AN- Well, I had an idea, and as we all know, that can never end well. Actually, I had three ideas, which I can't decide between. So, I'm posting the first chapters of each of these hypothetical new stories to see which one you lovely readers like best. If you like this one, go vote for it on my profile page to tell me I need to make it into a full-fledged story. Feel free to check out my other two options, Ivy's Flower and Sweet Smash Flats as well, just in case you end up liking one of those more than this. Something that is both a slice of life and a dark mystery. Well, if it stars Shulk, the only thing I can be sure of it that this will not be a fun time for the poor guy, as I am always awful to him without fail. So, just remember: I only own my own ideas here, and if they're terrible, vote for something else. Thank you and enjoy. -Twilight Joltik

Puzzle-box Mansion

Chapter One- Memory

A boy was sprawled across some cold surface. This was the only thing he knew. No, not quite. If he tried, he could recall his name, right? He searched his brain. Something that started with an S, maybe? It was a weird name, certainly not one he'd really call a "name", exactly. Oh, what was it, S-Sh… Shulk, that was it! His name was Shulk!

Well, that was somewhere to start, he thought. Shulk, that was his name, as odd as it was, but who was he? Where had he been before… falling asleep? Being knocked unconscious? How had he gotten wherever he was, anyways? Oh, come on, he pleaded with his empty brain, surely you aren't completely useless.

Something came up. Not a memory, no, but a block of words. They seemed more like someone's explanation of him, not his own words. Some of them seemed to be missing, but it was a start:

In XXXXXX, this young lad's colony is attacked by the Mechon, so he and his friends set off to take them down. In XXXXXXX, his Monado Arts let him change his specialization during XXXX. XXX can choose to boost a stat-XXX jump or attack, for example-but other stats will drop as a result, so choose wisely.

What did any of those things mean, Shulk wondered. What was a Mechon, or a Monado Art? They seemed like some sort of being and skill, respectively, but there was no elaboration. And his friends-? He couldn't remember any of them. Not a name, not a face, nothing. But, at least that meant he had people he knew. Perhaps they were waiting on him, or even with him. They'd be worried to find he couldn't recall anything, wouldn't they?

Could he open his eyes? Maybe that would help. If he saw something familiar, perhaps that would give him a clue of what exactly he was supposed to be.

With a snap, hazy darkness gave way to more hazy darkness. Well, not entirely dark. There seemed to be some light coming in from somewhere, enough to hazily see the dull white color of the ceiling, and hear the echoing beating of a ceiling fan casting a shadow on it. Alright, he was indoors. That was a start, at least. If he was indoors, then he must have been lying on the floor. Why had he been lying on the floor? Had he been injured? No, he felt no pain in his body. Perhaps that was just an odd habit of his. No, that didn't feel like the case. It was rather uncomfortable, and he couldn't really imagine himself voluntarily doing such a thing.

That was about all he could glean from lying down, so he attempted to push himself up. Sitting proved to be a bit taxing, but not in a way that implied he had been somehow injured, but more in the way it feels odd to move after being in an awkward position for a very long time. How long had he been there, anyways? Sitting up, he could see the room was fairly empty, and a window on his left showed the early morning sky. Perhaps he'd been laying there all night, or even longer.

Was he positive he couldn't remember anything else? He cast another glance around the room, his eyes falling on an odd red object on the floor, a bit to his right. He felt he should recognize it, but couldn't find a name for it. Should he reach for it? Shulk found his fingers closing around its narrow handle before he could even process the thought. It was a cold metal, despite its bright color. What was this? It began to whirr to life with a cyan glow and a hole in its base began to shine brightly. He felt some flash of something- had he blacked out?- and realized it had extended a blue blade of light from its tip.

"This is a sword," he found himself muttering, almost subconsciously. His voice sounded odd, not at all what he'd expected. Not even his own voice had remained in his memory? Whatever had stripped him of all of his knowledge, they had done a good job. If he were to see his reflection, he was sure he wouldn't recognize it either.

That got him curious. With his free hand, he reached to his head and tried to pull his hair to where he could see it. It was a very pale blond, with thin, wispy strands. He didn't feel any recognition from knowing that, either. Perhaps if he could find a mirror- no, he could probably see his reflection in the windowpane.

He shakily got to his feet, feeling a bit lightheaded from it. A few steps took him to the windowpane, to a faint reflection of a blond-haired boy with odd clothing and dull blue eyes. He didn't look the slightest bit familiar to himself, making him wonder why the sword had stirred up something more resembling memory than his own image. Nothing in his appearance looked familiar. He might as well have been staring at someone he'd never met's portrait for all he recognized himself.

The breeze from the fan sent a shiver through him. Between the cool of the glass and the fan, he was freezing cold. No, that wasn't right. He just felt uncomfortable, not cold. The only chill was that of his lack of memory, the room was perfectly temperate.

It then occurred to Shulk that perhaps he might figure out something more if he were to leave the room. With a few uncertain steps, he found his way to the door of the room and turned the doorknob to pull it open. The light from the adjacent hallway nearly blinded him, and he knew a small groan escaped his lips as it hit his eyes. The hallway was long, to the point where he couldn't make out the end of it, and lined with doors on either side.

A few more steps, and he found himself halted by the creaking of another door. It startled him to the point where he was sure he flinched, but no one emerged from the door for a good thirty seconds. He thought he heard some whispers from the ajar door, but couldn't be sure.

After a moment, someone emerged from the door. A young man with pointed blue eyes and hair of the same shade lightly stepped across the hall. The odd cape he was wearing scrapped across the floor as he approached Shulk with an odd frown on his face, some gold circlet glinting on his head.

"Oh, hello," he stated very cordially. "We were expecting someone new to show up soon. What is your name, newcomer?"

"Sh-Shulk," he forced out. "Er, what is this place, what do you mean?"

The young man gave a small sigh. "I am truly sorry you have found yourself here," he almost whispered. "This is the place known as the Smash Mansion, an odd realm where people with hardly a speck of memory find themselves without any means of escape."

AN- Well, this seems familiar. This is a rewrite of a story I wrote a while back called The Mansion Enigma, which starred Marth. I killed it because I sort of gave a role to Lucas that would have been perfect for Robin about three days before his reveal, causing me to ragequit. It'll probably be a lot different from that one, though. If you liked it and want to see it expanded into a full story, go vote for this on my profile, because any more than three stories at a time would be stupid. Heck, more than two stories at a time is stupid, but I'm just filled with overconfidence. Well, thanks for reading! –Twilight Joltik