Work Text:
They'd been walking all day.
Legend walked at the rear of the group, watching feet drag and shoulders slump after a day of walking and nothing else—no fight, no interesting landmarks, nothing. Just trees, grass, and a long path threading through.
Boring days left time to think. They left time to watch.
And Legend did. He watched the way Sky's feet dragged, and Time nudged him encouragingly. The way Wars prodded Wind along, then offered to carry him on his back—which, of course, the sailor refused. He saw the way Twilight's hand automatically came out and snagged Wild's hood when he veered away as though to wander off, and then tucked him under his arm. How when Four stumbled, Hyrule touched his shoulder, checking on him.
And Legend at the back, close enough to talk. Far enough that no one ever brushed up against him.
It wasn't like anyone was doing it out of malice. If they were freezing him out, he'd know how to respond; he could fight that. Spite had gotten him through a lot worse than a cold shoulder.
They decided to make camp. Packs dropped with a chorus of relieved groans. Sky and Four headed for the tree line to find firewood. Hyrule and Wars took the waterskins without being told, already veering toward the sound of a nearby creek. Wild and Wind debated with Twilight over the Slate and what he should make for dinner. Legend and Time patrolled the area quickly, just to make sure there was nothing nearby. Everyone fell into their chores and routines and soon there was a cheerful fire crackling, the smell of dinner cooking, and bedrolls set up.
Wild and Hyrule's bedrolls lined up side by side. Twilight next to Wild but not smothering; Four would end up tucked near Twilight half the time. Sky didn't care who he slept next to; he could sleep through elbows to his ribs and snoring and anything else. Time and Wars surrounding Wind's bedroll.
And then there was Legend.
There was at least five feet of open ground between his blanket and the nearest other bedroll. No chance a flailing arm or a wandering foot or someone rolling in their sleep could bring him together with someone else.
It was neat. Respectful. Precise.
It made his skin itch.
He knew how it had started. Of course he did.
He was prickly. That was not new information. Sarcastic, too, and more often than not sore from one of his many old injuries. He wasn't exactly easy to get along with, someone people would be eager to spend time with.
He knew he'd been standoffish the first few weeks, but come on, who wouldn't be if a bunch of strangers showed up on your front step, each claiming your name, telling you they were versions of you from different points in time? They'd dropped an impossible story in his lap, dragged him out of a very peaceful retirement thank you very much, and swept him up into yet another world-saving quest before he'd even had a chance to finish the tea Ravio had brewed that morning.
And after they'd gone through the portal, as he realized he was hundreds of years and a universe away from his home and Zelda and Ravio, Wars had come up alongside him. He'd said, "It's not so bad, you'll get used to it!" Then he'd clapped him on his shoulder, one already aching with old injury. And Legend had been on edge, and more scared than he'd ever admit with starting a new adventure—the purpose and adrenaline and excitement hadn't swept him up yet, and he had so much to lose now—so he'd jerked away.
He'd snarled, "Hands off. You don't get to grab me like we're old friends."
They'd all backed off. Apologies, raised hands, distance.
And somewhere along the line, even after Legend had relaxed and could admit, begrudgingly, that he was friends with these heroes, that had translated into Legend doesn't like to be touched.
Now, he didn't know how to fix it.
He lay down on his bedroll that night. His stomach was full from a warm dinner, it was a mild summer night, his blanket was thick. He shivered, cold, and watched the others over his folded arms. Imagined what it would be like to worm his way into one of those gaps between them, to set his bedroll among them and let their heat soak into his bones.
What could he even say? Hey, I know I've made a habit of biting your head off any time one of you so much as brushes up against me, but really I'd like a hug if that's alright with you?
Right. That would go just great. Not humiliating at all.
He rolled onto his other side so his back was to him, curled up under his blanket, and dug his fingers into his own ribs. If he pressed hard enough, it almost felt like the weight of an arm around him.
He closed his eyes and tried to pretend it was enough.
It didn't stop.
In inns, he always ended up with a bed to himself. Around the fire, others ended up pressed shoulder to shoulder while he sat on his own. Even after fights, where Wars often smothered and physically patted others down to make sure they weren't hiding injuries, all Legend got was a visual scan and a verbal check-in.
When he did get injured, Hyrule or Warriors were always professional and distant, touching him as little as possible, doing what needed to be done quickly. They never lingered longer than necessary. Didn't give him the reassuring pats or thumb at his skin soothingly or squeeze his hand when something hurt.
Those same hands that were steady and efficient when they needed to touch him would linger on anyone else—brace on shoulders, cup jaws, squeeze wrists.
Legend told himself it didn't bother him.
Days blurred. The ache behind his ribs turned into something dull and constant, like a bruise he couldn't help pressing at. They cared, Legend knew that; he wasn't an idiot. Wild always made his favorite on days he walked with a limp; Sky would sit next to him around the fire and listen to him talk; Twilight would match his pace when he decided Legend had been walking alone for too long.
But always with distance. And Legend was starting to feel a little like he was dying.
The opportunity presented itself on a day between eras.
They'd fought some monsters without anyone getting wounded—the worst was Legend's shoulder, jarred from striking a monster's shield and causing an old injury to flare up. He'd bitched about it, and Hyrule had given him a sympathetic look, but there was nothing his healing magic or fairies or potions could do, they already knew this.
So they walked, slightly aimless, waiting for the next portal to find them.
The forest thinned. The sound of water grew from a hint to a steady roar. The air had been heavy and damp all afternoon; by the time the path dipped toward the river, everyone was sweaty and ready for a break.
"Please say we're stopping," Wind groaned. "The portal can come to us."
Time took one look around at everyone—sagging shoulders, poorly disguised exhaustion, Wind and Wild eyeing the river, clearly ready to jump in—and conceded. "Let's stop," he said. "Wash up, refill, and we'll camp nearby."
Wind whooped and bolted for the river, clothes coming off in a trail behind him that Wars gathered, exasperated. Everyone else made their way to the river: Wild already stripped and cannonballing into the water, Sky wading into the shallows, Time rolling up his pants.
Legend stayed behind. He wasn't a fan of water on the best of days—the others knew this—and with his shoulder acting up, the last thing he wanted was to be needled into roughhousing or diving or whatever other shenanigans the others were going to get up to.
Someone had to watch the packs, anyways. Maybe do a short patrol of the area, just to make sure there were no monsters. Legend scanned the area; thick trees, decent-sized river, everyone accounted for and—
Legend's attention snagged.
Twilight was folding his clothes on a rock away from the water. And then—two fingers hooked under the leather cord of his pendant. The shard slid up and over his head. Twilight cupped it in his palm, thumb brushing the shard, then he set it down on his neatly folded shirt, tucking it into the fabric.
And then he turned and headed into the river, bare feet splashing. Wind shrieked as Twilight grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him under. Wild whooped. Sky yelped as a wave hit him in the chest. Time laughed.
And Legend was left there, staring at the pile of clothes. Unattended.
Heat climbed the back of his neck. His throat went dry. Don't be stupid, he told himself.
Legend stayed where he was for three full breaths. Four. Five. The hollow behind his ribs gnawed. His skin felt too tight. He looked over to the river—everyone was distracted.
Legend's feet moved forward.
Before he knew it, he was besides Twilight's clothes. He could see tthe leather strap disappearing into the cloth where the shard was tucked away.
If I were a rabbit, a sour little voice in his head said, someone would pick me up without thinking.
He swallowed. "I'm gonna go patrol," he called. "Might be away a while."
Time waved him off. They were used to him needing time by himself, especially when he was in pain or an old injury was flaring up. No one looked twice.
You're an idiot, he thought to himself, and he reached down and picked up the leather cord.
It swayed from his grip, and with one last glance at the river—laughing, Wars with Wind in a headlock, Sky helping Twilight up from the water with a warm hand—he slipped away into the trees.
The undergrowth swallowed the noise after a few strides, turning the roar of the river into a dull rush. Legend kept going until trunks blocked the view of the bank and he couldn't hear Wind yelling anymore. Letting out a breath, he leaned against the rough bark of an oak tree.
He dug his hand in his pocket, just to be sure. The Moon Pearl met his fingers, warm and smooth, a reassuring surge of magic just waiting to break the curse the shard's dark magic would wrap around him.
"This is not because I want to be cuddled like a house pet," he told the trees. They didn't seem fooled. "This is me testing if the Moon Pearl will work on cursed dark magic other than that of the Dark World."
He could almost hear Ravio's snort of disbelief even though he was hundreds of years away.
Legend wasn't one to waffle about when he'd decided something. He touched the shard with his bare skin and let the curse wrap around him.
The world lurched.
Then he hit the ground on four paws.
Sound was sharper than it had been. His nose twitched, heart beating rabbit-fast as he tried to take it all in. The tree trunk behind him stretched up, massive. The cord of Twilight's pendant was much bigger, the shard more unwieldy. Legend stood there, small and shaking, as he waited for his heart to settle against his ribs.
He could still transform back. He could call it a mistake, return to the river, and tuck the pendant away as though he'd never touched it.
It wasn't even an option.
He hopped once, getting used to the position. Everything was different, from his body to his perspective, but it didn't take long for him to figure it out again. He hopped forward, pendant held firmly in his mouth. The trees thinned, light opened up. He spotted the rock where Twilight had left his clothes; it suddenly was much taller.
Legend scrambled up, claws scraping lightly. He spit the cord out and nosed the shard back into its nest of fabric, nudging it until the pendant was once again buried in the cloth. There: borrowed, returned, unseen and unnoticed.
He could feel the Moon Pearl's magic. He could leave, pull himself back into Hylian form.
He didn't.
Legend hopped down from the rock and into the grass.
Someone had started setting up camp downriver and into the trees where the water was quieter. Bedrolls were still rolled tight; no one was there yet, still splashing in the river or relaxing along the bank. He hesitated. What now?
This is stupid, he told himself. You're a grown man. You're not doing this because you can't ask for a hug.
Legend hopped toward camp.
Wind spotted him almost immediately.
"Bunny!"
Legend froze, instincts screaming to bolt for the trees, ears flattening against his skull. But it was too late to run; he was committed, now.
Wind came barreling up the bank, still soaking wet, feet slapping against the grass. "Guys! There's a bunny! A pink bunny!"
In a moment, two damp hands were squeezed around his middle and in moments he was airborne. "Look at him!" Wind held him at arm's length, grinning, presenting him to the group. Legend's legs kicked uselessly and then he hung there, helpless. Wind's hands were cold and damp on his fur and he was suddenly aware of just how fragile his ribs were in this form and he was being held at arm's length even as a rabbit and he was second-guessing everything that had led up to that moment.
"Look at him!" Wind spun in a circle, and Legend's stomach lurched. "He's pink! I've never seen a pink rabbit before!"
"Wind!" Sky's voice cut through. "Slow down, you're going to make him panic."
"He's fine!" Wind said. "He's not even struggling!"
That was partly because Legend was struggling to see straight. He'd been picked up, spun around, and every nerve in his body was screaming that he was small and vulnerable and being held by something much larger than he was.
Except—he'd wanted this.
The thought cut through the panic. Wind's hands were wet, which was uncomfortable, but they were warm. The pressure around his ribs was firm, but he hardly was going to be crushed. Wind's eyes were bright and excited.
"Let me see," Sky said, and Legend found himself being gently transferred to Sky's arms, which, thankfully, were dry. Sky cradled him in the crook of one arm, his other hand coming up to steady Legend's small body. His palm was broad and warm across Legend's back.
"Hey there," Sky crooned, thumbing behind Legend's ears.
Legend's entire body froze. It was—he hadn't—he was—
He melted into the touch before he could stop himself, eyes half closing. Sky's fingers were soft, easy affection, the kind of gentleness reserved for something small and harmless and deserving. Something that wasn't Legend.
"See! He likes it!"
"He's very trusting," Sky observed.
"Maybe he's someone's pet?" Hyrule suggested, approaching. he reached out, touching one of Legend's ears. Legend flicked it without even meaning to—it was ticklish! Hyrule laughed and adjusted, scratching under his chin. It was fantastic.
Warriors sloshed up next. He stopped, eyeing the pink rabbit in Sky's arms. "That thing looks cursed."
Legend tried not to startle. Wars had landed closer to the truth than he'd expected.
"He's not cursed!" Wind cried defensively. "He's just pink!"
"This is Hyrule," Wars pointed out. "Everything's cursed. Could be a killer rabbit."
All the same, he reached forward. Legend considered biting him, just to see how he'd react, but—he didn't want to ruin this. And then Wars was petting right between his ears and every coherent thought in Legend's head scattered.
"Huh. Friendly little thing," Wars observed, surprised.
"He likes you!" Wind said, delighted.
Legend was going to die. He was going to die right here, in Sky's arms, killed by nothing more than casual affection.
Soon Legend was surrounded by his brothers, petting and touching and it was almost too much, too amazing, too awful.
"I know a great recipe for rabbit stew," Wild said thoughtfully.
Wind shrieked. "We are not eating the pink rabbit!"
Wild blanched. "I didn't mean him!" he protested. "He just reminded me—"
"How could you even think—?! " Wind continued dramatically.
"I wasn't!"
"Were too!"
"He doesn't even look tasty!" Wild paused. "But there are Blupees in my era, and they're a weird color too, and if you hit them they drop rupees…"
"We are also not hitting the rabbit," Time said dryly.
Wild reached out, petting Legend, and he couldn't help but cant his head into the touch. "Want to hold him?" Sky offered.
Wild took him. Then discreetly held his ear to Legend's body and shook him gently. "No rupees," he muttered.
"Can we keep him, Time?" Wind begged.
Time sighed. "You don't have to chase him off, but we aren't bringing him through the portal," he said. "Poor thing wouldn't last a day."
Legend bared his teeth. He was much more capable than that, even in this form!
"Let him stay if he wants," Twilight said. "I'm sure he'll be scared off by the portal when it comes, or go back to his burrow come nightfall."
"Alright," Time said. "We're losing light. Let's set up camp, gather some firewood."
Wild pet him again, Wind crowding closer and adding his hands. Legend had done it—he'd actually done it. He was being held, petted, touched without hesitation or second-guessing.
Because they didn't know it was him.
Dinner passed in a blur.
Legend got passed around from hand to hand, always gentle, always warm. Wild claimed him for a while, sitting by the fire with Legend in his lap as he stirred the pot, adding ingredients to the soup. At one point he dangled a carrot in front of Legend—what was with people thinking rabbits loved carrots?—and he gnawed at it. Carrots did taste better in this form. Sweeter and crunchier.
"You're kind of cute," Wild told him. "For something that might be cursed."
Dinner was served, and Legend ended up leaning against Hyrule's thigh.
"Legend's still not back," Hyrule worried, scraping at his bowl. Legend perked up. "His shoulder was bothering him earlier."
"He said he was going on patrol," Twilight said.
"Let him walk it off," Time said. "If he's not back by morning, we worry."
"He's done this before," Sky added. "He'll be fine. Sometimes he just needs some space."
Legend's stomach dropped.
They noticed. They noticed when he limped, when his shoulder hurt, when he was gone. And they weren't even wrong; he did need time on his own sometimes, a moment where people weren't watching or talking or just present. They were letting him have space on purpose—and he was lying in Sky's arms like a little liar, soaking up the touch they'd backed away from to be kind.
The hunger in his chest, his bones, crawling along his very skin didn't care. It just soaked up every scrap of touch like a starving thing.
Everything felt twisted up inside of him.
"Alright," Time said at last. "We should sleep soon; who knows when the portal will come. Four, first watch. Hyrule, second. I'll take third."
"C'mon, bunny," Wind whispered. "You can sleep in my bedroll!"
"He's not a stuffed animal, sailor," Wars said. "He won't want to be held all night."
"He'll get cold," Wind argued. "Look at him! He's tiny."
Wars raised an eyebrow. Legend was hardly a huge rabbit, but no one would go as far as to truthfully describe him as tiny.
"He can sleep between us," Twilight drawled. "I'm sure he'll hop away when he's had enough."
Wind grinned, diving into the bedroll. Soon enough, Legend was settled between Wind and Twilight. Wind was out like a light in moments, but Twilight's hand came down to stroke Legend again, warm and gentle and—
I stole your magic, Legend thought, dizzy with guilt, swamped with the sheer relief of being touched with kind hands. I'm lying to all of you.
Twilight's big hand did another slow slide down his spine. Legedn's eyes closed.
I'm sorry, he thought miserably. I'm so sorry.
But he didn't move away.
It didn't stop.
Legend told himself it would. He told himself that first time was a fluke, a moment of weakness, that it couldn't happen again. But when another opportunity presented itself, Legend found himself sneaking away, transforming, and crawling back, pathetic and needing.
He was careful. He had rules.
He couldn't transform two nights in a row. He had to wander off on his own a few times without the rabbit showing up to keep the Chain from getting too suspicious. He couldn't spend the whole night cuddled up to the others; he had to sneak off and transform back before morning. Always borrow, never keep—if Twilight ever noticed his shard missing, he had to quit immediately.
In between visits, Legend somehow got a name.
"We can't just keep calling you bunny!" Wind declared one evening. Legend wasn't really listening, too caught up in the weight of the hand on his spine, the pressure and warmth sending him nearly into a doze.
"He's not a pet," Hyrule pointed out. "He's some kind of forest spirit, I think. And they usually don't appreciate human constraints like names."
"He's pink," Time said. "Call him Pinky."
Wind gasped. "It's perfect!"
Legend flattened his ears. He did not love it.
The guilt got heavier with each theft. The relief more painful. He knew what it felt like now, to be held and cared for by his brothers, and he couldn't give it up.
It had been six days since Legend's last transformation. Six days of watching the others touch and hug and nudge and cuddle and wondering what was wrong with him that he couldn't just ask. The hollow feeling in his chest was growing teeth again.
They made camp near the water—a proper lake this time, big enough for swimming. Clear and blue and perfect for washing off days of road dust.
"Finally," Wind groaned, already stripping off his boots. "I'm disgusting."
Legend hung back. The others knew he wasn't a fan of water, tended to wash off on his own. That was reason enough to stay behind. No one would question it.
He watched Twilight set down his pack. Watched him pull his shirt over his head. Watched those familiar fingers reach for the leather cord.
Just one more time, he told himself. Just once more and then he'd stop. He'd figure out how to ask, or how to live without it, or something. Just like he'd told himself the last five times.
"I'll patrol," he called out, voice steady despite the rabbit-fast hammering of his heart.
Time waved acknowledgment, already waist-deep in the water. "Yell if anything weird shows up."
Legend waited until the others were caught up in their games. He sidled up to Twilight's clothes. And he moved, fingers snagging the cord, already turning and slipping into the trees. The hum of the dark magic was familiar to him by now, buzzing in the shard, just waiting to touch his bare skin.
He reached out, ready to squeeze it in one hand.
A twig snapped behind him.
Legend spun.
Twilight stood ten feet away, dripping wet from the knees down, trousers and shirt hastily pulled on. His eyes were locked on the shard dangling from the cord in Legend's hand.
Legend's mouth went dry, brain racing. "You scared the shit out of me—you dropped—"
"Don't." Twilight's voice was carefully controlled, utterly firm. "Don't lie to me. Not this time."
Legend's fingers twisted in the leather, mind racing for some kind of explanation, excuse, anything to get him out of—
"I know it's you," Twilight said. "That's been stealing from me. I've had my suspicions since the second time Pinky showed up."
Legend felt like the air was punched out of him.
"A pink rabbit appearing once? Strange but possible." Twilight's eyes never left his face. "Twice? In different eras? Following us through portals?"
When it was laid out like that, Legend felt very, very stupid for ever supposing he could have kept it secret.
"Hyrule said Pinky's a forest spirit," Legend said weakly.
"Who only shows up when you're gone?" Twilight pointed out.
Legend's face burned. He realized he'd been backing up. His back hit a tree. "I wasn't stealing. I was borrowing."
Twilight's gaze went flat. "You took my shard, walked off into the woods with it, used my magic without my permission. What do you call that?"
Legend bristled—this was familiar territory, an argument. "Big words coming from someone who dabbles in dark magic and is friends with cursed creatures."
Twilight raised an eyebrow. Legend knew the argument was weak—he'd been using the dark magic himself for weeks.
"I always returned it," Legend muttered.
"You always do," Twilight agreed. "Help me understand, Legend. I know you wouldn't steal it without reason."
Legend stayed stubbornly silent.
"I've been watching, trying to figure out what you're doing with the dark magic that's so important you'd risk stealing it over and over."
Legend couldn't even look Twilight in the face. Of course Twilight was angry. The shard wasn't some toy to be used at a whim. It was a hard-won artifact from Twilight's journey, all he had left from that other world, the world Legend suspected the companion he rarely talked about went off to, and Legend had been using it to be petted.
"What are you doing with it?" Twilight pressed. "I haven't been able to figure it out. It's not like you do anything special when you're a rabbit. You just come back to camp, hang around."
Legend's face burned.
"We just—" Twilight cut himself off. "We just hold you. And pet you."
Legend stared off to the side at the trees. There it was, out in the open. How pathetic he'd been, how stupid.
"I give it back!" The words came out defensive, sharp. "Every time! I'm not keeping it, I'm not—I know I shouldn't, but—"
"You're using my shard to turn into a rabbit," Twilight said, and Legend couldn't tell if that was disbelief or disgust in his voice, "so we'll hold you?"
Legend felt sick. He couldn't look up. Shame crawled up his throat, burning like bile.
Twilight was silent.
Of course he was. What was there to say? That Legend was pathetic? That using dangerous dark magic just for—for hugs was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever—
"Legend." Twilight's voice cracked. "Look at me."
Legend's eyes stayed firmly fixed out in the trees.
"Look at me."
Legend gave in. If nothing else, he knew how to face the inevitable.
Except—Twilight didn't look angry. Or disgusted. Or even disappointed.
He looked devastated, expression open and raw and guilty.
"How long have you felt like this?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" Legend muttered.
"It matters," Twilight said.
"I don't know," Legend said, voice tight. "Weeks? Months? Long enough I noticed every time you guys touch or hug and how you keep five fucking feet of space around me and—"
Legend cut himself off.
"Goddesses," Twilight breathed. "How didn't I notice?"
Legend shrugged. "I'm good at hiding it."
"Bullshit," Twilight said sharply. "You've been walking around desperate enough to steal magic and lie to everyone, and I—we—" Twilight's voice broke. "I should have noticed. You're my brother, I—"
Twilight let out a breath. Dragged a hand over his face, then held it out. "Give it here."
Legend stared. He placed the shard in Twilight's palm. Let the leather cord pool there.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Twilight put the cord over his head. Tucked the shard under his shirt. And opened his arms.
Legend froze.
"What—"
"Come here," Twilight said quietly. "Please."
"You don't have to—I don't need—"
"Legend," Twilight interrupted, strained. "You've been stealing magic and turning into a rabbit for weeks because you thought that was your only option. So I'm asking—please. Can I give you a hug? As yourself? Right now?"
Legend's eyes were burning. He nodded, jerky and uncertain and desperate. And then Twilight moved forward and pulled him in.
Legend's breath punched out of him. Twilight arms were warm and solid, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, and—it was so different, so much more being held like this. Being held as himself. Legend's hands came up, fisting in Twilight's shirt. He was shaking.
"I'm sorry," Legend managed between shivers and his sporadically tightening throat. "Your crystal—I shouldn't have—I'm sorry—"
"I don't care about the crystal," Twilight said, tightening his hold. "I care that you thought you had to do this."
"It's stupid. I shouldn't need—"
"It's not stupid." Twilight's arms tightened. "It's not stupid at all and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry we made you feel like you had to be something else to get this."
Legend made a sound that might have been a sob. "Not your fault," he said. "I made you think—"
"We could have asked," Twilight said firmly. "We should have figured out exactly what you meant instead of assuming."
"I could've said something," Legend muttered into Twilight's shoulder.
Twilight hummed, not agreeing, but not arguing further. HIs hand kept moving in steady circles on Legend's back. They stood there as the sun shone and the wind twisted through the trees. They stood there until Legend stopped shivering and his breath evened out.
"We're fixing this," Twilight said finally. "Going back to camp. Telling the others they've been getting it wrong."
"They'll want to know why—"
"Who cares what they want to know," Twilight said. "We don't have to tell them any details. They just need to know you want to be touched." Twilight pulled away, looking him in the eyes. "Can we tell them that much?"
Legend swallowed and nodded. "Sometimes—" he cut himself off, then continued, voice small, "Sometimes it is too much. But sometimes I want it. It changes."
"Alright." Twilight squeezed his shoulder. "We'll figure it out."
Then he ruffled Legend's hair—casual, easy, everything he'd been starving for—and slung an arm around Legend's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Let's get you back."
Legend let himself be guided back to the lake. Twilight was touching him, and he was still himself. Still Legend.
And it was starting to feel like that might be enough.