So, despite some faults, I really enjoyed totk, and on its anniversary I want to say something about it. Other people have said similar things before but it’s really important to me and actually a big part of why the story of totk was meaningful to me, so I want to also say it:
Zelda needed to come back from draconification. The story needed that. It wasn’t lazy and just ignoring “consequences” because (imo) that was the *point*
The point is to feel like there are going to be terrible consequences and then say actually, no. You can come back from this, with the help of other people.
To me at least, that was the theme of the whole story.
If botw was about how the world goes on past loss and grief and starts to heal (how flowers grow in the ruins and the world can be beautiful again, be worth saving, even if it has changed)…then totk was about a more personal kind of healing.
The weight of the world should not be on your shoulders alone…you, alone, should not have to fix everything…you should not have to sacrifice yourself, but when you do, someone will be there to save you from it.
This turned into a really long ramble so:
You (Link) gained so much and now it’s gone. It feels like you’re back to where you started and yet you know you have to do it all again…you were weak and you failed and you’re weaker now…but
You go down to the surface. Monsters swarm across it once again. Other people are fighting them too though. You help, but it’s not just you…
You go to the Rito, the Gorons, the Zora, the Gerudo…just like with the divine beasts, there are friends who help you save each region. But this time, part of them comes along with you when you leave. It’s nice, you realize, the first time one of them protects you from a monster you weren’t prepared for. You’re still weaker than you were before, but someone has your back…
When you go up to the sky you see a strange new dragon there. There’s something about them that feels familiar. You try not to think about it.
You go down to the depths too. It’s terrifying at first. You hate it. You only want to get what you came for and get out of the dark….but slowly, the light grows. You get stronger. The dark feels like a challenge you can face (and someone has your back).
There are spirits down there. You don’t know when they’re from, but some part of you wonders…are these all the people you let die in the Calamity? (You help them find rest from their wandering. The weight on your shoulders feels a little less heavy).
There’s so much gloom. The first few times the sky turns red and hands chase you (a reminder of what you’ve lost, how you failed) you just run. Eventually though, you have to fight. It feels like the (second) worst day of your life again. But you manage to get free of the grasping gloom and stand and fight, as wild and desperate as it is. Beneath the manifestation of your worst fears, there’s another thing to fight, but this time it has a face (a voice in the back of your head says…you know this isn’t all on you and your failure…it’s really Ganon’s fault right?). You get through it.
At every turn in your travels, it seems like something reminds you of Zelda. Her passion, her curiosity, her kindness. You miss her.
At first, the tears you find reassure you. She may be in the past, but she’s safe. She’ll come back somehow…but then you hear the word draconification for the first time. You want to believe she wouldn’t do it but you know her and the fear sits cold inside you. (Zelda is a lot of things. She’s been allowed to be more of them, since she was freed from her hundred year battle, without her father holding her back. But deep down inside her, there’s a vein of self-sacrifice that still runs strong. It’s what saved the world before, after all).
She did it. She really did it. She’s gone from you (from Hyrule) forever, and it’s all your fault. If only you hadn’t failed so utterly in the battle (you can hardly even call it that) under the castle. If only you’d caught her. If only you hadn’t let the sword break. You should have protected her you should have been better it’s all your fault and now she has to live with the consequences, forever. Everything really is on you, you should have been better.
(Zelda POV: you couldn’t call upon Hylia’s power in time, you were too content to let it wither and fade away from you, ready to be free of it. You shouldn’t have. He got hurt, the sword got hurt, it’s your fault…Sonia and Rauru help you channel it again, Sonia helps you learn how to turn back time…but you don’t save her. She dies because you couldn’t save her. Rauru dies not long after. There is no one left to guide you, once again. You could spend years trying to figure it out on your own. But you did that last time. It didn’t work. Self-sacrifice, stepping in front of someone you love, that worked. (You do what you can, to call upon the sages, to help Link in the future, first). And then you swallow the stone. You’ve come a long way, in the past five years, allowing yourself to exist. But in the end, self-sacrifice worked last time. It’ll work this time too.)
You (Link) go down beneath the castle. You were supposed to bring the sages but you didn’t. It’s nice, for someone to have your back. But no one else should get hurt to fix your mistakes.
They follow you anyway. They fight with you, against the hordes, against the greatest enemies you defeated together, along the way. They’ll have your back, even if you don’t think you deserve it.
You fight Ganondorf, and then the demon king, in the hardest battle of your life. You think it’s over and then the demon king decides it’s better to lose himself completely than let you win. You’re exhausted and afraid of yet another battle, but up there in the sky, when you’re falling, the Light Dragon catches you (you wonder why she changed her path to catch you, you wonder if there’s still something of Zelda left in there to save). With her help, you win.
And then you’re in some other realm. The spirits of Sonia and Rauru are there. You remember how the two of them and Zelda channeled such incredible power together. You think about Recall. Turning something back to the memory of what it was before, like Sonia said. You stand with them and you allow yourself to hope. Maybe the Light Dragon can remember the form she took so long ago, the person that she was.
And then you’re falling, and Zelda is falling, but this time you catch her. You catch her. She’s back home with you, finally, finally.
And maybe, one mistake doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to be perfect. Sometimes, someone else can stand with you, and it’ll all turn out alright. (You can put the weight of the world on your shoulders, you can sacrifice yourself, but someone will be there to catch you, someone will be there to pull you back to yourself, when all is said and done).
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“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.
They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.
Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.
“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”
The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.
The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.
For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.
Shit.
They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…
They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.
It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.
The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.
The hero would be the death of them.
They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.
“What are you doing with this?”
The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.
“Wrapping my hands?”
The villain hissed in a breath.
“With electrical tape?”
The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.
“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”
The villain blinked at them.”
“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.
“Not if you wrap it right.”
Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.
“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.
Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.
“Bandaids move—“
The villain hushed them.
“Be quiet for a second.”
The hero, wisely, went quiet.
The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.
“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.
“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”
“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”
“I’m not destroying myself—“
“You are.”
“Shut up���“
“Hero.”
“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”
They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.
“Better than who?”
“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.
The villain watched them, waiting.
The hero took a shaky breath
“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”
The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.
The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.
“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.
“No. There isn’t.”
“Hero.”
“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.
“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.
“You don’t understand—“
The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.
They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.
“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”
“But I-“
“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”
The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.
The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.
For now, though, they had to take care of hero.
“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”
The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.
“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”
That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.
“Fine.”
The villain turned to them. “Okay?”
Are you going to be alright?
The hero seemed to understand.
“Okay,” the hero agreed.
Yes.
And so, it was.
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