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“Anything else you'd like to discuss before our session ends today?” Dr. Kimm asked. Their appointments had never been superbly regular with all of Captain Link's duties, but they had been particularly infrequent lately. Apparently, her patient had taken on some new mission with a large group of people, all of which meant he had a lot more to say every time they were finally able to meet again. 

“Uh, yes, actually…”

She watched as Link shifted. Within a moment, his posture had gone from a relaxed young man, leaning forward with his arms resting on his legs, to a perfect captain, spine straightened, shoulders back, and hands resting flat on each thigh, betraying his nerves. That was the only way he sat for quite a few sessions, every word out of his mouth carefully chosen as he talked around every subject and slipped past her questions with practiced ease. She could still remember the first time he'd said something from his heart, his voice soft and eyes downcast.

“There are entire families who need this more than I do. Families who lost loved ones in the war. I'm just wasting time that should be going to them. I think this should be our last session.”

“But didn't you lose people too?” she had asked, and everything he'd been balling up tightly within himself had slowly started unraveling from there. 

When a few moments passed without Link telling Dr. Kimm what else he wanted to discuss, she said, “Link?”

“I recommended you to some friends,” he said hesitantly.

“And by friends you mean…?”

“The ones I've been traveling with, yes,” the captain confirmed. “Princess Zelda is encouraging them to go as well. They definitely need it, but a lot of them are pretty stubborn about this sort of thing, so…”

“I look forward to meeting whoever decides to come,” she said warmly, and Link made an expression that clearly said, I don't know if that's something I'd look forward to.

--

Dr. Kimm liked to begin sessions with new patients by asking some variation of her favorite opening question.

“What inspired you to seek therapy?”

The young man who went by Sky smiled and replied, “Well, Warriors' Zelda encouraged us to give it a try. Every Zelda I've ever interacted with always seems to know best, you know? I trust her guidance. If she thinks I should try it, I don't see why I shouldn't.”

“So you've met multiple Princess Zeldas…?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes, I've had the fortune of meeting a few from different eras.” He paused. “Do you know about the time travel thing we're dealing with, or…?”

“I'm aware, yes.”

“Okay, good, because that would be quite a bit to explain!” Sky said with a light laugh. “Anyway, any Zelda possesses wisdom that far exceeds my own, so here I am!”

“Why do you think the princess encouraged you to seek therapy?”

“Well, she encouraged us as a collective whole, not just me. Zelda doesn't really know the details of my story, as far as I'm aware - Warriors' Zelda, that is.” His smile turned sad, wistful. 

Noting the specification, she prompted, “Does one of the other Zeldas know?”

“My Zelda does.” Somehow, his expression became even more wistful. “She went through so much, so it's only natural we've talked about it.”

It seemed to Dr. Kimm as though Sky held Zelda - any Zelda - in a higher regard than himself.

“It sounds like you care a lot about her.”

His entire expression warmed. “Oh, absolutely. When this adventure is all over, I plan on proposing to her again.”

She raised a brow. “Again?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Sky chuckled. “Yeah… she turned me down the first time because she wanted to focus on getting everything sorted out for those who have moved to the surface. Which I understand! I think it's very admirable to put that first. I feel bad I haven't been there to help her out with it lately.”

“It's sweet that you're so supportive of her. It sounds like becoming king doesn't intimidate you at all.”

Sky's expression turned puzzled. “Becoming king?”

“By marrying Princess Zelda…?”

“Oh! My Zelda isn't a princess.” He waved a hand. “There's no governmental system like that. I mean, yes, she's taking charge of what I suppose will become Hyrule one day, but that… doesn't mean…” He trailed off, eyes widening. “Wait, is she going to become the first ruler of Hyrule? Am I going to become king?” He leaned forward, hands pressing over his mouth with a muffled, “Oh.”

Whoops.

Well, it was probably better for him to consider that possibility now, with time to think about it, rather than later, as it was actively happening.

“How do you feel about that idea?”

“I… I don't know,” he admitted. “I've never considered… I mean, that's a lot of responsibility. I'm sure Zelda would do a great job, and I'd be more than happy to support her through that, but…”

“It wouldn't be the first time you've taken on a lot of responsibility, though, would it? You're one the Chosen Heroes. What makes this feel different?”

Sky fell silent for a moment. “Becoming a hero felt… so purposeful. I was specifically chosen to be the Hero by the goddess herself.” He paused, brow furrowing. “Which, I guess if Zelda agreed to marry me, that would kind of be similar? Right?”

Now that was a confusing sentence. “Would you be willing to explain what that means…?”

Sky laughed nervously, voice pitching upward with every word. “My Zelda is kind of actually the goddess Hylia?”

With an expression carefully schooled to not look absolutely floored, Dr. Kimm scrambled for something to say. “I see. Does that affect your relationship at all?”

Nailed it.

Sky looked at his lap, brows drawing together. “...She felt bad about it. Like she manipulated me into helping her. Which is silly. I would have helped her whether or not she turned out to be Hylia. Sure it's… strange to think about, but I love her all the same.”

Before Dr. Kimm had a chance to say anything else, the wrinkle in Sky's brow deepened.

“You don't think that's actually why she said no, do you? What if she feels too guilty to want to marry me?”

“Have you talked to her more about the guilt she feels?”

“Not in a while,” he replied as he twisted his fingers together. “We've been pretty busy with getting others settled on the surface. And then I was whisked away on this adventure, and…” His eyes suddenly widened. “Maybe being busy was her real reason for saying no. But what if when I ask again, she only says yes because she feels guilty? And is trying to make it up to me? She knows how much I love her.”

Sky got up from his chair and started pacing. “Why didn't I think about this before? I should have been more considerate as to what she was feeling. I assured her I didn't feel anything negative towards her and what happened, but what if that wasn't enough? What if she didn't believe me?”

Oh boy. It seemed the young man hadn't given much deep thought to this before, seeing as doing it now had led to a spiral of paranoia.

“Sky, slow down for a moment and look at me. Let's take some deep breaths and take this one step at a time, alright?”

He slowly sat back down with a small nod. 

After walking him through some deep, slow breaths, she said, “Nothing good comes from assuming how other people feel. Our minds can sometimes be very good at jumping to conclusions and making things out to be worse than they are, especially when anxious. So, let's walk through this. What are things you know that support this fear?”

“She said she feels guilty about what happened. Like she was manipulating me and my feelings.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“Well… maybe that was why she said no to my proposal?”

“But do you know that? Did she say that was why?”

“No,” he admitted.

Dr. Kimm asked, “Then what are concrete things that disprove this fear?”

“...She's told me she loves me. And when Zelda said no to my proposal, she told me we could come back to that once things had settled down.”

“Very good. You can always discuss these concerns with her, but jumping to conclusions without knowing for sure is only harmful. Do you think it might help if you talk to her about your worries?”

Sky looked hesitant. “I… maybe?”

“I think that's a good idea,” she encouraged. “Let's talk about some ways you can approach that conversation, okay?”

--

“Look, I appreciate therapy - I think it's good, and I think the others could use it,” the Link called Time said after he sat down.

“But you don't think you could?” Dr. Kimm prompted.

“I've talked everything through with my wife,” the man replied, settling back in the chair in a way that looked relaxed on the surface, but she could see the tension held in his jaw, in the way his arms settled over his chest as though it were armor. “I don't need to talk about it any further.”

“So what brought you here today?”

Time's eye flicked away, and, as big a man as he was, he suddenly looked just a little smaller. “My wife.”

It was only years of experience that kept the doctor from laughing. “So, your wife encouraged you to come?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, looking mildly annoyed about it.

But he'd come anyway. She made a quick note that his wife's opinions seemed to mean a lot to him.

“How did you two meet?” Dr. Kimm decided to ask. An easy question, something to get him comfortable. The harder stuff could come later.

The corner of Time’s mouth quirked up. “We met as children, actually. I helped her find her father. It took time, but eventually she… convinced me to settle down.”

“You seem to care deeply for her.”

His expression softened further. “I do. I'd never thought that I'd…” There was a moment when a hint of solemn sadness flickered in his gaze before it faded away. “Well, I'm just glad she's more stubborn than I am.”

“You didn't plan on getting married then?”

“Not initially. ‘A hero's work is never done’ is a saying for a reason. But Malon helped me realize that sometimes that work can just be farm work.” He chuckled. 

She smiled. “She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

“She is.”

“Do you have any children?”

“Unless you count those I'm traveling with with the way they act sometimes,” Time said with a small snort, “no. Not yet, anyway.”

“Ah, so you plan to?”

“It's… going to happen,” Time said.

An odd way to word things.

Dr. Kimm nodded. “I have a feeling you'll be wonderful parents.”

Time was silent, and his responding smile was thinner.

“Do you disagree?”

He scratched the back of his neck. It was a bit funny to see - Link did the same sometimes when he was feeling awkward, uncertain, or embarrassed.

“I didn't exactly have a normal childhood,” Time admitted. “I don't know if I know how to give a kid one. I, uh, I'm sure it'll work out though.”

“Ah, but isn't that one of the benefits of having a good wife?” the doctor pointed out. He wouldn't be alone in raising a child, and Malon sounded like a good person.

“I know Malon will help - of course she will. And she'll be a great mother, I'm sure of it.” Time’s gaze moved to the window. She could almost see words on the tip of his tongue.

“But…?” she prompted.

“It would be nice to not need to rely on her for things like that. That's all,” he said, a dismissive tone in his voice.

The doctor considered his words. There was a lot to unpack in that one sentence, but she had a feeling he'd start to clam up if she pursued it right now.

It was best to show him outright how therapy could benefit him in a very practical way now and then see if she could broach those other topics later.

“I work with parents sometimes,” she said. “Sometimes it's a parent who missed part of their child's life because of the war. Over a year of growth and memories they couldn't be there for. They don't know how to connect with their child or fight the guilt of missing out.”

Perhaps, as a hero, he worried he'd be called to duty and miss time with his future child. And since he'd already mentioned not having a normal childhood, she continued, “There are also those who didn't have good parents of their own and don't want to continue that cycle, or those who didn't have parents and don't even know where to begin. You're certainly not the only one who worries they won't be the parent they want to be, Link.”

He looked startled to hear his real name come out of her mouth.

“I've got many pointers for being a parent,” Dr. Kimm told him. “If you'd like, I could talk a bit about those. And if you have any questions, feel free to ask. It's never too early to prepare.”

This was clearly a man who wanted to do things right - as best as possible. Learning how to be a good father was surely tempting bait for him. It would be good for Time to see that therapy didn't have to be a bunch of mushy, emotional outpourings. There was a practical side to it, and that was what a man like this would like. 

“...I suppose it wouldn't hurt.”

Bingo.

--

“Dr. Kimm, right? A pleasure to meet you,” the young man called Twilight said politely, reaching out to shake her hand before taking a seat.

“The pleasure is mine,” she replied. “So what brought you to meet with me today? What's been on your mind that inspired you to turn to therapy?”

Twilight hesitated a moment before saying, “I mean no insult when I say this, ma'am, but I just wanted to warn you that I'm not so sure I actually need therapy. I mean, sure, I've done some difficult things - all of us have - but it's not exactly therapy-worthy stuff. I only agreed to go because when Warriors first brought up the idea of therapy, the old man said it was a good idea and was going to go.”

“Your father…?”

Twilight laughed. “Oh no, no no, I meant Time. Uh, another one of us.”

“Ah, yes.” 

When Warriors, as they called the Link from her own era, had initially brought up therapy, it didn't sound as though Time had actually planned to go, according to the man's own account. He'd only agreed, after all, after his wife encouraged him to do so. Seems he hadn't been honest in an attempt to get this one to come visit me, Dr. Kimm thought.

“In your opinion, then, why do you think Time encouraged you to visit me?” she asked. 

Twilight rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Probably figured I should talk about how my adventure ended. I mean, maybe it's because he's a married man that this sorta thing means more to him, but if everyone who ever experienced a bit of heartbreak went to therapy, I'm sure there wouldn't be enough of you folk to cover all those needing sessions, right? I'm sure there's plenty o’ worse things that actually do deserve some therapy.”

Dr. Kimm smiled. “Many people brush things off because ‘other people have it worse’ or because they've seen someone else go through something similar, but they seem fine. But hurt is hurt. In my office, there is no belittling our own experiences because of what others may or may not be going through. When something hurts or weighs on someone, it’s worth talking about, no matter what it is.”

Twilight sighed, shrugged his shoulders up in a ‘may as well since I'm here’ sort of motion, and said, “Well, I'm not sure where I'd start. It's a bit complicated.”

“Well, you could start at the beginning,” she said, “or some people find it easier to start at the end.”

The man looked down at his hands, his gaze going a little somber. “The end, huh?”

The words seemed to hold a painful weight. There were many kinds of heartbreak, and Dr. Kimm had certainly seen her fair share sitting across from her. Everyone expressed themselves and dealt with things differently, of course, but that look he wore spoke not just of heartbreak but of the grief of having lost someone permanently.

She hoped she was wrong, but she unfortunately had a pretty good gut instinct about these things.

It took him a while to sort out his thoughts, but he finally said, “Well, I didn't even really know who she really was until the very end.” He scratched his cheek with an awkward laugh. “Which, uh, makes the whole thing a bit sillier because I didn't even consider her in that light until it was too late. I mean, I cared about her deeply, but not in that way. It's not like I was pining the whole time, and then she left. She was already gone by the time it had all sunk in.”

She could tell there was more on his mind and waited patiently.

“I don't even know what I would have done if I had registered it sooner,” he admitted. “It's not like she could have stayed. It's not like I could have gone with either, I don't think.” His voice got a little softer. “Light and dark, though two sides of the same coin, don't mix.”

He took a breath, straightened as though deciding he was finished, and said, “So there was nothing to be done. It's not something I should hold onto, I know that.”

She nodded slowly. There was some information missing in that explanation, a few things she wondered about, but she got the important bits.

“Knowing something doesn't always make it easier for our hearts to accept. There's no shame in grieving what could have been,” the doctor said gently.

“I just…” His expression became frustrated. “I wish I knew why… she would say ‘see you later’ and then destroy our only means to see each other again.”

Dr. Kimm leaned forward. A difficult situation, to be sure. “Being left with mixed messages can make the hurt linger longer. I can imagine that was a painful experience, and I can see why it still hurts. Especially when you didn't have time to fully understand how you felt about the situation until it was over.”

Twilight didn't respond right away. Expression taught, he stared elsewhere for a long moment.

“Sometimes I wonder if it was just supposed to be one last prank. She had always been so mischievous. Or maybe it was her way of saying she didn't want to leave. Maybe it was easier for her to say a casual goodbye like that.” He ran a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “I just wish I knew, that's all. Wish I knew, and wish I'd said something instead of just standing there like an idiot, nodding at her.”

“It sounds like you're carrying a lot of what-ifs,” she said gently. “About both her actions and words and your own. You're not alone in that. That's something many people do when dealing with loss.”

The man seemed to be chewing on her words, brow furrowed as he stared at his boots.

“It's especially difficult when we realize things we would have wanted to say if given the chance,” she added.

He took in a breath, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “I didn't even really say goodbye. Not really. It was our last moment together, and I didn't do anything.”

“It sounds like there was a lot for you to process at the time,” Dr. Kimm said. “Thoughts and feelings that hadn't had the time to fully form yet. That doesn't make you some sort of failure.”

Running a hand over his face, Twilight let out a small breath of a laugh. “You're good at your job. I'm talking more than I thought I would.”

She smiled a little. “It sounds to me like you just needed the space to do so. Sometimes an unbiased place and a listening ear is all that's needed.”

Heaving another sigh, he slowly sat back up. “So what can I do? There's gotta be something other than just… waiting for it to pass, right?”

“Well, grief… rarely passes,” she said carefully. “It changes shape, gets smaller, and other things can sometimes help fill the spaces left behind. But it can get better and there are ways to help ease the weight of loss. The first is by allowing yourself to process and grieve. Giving yourself permission to feel that loss and all the emotions with it without trying to push them aside or downplay them.”

Twilight looked a bit abashed at her words. He'd walked into her office downplaying his issues, after all.

“Secondly, some find it helpful to write a letter to the person they lost. Say what you didn't get a chance to say. Ask your questions. You won't get an answer, but the point is more to let all those feelings out in a more tangible form. It can, in a way, help the mind and heart to feel a better sense of closure.”

She studied his expression and the uncertainty in his eyes. “Would you be willing to try writing to her?”

“I… I guess I could,” he said, though there was doubt in his tone.

“There's no right or wrong way to do it,” she assured him. “You can write more than one if you'd like. Just be honest as you write, even if it's messy. And if you'd like to bring your letter in, we can discuss it together. If not, that's perfectly fine. You don't have to show it to anyone if you don't want to.”

He nodded slowly. It would be a difficult wound to patch, she could tell, but this was a good start.

--

Her next patient was a child, a boy going on fourteen. With a younger client, she found it best to take on a different approach, especially when the boy, currently going by Wind, was jiggling his legs anxiously, fingers twisting the pendant round and round his neck, gaze flicking about the room as he looked at everything but her as she introduced herself.

“So what are your hobbies?”

His fingers stopped moving for a second as he finally looked over at her, surprise filling his expression.

“You're not going to ask me what's wrong with me?”

Dr. Kimm set her clipboard aside for now. “Do you think something is ‘wrong’ with you?”

“No,” Wind replied. “I really don't think I need therapy. I mean, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm perfectly fine! But Time made that disappointed dad face when I said I wasn't going to go, and Warriors was doing that stupid captain thing he does, so I figured it would be easier to just come.”

“That makes sense. Sometimes it's easier to just go along with something than deal with disappointed looks, isn't it?” She gave him an understanding smile. “But going to therapy doesn't mean there's something ‘wrong’ with you. It can just be a place to talk, figure things out that bug or bother you, or even just to take a break from other people’s expectations for a while.”

After all, if this boy was part of this group, that meant he had done some very challenging things at a young age, which could lead to expectations from others or even one's self. The captain often fretted about the younger ages of some of those traveling with him. If she remembered correctly, this was one of the children who had taken part in the Time Wars. 

Wind had moved from fiddling with his pendant to fisting the bottom of his tunic, lips pursing into an annoyed crinkle as he stared at his lap for a moment. “I don't need a break from expectations. They don't have expectations of me. Unless you count expecting me to be a dumb kid. Which I'm not.”

The doctor hummed. “You're tired of being treated like a kid?”

He nodded, brow drawn together grumpily. “So maybe, uh, maybe when you meet with the others, you can tell them to knock it off. I did a whole buncha stuff without their help before, so why do they keep thinking I need it now? I talked to ‘em about it, but they still do it sometimes. I mean, Four can't be that much older than me… I think? But they don't treat him that way.”

“I can tell you're a very capable young man,” she replied. “So it must be frustrating to be treated otherwise, especially when you've already done so much to prove yourself. You want to be treated like an equal, not someone who needs extra help, right?”

Wind nodded emphatically.

“The tricky thing is sometimes people don't always change just because they're asked to. Sometimes, people don't even realize they're still doing it,” she continued. “You mentioned talking to them before. What did you say?”

“I told them that I didn't think I'd have to prove myself to them of all people. I've got the Hero's Spirit just like they do. I defeated Ganon too. I'm not any different.”

“And how did they react?”

“Well, Time said I ‘displayed maturity’, but no one else really said anything.” He scowled. “Some of them were adventuring just as young as I was! They're such hypocrites!”

“Do you think maybe they wish they hadn't had to adventure so young?”

Wind didn't respond, brow drawing together like he didn't quite get it.

“Do you know anyone younger than yourself?” Dr. Kimm asked instead.

Wind nodded. “Yeah. I've even got a younger sister.”

“Would you want her to have to do what you did?”

“Of course not!” he said decisively. “She's just a kid!” Then, realizing what he just said, he backpedaled. “I mean, Aryll is literally just a kid. She's not even as old as I was when I started out!”

“Alright, if she was the age you were when you started, would you want her to have done what you did?”

He was silent, and she could tell by the begrudging look on his face that he got the idea of what she was saying.

“You would want her to have a childhood like most other children get, wouldn't you? Even if she had done what you did, you wouldn't want her to have to go through any other challenges, would you?”

“...No…” he mumbled.

“I'm sure the others recognize all that you've done, but that doesn't stop them from wishing you hadn't needed to,” she said gently. “And that probably ends up coming through in their actions. I doubt they intend to belittle you or hurt your feelings, but rather wish to shield you from harm the same way you want to shield your sister from harm.”

“But it already all happened. There's no point to it now,” he insisted.

“I understand. Sometimes, the ways others show they care aren't the ways we want them to show it. Unfortunately, we can't always control how others treat us. But we can always try talking to them about it again, and even more importantly, we can control how we view and react to what other people do. So let's start by brainstorming some things you can say to them. What do you think you could say to help them see your perspective on the matter?”

“Well…”

--

This Link, she noted as she glanced at her paper, was going by Legend at the moment. Quite the egomaniacal name, she couldn't help but think - but no, she mustn't jump to conclusions. The way the captain talked about this boy had never made him sound narcissistic or vain. 

“I don't want to be here, and you can't get me to talk,” the teen announced as he plopped in the chair, one leg crossing over the other as his arms folded. 

“So why did you decide to come?” Dr. Kimm asked curiously.

Legend's entire face scrunched with bitter anger. “Twilight blackmailed me. The jerk.”

Blackmail?

“None of your business,” he spat before she had the chance to ask.

“I want you to know this is a safe space,” she said gently. “Everything we discuss in our sessions is private. I won't share anything we talk about with others unless you give me explicit permission. The only exceptions to this rule in which I become legally obligated to break confidentiality is if I believe you are going to harm yourself or someone else, or if I become aware of child abuse, elder abuse, or abuse of a dependent adult.”

Legend snorted. “So if I say I'm gonna wring Wind's neck if he tries to steal my Fire Rod one more time, you'll report me?”

“Not necessarily,” Dr. Kimm assured him. “People vent when they’re frustrated. There's a difference between venting and a real threat. I only have to act if I truly believe someone is in danger - meaning if you have a plan and intend to follow through. If you’re just blowing off steam, that stays between us.”

Legend eyed her warily. He reminded her a lot of her cat when she had first gotten him. A rescue from an abusive household, Mittens had been all claws at first, hissing and glaring from under her bed, distrustful and ready to attack at any given moment.

“I'm still not gonna talk,” he finally said, turning his head away, gaze settling on one of the paintings on the wall.

“Alright,” she said mildly. Just like with Mittens, she'd wait until he came to her and then try a bit more coaxing. “We'll talk when you feel ready to talk.”

So they sat there in silence as she studied his behavior. He shifted, fingers drumming on his knee as his gaze moved to one of the other paintings in the room. After a while, he stared at the pictograph on her wall and then, briefly, her bowl of candies and mints. With an expression that she supposed was supposed to be rebellious, he took a handful, shoved them in his bag, and then stared at her third painting. When some birds landed in the small tree outside the window of her office, he stared at that instead. Every so often, he'd shift, uncrossing one leg and crossing the other, arms folding and unfolding, stubbornly studying one thing after another in the room like a cycle but never looking at her. 

Dr. Kimm could tell Legend wasn't used to having nothing to do. Taking up her quill, she began making a note.

“What are you writing?” Legend asked after a few seconds, sitting up a little.

The doctor lowered her pen. “You're ready to talk?”

Legend bristled, frown deepening. “I didn't say that. I just want to know what you're writing.”

“Let's do an exchange then. If you tell me something new about yourself, I'll tell you something as well. Once piece of information for one piece of information.”

“That's stupid. I should be allowed to know what you're writing about me.”

“What if it's not about you?”

He stared at her. “What else would it be about?”

“My offer stands,” she said simply.

He glared at her as though their shared eye contact was a battle to be won. Finally, he huffed, looking away. “Fine.” 

He paused for a long moment afterwards, and she waited. She could tell he was trying to think of the most boring and least useful thing he could share. 

Finally, Legend looked at her again. “I like apples.” There was a hint of smugness in his expression now, as though he was thinking, How's that? Nothing you can do with that information, is there?

“Alright. I was writing about you,” the doctor said.

Legend looked triumphant. “Hah! I knew it. So what is it then, what did you write?”

“One piece of information for one piece of information,” she reminded him.

Legend gaped at her for a moment before his expression returned to one of anger. “That's cheating.”

“I can't choose what you tell me,” Dr. Kimm said. “You can't choose what I tell you. Unless you'd like to alter the rules to make it so we can have each other answer specific questions…?”

“No way.” He scowled at her and then turned away. “Forget it.”

“Suit yourself.” She began writing again. Another minute passed before Legend let out an exasperated noise. She looked back up at him.

“I know a merchant named Ravio,” he stated.

“I wrote, ‘He’s bored,’” she returned.

“What?” Legend stared at her. “That can't be all you've written. You've been writing for like, an entire minute or two.”

“One piece of inform-”

“You've gotta be kidding me. This is stupid. I'm not doing this anymore.” He stood up, headed for the door, stopped short, and came back, sitting down with even more force than the first time as he spat, “Don’t misunderstand. I just can't leave until it's over.”

The rest of the session was spent in silence.

--

When Hyrule entered, he scanned the entire room in a quick sweep and then perched on the very edge of the chair as though he was ready to leave any second. Dr. Kimm couldn't help but notice, however, how his gaze lingered a few beats longer on the bowl of candy and mints on the table between them.

“You can take some if you'd like.”

The boy flinched, his gaze darting away. “No, I'm fine.”

“Alright. Just know you're free to take some if you ever want. So what brought you here today?”

A tinge of pink colored Hyrule's cheeks. “Everyone else was going.”

A fear of exclusion, perhaps? Or maybe the opinions of the others meant a great deal to him. 

“Since you're here, is there anything you'd like to talk about?”

“Talk about?”

“Yes. Worries, fears, things that bother you.”

Hyrule looked absolutely puzzled. “That's uh…” His fingers knitted together and then pulled apart, his voice turning into a mumble. “A weird thing to start with.”

“It's often the sort of thing people want to talk about during a therapy session,” Dr. Kimm replied. 

The puzzled expression grew. “It is?”

She studied him for a moment. He looked completely lost. “I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you know how therapy works?”

“Um, people do stretches and exercise…?”

The doctor swallowed a laugh. “That's physical therapy.”

“Then what's this?”

“It’s therapy for the mind,” she replied.

“Like… brain exercises? Puzzles and stuff? Four likes those,” Hyrule said thoughtfully.

“Not exactly. Though I do have some puzzles if you're interested. It's more… working out the things that trouble people. Learning to navigate the world and its hardships while keeping our minds and emotions healthy. Dealing with stresses in a productive manner,” the doctor explained.

“Oh.” He still didn't look certain, but he looked less confused than before. “Um, I don't really need that,” he said, voice polite.

“No?”

“I already know how to handle my stress,” he said lightly.

“That's great to hear,” Dr. Kimm replied with a smile. “What are your methods for dealing with stress?”

With those sleeves of his pulled all the way down and looped over his middle fingers so it couldn't ride up and show his arms, she hoped it was nothing harmful. 

“I go for walks,” he said.

Oh, that's a very healthy coping mechanism, she didn't have a chance to say, because his eyes brightened a little as he added, “Sometimes, Wild comes with me. He's got an endless supply of bombs! Of course, if we're in earshot, there's only so much time we've got to play around before Wolfie gets there to bring us back.”

Reckless behavior. Not a healthy coping mechanism. What was more concerning was the way he said it - there was clearly nothing wrong with casually playing with danger in his opinion. Heroes had to do hard things to become what they were, she knew that, but wouldn't that make one realize more than ever the importance of safety? Captain Link had long lamented over the overconfidence he'd fallen into after getting the Master Sword. He had told her plainly that if it weren't for his comrades, he wouldn't have made it out alive. It seemed to the doctor as though he'd gained a renewed sense of caution after that. 

But this one… though he seemed cautious around her, he didn't seem cautious about dangerous tools.

Neither did the one called Wild, it seemed. She'd have to make a note of that. He was on her list of appointments, after all. It would be good to keep in mind.

“Anyway, I know what to do, so I don't need this,” Hyrule added quickly, his expression turning a bit nervous as he glanced towards the door.

“Well, going for a walk is certainly an excellent method for dealing with stress. They're fantastic anxiety combatants. But it’s never a bad thing to have more than one coping mechanism. For example, what if you're not in a situation where you can't go for a walk?”

Hyrule looked down at his lap uncomfortably. “Uh, I'm fine. That's not a problem.”

She doubted it. It seemed he was fighting a bit of anxiety at the present - his body language contradicted his words.

“Many people have moments of anxiety and discomfort in public situations where they can't leave,” Dr. Kimm assured him. “What I like to teach people to do in situations like that are grounding techniques.”

Hyrule's brow furrowed as he glanced at the floor. “Grounding techniques…?”

“Yes. It can involve focusing on feeling the ground beneath your feet, squeezing your own hands and focusing on that sensation, or going through each of your senses to find things you can see, hear, touch, smell, and if possible, taste,” she explained. “It can help draw the mind away from the anxiety and put one's focus on the present, on something tangible.”

She watched him try to discreetly squeeze his hands together for a moment before taking advantage of the pause to jot down a few quick notes.

That drew his attention immediately, however, and he seemed to still completely for a moment.

“Legend said you write stuff about people…” he said uncertainly.

“I do, yes. I have many clients, so writing things down helps me remember things about others. But nothing you tell me leaves this room.”

“Oh… but I've not said anything important enough to remember…?”

“Why do you say that?” Dr. Kimm asked.

She didn't miss the way he squeezed his hands together once. His voice still sounded unsure of himself. “Because it's true?”

“Everyone is important. There's nothing about a person that isn't important in its own way,” she said. When he didn't reply, she decided to switch topics entirely. It seemed best to settle on an easier subject while letting him mull over everything else she'd said. “So how did your nickname come to be Hyrule, anyway?” It had struck her as a rather odd and confusing choice.

“Oh, um… Well, I'm not a hero like the others.” He paused, shook his head. “That is, I don't have an official title or anything like they do. So there wasn't anything easy to call me like the others. But I've traveled around a lot, so they joked about just calling me ‘Hyrule,’ but then it kind of… stuck.”

She couldn't tell if he had corrected himself to mean that, though he was a hero, he didn't have a title, or if the fact he didn't have a title had just been an addition to further explain his non-hero status. Except she was rather certain he was a hero. Captain Link had never said otherwise.

Were these his thoughts or someone else's?

“Do you wish you had a title like the others?” the doctor decided to ask.

He shook his head. “Oh, no, I don't need anything like that.”

A humble sentence, but she could tell it went beyond that. Based on the things he'd said so far, he didn't seem to think a whole lot of himself.

Testing the waters, she next asked, “You said you're not a hero like the others. What makes you say that?”

“I… don't have a title…” Hyrule replied slowly, looking away.

Dr. Kimm nodded slowly. “It sounds like you've thought a lot about it. Do you think that having no title makes you less of a hero than the others?”

“No.” He shifted uncomfortably. “No. It's- I don't care if I don't have an official title. I don't want a title.”

“But do you feel it sets you apart?”

“I… no. I've… slain monsters… I've risked my life - am risking my life for Hyrule, for the greater good… I'm… like the others too.”

Though his words seemed well thought out, he didn't seem to fully believe them. If anything, it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. 

“Do you fully believe that?” she asked softly.

Hyrule didn't say anything, which was an answer in itself.

The doctor nodded, accepting his answer, silent though it was, and gave him a moment before speaking again. “That's okay. It's good that you have those reasons why you're just as much of a hero as the others are in your mind. It's an excellent first step. But sometimes it can take time for us to believe things about ourselves, especially when other thoughts about ourselves have been louder for a longer period of time.”

She gave him a small smile. “You don't have to tell me about those thoughts if you don't want to. But you're more than welcome to do so - even if it's not today.”

When he didn't reply, didn't look at her, just kept fisting and relaxing his hands over and over, nibbled nails pressing into his palms repeatedly, she decided to continue.

“Changing one's mindset usually isn't an immediate or quick process, and that's alright. As long as we keep working towards that end goal of believing in it. There's a term I like: fake it till you make it. The more we repeat good things about ourselves, the easier it becomes to believe them. That’s why there's something we call ‘positive affirmations’. Is it okay if I tell you a bit about that?”

His shoulders twitched in an almost imperceptible shrug. 

Seeing as he'd already been trying out one of the grounding methods she'd mentioned, even though it was clear to her he didn't want her to notice it, perhaps he'd also quietly try out using positive affirmations.

It seemed worth it to Dr. Kimm to explain it and hope he'd put it into practice. 

--

"What happens if I don't want to talk?” Wild asked softly.

“Nothing,” Dr. Kimm replied. “These sessions are here to help you. If taking a break in silence is what you need, we can do that. Or you can talk about whatever you'd like - anything at all.”

He sat in silence for a moment. “It smells like food in here.”

“Ah, I just had my lunch before you came in. Sorry about that,” she apologized. “I guess opening the window for a while didn't do enough.”

He shook his head. “It's fine. What did you have?”

“Pulled pork tacos,” she replied, and then, a bit proud, couldn't help but add, “I made the tortillas myself last night.”

Wild looked curious. “What are those? How do you make them?”

He must like to cook. Come to think of it, I think the captain had said he usually cooked for the group.

“Tortillas are… think flatbread but thinner. I made flour tortillas, but there are corn tortillas too. And to make them - well, there's flour, salt, oil, and water,” she listed. “I can't remember the exact amount off the top of my head though. Then you flatten out the dough into a bunch of circles and cook them on a greased skillet. The recipe is at home, unfortunately; otherwise I'd give you more information.”

As she'd talked, he'd gotten out an odd rectangle and started tapping at it.

“I can try and figure out the amounts,” he murmured to himself. 

“If you come back, I can have a copy of the recipe for you,” she offered.

He glanced up at her, blue eyes unreadable. “Maybe.”

Hm.

“So, you enjoy cooking?”

He nodded. 

“That's nice. I do too, though I have less time for it than I wish I did.”

“Do you… have a favorite recipe?” Wild asked.

His voice was a lot softer than she would have expected for the nickname he had.

“Hmm… that's a tricky question.” Dr. Kimm thought for a moment. “I think casseroles are fun. They're not particularly difficult but they allow for a lot of experimentation.”

“Casseroles?”

“Well, they bake in an oven,” she said. “So I suppose they're not very good for on-the-road cooking like you and your friends are doing. But it's really just a lot of different things mixed together in a pan and then baked. One of my favorites is beef, shredded potatoes, a few veggies - like carrots and corn, and cheese.”

Once again, he was tapping away on that little rectangle of his.

“Can I ask what you've got there?”

“Sheikah Slate,” he answered, as though those words meant anything to her. Well, slates could be used for writing, though, so maybe it was something like that.

“What's it for?” she asked.

“Lots of things. But right now, I'm taking notes. I like to record recipes.”

“Ah. What's your favorite recipe to make?”

Wild lowered the slate thoughtfully. “Fruitcake,” he said after a moment.

“Oh, so you've got a sweet tooth?” she said with a smile, brows raising.

He didn't respond. His expression went unexpectedly distant, and the doctor's smile faded just a little. I wonder what that's about.

“If you'd like to take any of those honey candies on the table, you can,” she offered.

Wild blinked back to the present and shook his head. “I've got some already.”

“Alright. Well, the offer is always there. What else do you enjoy doing aside from cooking?”

He listed several things with a completely neutral expression. “Riding horses. Climbing. Paragliding. Blowing stuff up.”

The first two had been relatively normal, healthy activities. The third had teetered on the edge but was still a hobby some thrill-seekers enjoyed that, as long as one did it carefully, usually didn't turn out badly.

But the last one…

She could almost hear Hyrule's words. He’s got an endless supply of bombs!

“You seem the sort who likes to do physical things then. Putting yourself in the sensory world rather than your mind. Rock climbing rather than reading.”

Wild shrugged a shoulder. “Reading's alright. But yeah, I guess I prefer the other stuff.”

“The natural world is good for us,” she said approvingly. “It's healthy to spend time outdoors. Of course, I know all of you do a lot of traveling, so I suppose that's inevitable, but it's much nicer when one enjoys that sort of thing, isn't it?”

He didn't reply again. It felt as though he were standing on the other side of a glass wall and only sometimes did her words get through.

She wondered if it was dissociation. No one could have that many large scars without trauma, and trauma often led to dissociation. There was that vacant look he'd gotten in his eyes a few times… and while she'd initially figured it was just a funny error, she'd wondered if the “117” he'd written for age on the forms he'd filled out had been due to momentarily zoning out.

She decided to toss out another question, see if she could keep the conversation going. “Do you enjoy traveling with the others?”

“I don't know,” he said. “Sometimes.”

“I'm sure it can be difficult to get along with that many different personalities,” she said, offering him something to base his next response off of if he agreed.

He barely touched the branch. “I guess.”

Dr. Kimm opened her mouth to try something else but only got one syllable out as he suddenly spoke again.

“I'm done talking now.”

Ah.

“Okay. Would you like to just sit quietly or do you want to do something? I have jigsaw puzzles, I've got chess…” She opened her drawer. “I've also got these.” The doctor held up two separate disentanglement puzzles - metal locked together in different ways.

His gaze intensified - less distant, more interested.

She reached across the table, holding one out. “The goal is to get all the pieces separated.”

Wild took it from her hand and silently got to work.

--

“So what did Warriors tell you about me?” Four asked curiously.

Dr. Kimm smiled. “All my sessions are confidential - everything stays between myself and my patient, and that includes what… Warriors and I talk about. What do you think he might tell me about you?”

Four let out a small huff of a laugh. “You're good at this, aren't you? Turning my question back on me to trick me into talking about myself.”

“I'm not trying to trick you,” she replied. “I'm just curious. Since you asked me something like that, I thought maybe you'd have something in mind already as to how he perceives you.”

He studied her for a moment as though she were an intriguing puzzle.

“It's not my business how others perceive me,” he said after a moment. She wondered if he meant that or if that was his way of dodging the question.

“What about yourself? How do you perceive yourself?” she asked.

“Depends,” he said with a little noise that sounded like a suppressed giggle. 

“On?” she prompted. 

“I'm a very multifaceted person,” Four said with a small smile that looked oddly amused. “So it depends on the facet.”

Dr. Kimm nodded. “Of course. Everyone has many different pieces of themselves that make up the whole.”

Four looked like he was trying not to laugh, and she had no idea why.

Still, she pushed forward. “But let's start with the surface, the whole. It doesn't have to be anything deep. Just tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“I'm a smithy,” he said after a moment.

“Oh? Sounds like hard work. What's your favorite part of the job?”

Four paused, gaze flicking to the side as he thought. “Seeing it all come together. There are a lot of steps involved, and seeing each part of the process adding to the end result is very satisfying.”

“That does sound satisfying,” she agreed. She could see why the group treated Four differently than Wind, despite both being on the younger side. Four carried a completely different air than Wind. There was something that felt more mature about him, which to Dr. Kimm meant he'd been forced to grow up fast and had yet to connect to his inner child again. “How did you get into smithing?”

“My grandfather is a smithy. He taught me a lot.”

“Ah, a family business. I think it's nice when family members share interests.”

Four nodded but didn't say anything else. His gaze briefly wandered the room before returning to the doctor, waiting.

She decided to go for it and ask outright. “So, if you don't mind me asking, you don't seem to be keen on sharing any of your deeper feelings. If that's the case - and do correct me if I'm wrong - what brought you in to see me?”

“I was curious,” Four said simply. 

“Curious about?”

“How it all worked.” There was a small glimmer in his eyes as he added, “If you'd manage to pick my brain.”

“Well, I try to build a comfortable environment so my clients feel comfortable talking about what bothers them. Then we can work through it together. But ‘how it works’ does depend on the person and what they're struggling with.”

“So you want me to talk about what I'm struggling with.”

“If you feel comfortable doing so. But we can talk about whatever you'd like.”

“Honestly, I do just fine working things out for myself. Better than most - if not all - of the others.” He didn't sound as though he were trying to cover up anything or pretend things were fine. He seemed rather confident in what he was saying. “I think a lot of them are emotional wrecks deep down.” Four frowned. “Or not even very deep down.”

“Well, it's good that you feel confident about your mental health. May I ask how you sort out your feelings and cope with stress?”

Four paused thoughtfully, then smiled. “Group therapy.”

Dr. Kimm blinked. “You mean you've been to therapy before…? Or have just discussed things with your own personal support group?” He had said he was curious about therapy, but maybe he'd meant one-on-one therapy.

“The latter,” he replied.

She nodded. “It's always good when people have those they feel close enough to share things with. Having close companions you can trust and talk to about difficult matters can do wonders for the mind. How many people do you have that you feel you can share things with?”

“Well, I can talk to some of those I'm traveling with about some things, I guess,” he said carefully. “But as for those who know everything? ” His lips pressed together, fighting a smile, which shone through anyway once he actually spoke. “Four.”

“By that, do you mean yourself, or do you mean four other people?”

“Both,” he said.

So he had himself and four other people, she supposed. Well, it sounded like he was rather in touch with himself, which was definitely good. And he had a good support system - though there was only so much untrained people could do when helping someone else through difficulties. For some, the kind words and assistance of some friends were enough. For others, they needed something professional.

Dr. Kimm wasn't quite sure where Four placed.

“Do you feel like that's enough? Yourself and the other four?”

“It's worked so far.”

Dr. Kimm tilted her head a little. “And what if, hypothetically, it didn't work one day?”

“I'd figure it out.”

She wondered if he was used to having to figure things out on his own. Once again, it felt as though this was a boy that had grown up very quickly. He didn't seem keen on relying on others - she wondered how much he even turned to those four people he'd mentioned for help. They knew “everything”, he had said, but was there any conversation beyond that? Had he just told them what had happened in his life and moved on?

“You sound very self-reliant,” the doctor remarked. 

“I suppose.”

“But you're not alone,” she pointed out. “It seems to me as though you have many people who care about you.” The captain had made it sound like they were all pretty close - like brothers, even - and Four seemed relatively close to his grandfather, or at least nothing had given her the impression that it wasn't the case. 

“No, I'm not alone,” Four said as though that were an easy fact that he was fully aware of.

“Do you let the others help you then? When things get heavy?”

“If I need it,” he replied.

Something told her he typically didn't think he needed it. 

He's a tricky one.

Most of what he'd said so far was short and vague - as though their session was a game of seeing if he could answer her questions while giving as little about himself away as possible. 

She decided to lean into his challenge. “And how do you decide when you need it?”

“When I can't manage on my own,” he replied evenly. Not a particularly revealing answer, but she expected as much.

“How often does that happen?”

Four shrugged a shoulder. “Sometimes.”

“And when it does…”

“I turn to the four.”

“In what sorts of ways do they help you?” Dr. Kimm asked.

“They all have their own methods,” he replied slowly. “One of them… likes to work out the more emotional aspect of things, if there is one. Another prefers the more analytical side. One of them… prefers to take a bolder, more forthright approach to problems, and the last-” he paused to murmur, “but certainly not least,” before finishing, “tends to encourage everyone to work out a conclusion together. Uh, kind of keeps everyone on track and motivated, though he can be stubborn sometimes.”

“Sounds like a very well-rounded group,” the doctor complimented. 

“When they work together in tandem,” he agreed.

“And when they don't?”

“Disagreements can take time to settle. They're all similar yet very different people,” Four said. 

“Disagreements can happen even with the closest of friends,” she replied. “But it sounds like they care about you a lot.”

“They're always there for me,” he replied. And there it was again, the tiniest quirk up of his lips, amused, like there was something she was missing. 

“Since they're such a diverse bunch, is it ever challenging - or even frustrating - trying to decide what path to take when there's likely multiple opinions?” Dr. Kimm asked.

He hummed. “Sometimes. Even putting all the pieces together… doesn't always match up.”

She nodded in understanding. “Of course. When one person wants to go left and the other right, adding them together to stay in the middle gets you nowhere. I'm sure weighing the different perspectives can be difficult. But it sounds like you trust them and care about what they have to say on matters.”

“I know them better than anyone else,” he said slowly, as though choosing his words carefully. “Even when things have seemed… wrong, there was a reason for it.”

“Do you think… you ever avoid taking problems to them for help because there are so many different voices and opinions?” she questioned.

Four considered her question. “That would be difficult to do.”

“Because you're so close to each other?”

“Because we're so close to each other,” he confirmed. “Which is alright. I wouldn't be myself without them anyway.”

“You mean they've helped shape who you are?”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Something like that.”

“It sounds like you've known each other for a long time.”

Four tilted his head with a thoughtful hum. “Kind of? But kind of not. Depends on your definition.”

Kind of, but kind of not? Definition of what? This boy and his cryptic, odd answers.

Still, there wasn't much she could do about his vague answers for now. Hopefully, he would either open up at some point or keep giving her enough crumbs to piece things together. They had some time left in this session, and if she could keep him curious or entertained by this “game” he seemed to be playing, maybe he'd come back for another session.

This was a client she'd love to figure out.