Hello, people of—AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGH!
(Crashing noises, cracking sound)
ARCEUS! THERE AREN'T ANY STEPS OFF THIS PODIUM! I THINK I BROKE SOMETHING!
*Five minutes later…*
I'm okay, readers…just a broken rib…will someone put some stairs there?!
Anyway, it's Reevee21, here with a new SSB fic since I am THE WORST at putting up new stuff!
I was just thinking over the age-old let's-put-these-mysteries-in-the-game-for-fanfictions on SSB. Y'know,
"Who's Master Hand really?"
"How are they all statues and what-not?"
"How was the World of Trophies created?"
"And how did Crazy Hand come into play? Or Ike? Or Pit? Or any other newcomer, for that matter?!" Remember those? I do.
Back in the olden days, when we weren't ranting about some Mary Sue fic taken down years ago or typical OC-into-SB stories (HEY! THAT'S A GREAT NAME FOR THEM! Someone make a note of that!).
So I put up this fic to write about Master and Crazy.
Just Master and Crazy.
Master and Crazy…
Oh yea, and a few company impersonators…
And the smashers…
That makes like, fifty, but whatever. I did not break a rib to lecture you guys on about this. PRESENTING, Heirlooms!
/*\ Heirlooms /*\
A SSB Fanfiction by Reevee21
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN SSB. All rights go to their respective owners, including the genius who created this beautiful game in the first place.
/*\ Introduction /*\
Forty years ago…
The soft rocking of the boat was gentle and hypnotizing; if not for the clinking of the metal lamps and creaking of the wooden frame, he would have fallen asleep.
A warm cabin around him didn't help the drowsiness. The fluffed bed at the left side of the cabin longed for someone to sleep in it, the huge, north-facing window showing the night sky in a vain effort to get him to sleep.
But he stayed, sitting at the desk in front of it, surveying his finds.
All the treasures were in a wooden crate about two feet tall, obtained through trading of gold and silver with the carvers of the jungle village they had visited. He was sorting through them now—would this go better as a house decoration or in the showcase? For sale or for keep?
He had a few piles going now. One, on his upper left, was a pile of smaller trinkets better fit for pocket charms. He flicked a stray star with two oval, black eyes back into it.
Another, below it, was a collection of larger characters. They looked plenty fine to the naked eye but they didn't have quite the spark, the memory, the…livelihood as the last one.
The last pile, centered on the right, had exactly twelve figures in it. A fearsome gorilla, a fox-captain, a float-y puffball, a warrior, a red plumber, a sparky mouse, a robotic suit, a friendly dinosaur, a driver, a singer, a green plumber, and a young physic.
Most would look oddly at his idea that they might be something more than figures. He could just tell it; they had a reason to their existence and a story to tell. He couldn't get it out of them yet.
Deciding what to do, he gently shuffled the first two piles back into the crate and slid the lid closed. Separating the twelve, he looked them over closer.
They did not respond.
He observed them more, taking note of key features, trying to shape something of a personality for each.
He could remember a few key notes about each, bringing those memories to mind as he picked up the yellow mouse by its small, yellow-furred scruff and placed it gently in his other palm. It was nice in the way they all fit so perfectly; even the largest could be tucked into his hand.
Back to the mouse. He could see that it had a lightning-suggesting tail and brown stripes on its chubby back. Red cheeks dotted its face below plain, obvious eyes. He lifted it by the tail, the rest of the body dangling limply, in an effort to look for some sort of logo or trademark. After searching along it, he saw it; a small circle with a smaller circle along its halfway line.
Curious, he set the mouse down and reached for the gorilla instead. Its brown fur stopped at the skin, a few stubborn hairs going further. It didn't bother the very palm of the foot, and he saw a different symbol; a D and K right next to each other.
He could only remember going to one trader for these twelve. Surely he would use a single marking…?
Checking each one, he saw that only a few had the same symbol—the two plumbers shared a mushroom cap sign, mouse and spherical fluff ball both having the odd circle.
As he was setting the physic down, he noticed the red plumber had vanished. The man panicked slightly—that was the most expensive one!
Was he right about this 'spark' idea after all? Had this figure left to cause him harm?
He looked over the table and shifted through the crate's valuables before finally kneeling down and finding it on the floor.
He breathed in relief before mentally scolding himself. Now that he found it, he remembered that it was rather close to the edge earlier. And what if it had broken on the way down?
Disappointment hit him as he realized the spark idea was a goose chase after all.
Collecting the twelve, he set them inside a separate box. This one was of polished wood, with his family's symbol on the front side. It was entrusted to him to be filled with precious objects.
Its duty was fulfilled as the lid locked and it was placed cautiously back upon the shelf. Looking out the ocean cabin, the man saw that it was very late indeed.
The rocking eased him into sleep, lamps unlit and creaking subsided with a few shoves on the wall.
But no one was there to hear the lid click against the wood. To hear the vain attempts of the last spark alive, to hear it fall silent as that spark of creativity died.
Mm. Dramatic.
I'll give extra nerd points to whoever can name all of the first SSB roster without looking!
Thanks for reading, everybody! Be sure to leave a review, follow, and favorite on your way out! Hug your Eevee, everybody, I'll see you on the first chapter!