearing, fairy tittering overhead.

The boy returns again and again. The imp vanishes each time, spirits rising with every sighting. He comes to think of these near encounters as a game, and hopes the fairy kid does, too. When the boy strides into the clearing gripping an ocarina, he knows the other has figured out how to win.

"You know Saria's Song!" The imp beams. "We should be friends!" Somehow, he knows the boy won't reject him like the others. With a happy little twirl, he hops down from the stump.

The boy nods, sunlight illuminating his hair like a heavenly coronation. Skull Kid feels full to bursting.

He learns his new friend's name is Link, and that he's on a quest to save the land. "Wow! You must be really tough!" the imp exclaims, and receives a smile in return.

At Skull Kid's request, Link regales him with stories from his adventures. After each one, the imp counters with a story of his own, and if the boy knows that Skull Kid's are more fluff than fact, he doesn't let on.

Link teaches him the rest of Saria's Song, and the imp isn't even too disappointed when the other Skull Kids still won't come out to play.

One day, Link arrives with a different face, delighting the imp to no end. "Quite an unusual mask you have there," he says slyly. Did his friend think he wouldn't recognize him? At the boy's sheepish shrug, he grins. "Hee hee! I like it!"

The imp peers closer. The mask is made of bone and just the right amount of scary. It'll make a good face, he thinks. "It may make me look a little bit tougher," he says, and cocks his head at Link eagerly. "Hey, why don't you give it to me?"

The days pass in blissful harmony. If there's an ache in his chest when they fish in limpid pools or stargaze on clear nights, he pretends otherwise. When they play hide-and-seek amidst the sunny clearings and shaded groves, he does his best to forget, focusing instead on his friend's bright smile and warm laugh.

His new memories are all bathed in light, and slowly, slowly, the long-buried pain in his chest dims.

Then, one day, his friend doesn't come. Skull Kid takes the opportunity to fill his hat and two woven baskets with berries, imagining the pleasant surprise on the boy's face come the morrow.

But Link doesn't visit the next day, either. The berries shrivel and fester in the baskets, untouched.

On the third day, he decides to head out and search for his friend, never mind the forest children's objections. Just as he makes up his mind, he feels a violent tug, and suddenly he's falling and can't breathe and it's just like the other time only now it's down instead of up and Link, he has to find Link, but the light overhead is shrinking, shrinking, until there's only darkness.

Within the first few seconds of waking, he knows something is wrong. The mask is gone.

The mask is gone, and he's back in the land the Giants chose over him, and he has nothing.

The only thought in his mind is why, but he knows the answer. He's been sent away again. Link is angry, probably, or bored, or busy saving the land, his own land, and he got tired of Skull Kid so he sent him away.

It's already happened before, so why does it hurt so much this time?

The imp shoves memories of golden hair and blue eyes deep, deep down, until they cut on the jagged edges of lumbering backs and sand castles and leaveLeaveLEAVEW E S H A L L T E A R Y O U A P A R T.

At this point, he's nothing more than a brimming repository of fractured memories, so why does he feel so empty?

He loses track of time after that, doesn't register much of anything, in fact, until there comes a moment hours, days, perhaps months after his fall where he realizes he's drenched to the bone.

Inside a musty log, he's wet and cold and hurting, and it feels as though he's come full circle.

"Hey! You!"

The imp startles. Two glowing lights bob above his head. Fairies, he realizes. He's reminded of— No. He's not reminded of anything.

"Yeah, we're talking to you! Are you stuck out here, too?" continues the white fairy.

He nods.

"We figured. So, hey, you look kinda warm, and our wings are soaking wet. You know how bad damp wings are for a fairy? Anyway, you get where I'm going with this, right? Let us rest on you, just for a bit."

The purple one wobbles in the air and asks in a poorly concealed whisper, "You sure about this, Sis?"

"Yeah, I'm sure!" the white fairy whispers back, just as carelessly. "Come on, he doesn't look dangerous at all! And anyway, I'll protect you." Louder, she presses, "So, how about it?"

"Okay," the imp says at last, once he remembers how to form words. It's been a long time since he's spoken to anyone.

The fairies zip forward and alight on his knees. "Thanks," the purple one murmurs. "How'd you get caught out here alone? Were you playing hide-and-seek with your friends or something?"

The imp flinches as though the words are a blow. "No. We— We're fighting, and they left me by myself."

"That's too bad," the white fairy chimes in. "We'll be your friends, if you want. I'm Tatl, and that's my brother Tael."

Skull Kid feels faint hope flutter against his insides. He wants to jump for joy or maybe burst into song, but happiness has bitten him twice already and he's still feeling the sharp stab of its teeth. He gives a tentative smile instead.

On balmy days, rather than watch the clouds, the fairies perform aerial tricks as the imp somersaults along on the ground. After fashioning a new flute, he plays Indigo-Go tunes, but never Saria's Song. When Tael suggests hide-and-seek, he instead instigates a game of surprising the fairy amidst the tall grass.

He etches a picture of the three of them on the tree by the old log, because his memories shatter too easily and maybe carving them out will make them last.

He avoids Clock Town for the most part, but sometimes he sneaks into the northern part of town and uses the playground when he's sure nobody's around. One day, he hears a pitiful mewling cry, and looks up to see a cat stuck in the tree by the slide. He lets it down, only to hear a voice call, "Hold on!"

The imp whirls around to see a kid looking straight at him.

The boy continues, "That was a shining display of justice right there! We could use someone like you in the Bombers!"

Jim, as the child is called, gives him a notebook and a directive to spread justice. He ignores both, but finds himself visiting Clock Town more often. The book accompanies him everywhere despite remaining blank.

One morning, the imp is playing with Tatl and Tael in the forest when he spies a strange man in the distance. He hides instantly, hackles rising at this unwelcome grown-up. But the masks adorning the man's pack stop him short. He suddenly recalls the smooth glide of bone under his fingertips, the twinkle in a pair of blue eyes as they watch him fit something over his face. Before he knows it, the man is down on the ground and he's rummaging through the pack looking for—

His fingers brush against something hard and pointy, and he tugs it out, thinking of the bony horns that made him look tougher. It's a different mask after all, but it's sharp and scary and there's something about those unblinking yellow eyes that mesmerizes him.

It'll make a good face, he thinks as he puts it on.

Yes, he hears, once the mask is secure. It will.

From then on, Skull Kid is never alone. The voice is dark and rich and seeps into his deepest corners, coating everything in a thick, calming aura. He doesn't feel empty anymore. In fact, he's never had more fun. The voice has great ideas for jokes and pranks, and even though Tatl and Tael look hesitant at some of them, the fairies always end up agreeing.

The townspeople are harder to impress. They never liked his jokes, but the voice always convinces him that the next one is sure to put a smile on everyone's face, will definitely earn him laughs instead of glares. Even when it doesn't, the voice assures him that they're just wet blankets with no sense of humor and if that old man was napping in front of the laundry pool, well, he was just asking to be pushed in, wasn't he?

When he's kicked out of the Bombers, he feels a twinge of—something, but the voice is there to make it all better. That doesn't matter, it rumbles, so sure and steady. They didn't really want to be friends. They were just using you to fill that stupid notebook. You should throw it away. It urges him to rip the book to shreds, but at the last minute he decides to leave it behind in a corner of the Clock Tower. The spike of displeasure from the voice passes before he can dwell on it.

He's having so much fun that it's hard to feel anything else. Sensations come to him as if through a filter, muffled and faraway. The voice is a blanket that keeps him warm and dry and safe, even if it does get a bit heavy at times. There's nothing for him to worry about, nothing he has to do at all, because the voice will take care of it.

One day, when they're in the forest again, the imp spots a figure on horseback. This will be fun, the voice assures. Just watch. So he sinks back into the haze as the voice directs Tatl and Tael to do something—he can't quite catch what—and they fly off.

As the rider tumbles onto the ground, a flash of recognition courses through him, and he interrupts the voice's musings. "Huh? This guy..."

The voice seems annoyed, and he tries to tell it about the fairy child. It's silent as memories of blue eyes and golden hair are dredged up, finally uttering, "...Well, that shouldn't be a problem."

The voice shuffles over to the boy—Link, his name is Link—and rummages around. Skull Kid's hands still over the ocarina, and he recalls their first meeting, the sweet notes of Saria's Song and that outstretched hand. He holds it up reverently.

The fairies start to argue, but the imp doesn't hear them as he blows cautiously. The silvery burst of sound is achingly familiar, and he does it again.

At the fairies' alarm, he turns to see Link on his feet and looking at him pointedly. With a yelp, he yanks the ocarina behind his back and grins sheepishly. The boy smirks in amusement. Questions clamor on the tip of his tongue, and for the first time since stealing the mask, he feels a tumult of emotions bombard his mind.

The voice pulls him under, dodging Link's arms and leaping onto the horse. Skull Kid wonders if it's the same one his friend told him about, the one that loved carrots. He asks why they're running. We're playing tag, the voice answers, as sure and steady as ever. Don't worry, we'll make sure he has plenty of fun.

The horse doesn't seem to like him. It keeps trying to throw him off. The voice growls, and mutters something about making it disappear. "It probably just wants a carrot," the imp reasons, and sends it off in the direction of Romani Ranch. He'll tell Link once he catches up, and then they can go to the farm together. There are so many things he wants to do together.

"Skull Kid, what's going on?" Tael asks anxiously.

He tries to answer, but can't make a sound. It's probably because he's too excited at meeting his friend again. It's fine. He'll explain it all later.

Finally, Link arrives. The voice explains about the horse, but at the horror on the boy's face, the imp realizes his friend has misunderstood. Before he can clear things up, he feels an oppressive, suffocating aura, only to realize it's coming from himself.

It's his turn to be horrified as he looks over to see a Deku Scrub standing where the fairy kid was only moments earlier.

We've made him more like you, the voice coaxes. Don't you remember how he abandoned you before? He won't be able to leave you now. You'll be friends forever. Isn't that what you want?

Skull Kid falters at that, because yes, he wants that more than anything. But Link is staring in terror at his own reflection, and the imp realizes with stark certainty that it's meaningless if his friend isn't happy.

No, he replies. Not like this. Turn him back, now!

For the first time, the voice laughs. It's an ugly sound. No.

Confused, Skull Kid struggles against the haze blanketing his mind. He can't move his body, can't call out, can't do more than watch helplessly as the voice shuts Link and Tatl away.

Tael calls for his sister and bombards the imp with questions, but the voice only laughs and speeds up, suddenly moving with purpose. Where are you going? Skull Kid asks, panicked.

I'm going to put an end to those giant friends of yours, it cackles. And after that, the world.

He screams for it to stop, to release Link and Tatl, to give him back his body, but his cries do nothing more than irritate the voice. SILENCE, it thunders, and pushes him down into inky depths.

He bumps up against the fragments of all his ruined memories, all the things he's seen and done, all the friends he's ever lost. Everything he was, at one point or another. It's a pitiful assortment. Maybe that's why the voice was able to take him so easily.

The knowledge comes as a blow. It's all his fault. Link and Tatl are trapped. The voice is going to destroy the Giants and the land they swore to protect. Even Link's home, the one he worked so hard to save, is in danger.

He never wanted this. If he never picked up the mask, never sat inside the musty log, never played that song with Link, never met the Giants—

Skull Kid has always known that everything he touches cracks and breaks. His greatest fault has been reaching out anyway.

It's because he's not strong enough to endure the wet and cold and hurt on his own. He thought the Skull Mask would make him tougher, but now he knows that nothing can remedy his weak will and feeble heart.

Come, little fool, let me show you something interesting.

The voice pulls him up roughly, and once more he can see and hear and feel, even if his body won't respond.

Look, the voice sneers. That pathetic boy is trying so hard. How must it feel, for all one's efforts to be in vain? I'm sure you know the feeling quite well. After all, what happened to all your hard-won friends in the end?

The words swell and crash in Skull Kid's mind, but the sight of Link facing him defiantly is like a beacon in the storm. Tatl's there, too. They escaped, and they found him, and they're not going down without a fight.

Neither is he.

The imp begins struggling with all his might, trying desperately to regain control of his limbs. Just then, something hits him in midair, and the voice's control falters for just a moment. It's just enough for him to loosen his grip on the ocarina.

The voice rages and hisses and he's about to be sent spiraling down into the void again when suddenly there's a wrenching pull, the same sensation as when he fell from the forest back to this land. It stops just as quickly, and then he's looking at Link, only the boy isn't a Deku Scrub anymore, and the tune coming from the ocarina is something he's heard only once before.

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The approaching calls from the Giants clash with the words in his head and it's too much. He won't be mad when they come to tear him apart this time, but he doesn't want to see the loathing in their eyes when they do, so he lets the darkness take him, overcome with gratitude that Link found a way.

He doesn't expect to wake up, but he does. The first thing he notices is that he can move again, and the second is that Link is on the ground next to him, motionless.

"He's fine, just resting," Tatl says before he can take a step closer. "He pulled off something really impressive earlier."

He directs his gaze to the Giants standing tall above the town. They've been waiting for him to wake up. They want to talk to him, and the knowledge warms his heart. Maybe not everything he touches ends up broken after all.

"You guys..." His voice trembles, but it's his voice, and not the mask's. "You hadn't forgotten about me?"

"No."

He lowers his head, helpless against the tears. "You still thought of me as a friend?"

The Giants answer in unison, and he realizes the words are the same ones they were calling earlier. "We will always be friends."

Even as they walk away, Skull Kid feels the fragments in his chest realign and stitch themselves together. He's whole at last. When the tears stop, he senses familiar eyes on him, and turns. "Did you... Did you save me?"

Link's smile is all the answer he needs.

The imp looks back. "I thought they didn't want to be friends with me... But... They hadn't forgotten about me..."

The boy nods firmly.

"Friends are a nice thing to have," Skull Kid concludes with a giggle, feeling lighter than he has in ages. Turning back to Link, it occurs to him that his friend might not recognize him after all this time. He has no face, after all.

The thought would have upset him once, but he's tougher now. Tipping his head mischievously, he asks, "Could you be my friend, too?" Without waiting for a reply, he shuffles up to Link. "Eh-hee-hee... You have the same smell as the fairy kid who taught me that song in the woods," he says, hoping to jog the boy's memory.

He needn't have worried. Blue eyes twinkle at him, and it's as though they're right back in the sunlit forest of that land above, playing Saria's Song.