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gliphyartfan · 9 days ago

Note

Scenario where we stray a little to close and die in battle. Everyone is grieving, only for Time to grab all his boys and play the Ocarina of Time, bringing them back in time to like that morning well before the battle. Everyone is gushing and relived out of their mind all while we’re super confused and panicking because “why does everyone look like they went through HELL?! You all looked fine a second ago why are half of you injured?!?!”

I tried to make this a hint funny but quite frankly, those boys wouldn’t make even the slightest effort to smile after such a tragedy.

Anywho~ let’s begin!

——-

The battle had been dragging on too long.

They were too close to camp, too close to where (y/n) was supposed to be safe. The usual chaos of fighting monsters had turned into something coordinated, attacks coming in waves, blocking off paths, forcing them to keep moving rather than pushing back.

Something wasn’t right.

Then they heard it.

A scream.

(Y/n)’s scream.

Wild and Legend ran.

They didn’t hesitate, didn’t call out to the others, didn’t stop to think. Their feet moved before their minds could catch up, hearts slamming against their ribs like they were already too late.

(Y/n) should be safe. They should be fine. That scream shouldn’t have happened.

Please be safe.

Please be okay.

Please—

A monstrous roar cut through the air, deep and furious, shaking the ground beneath them.

The camp was in sight.

It was wrecked.

Torn fabric from their tents flapped uselessly in the wind, supplies were scattered and broken, blood smeared the dirt like something had been dragged—

And standing in the middle of it all was a Lynel.

(How. HOW did they not notice such a beast?! to think it got so CLOSE to camp!!)

Huge. Breathing heavy. Sword dripping red.

Wild and Legend didn’t need to search for (y/n).

They were there.

Collapsed. Motionless.

Blood pooling beneath them.

Their hair was covering most of their face, but from here—Wild could still see their eyes.

Wide. Unmoving.

No.

No, no, no, NO—

Wild’s body reacted before his mind did, a sound ripping from his throat, something raw and enraged and desperate. He charged, drawing his weapons as he moved, his body running on instinct, on muscle memory, on rage.

Lynels. He knew how to kill them. He knew their movements, their patterns, their weaknesses.

And he was going to tear this one apart.

Legend barely noticed.

He was already on his knees beside (y/n), hands shaking as he scrambled for whatever potions he had left, pouring them onto their wounds, pressing down with trembling fingers.

Too much blood.

Too deep.

Too still.

“(Y/n)?” His voice cracked. “Hey, hey, come on. Stay with me.” His hands pressed harder, his magic flickering between his fingers as he tried, tried, tried to heal them. “You’re fine. You’re gonna be fine. You have to be fine.”

No response.

Their chest wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t losing them.

He wasn’t.

“Please, please, don’t do this.” he whispered, his fingers gripping too tight, as if he could physically keep them here.

As if he could stop them from slipping away.

Wild was still fighting, hacking, killing. The Lynel barely had time to react before he was tearing it apart, his strikes vocious, his movements fueled by something beyond anger.

But Legend didn’t look up.

His entire world had narrowed down to (y/n).

And those unseeing eyes.

——-

——

The battlefield behind them was eerily quiet, the last of the monsters taken care of. But there was no relief. No victory. Just a sick feeling crawling up their spines, twisting their stomachs.

They quickly followed the path Wild and Legend had taken, weapons still drawn, bodies tense. They felt something was wrong before they even saw it.

Then they reached the camp.

And the world stopped.

Wild was still hunched over his blade, tbe Lynel collapsing from the final stroke through it’s head, Wild’s breath ragged, blood, his or its, no one knew, dripping from his blade.

His eyes were wild, teeth bared, the rage that had driven him still bubbling beneath the surface. But he wasn’t moving.

Legend was crouched beside (y/n, arms clutching them close, his expression twisted with desperation.

And then there was (y/n).

Still. Too still.

The blood around them was so much.

No one spoke. The air was thick with a suffocating silence, as if even breathing too loud would make this, this awful, sickening nightmare, more real.

Hyrule was the first to move.

A single step. Then another.

Then he was running.

He dropped to his knees beside them, his hands already glowing with the familiar light of his Life Spell, fingers trembling as he pressed his hands to their skin.

The magic flared.

Then sputtered.

Didn’t take.

His breath hitched.

“No-” His voice cracked as he pushed more, pleading with the magic, with them. ‘Nonononono…”

The others started moving, drawn in like gravity itself was pulling them toward the only one that mattered to them. Slowly, cautiously, terrified.

One by one, they gathered around, forming a tight circle, as if their presence alone could keep you here.

No one said anything at first. There was nothing to say.

Twilight hovered close, hands clenching and unclenching, like he was barely holding himself together. Sky was shaking, his entire body rigid, fists curled so tight they were white. Warriors swallowed thickly, his usual composure gone, replaced with something raw and unreadable.

Wind’s lips were pressed together, his expression tight, angry in the way one locke in denial and grief often is. Four’s fingers twitched at his sid, his eyes locked onto (y/n)’s like looking away would make this worse.

Time was silent, his face unreadable but his hands shaking at his sides.

Someone, maybe Sky, let out a quiet, broken sound.

Then Warriors knelt beside (y/n), one hand gripping their shoulder, his voice hoarse. “Hey. Hey, come on.”

Like he was expecting them to just open their eyes and tell everyone this was all some cruel joke.

Like they’d wake up if he just held on tight enough.

Legend had stopped speaking altogether, his shoulders shaking as he bit down on his lip so hard it nearly bled.

Hyrule’s magic flared again, fighting to work, his breathing harsh.

“Please…” he whispered.

The others stayed so still, the air around them too fragile, as if any wrong move would send it all shattering into something worse.

They couldn’t lose them.

They…they simply couldn’t.

—-

Time stood frozen, staring down at their still body. The world around him felt distant, the sounds muffled, like he was underwater, like he was drowning.

His breath came fast, shallow, the rush of blood roaring in his ears, drowning out everything else. His heart slammed against his ribs, a relentless pounding that rattled through his chest.

It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in so long.

Like he was a child again.

Like he was powerless.

He had spent his entire life fighting against fate, defying it, clawing his way through trials no one should have to endure.

He had walked through time itself, lived two lifetimes, shouldered the burden of Hyrule’s expectations. He had worn a mask that turned him into something beyond mortal, something that should have made him strong enough to protect what mattered.

And then that Sorcerersss had dragged him and many others into that war, he had fought alongside other legends, both old and new, had witnessed firsthand what it meant to lead, to command, to win.

He had survived all of it.

And yet here he was, standing over their body, feeling helpless.

His hands clenched at his sides, trembling.

No.

No, this wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

They were supposed to be safe.

He had watched over them, he had promised.

His vision blurred, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

It wasn’t supposed to be them.

He should have been faster.

Should have been stronger.

Should have-

He took a step forward, his foot landing in the pool of blood. Their blood.

His stomach twisted violently, bile rising in his throat.

He couldn’t do this again.

Not another person. Not them.

The others had gathered around now, their grief tangible, suffocating. Hyrule was desperately pushing his magic into them, his hands glowing too bright, his breaths too fast.

Time felt himself sway slightly, like the weight of it all was pressing down on him, crushing him.

A quiet voice, from somewhere deep inside, from the child he had buried long ago, whispered, Not again. Not again. Not again.

And yet—

They weren’t moving.

The world felt too small, like it was closing in, like his ribs were collapsing in on themselves.

He could hear Sky muttering something under his breath, Warriors pressing down harder on their shoulder, like he could just shake them back awake.

Wild was still kneeling beside the Lynel’s corpse, his body hunched over, his entire frame shaking with something between rage and despair.

And Legend was curled over them, his head bowed, his shoulders trembling.

Time forced himself to breathe, forcing back the panic, the nausea.

He couldn’t afford to break down.

Not now.

Not here.

Because if he let himself slip, if he let himself grieve, it would be admitting that they were already gone.

Time barely noticed when his hands started to shake.

His breathing was uneven, shallow, like he couldn’t get enough air. His heart hammered in his chest, erratic and painful. His mind was slipping, too many thoughts at once, too many emotions clashing and screaming inside him.

His fingers curled, nails digging into his palms, his hands trembling so violently that he could barely control them. He needed to do something, needed to act, needed to fix this-

His hand brushed against something within one of his pouches.

Smooth. Familiar.

His breath hitched. His fingers twitched, hesitant, before reaching in and slowly pulling it free.

He held it with both hands, staring down at it like it was something foreign, something he didn’t recognize. But he did. Of course, he did. (Was this disassociation?)

This was his.

This was a power he desperately needed.

His vision blurred, he wasn’t sure if it was from grief, from desperation, from the pressure crushing down on him. But his mind… his mind was erratic, scattered, racing in a dozen different directions.

To undo.

To change.

His breath came faster, harsher.

What if he could undo this?

His grip tightened on the ocarina, knuckles going white, his entire body trembling.

He could fix this.

He could make it right.

He could bring them back.

His heartbeat pounded so loud it drowned out everything else.

He lifted the ocarina to his lips, fingers poised, ready to play.

Only for a hand to grab his arm and yank it away.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Twilight’s voice was raw, edged with something frantic and desperate. His grip on Time’s arm was bruising, fingers digging in as though physically stopping him would undo the sheer horror of the moment.

Time barely turned his head, the motion sluggish, his mind still caught in a haze of grief and erratic thoughts.

Twilight’s chest heaved, his breath ragged, eyes wild. “You-You can’t just-” He choked, his voice catching like the words physically fought him to leave his throat.

Warriors was there too, stepping in, his face tense, unreadablex but there was a sharpness in his gaze as he stared down at the instrument in Time’s hands.

Twilight’s grip on Time tightened. “You don’t—You don’t get to play that song! You don’t get to—” He cut himself off, his breath hitching as he visibly struggled to get his words under control. “That song—it means—”

He stopped again, shaking his head furiously, his grip still locked on Time like he was terrified of letting go.

Time exhaled, slow, measured. “This is the only way..”

His voice was steady, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t the leader of the Chain speaking, it was something worn. Something dangerously close to the child he had long since buried.

But Twilight barely heard him.

“You don’t get to just—You don’t get to—!”

His hands curled into fists, his breathing was shallow, his body was locked so tight he looked like he was on the verge of breaking into pieces.

He couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t say the word.

Because if he said it, it would be real.

And he didn’t want it to be real.

Twilight was unraveling. He felt himself unraveling, his body too tight, too tense, like if he let go for even a second, he’d completely fall apart. His breath was coming in short, panicked bursts, his throat tight with something raw and unbearable. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, gripping Time’s tunic like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

“You—” Twilight’s voice cracked, his words slipping out, desperate and broken. “You can’t just—You don’t get to do this, Time!”

Time remained still. His expression unreadable. His hands, tight around the ocarina, steady in a way Twilight’s weren’t.

“Twilight.”

It was calm. Too calm. Like he was trying to soothe a cornered animal.

It only made Twilight’s breathing worse.

“No! Don’t—don’t say my name like that! Like you—like you know something I don’t! Like you’ve already decided—” His chest was heaving, his grip tightening before loosening again, his body betraying him, caught between fight and collapse. “You think you can just play that song and..and—” His voice broke, “They’re NOT gone, Time, you can’t just act like their soul needs peace! T…They’re just—” He shook his head, “they aren’t gone, they..they need help! ..w-we need to find a healer! A fairy! S-someone who can…can...”

A beat of silence.

Then—

Time exhaled and looked properly at Twilight.

And Twilight froze.

His whole body locked up, something primal inside of him screaming run but keeping him rooted in place at the same time.

He’d seen that gaze before. Seen it on him, when the moon was full and seemingly burning and the weight of something much older, much more terrifying, resting against his shoulders. White. Cold. Empty.

Not human.

Twilight’s breath hitched. His grip on Time’s arm vanished, hands falling away, shaking as he stumbled a step back.

Time’s voice didn’t waver.

“I will fix this.”

The words settled over them like a death sentence.

Final. Unwavering.

Twilight couldn’t move. He felt paralyzed, his whole body fighting between panic and something almost instinctual, something telling him that this wasn’t his mentor, this wasn’t the man he knew.

The air was thick with something they couldn’t name.

Then—

“How can you fix THIS?”

Legend.

His voice was sharp but quiet, words slow, careful, as if afraid of the answer.

His bloodied hands were still on (y/n), fingers curled, knuckles white. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, his face pale, his body unmoving.

And he was staring at Time.

So were the others now. Minus Wild who remained on his knees where he was.

Time’s grip on the ocarina never wavered.

He was looking ahead, staring at something they couldn’t see.

Then—

“What are you about to do?” Legend asked.

“..The Song of Time.”

The words left Warrior’s lips before he could even think to stop them.

And then everyone was looking at him now, including Wild.

every single one of them turned to Time in a split second.

Because they knew what that meant.

Time’s fingers tightened around the ocarina.

“You—” Warriors took a step forward, “You were going to play the Song of Time?”

Time said nothing. He just looked at him.

And that was enough.

Hyrule’s breath hitched. “Wait—wait, could he—”

“Twilight jerked like he’d been hit, his mind finally catching up to the weight of what was happening.

“You—” his voice cracked, “You were going to undo this? You weren’t…?”

Time finally blinked. The weight in his gaze lessened just enough for Twilight to suck in a sharp, shuddering breath.

But Time still didn’t waver.

“I will fix this.” He said it again.

Warriors’ breath was uneven, his mind racing, hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to rip that damn ocarina from Time’s grasp.

But he didn’t.

Because deep down, some part of him wanted to believe.

He swallowed hard. “Will it work?”

Time’s fingers curled tighter around the ocarina. His jaw tensed, his throat bobbing as he exhaled slow. “It will.”

And that was it.

That was all he said.

That shouldn’t have been enough.

But the way he said it, steady, certain, absolute,’like the sky was blue, like fire was hot, like the sun would rise tomorrow-

It made the air heavy.

It made belief an inevitability.

Sky’s breath hitched. “But—”

“How do you know?!” Wind cut in, shaking, desperate.. “How do you know it’ll be far enough?!”

“What if it only sends us back before the battle?” Wild snapped, voice raw. “We’d be dragging the beasts right to them! What if it doesn’t change anything? What if we just—” He broke off, his whole body trembling, his fingers digging into his arms like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will.

Time’s gaze flicked to him.

Then to Wind.

Then to Warriors.

To Twilight.

To everyone.

“It will.”

Like this wasn’t a question.

Like it was already decided.

Legend exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “And if you’re wrong?”

Time didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t.

Because the idea that he could be was never an option.

Not when it came to (y/n).

Never when it came to that one person.

“Time-“ Twilight’s voice cracked, his whole body tensed, barely keeping himself from shaking apart. “Do you even know how far it’ll—”

“I do.”

Twilight flinched.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t forceful.

But it was final.

It was a fact.

Like the way he breathed. Like the way he fought.

Like the way he had always been the Hero of Time.

This would work.

Because it had to.

“Now gather close, or you will be left behind.”

Time didn’t wait for another argument.

Didn’t give them another second to question him, to hesitate.

He just pressed the ocarina to his lips and played.

The first note rang out, trembling through the air, and the world shifted.

The melody poured from him like second nature, each note pulling at something unseen, unraveling the fabric of reality, tugging at the very threads of time itself.

The air around him hummed, thick with power, and he barely noticed when the others moved closer. Whether it was instinct or trust or sheer desperation, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.

All that mattered was the song.

All that mattered was fixing this.

The ground beneath him vanished. The sky unraveled like ink spilling across parchment. He was falling, weightless, the notes still lingering in the air as time itself bent.

And he knew this feeling.

Had lived this feeling.

He was used to it, the way time peeled away like layers of an old tapestry, the way the past reached up to swallow him whole.

But the others-

Some of them gasped, sharp and breathless, the weight of the shift hitting them like a punch to the gut. Some gritted their teeth, held onto each other, held onto him.

But Time didn’t focus on them.

Didn’t let himself get distracted.

Because there was only the song.

Only the pull of time wrenching them backward, dragging them through the currents of the past, demanding they return to where they were supposed to be.

He felt the moment it worked.

The moment the world clicked back into place.

And when his boots hit solid ground againc when the weight of his body settled into the morning light, into the world that had not yet seen blood,

He exhaled.

And opened his eyes.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

The morning sun filtered through the trees, golden and warm, birds chirping in the distance like nothing had changed—like everything hadn’t changed.

The smell of cooking drifted through the air, something light and familiar, the scent of simmering stew bubbling away in the pot that Wild—the past Wild—had left unattended just moments ago.

The camp was… whole.

No shattered remains of their tents, no bloodstains in the dirt, no lingering stench of burnt wood and monster corpses.

No… (y/n) lying broken on the ground.

Time let out a slow breath, calm and steady, as if this was exactly what he’d expected. And it was.

He knew it would work.

The others, though…

They were stiff, wary, shifting in place like the ground might give out beneath them at any second.

Legend was rubbing at his face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that still clung to him. Wild was staring at the bubbling stew like it was some kind of hallucination.

Twilight stood a little ways off, staring at his hands, clenching and unclenching them like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Warriors was the first to speak. His voice was hoarse, his throat raw from all the shouting and grief of before, of a future that no longer existed.

“…We actually did it…” he muttered, like he barely believed it.

Wind swallowed hard. He looked down at his boots, scuffed and dirty from the battle that technically hadn’t happened yet. “We’re still—” He hesitated, gesturing at himself. At all of them. “Like this.”

Blood. Dirt. Scrapes and bruises from a fight that hadn’t even started. Evidence of what they’d just lived through, proof that it had been real.

That (y/n) had been-

Time exhaled slowly.

“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was even, firm. Grounding. “We’re here.”

He didn’t need to say why.

Didn’t need to remind them of what they needed to do next.

Because their heads all turned, almost in unison, toward the only tent still closed up for the morning.

The one where (y/n) was still asleep.

Still safe.

Still alive.

For a long, long moment, no one moved.

They just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the closed tent.

The urge to rush forward was almost unbearable, like a rope yanking at their chests, but no one made the first move.

It was too much.

The blood was still fresh in their memories. The sight of (y/n) lying there, unmoving, unbreathing—

They couldn’t go through that again.

So they stood there, tense and waiting, barely breathing.

And then—

Soft murmurs. A sleepy sigh. Rustling blankets.

The sounds hit them, sharp and painful in a way they couldn’t describe, their hearts all slamming against their ribs as the tent flaps finally shifted—

And (y/n) crawled out, rubbing their eyes, hair a mess, voice groggy as they blinked up at the group.

“…Mornin’,” they mumbled, completely oblivious to the way everyone stared.

No blood. No pain. No lifeless eyes staring up at them.

Just… sleepy, alive (y/n), squinting at them like they were the weird ones.

They yawned. “You guys okay?”

No one answered.

Because no one could breathe.

It was Hyrule who moved first.

Slow, cautious, like he was afraid to startle them. His hands trembled as he reached out, fingers barely ghosting over (y/n)’s arms, their shoulders, their face—checking for wounds that weren’t there anymore.

It was like his body was working faster than his mind, the overwhelming need to confirm pushing him forward before he could even think about it.

And then, as if his movement snapped a thread holding everyone back, the others surged forward.

They were on (y/n) in seconds, surrounding them, crowding close, hands reaching and grasping, pulling them into checks and touches that were both frantic and careful.

(Y/n) barely had time to react before they were trapped in a wall of bodies, everyone brushing over their arms, their back, their face—looking for injuries that didn’t exist.

“What— guys, what the hell—?” (Y/n) yelped, blinking fast as they suddenly registered how dirty everyone was.

Blood. Scrapes. Dirt smeared over their clothes and skin, like they’d been through something.

Like they’d just come back from a war.

(Y/n)’s breath hitched, their drowsiness vanishing.

“What happened to you guys?” Their voice was cautious now, eyes darting between the wild, desperate looks on their faces.

No one answered right away.

They were too busy touching them, reassuring themselves, trying to make sure this wasn’t some cruel trick—

That (y/n) was here. Alive. Whole.

Time, standing back from the chaos, finally let out a breath.

It worked.

——

It took a while for things to settle down.

At first, (y/n) was just confused,rightfully so. One minute they were crawling out of the tent, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and the next, they were practically being smothered by the Chain.

And not in the usual overprotective way.

This was different.

It was desperate.

It took a lot of reassurance,(y/n) reluctantly eating breakfast while Wild kept glancing up like they’d disappear if he looked away, Warriors and Legend hovering nearby, and Twilight sticking close as if physically shielding them from something,before the group finally got moving.

Time made the call.

They weren’t staying here.

(Y/n) didn’t get why,nothing seemed wrong, their camp was fine, their usual routine untouched,but there was no arguing with him. He wasn’t going to change his mind.

So they packed up and left.

They moved far,not stopping until the area around them was completely unfamiliar, setting up camp in a much safer place, where there were no signs of monster dens, no ruins where enemies could be lurking, nothing.

And still, the paranoia remained.

No one relaxed.

Even after the fire was lit, even after dinner was done, even after everyone was settled in for the night, there was an edge to the air. Like the whole group was waiting for something.

(Y/n) had questions. So many questions.

But the longer they stared at the exhausted, shaken faces around them, the more they decided they didn’t want the answers just yet.

Eventually, one by one, the others turned in for the night. Even if they wouldn’t truly rest, they at least tried to pretend to.

(Y/n) was in their tent, laying down, half-expecting Twilight or Wild to come and insist on sharing their bedroll like they sometimes did when they got particularly clingy—

But instead, it was Time.

They blinked as the tent flap shifted, his tall form stepping inside. He moved slow, deliberate, like he was testing the space between them.

(Y/n) sat up, eyebrows raising.

“Uh… hey?” They greeted cautiously. “Something wrong?”

Time didn’t answer right away.

He just looked at them.

Really looked at them.

Like he was memorizing them all over again.

(Y/n) shifted under the weight of it, that unsettled feeling creeping back into their gut.

“… Time?”

Time sat down next to them without a word.

Not across from them, not a small distance away—right next to them, close enough that (y/n) could feel the slight shift in the bedroll beneath them.

He was silent.

Not just the usual quiet, the comfortable, thoughtful kind of silence Time carried.

This was heavy.

Thick.

Suffocating.

(Y/n) shifted awkwardly, the unease crawling up their spine. The others had been acting strange all day, but Time’s presence right now felt even worse. Like the weight of a storm about to break, something pressing down on them, making their stomach churn.

They hesitated.

Then, quietly, “Time… what’s going on?”

Still, he didn’t speak.

Didn’t even move.

Just sat there, shoulders stiff, hands clasped loosely together.

(Y/n) swallowed, forcing a nervous chuckle.

“Okay, you’re really starting to freak me out, old man. Did something happen?”

Finally, Time exhaled, slow and steady.

“…Something happened.”

(Y/n) perked up a little. “Yeah?”

Time nodded.

“I fixed it.”

(Y/n) blinked.

“…What?”

Another pause.

(Y/n) narrowed their eyes, the hairs on the back of their neck standing on end.

“Fixed what? What—”

“Don’t.”

The firm edge in Time’s voice startled them into silence.

It wasn’t a command.

It wasn’t an order.

It was a plea.

Time turned his head slightly, his jaw clenched, his good eye dark in the dim light of the tent.

“If you keep asking me…” he said, voice low, slow, measured, “I will tell you.”

(Y/n) stared.

He swallowed, his hands tightening into fists against his knees.

“And I don’t want to tell you…” He admitted, not wanting to te them how they all failed in protecting them. How their blood pooled beneath their cold body.. “So please… don’t ask me.”

(Y/n) felt their pulse in their throat.

Something was wrong.

The others had been acting strange, paranoid. Wild had barely let them breathe all morning. The whole group had been on edge, even after they had moved camp.

And now Time was sitting beside them, heavy and tired and quietly begging them not to dig any further.

(Y/n) licked their lips, their voice small.

“…Was it that bad?”

Time inhaled sharply.

His fingers twitched.

His mind flickered back-

The torn camp.

The blood.

(Y/n), limp and still, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

Time closed his eye.

“…Yes.”

(Y/n) barely had time to process the answer before they found themselves moving.

Their body acted before their mind, before they even realized what they were doing, reaching out, wrapping their arms around Time, holding onto him firmly, as if trying to ground them both.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Time sat stiffly beneath their hold, unresponsive.

Then his shoulders shook.

A breath hitched.

A sharp inhale, one that he tried to keep quiet, but (y/n) felt it against their shoulder, the way his body trembled, the weight of his grief pushing against them, too much to fully contain but held back just enough.

(Y/n) held him tighter.

They didn’t understand what happened.

They didn’t know what Time had done.

But whatever it was…

It had hurt him. Hurt them all. badly.

(Y/n) pulled back slightly, hands still resting on Time’s shoulders as they looked up at him.

His head was bowed, breath uneven, his expression twisted with something too heavy to name. The dim light of the tent only made it worse, casting shadows over the worn lines of his face.

Without thinking, (y/n) reached up, cupping his face gently and tilting it so he’d look at them.

Time’s good eye met theirs, surprise flickering through the grief.

(Y/n) gave him a determined look before brushing their thumb over his cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I won’t ask again.” they murmured.

Time exhaled shakily, the tension in his shoulders softening ever so slightly.

(Y/n) let their expression ease, giving him a tired little smile.

“But,” they continued, tilting their head, “I at least hope you and the others got revenge before you fixed it.”

A weak chuckle left Time, his voice rough.

“I think…Wild handled that part.”

(Y/n) huffed a laugh.

“Figures.” They let their hands fall from his face, nodding in satisfaction. “That’s all I need to know.”

Silence settled between them, but it was more relaxed now. The weight in the air wasn’t as suffocating, no longer pressing down so hard it was unbearable.

(Y/n) shifted, glancing towards the tent entrance, then back to Time.

“…I kinda don’t wanna sleep alone tonight.”

Time turned to look at them fully, his eye scanning their face.

(Y/n) rubbed the back of their neck awkwardly.

“Would you… stay?”

Time blinked.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

A small smile grew on his lips, the kind that carried warmth despite the exhaustion in his gaze.

(Y/n) returned it, letting out a breath of relief.

“…Good.”

Without another word, they shifted to make room, patting the spot beside them.

Time followed, moving to lay down beside them, a bit nervously but eagerly.

And as (y/n) settled next to him, still for a moment before arms wrapped around Time, he tensed before slowly wrapping his own arms around them.

Eventually, Time let out a deep sigh, his whole body relaxing as he feels their heart beat (alive, strong, such a wonderful rhythm) feeling their presence close, steady and real.

It was exactly what he needed. (He had a feeling the others will also get their own nights with their darling soon enough. (y/n) was just like that to be so considerate.)

It took no time at all for him to sleep.

#does it count as straying into battle if the battle comes to you??#yandere linked universe #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu wind #gliphy answers anon #lu warriors #lu time #lu sky #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu four #lu wild #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x y/n #linked universe x reader

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lu-is-not-ok · 4 months ago

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two in one theory... i am listening very intently if you ever feel up to share it!!

Alright, so this is gonna be... as close to an Abridged explanation of the theory as I can make, because if I went off on everything about it I would end up writing a whole dissertation or five hour video essay script on this shit.

There are gonna be three main sections to this post - Hong Lu's Daiyuisms, Hong Lu's Themes of Identity and how that connects to the concept of Two in One, and the Daiyu-Baoyu theory itself.

Strap in folks.

Hong Lu's Daiyuisms

If you know anything about my theories in the earlier days of Limbus, you might know that I'm one of the very few people who was convinced Hong Lu is actually Daiyu, due to some evidence I found personally compelling. This has not changed, as we've only gotten just as much extra evidence to this as we have to him being Baoyu. So let me just speedrun through some of these points.

The Fucking Jade Eye

Ok hear me out. This is maybe the least important piece of evidence but I can never stop thinking about it. Hong Lu's jade eye? Not actually fully blue! If you look closely on most of his sprites, you can see that he actually has sectoral heterochromia, meaning his jade eye is both blue and black.

Daiyu's name, quite literally, translates to blue-black jade.

Now, you could claim that this is merely meant to be an easter egg reference to her, but... is that really Project Moon's style? After all, when people speculated on Don Quixote being Sancho or a Bloodfiend partially based on her appearance all the way back since near launch, they turned out to be right.

Hong Lu's Father

As of now, there is only one instance of Hong Lu referencing his Father in Limbus, and it's a voiceline from his Base Identity:

Now, if you know anything about DOTRC, this should already be raising some flags, because if Hong Lu was just Baoyu, he would not fucking talk like that about his Father.

In the book, Baoyu is consistently shown to be afraid of his Father, for a good reason mind you, as he's his main abuser. Baoyu would not be looking forward to introducing his friends to that man.

Even if Hong Lu was trying to downplay the abuse he's recieved, this would still not fit his pattern of behavior. When topics that genuinely bother Hong Lu come up, such as what could make him distort or how rich people would enjoy gifts made of humans, he immediately pivots and tries to avoid the topic at all cost. He would not bring up his main abuser in such a lighthearted manner, he would avoid bringing him up at all cost.

However, there is a character in DOTRC which does in fact have a more positive relationship to her Father, and would likely be the one with an opinion such as that - Daiyu. Daiyu loves her Father, and when he dies she completely disappears from the story for a bit to attend his funeral. If there was anyone who would be excited to introduce their friends to their Father, it'd be Daiyu.

Lasso Hong Lu's Corrosion

I made a whole seperate post about this, but I might as well mention it here as well for the sake of completion. The design choices made for Hong Lu which are missing for Faust are very, very Daiyu-coded.

For one, not only does Hong Lu completely turn into a flower, unlike Faust, his horse also gains a flower in its mouth. For those whose knowledge of DOTRC is zero to none, Daiyu is a reincarnation of a Flower given sentience due to being watered by the Jade. I don't think I have to be the one to connect the dots between those two pieces of info for you.

The second is how the halters become a noose for Hong Lu. This, too, is a very Daiyu thing - Rose Hunter as an Abnormality represents the inability to escape one's fate, and Daiyu's fate is to die - the Jia Family arranging a marriage between Baoyu and Baochai leads to Daiyu falling deathly ill, which in itself could be considered a part of her repaying her Debt of Tears - the debt she swore to repay to the Jade/Baoyu when she was still a Flower.

The hilarity of the fact that this E.G.O came out in the same update as Hong Lu being called Baoyu in-story is not lost on me.

Rose Sign Abnormality Log

The third Log for Rose Sign ends in a very peculiar way.

There's multiple ways one can tie Hong Lu's odd reluctance to talk about flowers and the petals. One is the obvious "he's being reminded of Daiyu because she was a Flower" connection, but there's another one.

One of the most commonly potrayed images of Daiyu relates to a scene in DOTRC where she buries fallen flower petals, weeping for and lamenting the mortality of the flowers and herself. Hong Lu's reaction here to his fellow Sinners being reduced to nothing but petals upon Rose Sign's death feels like a notable parallel to Daiyu's flower burial scene.

Like literally everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu

The title for this is a bit of an exaggeration, but at the same time. I'm serious. Kurokumo Hong Lu is perhaps the most Daiyu Identity out of all the Hong Lu Identities we have, and the way he is designed to stand out among them further makes me go insane.

Kurokumo Hong Lu's most defining trait is his attitude - he often complains about his position and how authority treats him, though he doesn't really act out against them in any major way outside of making snarky or sarcastic remarks.

This is, frankly, an extremely Daiyu thing to do. Daiyu is one of the few characters who audibly complains about her treatment in the household. For example she complains about not being given as many opportunities to show off her poetry skills as her male peers are, and she recognises how, when all the girls in the family are given flowers, she's the last one to recieve them and thus is stripped of the ability to pick, being only given the leftovers.

Then there's the whole. Everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu's visual design. Because once you realize just how Daiyu-like the Identity is, you realize just how weird he is compared to other Hong Lu Identities. I mean just look how he compares to his other Identities.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity with a blue tint to his hair in the combat sprite rather than the usual purple.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity whose hairtie is a ribbon rather than a jade ring (Liu Hong Lu technically has the ribbon in his post-uptie art, but he doesn't have it in his combat sprite so I'm not counting him).

He's the only Hong Lu Identity to not be smiling in his combat sprites.

And he's the only Hong Lu Identity (and one of only four Identities in the game) whose Idle sprite has its body facing away from the opponent rather than facing towards them.

All of those combine to make him stand out like a sore thumb in a Hong Lu Identity lineup in a way that makes it feel intentional, especially since he's also the only Hong Lu Identity with that kind of notable attitude towards authority. Other Hong Lu Identities are either obedient, don't express any opinion, or just straight up are the authority.

The Baoyu reveal is framed in a very weird way

This is, admittedly, less of a Daiyuism and more of a not-Baoyuism, but I thought it'd be important to mention nonetheless.

There are a lot of things about Canto 7's reveal of Hong Lu's name being Baoyu that are very strange, especially compared to how the Canto frames Don Quixote's own reveal of actually being Sancho.

For one, the timing itself - why is such an important piece of info being revealed so early? Again, compare to Donqui - she was revealed to be a Bloodfiend in the Intervallo right before Canto 7, and the Sancho reveal only came in the second half of the Canto.

For two, the framing - Donqui's reveals are treated as what they are, Major Reveals. The Baoyu reveal on the other hand happens in a single off-handed line, with nobody reacting to it in any way. Neither Hong Lu nor the other Sinners seem to hear it after all.

And mind you, it's not like Limbus is opposed to giving us important information in off-handed lines - far from it in fact. Project Moon loves shoving little bits of foreshadowing and reveals you don't realize are reveals until way later in these kinds of off-handed lines. But the way those lines are treated is still very different to how the Baoyu reveal is treated.

Usually, when there's foreshadowing in off-handed lines, it's usually either vague enough to be something a character could say regardless of context (see Yi Sang getting hung up on the Sedatives bit in Canto 2 or Ishmael's comment about Syndicates pretending to be Families foreshadowing her own history with the Middle via Queequeg) or something that is in the middle of a scene that distracts from what is actually being said (like Hong Lu's distortion foreshadowing being in the middle of an important infodump or most of everything in Canto 2 being surrounded by a comedic tone).

None of this is present for the Baoyu reveal. There's nothing to distract you from this information, as the scene is already focused on discussing Hong Lu, meaning you're already likely to be paying attention to what is being said about him. There's also no vagueness about it, there's no way you can brush it off since not only are Wei and Xichun newly introduced characters, but it's a whole ass clearcut namedrop.

The only way I can justify that reveal being there in the form it takes is that it in itself is the distraction. Think about it. Didn't I point it out earlier that this reveal came in the same update as the E.G.O with an extremely Daiyu-coded corrosion design? Wouldn't it make sense for that reveal to be there to lower your guard, make you think you resolved that mystery, only to later on reveal it wasn't the whole story after all?

Hong Lu's Themes of Identity

So this section is a bit more vague than the Daiyuism section, because Hong Lu is the type of guy to just Say Shit all the time. It's basically just. Anything that I find relevant to the idea of Hong Lu's Identity being more complex than him just being a random guy using a pseudonym, with some (but maybe not all) of them directly tying to the idea of Two in One.

"Which one is the real you?"

There are currently two seperate scenes where Hong Lu muses on the idea of someone's identity being in some way vague or obscured.

Is Dante the person or the clock? Is the dreamer the one in the dream or the one who wakes from it? Which you is the real you? Does it even matter if that you will flutter away in the end?

This idea of there being one true self. That even if there are two, there is only one of them that is actually you. Curious, right?

Face-changing dance

During the Canto 2 scene where everyone gives their reasons for whether or not they'd be a good pick for being the one to dance, Hong Lu says this.

Bian lian is a kind of dance literally translated as "face-changing". It involves rapid changes between various masks and make-up to represent different emotions or characters.

Now, it's no secret that Hong Lu is a great actor, as we see in Canto 4, and Canto 7 shows how the comparison to theatre and actors can be used to symbolize one's performance of identity, as it does for Sancho and her Don Quixote persona.

Mind you, this reveal comes in the same scene as Sinclair's dance invoking the image of a bonfire burning all through the night according to the Mariachis, a clear foreshadowing to Canto 3 and the Literal burning down of Sinclair's home.

Hong Lu knowing bian lian could be further foreshadowing to his own skills in deception, and how he too is a sort of actor, not unlike Don Quixote. On the other hand however, it could also be a more literal foreshadowing, that he (Baoyu) Quite Literally changed his face. We won't know until Canto 8, but it is an option you know.

The HamHamPangPang dish(es)

For those who don't know, here is a list of the Sinner-themed dishes that were available at HamHamPangPang.

Now, chances are, not all of them have deep meanings. I don't think there's much of a deep meaning to Heathcliff and Ishmael's dishes, I think PJM just legit don't know much about British/American cuisine so they just picked something recogniseable.

However, not all of them are meaningless picks either. Ryoshu, likely a mother, has a meal literally called "parent-and-child donburi". Don Quixote, a Bloodfiend, has a garlic-based dish. These were clearly done on purpose.

So, what does it say that Hong Lu's dish is actually two different dishes? That he's the only one whose dish is two different dishes? And it's not like the two are in some way inherently connected, since they're of completely different cuisines. Japchae is a Korean dish, not Chinese like the Mandarin rolls.

And just in case you weren't convinced that Hong Lu's choice of dishes is purposeful - another name for Mandarin rolls is flower buns, and one of the special occasions japchae is commonly served for is weddings. If you had read through the Daiyuisms section and somehow have no idea what the significance of that is, I don't know what to tell you.

The Daiyu-Baoyu Theory (finally)

So. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could still be Daiyu despite being revealed as Baoyu. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could be a Two in One deal, or that at the very least there's something more complex going on with his identity. But let's discuss the theory itself, how it would recontextualize certain things, and why I think it's an extremely fitting an thematically resonant direction for Hong Lu's Canto to go in.

The Theory

Here's what I speculate is going on.

Daiyu, just like in DOTRC, is someone who was taken in into the Jia Household rather than born in it, and who strongly connected with Baoyu upon meeting him. The two would end up forming a bond strong enough that they would be willing to die for one another (or, if they're in particularly argumentative moods, to kill themselves just to force the other to have to live a long life grieving over them - this is an actual argument they have in DOTRC and I pray to god this is adapted into Limbus because it's too fucking funny).

At some point, Baoyu either dies or is brought to near death, likely through the same circumstances as in DOTRC - being beaten by his Father. To save him, his memories and consciousness would be transferred to his eye, a process not dissimilar to the one Xichun brings up in Canto 7, and implanted into Daiyu's body, causing them to become a vessel for Baoyu. This would be how Hong Lu as he is now is created.

All of the above is the main basis for this theory. Everything else that I might speculate about, such as the exact nature of the two's relationship, Daiyu's more exact background and personality, how their pre-reincarnation lives could be adapted - all of those are things that are purely speculative and ones that I don't really expect to be actually fulfilled. The only bits that I am sure are likely to be true is what I laid out above.

So... what does it all mean for the future? I'm glad you asked!

The Recontextualization

Here's a collection of just a couple of things that Hong Lu has said or is depicted as that would be heavily recontextualized if this theory ends up being true.

Hong Lu surviving despite claiming he didn't fight back when his siblings first tried to kill him: With the context that he used to be two seperate people, the answer to how he survived is made very simple. Baoyu is the one who wasn't fighting back. Daiyu, however, could have still protected him in turn.

The red ribbon on Hong Lu's weapon: There is only one other Sinner who has a similar decoration on their weapon - Ryoshu, who also has a red ribbon on her sword, which could be easily connected to Yuzuki and her death. With the context of Hong Lu being Baoyu occupying Daiyu's body and thus effectively rendering their self non-existent, the red ribbon could be a parallel symbol - a symbol of Daiyu and their 'death'.

How Hong Lu treats his weapon in his base E.G.O: The way Hong Lu holds his weapon in the illustration is more like he's cradling another person. This could be a representation of how he feels about Daiyu's situation. Likewise, in the attack animation, he's not really attacking with the weapon itself, is he? He's simply using it to direct a ribbon (which in itself is missing in the illustration), the part that is actually the attack. If the weapon in the base E.G.O represents Daiyu, this could be a parallel to how Baoyu feels like he's merely directing Daiyu's body to attack, rather than being the one actually attacking.

The duality of Hong Lu IDs: There is a notable pattern among Hong Lu IDs, and that is the focus on his attitude to violence. When he's in a situation where he's obedient towards his Family, he's either uninterested in violence, bored of it, or otherwise given no other choice but to use it as a reprieve from boredom. However, when he's in a situation where he's disconnected from his Family or otherwise questioning the status quo, he's shown to not only be much more aggressive and violent, but to outright enjoy it. With the context of Hong Lu being composed of two people, this duality could represent each of his components - the obedient and violence-averse being more Baoyu-like, while the questioning and violence-favoring being more Daiyu-like.

So, there's a bunch of stuff that would be given new meaning under the premise of this theory being true. But now, what about the future? What would this theory mean for the themes and ending of Canto 8?

The Resolution

I believe this is how the Daiyu-Baoyu theory will affect Canto 8.

At some point, whether before or during the Canto, it will be revealed that Hong Lu is both Daiyu and Baoyu. There will be an attempt to seperate the two, perhaps to implant Baoyu into a more fitting, more Jia Family-approved Vessel. Perhaps because the 'arranged marriage' from DOTRC could be adapted into something more... let's say Fear and Hunger kind of marriage rather than traditional marriage.

This will leave Hong Lu to be returned to their state as Daiyu, who will be revealed to be a very different person to what the Sinners knew Hong Lu as. There is a non-zero chance that Daiyu will be unable to hear Dante or be revived by them due to the one who signed the contract being Baoyu, and so they could end up acting as an uncontrollable ally unit not unlike Xichun in Canto 7.

The climax would then be Daiyu and Baoyu reuniting and being unwilling to part with each other again, even for the sake of returning to being the fake persona that is Hong Lu, leading to a potential duo boss fight/distortion boss fight/duo distortion boss fight.

The ending would be the two of them deciding to embrace their new identity as Hong Lu and truly becoming one, discarding their pasts and the selves that had been forced on them by the Jia Family. This ending would have a twofold meaning regarding how it connects to the DOTRC adaptation.

One - it would be a direct parallel to the ending of DOTRC where Baoyu leaves to become a monk. By becoming Hong Lu and discaring his previous identities, he'd be leaving behind the earthly attachments inherent to being Baoyu and Daiyu and become spiritually whole.

Two - it would be a reflection of the major theme of DOTRC, that being "Truth becomes fiction when the fiction's true. Real becomes not-real when the unreal's real." Hong Lu, as a person, is a 'fake' persona used by the 'real' Baoyu and Daiyu. However, by discarding those two identities and deciding to just be Hong Lu, the fiction of his existence becomes the truth, while his former real selves become not real.

Conclusion?

I could honestly just keep going with this post, but I think I'm going to stop myself here before I'm forced to find out what tumblr's character limit on posts is. Believe me, I was trying to be brief, and still this post is. This fucking long.

I hope this explains why this theory has been the subject of my brainrot for the past however long, and why I feel like it's surprisingly plausible despite being as deranged as it is.

Godspeed and godbless, I have classes tomorrow and I'm spending my time on this.

#ask #anon #lu speaketh #limbus company #hong lu #hong lu lcb #jia baoyu lcb #lin daiyu lcb #lcb analysis #lcb speculation #lcb theory #canto 7 spoilers

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