A/N: Hey you guys! It's time for another one-shot! Yay! That means ONE CHAPPIE ONLY, PEOPLE! Which means I won't be adding on more chappies! Anyways, I wanted to try something that didn't involve Link (O.o GOD FORBID! XD) and have it center around our favorite kitsune! I haven't done much with him in a while, but that's about to change. It takes place in his point of view, during the first SSB tournament. And it's super long, too! XD Here it is!

An Open Mind

Gosh... It sure is beautiful out here. A cool, crisp atmosphere surrounds the field of evergreens in the forests behind the Mansion. The scent of fresh pine is simply breathtaking, and the treetops all knit together in an arc, like an embrace, and create a canopy above the dirt road less traveled on and shining beams of seemingly holy light. Before me lies a pond, a small little pond, the sun glistening off the surface, making it twinkle like a group of diamonds. Here, besides the churning waters, my ears catch the sounds of songbirds bleating, the occasional owl hooting, the bloating of toads, the clicking of crickets, and the gentle wind swaying through the tall grass, the cattail reeds, and the leaves in the upper trees. They sound as if they're speaking to each other, and for a brief moment, I wish I could understand and join them in conversation. I'd prefer to talk to trees than to most people.

I sit down against a tree, one close to the water's edge, that large roots that stick up, and I feel as if I'm sitting in an armchair, just less cushiony, that's all. Cushion is a luxury, anyway, so I'm satisfied. Before I can let my mind go, I pat the soft, lush dirt affectionately. "Sorry I took so long. Been a while, hasn't it?"

I used to come down here all the time, any chance I got, to think. The SSB Mansion's too stuffy, for me at least. I've always been more of an outdoor person. But I haven't come down in a while due to complications. And now that I'm here, it's not for thought. It's for escape.

I just... had to get away...

Perhaps I should explain more about myself before I continue. I used to be known as the ace pilot, the leader of space commandos, the anthro on science. But after moving to Earth for this Super Smash Brothers competition, I came to realize that since this world wasn't plagued with advanced fighter weapons threatening to shoot you at any chance they got like back home, I was able to actually slow down and enjoy the outdoors. And I loved ever minute spent outside. I stayed in the Mansion's library for hours, reading up on biology, ecology, zoology, and all the other "ologies" that related to nature. The other books also piqued my curiosity, and I began reading William Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, any book I could get my hands on. And as I studied art as well, the creative juices began to bubble up, and all those years before, I never knew what I was missing out on. Now I have a brand-new appreciation for art and literature, the freedom of expressing one's inner feelings with the scribble of a pen or stroke of a brush. I devoted much of my free time to reading, painting, or taking simple walks outside to greet Mother Nature in all her beauty. Not that I was no longer a pilot, just... a little more broadening of my horizons. Self growth, you can call it.

I've never bothered to tell any of the other Smashers about my self-discovery. None of them know me, so they wouldn't care anyway. But that was alright, because that just gave me more time to myself. However... I found it a little... disappointing. I wanted to tell them of my findings. I wanted to share my experiences with these cold, emotionless people, get them motivated to go out and discover themselves. But they wouldn't listen. I know they wouldn't.

Then I figured out a possible way. There was one thing they all wanted: money. Severe budget cuts have lowered our paychecks dramatically, and we're all lacking some green. I suggested getting second jobs, but they all just laughed.

"We can't, Fox," Mario had explained patiently. "None of us have any Earthling education. No employers will take us."

And that was it. Education. At last, a chance to teach these people how to live, while they get what they want at the same time. I wanted to tell Master Hand right away about the idea, but he was a little intimidating at first, so I just kept the idea to myself. Until one day, in the library, I was reading up on public speaking, when I heard the distressed Hand's voice as he floated through the library.

"Oh, god... What am I gonna do? The Smashers will walk out if they don't get money soon... What to do, what to do..."

And that was the time to finally step up and say it. I placed my bookmark to save my place in the book, then stood and slowly approached him from behind.

"I may have a solution to your problem, Master Hand."

"Oh...!" He turned around sharply as if taken by surprise. "Oh, Fox... I didn't know you were here..."

"I lot of people don't," I answered offhandedly, then went on. "Anyway, I have this idea that might solve the money issue."

"Go on..."

Here I go... "I figured that we'll gain money if we all get jobs, but we need to get education first." I paused, psyching myself up, and continued. "What if... we hold classes here at the Mansion to give us all an education? We could use the rest of our funds to hire professors to come here and teach us all we need to know."

He was silent in thought, and I was steaming in a pool of nervousness. My wonders floated towards what could happen if he rejected my idea, and I felt like a complete idiot for standing up in the first place.

But then he looked as if he was nodding. "... That is a wonderful idea, Fox! Only you could come up with something that ingenious."

I was shocked at first, but I had gained immense confidence as I continued on. "Thank you, sir. Just leave all the business to me. I'll call up the professors and set up the classes for you."

"Thank you very much, Fox. I know I can count on you."

I was pleased, to say the least. Not only had I gained the liking of Master Hand, but I had a chance to spread knowledge to my fellow Smashers. I immediately went to my phone, calling professors from UC Berkeley, Cal State Long Beach, even Stanford. I set up classes with five different professors, one for every weekday, and they were delighted to teach for the famous Smashers. I had so much confidence in the program, I couldn't wait for that first Monday to come. As breakfast went on in the cafeteria, the intercom went off, gaining everyone's attention. I knew what the announcement was, so I focused one their faces, awaiting looks of happiness and relief.

"Master Hand here. I have a very important announcement." Here it comes... "Today, we begin classes to improve on your education. Each weekday for four hours, you'll be attending classes in the F wing."

But instead of what I expected, looks of shock crossed their faces, followed by angry protests.

"WHAAAT?"

"This is ridiculous!"

"Four hours of fighting, down the drain!"

"This is lower than low!"

I couldn't believe what was happening. I thought these people wanted jobs and money. I had stressed myself for a week to set up this program, and for this?

"Complain all you wish, but the education will allow you to obtain jobs and money. Before you leave for your classes, make sure to thank your fellow Smasher Fox McCloud for setting up these classes for your benefit."

All angry gazes turned from the intercom box to me, and I felt so small and weak as I sank into my seat, sweating. I thought this would be a good thing for sure, but this bombshell had wiped most of that hope away early on.

"That's all for now. Have a great day, Smashers!"

After the first class was over without much occurrence, I was no longer ignored. I got a death glare from nearly everyone I passed in the hallway, and the more rough ones would attack me, slamming me up against the wall and growling protests and threats.

"You blockhead! Why'd you do it?"

"We're losing out on fighting because of you!"

"You'd best sleep with one eye open ,pal, 'cause pretty soon, we'll be all over you like a bad itch!"

There were worse one I won't dare mention, but they all hit hard, one way or another. And it hurt. It really did. I was trying to help them, trying to give them what they want. I mean, even an uneducated person would know that money doesn't grow on trees. But they treated me as if I only for the pleasure of watching them "suffer." If I wanted that, I'd take them on the battlefield, but even there, protected by rules, I wasn't safe. They'd increase their brutality on me whenever I had a match. It was all very discouraging, and I found no safe sanctuary besides my dorm or the library.

But now, as I gaze around the forests, I remember the more enjoyable parts of these classes. I was in the back of the room, so many times I daydreamed while the teacher taught lessons I already knew. I read parts in the English Anthology I wasn't supposed to read. And that was when my imagination blossomed to its fullest. Science fiction made me think "what if?" more often. Instead of just landscaping, I began to paint what I though and felt through ways of both impressionism and surrealism. Though my art teacher disapproved of such strange art, I didn't care. I let the wild ambitions of my imaginations roam free and do as they wish.

But then I was caught by Dr. Long, the Math professor, reading in his class while they reviewed the Pythagorean Theorem, of all things. He reported it to the Literature professor, Dr. Laurent. Now, Laurent was a great teacher, and he has such a strong passion for the arts. I admired him as a fellow reader and artisan who studied literature like a science. Plus, he was very patient with his class, who had taking the English course the most. I was the only one in the class who outright enjoyed it, so I figured I wouldn't get in too much trouble with him.

But as I sat there before his desk, that look of disappointment he was giving me made me reconsider. He gave out a gruff, slow sigh as he settled in his large chair, bringing out the Anthology Long had taken away from me earlier. He began to speak in a voice that sounded tired.

"Fox... Dr. Long stated that you were not following the lesson in his class. Instead you were reading this."

"I know. I was reading The Scarlet Ibis during breakfast, and I simply couldn't put it down. Really good piece of literature, by the way. Excellent form of storytelling."

"But that wasn't your homework assignment."

"I know. Many titles in the Anthology piqued my curiosity, so I've been reading them."

He chuckled. "My dear Fox... You are quite a reader."

I grinned in agreement, nodding. "And I analyzed them and answered all the questions..."

"And what if we were to read a story you have already analyzed?"

I thought about it carefully before answering. "Then... I guess I'll be ahead of the game."

He sighed again, a sad smile on his face. Not a good sign. "You see, that's the problem, Fox... All of us teachers have noticed that you... are above and beyond the levels of our teachings. Which, of course, isn't a bad thing, but... We feel that you may be... discouraging your peers with your perfect grades..."

I felt the sweat beginning to coat my fur as I swallowed a lump in my throat. But I kept a calm outlook. "...Meaning...?"

"I know this'll be difficult for you, but... slow down. Pay attention to Long in Math... Do what Margaret wants you to do in Art... (sigh)... And stick to homework only in my class... alright?"

Slow down. Code phrase for stop being an individual. Stay with the herd. But staying with the herd is equal to crawling for me. I could be so much farther ahead if they could just let me stroll ahead a few steps, if they could stop knocking me down on my knees and allow me to stand up and move forward.

The painting of the week was exceptionally gloomy that time. In the mists of an ocean if ebony, a single orange flame gleamed, all alone, trying to illuminate the gloom with its feeble glow. Around it was a silver ring, like a steel cage, locking the flame's potential away to sustain the darkness that satisfied all. It seems so basic, but it means so much... to me, at least.

There's a sound of desperate chirping above me. I look up to see a bird's nest in the branches above, with a sparrow and her baby leaning over the side. The younger sparrow leaps into the air with wings outstretched, then tries to flap in a hard attempt at flying, but slowly loses altitude. I reach up to catch the creature, but the mother beats me to the punch, swooping down, catching it, and dragging it back into the nest. Discouraged, the chick sinks into the nest in a lump of feathers.

Discouraged. That's how Laurent described my fellow Smashers. But I think the right words would be stubborn, arrogant, jealous. I have hard-earned knowledge and they don't, and it doesn't seem fair to them. Of course, what most of them believe is fair and what actually is fair are two completely different things.

Like back in Literature class, Laurent had instructed us to split into small groups to read and discuss the theme of a poem. We received a popular American poem I had heard of, but not read: The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost. I was voted by my group members, Mario, Captain Falcon, Donkey Kong, and quiet little Luigi, to read the poem out loud. I rightfully accepted the task, and began to read.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, just as fair

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

On, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by.

And that has made all the difference."

Now I knew why it was so popular. What a lovely poem...

"This is stupid..." DK grumbled.

"It isn't stupid, you just don't understand it," Mario stated frankly, to which the agitated Falcon grabbed the collar of his shirt.

"Don't you dare start quoting Laurent, or I'll scramble up your face like a plate of eggs!" he growled.

I sighed and sat back, slowly losing the desire to work with these people. Laurent had always put me with the two dunderheads, one way or another, and I don't know if it was an accident or done on purpose, but it really irritated me.

"Um... Okay, then, let's get to work on it..." Mario had pulled away from Falcon, and looked carefully at his own copy of the poem. Now, Mario's a bit different from most of the rest. He actually makes an honest-to-God effort to understand the lessons that are taught to him. He's usually always wrong, but at least he tries.

"Hmm... Okay, so the guy, he comes to two roads, right?" He looked to me for guidance. I just nodded, and he continued. "Yeah, and one was traveled on a lot, and the other wasn't, and he goes down the second one, and... he sounds pretty satisfied, 'cause he doesn't go back to the first one..."

"Boy, that's dull..."

"Shut up, Falcon! Okay, we figured out what happened, now we gotta figure out the theme of this poem."

"What's a theme again?" DK asked incredibly.

"Conveys the message the author is trying to express in his or her writings," Luigi responded quickly and quietly. He's so very shy, but he pays attention in class and gets decent grades. At least he has hope.

"Aw, that's hard..." DK whined.

"And stupid," Falcon muttered.

"You guys, come on!" Mario scolded, then turned to me. "What do you think the theme is, Fox?"

Darn. I was really hoping they'd figure it out themselves. I was tempted to lead them towards it, like a teacher leading a class discussion, but I couldn't, because then I'd sound too smart and "discourage" them. Oh well.

"Well..." I sat up, ready to begin. "I believe the author is trying to say that you have two choices in life; two roads. You can follow the crowd and pursue the life that everyone leads... or you can go down a newer path, a path that leads to self-individuality. The narrator is satisfied because he chose not to stay with the crowd, because he became an individual, apart from the rest. He has gone down the path no one expected him to go down, and in a metaphorical way, he is expressing the need to be different. So the theme of the poem would be to not always follow the crowd, and to go down your own road of self-discovery."

And that was that. Mario gazed at me admirably. Luigi was scribbling down notes based on what I had said. But DK and Falcon were giving me unreadable looks, ones that looked unsure.

"Dang..." DK breathed. "You're so open-minded, it's scary."

I didn't quite take that comment as I was supposed to, and thinking it was a compliment, I grinned. "Thanks."

But it was Falcon that shattered that sense of glee. "That wasn't a compliment, McCloud."

He didn't even have the gall to call me by my first name. And he barely respects me as it is. A lot of them don't. They aren't discouraged, just angry. Stubborn. And I really wish that someday, they'll wake up from their sleep of discontent and welcome all the opportunities they've been offered.

There come the bitter thoughts again. I gazed at the pond some more, the algae green waters still and smooth like a glassy mirror. The winds have died away, and the trees have silenced their chittering for rest. Nature seems to fall asleep as dusk approaches and the sun begins to sink west of the mountains.

God, do I love this place... I'm glad I still have a safe haven to escape to. The library is gone... They sold everything: the tables, the chairs, the computers, and every last book. My heart crumpled and sank in tragedy. The library was the last refuge I thought I had, holding all the books I cherished like best friends within their shelves. And now it was gone.

"We're having a lack in funds..." Master Hand tried to explain. "And since no one comes in here..."

"I COME HERE!"

"Erm... Since most don't come in here, we needed to sell everything..."

I felt like vomiting right there, I was so sickened. Of all the places to get rid of, they had to pick my last place to go. But did they care? Of course not.

The painting that week was not gloomy, and bright and angry. Reds, oranges, and yellows melded together to create a raging inferno, the furious flames of Hell blazing and consuming all their embers lick. Among them are the spirits of the lost books, fleeing from the fires of callous and insecurity upon their pure wings. It's a little sloppy due to my rapid, angry brush movements, but it gets my point across. All those wonderful books at our disposal were sold away. Gone.

But somehow, I kept on being my own self, going down that road less traveled by. All the events led up to this day, today. It was today, in Language Arts class, when I had finally had enough.

"Alright, class," spoke the teacher, Dr. Sooth, a female with a thick Western accent. "Let's review the homework." She etched a single word on the chalkboard in big, bold letters. "Who here can define 'truth?'"

Now it was my time. I mentally prepared my speech, imaging the looks of awe on my audience's faces and the respect I would garner afterwards. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage.

I raised my hand.

"Yes, Fox?"

I stood from my chair and began. "Truth... is what lies within us. There is an individual soul within each and every one of us, and truth is letting that soul go. Truth cannot be defined by dictionaries, encyclopedias, or textbooks, because it is beyond what comprehension can cover. Truth is being true to yourself." And I took my seat.

My peers all stared at me with an emotion I couldn't recognize. Sooth looked at me as if I had grown another head.

"... Fox, where on earth did you get that from?" she barked, slamming a dictionary on my desk. "I told you to look it up in the dictionary! Look, there it is! Truth: fact, actuality, reality! Write that down!" She quickly turned away. "I'll have to give you a zero on the homework!"

"B-but wait!" I was determined to mend wounds from embarrassment. "I did the homework! I just believe truth is more than just fact, just like dreams are more than just rapid-eye movements..."

"That's enough, Fox!" she snapped, and the room was silent for a few seconds. The rest muttered amongst each other, eyeing me relentlessly. I wanted to become invisible. I felt so small in the big, scary world of reality. I had to escape. Really badly.

"Yoshi, please define justice..."

And that's why I'm out here. I don't know why I never considered this place before now, but right after class was dismissed, I escaped the oppressive environment, and for the first time in so long, I came to this self-same lake. And I feel now a sort of peace, yet not enough to cleanse the soul completely.

I look back up at the nest above me. Looks like the baby sparrow's gonna try one more time to fly it goes to sleep. It's a pretty bold decision, as its mother is asleep. It leaps out of the nest, but quickly loses altitude once more. This time I hold out my hands and catch the poor creature in my palms. It stumbles around to recover from shock, then looks up at me with beady eyes, head cocked. There's a look of disappointment in his little eyes.

"Don't worry, little guy," I comfort, petting him with the greatest care of his delicate bones. "You keep trying... and... don't let anything discourage you, alright?"

He responds with a chirp. I stand and place him in the nest, and he nestles against his mother, falling asleep.

I slump back onto the ground, exhausted both physically and mentally. I know I sound like a crying child when I tell people this, but I don't want those feelings to bottle up inside. It's unhealthy, you know.

Now, I don't ask for sympathy. I don't ask for pity. Heck, I don't even ask for friendliness. I could be the most unpopular person in the world and I wouldn't care. All I'm asking for is a little respect. A small acknowledgement that I exist, not to bring everyone down, but up instead. I wish at least one of them could just open their eyes and...

"Fox...?"

...Someone else is here. I turned towards the path I had come by, and there stands Luigi, slowly approaching as if I'm an agitated beast. I don't blame him; I did leave the class in a rotten disposition. But now I push my bitter thoughts aside and address him in a more friendly and inviting matter.

"...What're you doing here, Luigi."

He shrugs. "I figured you'd be here. You weren't in your dorm, and the library... Well, yeah, you know..."

I feel like screaming out at him, but instead I turn away, back towards the pond. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him take a seat next to me. Looks like he's trying to be friendly too.

"Hey, uh... I thought it was interesting, what you said in class today about truth..."

I snort in disagreement. "Yeah, like anyone understood, anyway..."

"I understood it fine," he replies, gaining my full attention. "You're really open-minded, Fox."

"Yeah, thanks, I've heard that one before..."

"No, really, this time it is a compliment. Falcon and DK, they're just idiots. Nothing that comes outta their mouths is intelligent, so don't bother with them."

I laugh. I actually laugh. That had to be the most frank and honest comment I've heard in a while.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. You just telling it like it is kinda took me by surprise."

"You think it's a joke?"

Where the heck is this conversation going? "No, not at all. I just didn't expect it to come out of one of my fellow Smashers."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like them. I don't wanna be like them, but Mario is telling me to slow down so I won't get picked on..."

I look up at him closely. He's... just like me. An artisan oppressed by society's rules. That's why he's so shy. That's why he gets the grades. He's as passionate about these classes as I am, and I never noticed before.

Little by little, he's growing upset. "I love to read. I love to write fiction. I love it all, Fox. I was devastated when they sold the library! I wrote poem after poem about anger and sorrow just to get it all off my chest..."

Well, that's good. He has a way to vent out his feelings, like I do with my paintings. "So, you write, huh, Luigi?"

He blushes. "Yeah... No one's ever read my stuff, though... I keep asking Laurent, but he's trying to get me to stop..."

"I'll read it."

That surprises the both of us, but I keep calm as he stares at me as if he hadn't heard me right. "You will? You'll do that for me?"

"Sure. Anything to help a fellow intellect."

"Aw, geez..." He grins, blushing big time. Man, the kid is so modest. But that's okay, everyone's got their flaws... like I do...

"Listen... All that's happened, it's all my fault..." I admit, but he doesn't look mad. "The classes were all my idea... I was stupid enough to think it would work..."

"Oh, don't beat yourself up about it. You tried, and that's what matters. Besides, it did work. I changed."

I look up at him again, realizing what he meant. My goal was to take at least one Smasher and make him appreciate the need for knowledge. And now I realize that I had achieved that goal as I look at Luigi, and now I don't feel all that depressed anymore.

He grins. "Here, I wanna show you something." He digs into his pocket and brings out his small, leather wallet. Flipping through it, he then brings out a small card and show it to me. It reads Doubleday Books Discount; Card Member get 15 off every purchase! Luigi's neat signature is etched at the bottom. I think I know what this means...

"You can become a member for free if you're a frequent buyer. With out good grades, we can get jobs and earn money, and buy a bunch of books so we can start our own library! Whaddya you say?"

I look between him and the card. Both of us share a passion for literature, and with us working together, we can rebuild the library to its former glory! And better yet, I wouldn't have to do it alone. "Alright, sounds good to me!"

"Great!" He withdrew the card away. And we gazed once more out into the pond. The fireflies have come out at their usual hour in the evening, dancing on the clear water's surface. Crickets serenade in the bushes as night slowly comes with their song.

Luigi sighs. "You know, this place is really nice."

"It is."

"I should come down here more often."

"Me too."

There's more silence besides the night's song before Luigi speaks again. "Ever since those classes started, I've felt so alone, like I had no one to relate to..."

"You could've talked to me. I don't bite."

"You were... intimidating," he says quickly, hastily turning away as if he made an offense. But I was in too much of a good mood to be offended, especially by my fellow open mind.

"Hey, don't you worry about it. All that counts is here and now. Neither of us is alone anymore, and we know that no one can ever bring us down again."

He smiles lightly like the shy person he is. "Thanks, Fox."

"Nah. Thank you."

Here in this forest, with the whispering trees and the reflective waters, two minds filled to the brim with knowledge, appreciation, and imagination unite in a blossoming friendship. And now, this open mind of mine isn't so small and weak anymore.

THE END

A/N: Yep, I added in some Luigi too. 8) So, how was that? I know you all, being creative minds yourselves, would appreciate this nice piece of work I came up with. No, The Road Not Taken is NOT mine, but is copyrighted. I just felt appropriate to use it. This fic in general was actually inspired by an OPP speech(Original Prose and Poetry, for you non-Speech people) under the name "A Head in the Clouds Remembers," so I'd like to thank the authoress of that speech for the inspiration. I have another one-shot that is the sequel to this, but it has a completely different kind of tale and theme and focuses on someone else. But that won't be until later. Until then, review this fic please! Tank you.