Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Zelda or any of its related properties. This is a fan work that is made for no profit. This fanfiction is based on Linked Universe, a webcomic created by jojo56830.

The nine Heroes of Courage had been walking along the road for almost two hours when they saw the body.

The Hero of the Wild saw it first. He was leading the group from the front, a duty that had fallen to him ever since the band of warriors had found itself in the Hyrule of his time. He didn't recognize it for what it was, at first; from a distance, it almost seemed to be a pile of traveling gear that had been discarded a few feet off the right side of the road, easily visible from a distance because the area around them was open and utterly free of trees. But the details of the vague silhouette filled in as they neared it: first, the colors, then the distinction between the travelling pack on top and the rest beneath, and then the distinctions between fabrics and not fabrics. It was when he realized that what he thought might be cloth-covered rods were actually clothed limbs that Wild felt his breath catch. He let out a tired sigh through his nose, and his shoulders slumped as the group drew closer to the body. He could feel the mood in the party change behind him, washing over it like a tide as each member in turn recognized the sight. A quiet, somber air drifted amongst them, sitting on their shoulders like a heavy fog as they drew near the body.

Wild raised his hand and slowed his pace when he was close enough to hit the body with a stone's toss. He could see, from this distance, that it was clearly a Hylian who had diverted away from the road and hadn't even made it two yards before falling face-first, never to rise again. Wild had a strong hunch why, but he'd been wrong before. He stepped off the road himself, walked to the body, and knelt beside it to find the back of the body's head was a mess of blunt impact wounds and blood that had long since dried completely. Wild let out another quiet sigh, his hunch proven correct. This was not the first body that he'd found bearing the messy marks of violence on his travels, even after defeating Calamity Ganon, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

Wild reached out and turned the body over onto its back as much as he could, given the large pack it wore. What he found was a young man he did not recognize, his face slack and marked with the dried trails of blood that had run down from his wounds. The parts of his face that had been pressed into the ground remained pale, but the rest was purpled by the settling of his blood. "He's been here for a couple of days," Wild reported solemnly, his companions gathering about in a loose, half circle.

The Hero of Warriors walked around to squat on his haunches beside Wild. His normally jocular mood was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by his pragmatic soldier's demeanor as he examined the body. "Doesn't look like he was robbed," he observed.

"It was probably bokoblins," Wild replied. "I don't usually see them around this stretch of road, but some might've travelled through here."

Warriors turned his head to look back to the road, then pointed to a large rock on the other side. "He was probably ambushed. Tried to run away and...didn't make it." Wild only gave a short hum in muted agreement, then Warriors looked to the other heroes standing about and vaguely gestured towards them. "Someone, check his pack. Look for something that might tell us who he is or where he was going. A letter, a map with a destination marked, anything."

The Hero of the Four Sword wordlessly stepped forward, opened up the travelling pack on the body's back, and began rifling through it. The Hero of Time looked to his right, where most of his compatriots stood. "Sailor, Pup, watch the road and let us know if anyone's approaching," he ordered. "Last thing we need is for someone passing by to mistake us for bandits or graverobbers."

The Heroes of Winds and Twilight, respectively, walked away from the gathering to do as instructed. As Warriors moved his search to the body's vest, Wild continued to stare at the discolored, blood-crusted face. Wild couldn't help but wonder for what reason the man this body used to be would have taken the risks of travelling alone. He hoped it wasn't a vital reason. Had the man this body used to be set out to find some kind of treasure to gift to his betrothed? Was he looking for an ingredient for some elixir to cure someone of a terrible illness? Had he left someone behind to feel his loss?

It also occurred to Wild that the man this body used to be could have simply lost his life on a sight-seeing trip, and he didn't know if that was better or worse.

Four pulled a flat, rectangular object out of the traveling pack and looked at it with a frown. "Hey Cook, do you recognize anything in this photo?" he asked as he turned the object, a picture frame, over in his hands and proffered it over the body towards Wild. The cook took it and looked to find a photograph of the man the body used to be standing with his arm around a woman who was approximately his age. Their smiles were wide, and genuine, and happy, and Wild felt his own frown deepen with the knowledge that, yes, the man this body used to be had in fact probably left someone behind. He shifted his focus to the hillside behind them and wracked his brain furiously.

"No," Wild said. "I don't." He flipped the frame over and opened it, hoping to find a message, or names, or something written on the back, but he only found a blank white space staring back at him. He closed the frame as he looked back up to Four. "Find anything else?"

"Not yet," Four replied with a shake of his head before he resumed his search.

"How far away are we from a settlement?" Time asked.

Wild looked up to the older man and thought on the question, and its implications, for a moment. "Too far," he said remorsefully, looking back down to the body's discolored face. "We'll have to bury him here."

Time nodded solemnly. "Who has shovels?" he asked the group at large.

"I do," Four said without interrupting his search of the pack.

"I do, too," the Hero of Legend said.

"I do!" Wind called from his spot a little ways down the road.

"I do," Wild said.

"It's going to take awhile, even with all of us taking shifts," Time said. "We'll set up camp here for the night. We're going to need the rest when we're done."

As the group dispersed to begin setting up camp nearby, Wild turned the picture frame back over to examine the photo one more time. His eyes trailed from the man the body used to be to the body that it was now. The remains left behind, the vessel that had held the mind and soul of someone who was no longer present. Someone who mattered to somebody out there.

The thought of simply leaving the body and continuing on their way never crossed the mind of a single one of the nine heroes. Because though the body was now just a body, it had once been Someone. Someone, who had a place in the lives of others. Someone, who would be missed by those who loved him. Someone, who deserved dignity because he was someone, and they could give it to him.

When Four finally finished his search of the traveling pack and found nothing to identify who Someone was, he, Wild, and Warriors moved Someone to get the pack off of his back and lay him flat. The Chosen Hero, known to his friends as Sky because of his home village, approached with a large blanket in his hands and laid it out flat on the ground. He, Time, Wild, and Warriors lifted Someone and laid him gently onto the blanket before reverently folding it about him, covering him completely from head to toe. Time then pulled his spare reel of fishing line from his pack, and the four of them worked together to tie the blanket closed securely.

With that done, Time and Wild walked over to the camp to drop off their excess weight - Time's armor, Wild's cloak, their weapons and packs - and then made their way towards where Four, Legend, and Wind stood nearby. Where it seemed they'd decided that Someone would rest. "You four will start," the old man said. "Tag out when you need to rest. Don't over push yourselves."

They only nodded in reply, and then they started digging.

The sun sank lower and lower down the sky as they worked, trading out shifts as they needed. Every hero took his turn digging. When he wasn't, he was either resting up for his next shift, or out searching for firewood.

The somber fog hung heavily on the camp, scored by the sounds of shovels and flinging dirt. During one of his resting shifts, Wild was sitting near the pile of kindling that would soon be a campfire, once enough daylight had seeped away. He held the framed photograph in his hand, his eyes on Someone and Someone's special someone until his gaze was pulled away by Twilight asking, "Are you sure you don't recognize them?"

"Yeah," Wild said before looking back down to the photo. "I'm sure."

They were quiet for a long while before Twilight spoke again. "Rupee for your thoughts, Cub?"

Wild remained silent for a moment, long enough that Twilight was about to try and get his attention again when Wild said, "She's never going to know."

Twilight looked down to the photo for a moment. "No. Probably not."

They were quiet again, but this time it was Wild who broke the silence. "He was alone."

Twilight immediately thought of the pain and the fear Someone must've felt and nodded sadly. He searched for something, anything, to say, but he found nothing. This time, the silence stretched on, uninterrupted.

It was almost the hour of twilight when they'd finished. Four, Wind, and the Hero of Hyrule stood with burning torches to light the area as Time, Twilight, and Warriors dropped into the open grave. Then, Sky, Legend, and Wild carefully lowered Someone into their arms, and the three oldest heroes gently lowered him into his final resting place. Then, Legend lowered Someone's traveling pack in, which Warriors took and set at Someone's feet. With that done, the three heroes climbed out of the grave.

When Wild tried to take a shovel to begin filling it in, a winded and sweaty Time stopped him. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Save your energy for the pot tonight."

"I can do this and cook," Wild responded, perhaps a little more sternly than he meant to.

"I know you can, but you don't need to."

"Yes, I do."

"...Why?"

Wild faltered for a moment, searching for the words to give shape to the feeling in his chest. The best he could find were: "I wasn't here for him. I can do this for him, though."

Time's face took on a hint of sympathy. "You can't take on responsibility for every life in Hyrule."

"I'm not."

"Just his?"

"I'm not."

"Then you don't need to do anything more for him. You've done enough."

To that, Wild had no response. Just a squeezing grip in his chest letting him know that Time was wrong. The same grip that let him know that the state that Hyrule was in when he had awoken in the Shrine of Resurrection had been his fault. The same grip that let him know that he had failed.

But that grip was in his chest. And Wild knew in his mind that it was the grip that was wrong.

So, he let out a long sigh to try and expel that grip, nodded, and went back to start the campfire as the hour of twilight descended on the plain.

As the sun climbed into the late morning phase of its journey, it shined upon nine heroes of Hyrule's darkest times, all standing around the grave of Someone. Marking it was a single spear from Wild's bottomless pouch, stabbed into the ground where a headstone would be under better circumstances. It wouldn't be there long. Some traveler or roaming monster would come along and take it because it might be useful, but it was the only thing any of them had that could do the job.

They stood there in silence for a few moments, their stomachs full and their journey calling, but they made time for this, because it was just as important. From where he stood, closest to the spear on Someone's left side, Wild didn't know how long the silence stretched on, but eventually, he felt compelled to say something. "I'm sorry…" he started, then stopped himself from saying for not being there for you. Instead of an apology, he offered this consolation: "I'm sorry that you were alone at the end. You didn't deserve that. No one deserves that." He looked down to the framed photograph in his hand for just a moment, and then he set it on the ground, propped against the spear's base.

After another silent moment, the heroes looked about, into each others' eyes, and wordlessly agreed that it was time to move on. Wild gave one last look to Someone, then he turned and took the lead, guiding his friends towards whatever awaited them next.