Link's POV

By the time we finish dinner, Impa, Kiroh, and Zelda are already tipsy. Some more than others. The food wasn't that great, but the beer's alright. Even though beer always kinda tastes like shit, no matter how good or bad it is.

Zelda takes care of the bill and suggests staying longer. No objections from anyone. Impa seems especially keen on staying till closing.

To decide who has to get the next round, we all place our phones on the table with their screens facing up. Whoever gets a notification first, is buying. I'd bet $100 that it's me, because I get spammed with Instagram and Twitter notifications all day long, but surprisingly, it's Zelda's phone that lights up first.

I pick up her buzzing phone and show her the screen. "Hey, your dad's calling."

Distracted by Impa, Zelda stops giggling for a moment to take a look. "Who? No way!"

"Answer it!" Impa cackles.

Revali shakes his head. "Don't."

Zelda looks back and forth between the two as if the fate of the entire world depended on her decision. She looks at Mipha for advice, who shrugs her shoulders indecisively, and then she looks at me, who tells her truthfully, "If you answer it, he's gonna know you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," she claims and looks at each of us one more time, more hesitant and unsure than before. "Right?"

Impa nods, Revali shakes his head, Mipha shrugs, and I answer truthfully, "You're a lightweight with two beers in your system. You're tipsy at the very least."

While Zelda weighs her options, Kiroh volunteers to get the next round. He crawls out of the booth as Zelda's eyes return to her phone.

"Father doesn't usually call, so it must be important," she tells us, the fate of the world decided. Despite the noise in the bar and the faint but noticeable slur in her speech, she picks up the phone. "H—hello?"

"Zelda," I hear her dad's voice. "Why is it so noisy! Where are you?"

"Who, me? Just—you know, celebrating Thanksgiving with my friends!"

Even though she tries to say each word slow and clear, it doesn't take her dad long to make an assumption. "Have you been consuming alcohol?" He asks.

"No," she lies casually even though the truth is pretty obvious. "Why are you calling so late? Is something the matter?"

As if rehearsed, Impa and I lean closer at the same exact time. We're both trying to hear what her dad is saying on the other end of the line because it's true, he doesn't call all that often, so maybe it really is important.

"I simply wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving," her dad says.

Zelda's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yes. I missed you today."

"That's a first," Impa laughs and sways, nearly pumping heads with Zelda.

"Pardon?" Her dad grunts.

Impa clutches her heart dramatically, "He's known me for 20 som'thin' years but doesn't recognize ma-voice?"

"I recognize your voice, Impa. Are you two intoxicated?"

"Busted!" Impa gasps. "Wait, did I say 20? That makes no sense," she mumbles to herself, counting her fingers with strain.

"Unbelievable," her dad sighs.

"Is it though?" Zelda questions, apparently unaffected by his words. "You've been handing me alcohol since I was six. Sooner or later I had to become an alcoholic," she somewhat laughs at that.

"One sip of wine at a gala is not the same as underaged drinking at a public bar. You could get arrested, Zelda, don't act foolish! This could affect your future!"

"Oh chill out, we're friends with the bartender. He's not gonna call the cops on us."

Did she just say "chill out" to her dad?

Zelda straightens her back, acting serious all of a sudden. "Besides, have you never done anything like this at my age?"

"No."

"You liar!" She laughs. "Stinkin' liar!"

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

"I know you used to be part of Greek life! Which means you probably partied a lot during college! And you turned out fine, so don't act like one drink will ruin my whole life." Zelda smirks as if her dad could see her. "How come you never told me about your days as a frat boy, Father? I thought you always wanted me to be more like you!"

There's a moment of dead silence on his end. Impa and I eagerly hold our breaths.

Embarrassed, her dad sputters, "Clearly, you are incapable of having a mature conversation in this state. Call me back when you have sobered up. Goodnight, Zelda."

"I'm not drunk," she says but her dad has already hung up the phone.

Impa nudges Zelda in excitement. "You're so gonna get grounded for that."

"He can't ground me when I don't live at home anymore," Zelda shrugs rebellious.

"We're not moving for another month," Revali reminds her.

"I know I know, I'm just kidding. I'm sure Father will forgive me for mocking him a little."

Kiroh returns with our drinks. I tell Zelda to take a little break before drinking another beer but she eagerly clinks her glass with ours and takes the first sip.

"Take it easy," I say. "You're going to get a hangover."

"It's fiiiine," Impa says to me. "We're on vacation 'nd Zelda's a smaaart girl, she knows what she's doin'. She just gotta stay hydrated."

I don't think this smaaart girl knows what she's doing at all, because she's already calling back her dad. I wonder if I should just take her phone away for the rest of the night.

"You probably shouldn't call him back right now," I tell her gently. When did I become the responsible one?

"I'm not calling my father," Zelda explains. "I'm calling Urbosa. I forgot to wish her a happy Thanksgiving. I've been meaning to call her for a while now, but I've been so busy with school and Malice and Japan and all that other stuff."

Is 'all that other stuff' referring to my coma?

"I know what you're think'n Link," Impa grins at me and pats Zelda's leg. "You're worried that Urbosa will be mad at her fo' drinking."

Wasn't thinking about that at all, but now I am. Thanks Impa.

"You don't have to worry," Impa continues. "Urbosa's not like Rhoam. If anything, 'rbosa would probably be proud of Zelda for gettin' a lil drunk."

I don't know Urbosa well enough to make that call, but I know she's like an aunt to Zelda, so I guess it's a nice thought to wish her a happy Thanksgiving.

"Oh hold on, I just got a text message," Zelda says, removing the phone from her ear to check it. "It's from Father!" she announces to the whole bar. She then cancels her call in order to read his message. "Link, what's it saying?" she asks, shoving the phone in my face.

"I'll read it to you if you admit that you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," she shakes her head ecstatically. "But maybe a little tiny bitsy bit tipsy?"

I raise a brow at her, "You're definitely drunk."

"Pleaseee," she begs.

"Fine." I take her phone into my hand and read out loud:

Zelda,
You are right. I, too, had my share of experiences in my younger days. So despite my reservations, I am pleased to hear that you are enjoying yourself with your friends in Mammoth Lakes. But please exercise caution and make wise decisions. While it is likely the other way around, I trust your friends will take good care of you. I really just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving from Penn's family and me. We wish you could have celebrated the holidays here with us. I am certain you would have appreciated the view; we dined on their yacht and witnessed a splendid sunset, so captivating that even the distant surfers paused to admire it. Perhaps next year we should all spend Thanksgiving together; your friends included. I believe I haven't met all of them yet, so I would love to get to know them more. Nonetheless, what matters for now is that you create meaningful memories and live a life without regrets. Please call me in the morning before my flight departs; I would like to hear how your evening went.

After that, Zelda forgets all about Urbosa. She's all smiles, visibly and audibly happy as she leans her head against me and sends her dad a row of hearts. She may not realize it yet, but her dad's message had two big asks. One for her: to have fun and make memories. And one for me: to make sure she won't regret those memories. I take that seriously—more seriously than anything else. So when she chugs her beer, I make sure she drinks a full glass of water too. I tell her to take it easy between drinks and make sure she can still walk straight whenever she heads to the restrooms with Impa, who definitely can't walk straight. Tonight, I'm Zelda's safety net, making sure her good time doesn't turn into something she'll regret tomorrow.

When it's time to get the next round, we place our phones on the table again. If I had bet and lost $100 earlier, I would have gotten my money back this round, because my phone is the first to receive a notification. It's a comment on one of my recent posts.

Without complaints, I scoot out of our little booth and take Kiroh's ID with me to the bar. He's the only one of us who's 21, except for Pik and Malice who both stayed at the lodge. Wonder what they're up to. I imagine Pik getting stabbed—he'd never see it coming. Or Malice going through my stuff and overdosing on my pain killers. I shake those dark thoughts off. They're probably just bored and avoiding each other. Malice might even be asleep already and Pik's probably playing the guitar or something.

I lean against the counter, waiting for the bartender to notice me. The bar's got a good buzz for a stormy Thanksgiving night, but it's not packed. Just a few folks at the counter and a few more in the booths. Rainbow lights and paper snowflakes decorate the ceiling, and the speakers are playing Christmas carols even though December is still a week away.

The bartender finally walks over to me with a grin. "Another round already?"

I nod and slide over the ID.

With one eye closed, he holds it up and compares Kiroh's picture to my face. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Kiroh and I look nothing alike. Kiroh has brown hair and is almost 10 centimeters taller than me. That's a noticeable difference in height. Curse my short genes.

"This doesn't look like you, homie."

I say nothing.

"But... hm... you do look kinda familiar."

"I have a very generic face."

"No, man, I swear you remind me of..." he brings the ID closer to my face and squints at the photo. "You kinda remind me of that super famous snowboarder."

"Who?"

"You know! That Olympics champion! Youngest to ever win gold! You've got to know him! His name is Link Miyamoto!"

I give him a shrug. "Never heard of him."

"You look just like him!"

Standing on tippy toes, I point to my hair, "Must be the blonde highlights."

Fin can't hold back his amusement any longer and bursts out into laughter. "Blonde highlights?" He wheezes. "Bro!"

We share a laugh as he hands back the ID. "Here you go, Kiroh," he says with a wink.

"Thanks, Fin."

We chat a bit as he pours the beers. "It's almost that time of year again," he says. "Slopes opening up soon! You competing?"

"Probably not."

"Aw, come on, dude! You gotta get back your gold streak! I'll be competing too! I'll give you a discount on boards AND gear if you say yes!"

"Well, the thing is, me and my friends are moving during winter break, so probably won't be around for Christmas in Mammoth Lakes."

"Damn... Good for you though. The competition is tough this year anyway. Seen the rookies?"

When I shake my head, he flips through the channels on the overhead TV until he lands on ESPN. It's replaying ski and snowboarding clips from recent events. We watch a clip of an 18-year-old Canadian who's shredding down the halfpipe and pulling off insane tricks, flipping through the air like I used to.

"Check this out," Fin points at the screen. "This kid's a beast. He's competing at the X Games for the first time in February."

I nod along, watching his technique with a mix of admiration and competitiveness. But not the usual feeling of needing to win, just sort of a feeling of wanting to do it too.

Fin chuckles. "Makes you wanna hit the slopes, huh?"

I nod again. It's hard not to feel that itch, seeing these guys tear it up. I keep watching while Fin fills up six tall mugs. The storm outside messes with the TV signal, sometimes turning the screen into frantic snowflakes. The image clears just as the kid lands a cab double cork 1260, and for a moment, I can almost feel the thrill myself.

"Alright, here's your drinks," Fin says. "It's on the house. Happy Thanksgiving!"

He goes back to watching the flickering TV, trying to snatch bits of clear footage while I try to figure out how I'm gonna carry all this back to the table.

"Need a hand?" A voice asks from behind. It's Mipha, joining me at the bar. She smiles up at me, and for a moment, a strange feeling comes over me.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," I reply, gesturing to the glasses. "Careful though. These are heavier than they look."

She hesitates. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just a feeling," she says, watching me closely.

It's the way the Christmas music in the background is blending with the chatter of ski moderators on the TV. It feels like a déja vu. Like I'm trying to remember a dream; I know there's something there, but the more I try to remember it, the more it slips away.

"Link?" Mipha's big yellow eyes finally trigger the memory. It flashes through my mind, less clear than the one from this morning, but just as consuming.

It's a memory from the day of the snowboarding competition. I remember getting ready in the far back, near the ski lifts. Zelda and the others were still at the lodge. The moderators were announcing the competitors, and the crowd was cheering. So many spotlights. Even though it was night, it made the halfpipe look like it was the middle of the day. I looked up at the black sky, momentarily hypnotized by the heavy snowfall. It was just like staring at TV static.

I distanced myself from the other competitors to calm my mind. Too many people, I thought to myself. Then I heard a voice behind me and turned around to find Mipha all bundled up like a little Eskimo. I vaguely remember what she was saying—her voice echoes through my memory.

"I made this for you," she said as she handed me a homemade omamori.

I completely forgot about that lucky charm until now. I wonder what happened to it. I must have lost it over the past year. That's too bad, because Mipha seemed so happy when she gave it to me that day.

I can't fully remember what exactly we were talking about, but I remember her smile. It was the exact same smile she gave me just now when she offered to help with the drinks. It's a smile of pure kindness. Unconditional love.

When it was time for me to get ready for the first run down the half pipe, she said, "Good luck. Be careful out there, okay?"

I simply gave her a nod. She looked like she wanted to say more though and after some hesitation, she spoke again.

"Listen... There is actually something I've been wanting to tell you."

It's all a bit fuzzy, but I remember she looked intimidated. Her cheeks and nose were bright red from the cold. I didn't want her to be out here in the freezing temperatures. I wanted her to be back at the lodge with Zelda, Ravioli, Impa, and Sidon. But secretly I was also really happy that she came to see me before the competition started. I kinda needed a confidence boost and some reassurance. All Zelda had been doing during the entire trip was tell me that I wasn't ready to snowboard. She had been so worried about my health that I ended up holding back a lot during practices. And when the time had come to compete, I really didn't feel ready.

As far as I can remember, Mipha never said whatever it was she wanted to tell me. She was playing with the strings of her scarf and avoiding making eye contact. Maybe she had forgotten what she had wanted to say.

"I..." she started nervously.

But my name got announced on the speakers and interrupted her. It was time to strap in and focus on my performance.

In one rushed breath, Mipha blurted out, "I'm so proud of you!"

What happened next is so surprising that it almost feels like my mind is playing tricks on me again. Like I'm mixing dreams and memories. But... If all of this really happened, then that would explain why Zelda was crying that night and why she stayed with Ravioli while I sat outside their room all night.

What happened next shouldn't surprise me. I guess the feelings had always sort of been there, but it wasn't until Mipha told me how proud she was of me that I realized how much I needed her in my life. I thought back to our childhood and how she had always been there for me, ever since we were little kids. She always took care of my injuries when I did something reckless, she encouraged me to achieve my unrealistic goals, and she supported me no matter what decisions or mistakes I made in life.

And at that moment, when the speakers announced my name and the crowd got louder, I was frozen to the ground. I had no clue how to react to Mipha's words. There were no cameras on us, nobody even noticed us standing in the dark. And even if everyone had been watching, I don't think I would have cared at that moment. All I cared about was her. And I felt stupid because I didn't know how to tell her how thankful I was to have her in my life. A simple thank you just wasn't good enough.

Mipha looked happy. And flustered.

And I felt it too. More than ever.

Big yellow eyes, red cheeks, and the whitest snow; that's the first clear image in my mind. I remember the icy air on my lips and how it mixed with the little clouds of her warm breath... I felt a rush, and then...

"I kissed you," I say in disbelief.

Mipha looks up at me in shock. Steadily, she puts the beer back on the counter, not breaking eye contact.

"I thought you couldn't remember Christmas Eve," she says slowly, her smile turning into a frown.

"It all just kinda came back to me. I mean, not all of it, but... enough to understand what happened that night." I step closer as if people could hear us through the chatters and the Christmas carols. "So is it true?" I ask in a whisper. "Did I initiate that kiss?"