The drops of water fell monotonously to the ground, further emphasizing the grayscale of the sky. They stood in that small field behind the mansion, those Smashers. Old and new, there they stood, voices hushed as they listened to the melancholic voice of the floating hand before them.
"Our hearts are heavy in this drizzle; they truly are, for we have all encountered the day we hoped would never come. We all are saddened to see a great man of his caliber leave this world so soon, so early, but we shall not focus upon the sadder aspects. We will acknowledge the things he has done for us – each and every one of us – the achievements he has gained, the wondrous joy he has brought to us all. We will appreciate every moment of his life, and cherish the things he has done.
It is a quiet day, a day of mourning. But we shall recover from this pain, and we will look on to happier days, brighter days, for that is what he would have wanted. Thank you."
The hand floated momentarily, offering condolences to his usually-rowdy group of Smashers. One by one, those vigorous fighters disappeared, headed back into the welcoming warmth of the mansion. All faded away, all gone, save for twelve silent Smashers – the true veterans, the Original Twelve. They remained, hands in pockets, memories of good times replaying in their thoughts like an old, bittersweet movie.
They remained in that light drizzle, fully soaked, hearts at half-mast.
The purple-eyed, raven-haired boy was the only to sob loudly, succumbing to the heart-crushing pain, clutching his famed baseball bat and red-and-blue hat as he dropped to his knees. The Hylian and friendly green dinosaur comforted the young child, their dear, fellow veteran. The famous plumber and his brother tipped their hats, colored black for this occasion. The vulpine and tie-wearing ape comforted the teary-eyed Mouse and Balloon Pokémon. The puffy Dreamlandian cried "Poyo!", and the bounty hunters just simply shook their heads.
"A damn shame," one mentioned to his female counterpart.
"A shame indeed," she responded woefully.
There they remained in voluntary silence, the sounds of soft sniffles accompany the light pitter-patter of the bittersweet rain.
~•~ R.I.P. Satoru Iwata. You will be sorely missed. ~•~