voksen

When Link finally reaches Majora, someone is already there. It's not that he's unused to meeting girls in strange places (far from it), but when he realizes that she's already fighting, arrows streaking from her bow to shatter against the mask's face, long dark hair whipping behind her as she dodges lashing tentacles... he's a little surprised.

Tatl clangs in his ear. "Hit it from behind!"

Easier said than done when it's spinning like that. Biting his lip, he reaches into his pack and pulls out the Zora mask. Sorry, he apologizes silently, like he always does, and slips it on. Mikau's spirit shivers against him as his flesh grows thick and blue; as soon as the finblades sprout from his forearms he flings them, whirling across and around and catching Majora's mask in its unprotected back.

Shrieking, it clatters to the ground; before it can recover, he sprints forwards and smashes it to pieces with Mikau's guitar.

It's not over so easily, of course, but the girl's arrows prove more effective against the next forms, and sooner than he'd imagined possible the three of them - no, four; there's a very-strange looking fairy at her shoulder, though she looks less Kokiri than he does - are standing over a pile of ash as the moon shudders and crumbles around them. He looks at her; she looks at him. Apparently none of them has a plan for getting out.

But then, before either of them can speak, there's a sudden surge of blue magic that wraps around them wise and warm like the arms of the ocean. Mikau's face falls away of its own accord; he catches the Zora's mask as he shrinks back into himself.

Don't forget who you are, a woman's voice whispers.

Nayru, he thinks.

"Madoka!" the girl says.