He never imagined that he would see a site as breathtaking as the Shimmering Falls. He had heard tales of its sheer enormity, but realizing its complete dominance over the rugged landscape, and hearing the deafening roar of the falling water as it continued its journey down the Coinrush, was an entirely different experience. Such grand attributes made it difficult for the soldier to believe that this powerful force of the world could be stopped. But this is what we have come to destroy, he knew. And we cannot fail.
In truth, the Hammer Bro had never seen a waterfall before. Having spent almost his entire life in the Koopa Kingdom, Bowser's fiery and desolate domain, he was used to finding water in wells far beneath the rock surface—not falling from such great heights. Lava and magma were the lifeblood of his homeland. They spewed from the peaks of lofty mountains, cascaded down the slopes of high hills, and filled the basins that divided the lowlands. The soldier even recalled seeing lava falls in his youth, perilous creations that left anyone who ventured too close to the bubbling bottom with terrible burns, or worse.
Upon laying eyes on this waterfall, however, the Hammer Bro sensed anything but danger. The steady pounding of the three-tiered falls, growing ever louder as the troops advanced, nevertheless soothed the approaching observer. He found himself wanting to run his fingers through the rushing water, to remove his helmet to let the thick mists cool his sweaty face. Being so close to such an immense and eternal work of nature would surely be life-changing, he thought.
No. Not eternal, the Hammer Bro quickly reminded himself. He suddenly looked away from the falls, to find himself back amongst his comrades. Dozens of rows back, and several columns inward, he was just another body amidst the masses, another soldier getting closer to his target. He looked at those to his left, and at those to his right—a seemingly endless number of Hammer Bros. clad in various colors depending on their rank. A few were even tasked with leading ravenous Chain Chomps, a duty which he himself did not envy. The beasts were hard enough to keep contained—attempting to direct them through the ranks was a perilous task, one that required the combined efforts of multiple men per Chomp if there was even to be a chance of controlling it. The entire legion was marching down a wide dirt road, parallel to the peaceful river so in contrast with the tumultuous falls just upstream.
They had been given their orders several days before, and capturing the posts around the Shimmering Falls was the first in their list of objectives. The legion had departed the Command Camp soon after, with other legions sent away with similar missions. All were to bring ruin to the Mushroom Kingdom, or perish in the attempt.
The Hammer Bro looked up at the falls again, and seemed to awaken from a deep slumber. Despite all he had been told, despite his duty to his commanding officer, and despite his obligation to an even greater power, he could not help but wonder: what am I doing here? What are we all doing here?
For years he had been trained as a soldier in the Koopa Kingdom, just as his older brothers and father and grandfather before him. He could throw projectiles just as well as any other in his class, but preferred the hammer above them all. In battle, one can always tell where a hammer is going. A boomerang is a different matter and rarely ever returns the way one wants, the soldier had learned in his youth.
His mastery in weapons may have distinguished him amongst his fellow soldiers, but his lack of another quality had always held him back—a quality that his teachers, and Bowser himself, had stressed above all others, even skill with weapons and swiftness in battle. It was the ability to be indifferent to the task at hand, to not question one's superior, to carry out a command without thought, which the soldier could never fully grasp. His curiosity always got the better of him. It was the reason why, rather than attaining the rank of lieutenant or some other esteemed title, he had spent his entire military career as a lowly private.
His superiors had explained this to him, but he hadn't believed them. He had never fought in a real battle, and had never been sent out on a mission. How could they know how he would act, when put to the test?
But now he himself could tell them that they had all been right, if he ever desired as much. I do not want to do this, he realized suddenly, horrified that he had even had such a rebellious thought. The years of work, a lifetime lost—what had it all been for? To take orders that I don't fully understand? He would leave now, before it all began.
But the steady and synchronous marching of the thousands of feet within his legions crushed any hopes he might have had of escape. Literally—with his brothers surrounding him on either side, to stop would mean a sure and painful death by trampling. And so he plodded along, doubting himself more with every step.
Minutes later they slowed their pace, and the silence among the Hammer Bro columns was nearly tangible. So comes the battle, thought the weary soldier, not truly knowing what that meant. The ranks entered the clouds of mist, blinding the private to all but those closest to him. No commanders to follow, and no enemies in sight. He held his breath, a sense of fear creeping up inside him.
And all at once it began. Perhaps it was the sudden sound of trumpets, emanating from high above, or the answering battle cries of his nearby comrades. More likely it was the Falls themselves—their crashing waters loudest of all—that washed away the soldier's thoughts of fleeing, and his fleeting sense of fear. His soldierly instincts, ingrained within him as a youth, seized control. The Hammer Bro. found himself taking up the cries of his brothers as he joined them in their assault, forgetting his former trepidation. He could feel the Falls' mists collecting on his leathery skin, as well as the occasional splash of water, so close was he know to the base of the Falls. He heard shouts from above, and seconds later rocks and other weapons came hurtling down alongside the falling water, crashing off the glistening cliffside, and ricocheting off the helmets of those around him. Many collapsed, never to move again.
As the realities of war materialized before his eyes, the Hammer Bro no longer cared about his mission. He could see no glory to be obtained here, no enemy to attack—only his friends, fallen all around him, were visible. Some of his comrades rushed on, up the hills on either side, likely to meet the invisible enemies they thought awaited them. But the private did not join the courageous—the foolish, he thought to himself—and, going against all he had been taught, ran towards the curtain of water in front of him. For refuge, for solace, or for the sake of curiosity, he truly did not know. But all at once he was engulfed in its mighty, aqueous embrace, and knew no more.