The boys followed the nurse down the endlessly monotonous white-tile hallways. How, Blue mused, did I possibly find his room when everything looks so freaking similar? Vio shook his head. He couldn’t help Blue to understand what had happened in the same way that an artist can never teach a strategist how they paint the way they paint. Every artist has to create their own perception. Perceptions might overlap at points, but each individual artist is unique in their own answer.
Green walked behind his three companions. He knew, in his own way, that he was the strategist in the scenario. The heroes who walked in front of him, their blue and purple and black, seemed to him the bruises of never knowing what it’s like to be so in-tune with your teammates to be able to find them in an unknown hospital, guess their very thoughts, or understand each ones’ respective breaking points. Green knew Shadow’s plan. He had wanted Vio to stop worrying about him so much, so the boy in black had carefully exploded, making sure to hit only the points that would make Vio realize that his job was almost done. After all, only someone finely in-tuned with emotions would be able to shout at someone with Major Depressive Disorder without worry of setting them off into another, if not their last, depression.
Green smirked after his little revelation. He might be the strategist, the one who’ll never truly understand thought patterns and emotions the way the others do, but he didn’t need to in order to keep his team alive. In the end, he was their leader. When all else failed, when the confusion and panic of battle set in, he was the one the others listened to for their jobs. Vio was great at plans, but Green was, and would always be, the group’s strategist.
The group’s musings and, of course, the nurse eventually led them in front of a white door.
“I’m sorry about the wait,” she turned to the boys as a soft smile spread across her face, “please, go in when you’re ready, and not a second before.” She then turned on her heel, and click, click-ed away on the white-tiled floor.
Shadow reached for the door, but Vio stopped him.
“Don’t,” the purple comrade warned him. Shadow turned his head. Vio’s look, as pointed as a cactus thorn, pierced through Shadow. “There’s only one person here who deserves to open that door.” After a minute, Shadow nodded and lowered his hand.
All three children, and, in this moment, they experienced the kind of fear children feel when threatened with worry, turned to Blue. Blue looked down at the floor, away from them.
“Zelda’s not here yet, maybe we should-”
“She won’t be joining us,” Green interrupted. “She wanted to meet up with the Gerudo.” Vio raised his eyebrow at Green, “She’s as worried as we are, but you know the kingdom always has to come first, and Castle Town, if not the whole of Hyrule, could benefit from a skilled medical instructor.” Vio nodded and once again looked at his sapphire teammate. Blue continued inspecting the tiles near his feet. Shadow walked to the boy’s side and patted him on the shoulder.
“Not a second before we’re ready. That’s what the nurse said, right? We’re not going in until you think you’re able to face what’s behind that door. But,” he squeezed the passionate Link’s shoulder, “I feel like I should remind you; every second you wait out here, he waits in there. If he’s not awake yet, he should be soon.” Blue took a second before nodding. Shadow guided him by the shoulder to the door and then sat the hero with his back leaning against the wood. He gave Blue one more reassuring squeeze before returning to Vio’s side.
“That makes twice today you’ve been able to console him. How long have you been able to do that?” Vio asked his friend. Shadow smirked.
“In order to manipulate people to do anything, you must understand physical and mental reactions inside and out, not just for them, but for their race in general. You’d be surprised how kind the meanest of people can be to those who are useful. Then again,” he looked at Vio out of the corner of his eye and smirked, “I seem to remember a time when you yourself were quite skilled at manipulation; I wonder at where those skills of physical and mental timing you developed have gone.”
“If you two could stop with your weird flirting, I’m trying to think.” Blue said soberly, his head tilted in a way so that you couldn’t see his eyes. Shadow’s head snapped to Blue and then down to the floor. Vio remained apathetic in expression, but Green could swear he saw a hint of blush on his face.
It must’ve been thirty, if not forty, minutes before Blue finally took a deep breath and stood. His legs shook, but he remained determinately standing.
“All right,” he breathed, probably not truthfully, “I guess there’s no point in stalling. They wouldn’t have dragged us all the way out here if he weren’t, at least, alive.” Blue slowly turned, his bangs still shielding his eyes. He carefully reached out and turned the door knob. Each movement was tense and careful, as though he were forcing himself to move through quicksand. He opened the door to reveal a room of white, with two centerpieces; the sleeping patient and one of the nurses from the room, the one who hadn’t spoken during the procedure.
