Link's POV
I go to the pool house to get the rackets and a couple of tennis balls. It's almost dark out but the air is still warm and the breeze is refreshing.
I head back to the court. Zelda and Malice are waiting in silence. Luckily the tennis court is lit by four bright headlights, so it doesn't matter that it's going to be nighttime soon.
"Here you go," I say as I hand each of them their own racket. "You guys can team up to make it fair."
"Before we start, you should explain the rules to Malice," Zelda says.
"Oh, right." I turn to her. "Have you ever played tennis before?"
Malice shakes her head. She looks as if she's fighting nausea, holding the racket like a weapon in her grip, like a sword she needs to defend herself with.
"Okay Malice, let's start with the basics." I step next to her to show her how to hold the racket. "Are you right or left handed?"
"Left."
"Sick, me too," I say and gently adjust her grip. She doesn't flinch anymore when I touch her. She used to be so defensive every time my hands would come near her, but now she lets me do whatever without a second thought. "Like this. Firm but not too tight. You want to have control, but also allow for flexibility in your wrist."
Malice nods, trying to mimic my movements when I show her how to hit the ball. She seems nervous, but I think my calm demeanor is reassuring her somewhat.
"Like this?" She swings the racket clumsy and uncoordinated. The ball rolls across the court. "Shit."
"Not bad for your first time," I lie. "Let's try again."
I position myself next to her again to demonstrate the proper stance. She manages to hit the ball this time but it goes flying out of the court and into the tall hedges.
"You're getting the hang of it. Just try hitting it a little softer."
Malice's eyes keep leaving the court. Maybe she's just not focused enough. Her stance is fine and her accuracy isn't bad either. But every so often she looks around like she's expecting someone to show up.
Zelda is on the other side of the court, collecting the balls we hit over. Meanwhile, Malice grows increasingly impatient, cursing to herself every time a ball hits the net or leaves the court. Been there, done that.
"It's okay," I assure her. "This is how everyone starts off."
"This is stupid," she mumbles, missing another ball. "And pointless."
"It's fun, just keep practicing."
Her eyes look around again, scanning the bushes for the 50th time. She looks so on edge. No wonder she's missing all her balls, she's way too stiff and skittish to find her rhythm.
"You gotta loosen up," I tell her. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."
"You don't know that."
"Who are you expecting to show up? Ganon's in prison and Karusa has a broken leg."
She just rolls her eyes annoyed and huffs. "You don't understand."
"I do."
"No, you fucking don't."
"You're scared of Ganondorf," I say and watch her reaction. "See? I understand."
"You don't know what he's capable of."
"Whatever it is, you're safe here with us, okay? We will protect you."
As soon as I say those words, her eyes are suddenly focused on me and me only. Great, I got her attention. Maybe now she'll be able to hit the ball. I catch one of the balls that Zelda is passing back to us and hand it to Malice who is still staring at me in amazement.
"Try again," I say. The ball hits the net again but at least she's focused now. "Try to aim a little higher. But not too high or else it's gonna go out."
"I can't do it."
"How about we just pass it back and forth a little. Maybe you're better at receiving than serving."
I head to the other side of the net while Malice and Zelda take their positions next to each other. It's so weird to see them side by side without insulting each other. But what's even weirder is seeing Malice be an ordinary college girl. Thick brown hair, cotton shorts and a loose plain T-shirt. No open cuts on her legs or wrists, no bloodshot eyes, no fishnet tights or miniskirt. No mischievous grin. Just an ordinary girl who's trying to learn how to play tennis. So weird. But I try not to stare for too long.
"Ready?" I ask. Zelda nods, Malice takes her stance. I pass the ball over and Zelda passes it back to me. Every time I pass it to Malice, she misses or hits it too hard or not hard enough. She looks more and more frustrated every time, meanwhile I'm over here having the time of my life. It's been way too long since I felt the grip of a tennis racket, or the satisfying thud of a well-hit ball.
This whole year was rough... From the coma and surgeries to rehab. I didn't think I was ever going to touch a racket again, but here I am, back in my element. And I gotta admit... There's something therapeutic about it. Just being out here, moving my body without the world watching or judging. It's not about winning or impressing anyone right now. It's about enjoying the simple pleasure of the sport. Shit, maybe Deku was right. Maybe playing sports without the pressure was just what I needed.
To be honest, seeing Malice struggle reminds me of my own struggles. Yeah, it can be frustrating at times, but after everything that happened, we're still here. Every swing, every step just goes to show how far we've made it. Even if we miss here and there, we're still on the court.
But I bet Malice doesn't see it like that. All she sees is the net and the lines that she can't seem to pass. As we're playing, it's pretty clear that Malice just can't seem to get the hang of it. Despite Zelda's patience and my attempts at coaching, she's swinging all over the place, and it's starting to get frustrating. Not only for her but for Zelda because she has to work twice as hard to keep things going smoothly.
"I can't fucking do it!" Malice cusses halfway through the game. "Have fun playing this stupid game. I'm gonna go back inside."
She drops her racket. My cue to step in.
I pull myself away from the game and catch up with Malice. She's agitated, but if she gives up now, she'll just feel shitty about herself all night. She might even start craving pills again. Can't let that happen. Sport is supposed to make you feel better, not worse.
"Malice," I say, having caught up. She slows down but keeps walking up the path that leads back to the patio. "Don't beat yourself up too much. Tennis takes time to get the hang of, and we've all been there. Don't tell her I said this, but Zelda seriously sucked the first couple of times we played tennis. But look at her now!"
"It doesn't fucking matter. None of it matters. I don't know why I even tried. It's not like I could ever get it in the first place, but even if I did, there's just no point to it."
"It's just a game, Malice. For fun."
"I wasn't talking about tennis..." She stops in her tracks and keeps her eyes low with her back facing me. "Link..."
I tilt my head. "Malice?"
Trying my best to sound understanding, I wait for her to look at me. She's clearly dealing with a lot, and I can't blame her for feeling overwhelmed. But giving up now won't solve anything.
"Look, I get it," I say. "You're frustrated. But that doesn't mean you're a failure. You're out here trying something new, pushing yourself. That takes guts."
Malice scoffs, kicking at a pebble on the path. "Guts? More like stupidity. What's the point of trying when I know I'm just gonna fail?"
I step closer, lowering my voice. "The point is, you don't know if you'll fail unless you try. And even if you do stumble, it's not the end of the world. Someone will be there to catch you. You're not alone anymore, you know? So stop being afraid and start seeing every missed shot as a chance to learn and improve."
She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Easy for you to say. You're practically a tennis prodigy."
"I've had my fair share of screw-ups on the court. And after my coma, I basically had to start all over again."
"Yeah? How long did it take you to get back to where you used to be? Three days?"
I shake my head and lower my voice, because I don't want anyone else to hear what I'm about to say. "I'll never get back to where I used to be," I admit. "And sometimes I think I suck so much that I shouldn't even be allowed anywhere near the court. But here I am, still trying."
"What for?" She asks.
"It makes me feel alive," I say. She finally turns around to look at me but remains quiet. I guess I can share more with her, even if it hurts to talk about it. "When Ganon hit me in the back of my head and broke my spine, he made my heart stop. I was literally dead. I woke up a month later without any memories. Couldn't even remember my best friends' faces or my own name. So even though I was alive, I felt like I didn't exist. I felt more dead than I did on that baseball field. I lost many fans due to my actions and got kicked out of college and out of my fraternity, and as if that wasn't punishment enough, I had to learn how to walk again. I know you've probably been through worse, but it still sucked. So believe me when I tell you that I understand at least some of what you're feeling."
Arms crossed, brows stiff, she asks, "What's your point?" There is no sarcasm or arrogance in her voice. Sounds like she genuinely wants to know what I'm getting at. It's painful to open up, but something about the way she looks at me makes me want to tell her all about my worst memories. Maybe because I know mine are not that bad compared to hers.
"I don't want to get all philosophical on you or anything, but we gotta do things that make us feel alive in order to enjoy life. For me I guess it's tennis."
"Tennis makes me feel sick."
"So then tennis is probably not going to be the thing that makes you feel alive. Tennis is something I enjoyed before I became famous. It made me feel alive before I felt dead. So you should think back to when you felt alive. Maybe there's a way to get back the things that made you feel that way."
She looks thoughtful and sad. "I can't get that back..."
"Why not?"
She doesn't answer. Clearly she's not comfortable talking about it. And that's fine.
"I'm sure there are other things that will help you feel better. Maybe another sport. Doesn't have to be tennis. Keep in mind that sport is not just about hitting a ball over a net. It's about what it does for you, physically and mentally."
Malice eyes me skeptically, but I keep going. I need to get through to her somehow.
"Physiologically, sport triggers the release of endorphins in your brain." Thank you sports medicine class for teaching me something actually useful. Unfortunately, Malice looks just as confused as I did when I first heard my professor say all this stuff. "Endorphins are chemicals that make you feel good," I explain in simple terms. "They basically boost your mood, reduce stress, and even counter pain. It's like a natural high, Malice."
"Getting high sounds good right about now."
I hand her my racket. "Let's get back to the court then."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
She tries to frown at me but my smile isn't going anywhere until she agrees.
"We also gotta work on your attitude," I say when she rolls her eyes at me again. "Sports will do that for you. It automatically improves your mental health. It teaches you resilience, perseverance, and discipline. It gives you goals to work towards, a sense of accomplishment when you achieve them, and a team to lean on when times get tough. So there you go, lots of reasons why you shouldn't just give up right now."
Malice's expression softens a little. She finally ran out of snarky comments.
"Think about it," I say. "Right now, you're struggling. You're feeling lost, hopeless, like you're never going to get back on your feet. But sports—it gives you something to focus on, something to strive for. It reminds you that you're capable of more than you think, that you have the strength to overcome whatever life throws your way."
"I know all this. I was a martial arts fighter, remember?"
"I remember. But did you fight for fun, or did you fight to protect yourself?"
She chews on her lip, considering my words carefully.
"When you learned how to fight, you probably told yourself that every hit must be perfect. Because if you miss, the consequences could be fatal. Tennis is nothing like that. It doesn't matter if you're good or bad at it." I actually can't believe I'm saying all this, but there's some truth to it that even I have to accept sooner or later. "You can hit the net or you can bat it like baseball and hit a homerun. Nobody cares." I take a small step closer. "If you miss, nothing bad is going to happen to you. We just try again. So, what do you say? Wanna give it another shot?"
Malice hesitates for a moment. She shakes her head, but I don't think it means 'no.' I think she's shaking it at herself in disbelief because when she takes the racket from my grip I could've sworn that I saw the faintest smile on her face. Our fingers touch for a moment but neither of us pulls away. She's just looking at our feet, standing perfectly still while we both hold the racket.
"Link..." She whispers.
"Malice?" I wait a few seconds, but she doesn't say more. "You okay?"
She nods. Then she looks up at me in the dim light. "I guess so."
"Great. Let's get back to the court then. I have a feeling you're gonna hit the ball this time."
Zelda has been practicing by herself the whole time. She's gotten so much better at tennis since the day we first played, which makes me really hopeful for Malice's improvements. I show her one more time how to stand and at which angle to hold the racket, then I head to the other side and pass them the ball. Zelda hits it back, I receive and pass it to Malice. She's ready and focused, and she even manages to hit the ball, but it still hits the net.
Improvement takes time after all. But at least she's not throwing a fit anymore. She simply picks up the ball and passes it over to my side.
"Nice pass," I call over, hitting the ball back toward Zelda. This time she's the one to hit the net. "It's alright, it's alright," I assure. "Focus on where you want the ball to go. Use me as your target if you have to."
I pull another ball out of my pocket and serve it over in a perfect curve. Zelda returns it nicely, aiming for the opposite corner. I sprint across the court like a drifting spark of lightning to get it, barely reaching it in time. I return it to Malice's side. She's standing with a pretty solid stance, her swing looking smooth when she hits the ball.
Her pass isn't super powerful or accurate, but it's enough to make the ball drop in the left service box before I can get there. And just like that, they score their first point.
"Way to go!" I pant, picking up the ball that made it. My body is stinging and my lungs are burning. I'm super out of shape, but I'm honestly enjoying being a little out of breath. It's oddly reviving.
"Wanna go again?" I ask, holding her lucky ball in my hand. I look over to the other side. Malice is standing on the court like a corpse, her head hanging low, her body still.
Confused, I walk up to the net to see what's going on. "Malice?" I say when I'm close enough so that I don't have to shout. Zelda and I exchange a quick look. She shrugs, looking worried and unsure what to do. Malice is just standing there, staring at the racket in her hands.
"I did it!" She roars, suddenly aiming the sword skyward like a warrior. "I scored a point!"
Zelda and I instantly begin to smile at Malice's reaction.
"Good job, Malice!" Zelda cheers on her teammate.
"Yeah, way to go."
"I fucking did it!" Malice repeats, a huge grin on her face.
I have never seen her smile like this! It's even weirder than seeing her as an ordinary college girl in cotton shorts and a loose plain T-shirt. But no matter how strange the sight, or how much I still dislike her, I can't help but feel incredibly proud of her! It's like a switch just flipped inside me. Malice, someone who's never picked up a racket before, just scored her first point and smiled genuinely for the first time in ages. Seeing her celebrate her victory like this... I don't know, it just makes me feel good! And to think I had a hand in that...
"Fuck yeah!" she boasts one more time.
Her expression shifts, turning to shock and misery. Before I can make sense of the sudden change, she rushes over to the side of the court and throws up into the hedges.
"Oh come on!" Zelda groans. "Not on the Bougainvillea!"
Maybe her body is not ready for this much exercise yet. But hey, at least she scored before she threw up.
I pick up the rest of the balls along with the rackets. "I think that's enough for today."
"I agree," Zelda says, holding Malice's hair back.
Malice's body is shivering, and strange sounds are coming out of her. At first I thought she might need medical attention, but those strange sounds coming from her is just laughter. Turns out we've never heard her real laugh before. It's nice.
Neither Zelda nor I know why she's laughing. But the 'why' doesn't matter anyway. Malice hasn't thought about drugs or Ganondorf for the past hour, she hasn't been nervously looking around. She hasn't even insulted us. And just the fact that she is laughing makes us both laugh along.
"Let's get you back inside," Zelda says but Malice refuses.
"I haven't been outside in months!" She says and spits some rest vomit into the bushes before wiping her mouth.
Zelda looks at her in confusion. "I'm glad you're enjoying the outdoors, but... well, do you need something for the nausea?"
"Nah," Malice shakes it off by waving her hand. "Just got a little light headed from the heat and moving around so much."
"Her body's just not used to it yet," I say to Zelda, remembering how nauseous I felt all the time when I started off with sports. "But she should be fine as long as she takes it easy. Let me grab some water for us."
I head inside. The AC is refreshing, but way too cold. While I'm in the kitchen, I might as well grab some snacks too. And by some, I mean a lot. Chips, pretzels, chocolate.
Hands full of sweets, I pause to think this over. This stuff is so unhealthy... Shoot... I put them all back and grab the cutting board out of the cabinet instead. I gotta work on my diet. No more junk food. Same for Malice. She needs real food. No wonder she's nauseous if all she eats are crackers and bread. I'd be throwing up too.
Carrots, bell peppers, cucumbers–check. I grab those colorful bell peppers, green, yellow, and red, and start slicing them up, making sure each strip is on point. Then it's onto the carrots, peeling them before chopping them into sticks. Can't forget the cucumber—slice it up thin.
I'm humming along to the song that's been stuck in my head all week while I grab the Greek yogurt from the fridge. Can't forget the dip! Add some lemon juice. Garlic powder. A dash of salt and pepper for good measure. A quick stir, and bam! This should do it.
I arrange everything on a platter, making it look all fancy. Presentation is important. Then the plate and some water bottles back out to the patio. Zelda and Malice are sitting at the pool, dipping their feet.
"Hey," I say when I approach from the dark. "Got some water and a healthy snack."
Their eyes grow wide when they see my masterpiece. Zelda loves red bell peppers, that's why I cut two of them. Malice seems to love cucumbers. She is eating all of them without the dip. More for me, I guess.
I sit down between them and untie my sneakers. Socks off, legs knee-deep in the cool water. Feels amazing!
"It tastes delicious!" Zelda praises.
"Thanks," I chuckle, placing my arm around her back. "You feeling better, Malice?"
She grabs another cucumber strip and shrugs.
Some color has returned to her cheeks. That's good. Maybe I can train more often with her and help her get her strength back. It'll bring back her appetite too, and hopefully she won't feel nauseous anymore when she sees food.
"Here, you should keep this," I say, pulling the tennis ball out of my pocket. "It's the ball that scored your first point."
Malice eyes it like a trophy. "What am I supposed to do with it?"
"Whatever you want. It's yours."
With big eyes and a mouth full of cucumber, she takes the ball and holds on to it all evening. I figured for a girl that has no possessions of her own, carrying a little sign of hope would be nice. Maybe it'll remind her that once a ball makes it past the net, it's okay that all the others didn't.
After a while, Zelda makes a surprising suggestion. "You should come to the lodge with us next week," she says.
"What lodge?"
"In Mammoth Lakes. We're going there for Thanksgiving break."
"It's November already?" Malice nearly chokes from the last piece of cucumber.
"Time's flying," Zelda laughs. "After Thanksgiving break we'll be preparing to move into the townhome already."
"I'm hyped," I say. "Anju is expecting to deliver any day now and I'd hate to ruin their happy-family moment by crashing on their couch."
"It's good to know that you're only looking forward to moving in with me because then you won't have to babysit the newborn," Zelda teases.
"Not true. For one, I'm obviously excited to live with you." I kiss her cheek. "But more importantly, we'll still have to babysit either way," I say, looking right at Malice.
She gives a fake grin. "I've been clean for more than two months now, mind yourself."
"Apart from taking all those pills a few weeks ago," Zelda comments. Malice and I stay quiet. "But you didn't answer my question. Would you like to come to Mammoth Lakes with us?"
Malice doesn't answer instantly. And the more she thinks about it, the more she looks concerned again.
"What if someone recognizes me?" She asks. I can sadly relate to that concern. But for different reasons. "I mean, what if one of Ganondorf's men follows us and..."
"Nobody will follow us," Zelda cuts in. "Nobody even knows you're with me. And nobody will recognize you. Without makeup and without those pink and black hair, you look completely different. Add a hat and some sunglasses and nobody will know it's you."
"Yeah, Malice, we can get you a fake beard too," I mock.
Zelda shoves me lightly. "Look Malice, you were never famous to begin with, so I think you're good."
"Huh, maybe I should be the one with the fake beard," I think out loud.
"It's too risky," Malice decides.
"Unfortunately, you can't stay at my house all alone. So please just come with us and have a good time. Don't make me force you."
I add, "If safety is really a concern for you, Malice, you might want to consider that you're probably much safer at Mammoth Lakes than here."
"That's a good point," Zelda nods. "Nobody would expect you to be there."
Malice lets out a sigh. "Looks like I don't have much of a choice." She grabs one of the bell pepper strips and actually dips it this time. "But if Ganondorf strikes, don't say I didn't warn you."