Today was a... Strange day.
I woke up as usual in my bed, like every other day, but I didn't feel at home... Though I didn't feel away from it either.
It's a strange feeling.
It's connected to the dream I had—a very strange and confusing one.
In that dream, I was older. Much older. And I lived in another place. One with stone towers that glowed with a soft blue light, and structures that seemed to move on their own.
And a device. Sheikah, I think. I don't know how I know that, but the name appeared in my mind without warning.
I was holding it in my hands, like it was an extension of me. I used it to see things...
Memories. Fragments.
The history of this world. My world.
But it was all broken. Like written in puddles: it would appear and dissolve.
And yet, I understood things I couldn't before.
The first was that monsters have names: Bokoblin.
They're the ones who lurk outside the village, the ones who hide among the trees and come out when night falls. They're not animals. They're not people. They're something else.
I also saw the little spirits with leaves on their faces. I always saw them running between the branches or hiding behind rocks.
They're real. They have names too: Korok.
And apparently, they enjoy being found, which makes sense with the way they move when someone approaches.
There were more memories. Things I can't explain.
That made me feel... Strange. In my voice, my hands, my body... And my situation.
I became an amalgam of memories.
They're not foreign, but they're not fully mine either.
Even now I use words I didn't know existed. I think them before I say them because they don't sound like mine, but they come out anyway.
Uncomfortable, I looked around...
My house.
One that my ancestors built during the Calamity, when everything was uncertain and each day could be the last. It's been passed down ever since, from calloused hands to others, until it reached mine.
It was built by my grandfather—or at least that's what dad says—right in the middle of the war, when the Hylians were still resisting, clinging to what little remained, arming themselves with whatever they could while the sky seemed to split apart.
Dad always repeats that story when it thunders.
The one about how Princess Zelda appeared alone before the Guardians.
How a light—just one—tore through the night, and the Sheikah machines, the same ones that now exist only as rusted remains in the fields... Simply shut down.
They stopped advancing.
They stopped seeking.
The village was never reached.
Not by the Guardians. Not by the Calamity.
But they say that at that very moment, far from here, the Hylian Champion fell.
Defeated.
And that made the victory feel... Incomplete.
The house wasn't anything special: two rooms, well-fitted wooden walls, a low ceiling to keep the heat in during winter nights. Dining area, kitchen, a small fireplace that barely did more than heat the midday pot. Everything in its place, functional, without unnecessary decoration.
But the thing that always caught my eye was the same:
The sword.
Hung proudly on the main wall, just above where dad always leaves his clay mug. It shone. Not because of magic or anything strange, but because he cleaned it every weekend.
You could see yourself in it. A clear reflection, good enough to fix your hair or check for dirt on your face.
I stepped closer. The metal reflected my image before I could brace myself.
There it was. My face.
That of a Hylian boy, with messy blond hair and those eyes... Purple. They weren't common. I always knew that.
Dad wanted to name me Link, like the Hylian Champion, like the heroes in the old stories that hardly anyone remembers anymore. But in the end, they chose my grandfather's name—the one who came from Kakariko... And also had eyes like these.
Looking at my reflection in the sword, I felt a strange urge.
To hold it.
Nothing more.
I reached out. The leather grip felt soft and cold. It wasn't heavy. That surprised me.
And then, a memory appeared. Not fully mine, but not fully foreign either.
A figure—tall, swift, determined—wielding weapons like extensions of their body. Switching between axes, swords, rods. Defeating bokoblins like they were minor obstacles. Elegant. Efficient.
But I... I didn't see their face.
Only their back.
As if I were a spectator, following them from some distant place. As if I had been there... Without having been.
My mind snapped back to the present. To me, a small child, standing before a traveler's sword with no ornate details.
But even so...
The feeling remained.
Holding that sword had calmed me.
Like the world had stopped moving for a moment.
Like my thoughts, so disordered since I woke up, had aligned just for an instant.
That was enough.
I didn't want to push my luck.
I hung it back in its place carefully, making sure the tip didn't scrape the wood.
Maybe, someday, I'll have to learn how to use one.
They say travelers earn good coin. They protect villages, clear roads, see places we only hear about during festival stories.
And even if I don't understand it yet, something inside me wants to leave.
Maybe I've always wanted to.
Only now I have reasons.
Or something that feels like reasons.
Who knows.
Knowing I couldn't do anything else for now, I decided to stick to my routine.
So I went to help my parents carry sacks. Mom had asked me last night—rainy season is coming, and the granary needs to be ready.
Everything went as usual while I worked... Except for him.
A Korok had been following me silently, curious, with a little twig on his head that wobbled each time he stepped. That was strange. They always ignored me.
I'd tried to play with them before, but it never worked. I could only see them. Nothing more.
But this time...
"Can you hear me now? You smell like nature now! You smell like us! Can you see me?"
I stopped.
Not because I understood right away what was happening, but because I heard that voice. Small, clear, no echo, no doubt. And it came... From him.
From the Korok.
"Let's play!"
I was distracted when a small rock slid off the edge of the sack I was carrying and hit my leg. It didn't hurt, but it snapped me back to the present.
I looked at the Korok.
He looked back at me.
And for the first time... He didn't run away.
A bit uneasy, I spoke to him.
I didn't know how. I didn't even know if I should.
"Uh... What do we play?"
My voice came out more serious than I meant it, like I was interrogating a squirrel. But the Korok didn't seem to notice.
In fact, he leapt with joy. Literally.
He jumped so high, did a clumsy flip midair, and when he landed, he started talking very fast, with a high-pitched, cheerful voice and barely any pauses between sentences.
"Oh yes yes yes! We play hide-and-seek because it's fun and it helps us learn to hide from bad guys and also to find good, damp places with happy soil! And we plant trees too! Because the great great great old Tree Deku gave us the mission to fill the world with life again, because before there was a lot and now there's just a little, but that's not important right now because YOU—"
He got so close his little face crossed my eyes.
"YOU are a Seeker!"
I froze.
"And as a Seeker, you have to find us! If not, the seeds get bored and that's terrible because bored seeds don't grow well, that's what the great great great old tree says and he knows everything because he has centuries in his head! So go find us, Seeker! Byeee!"
And before I could say anything, the Korok disappeared into the bushes with a joyful squeal and some fluttering leaves trailing behind.
I stood still.
I didn't know whether to laugh, run, or ask what had just happened.
"Seeker," he said.
Was that a real title... Or a joke?
I didn't know.
But something inside me—deep, quiet—felt... Called.
I could count on both hands all the Koroks I had ever seen hiding in Hetalia since I could remember.
Some moved only when someone else disturbed their hiding place, just to dash off to another.
They never stayed long. They never spoke.
They were just... Part of the scenery.
But now one had spoken to me.
To me.
And not only that, he'd given me a title.
Seeker.
Maybe it was made up. Maybe not. But in that moment, it felt important.
Excited, I set out to find him.
I didn't have a plan. Or a clear idea of how to do it.
But it didn't matter.
It was my adventure!