A/N: Welcome, readers! I hope you enjoy this story I had in the back of my head for some time now. A few things you should know before you start.

- The main character's name will be shown here as $. I honestly didn't know what to call him, but pronounce it however you like.

- Everyone will be here. There will definitely be some characters I will never mention, but everyone who is currently participating in Smash Bros will be present (Alph, Koopalings, Galacta Knight, etc.)

- Male = Corrin, Female = Corryn. Similarly Male = Robin, Female = Robyn. Male Pokemon trainer is Red, and female Pokemon trainer is Leaf. Female inkling is Woomy, and male is just Inkling. Male Villager is Vill, and female is Villa. Please let me know if you have a suggestion for the other clones.

One last thing. There will be no set update schedule as of now. Enjoy!

Punch Punch Kick

Not many people can say that their lives are spent in this routine. I'm one of the unlucky few.

Block Dodge Grab

Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't like it.

Hold

I'd just rather be somewhere else, you know?

"Match!"

The referee walks up to me and raises my hand up. Cheers start erupting from the seats. A camera flashes in my eye. Some guy starts shaking my hand.

Sounds like fun, right?

"That's what you get for not listening to them" I thought with a smile. The sun had set way before I left the "stadium", and now the only way I could see my car was by the glowing street lamp that happened to be in front of the parking lot. As I turned the ignition, pulled out of the driveway, and headed down the road home, my mind started to wander to the recent tourney. I signed up for a local competition that was being held around my area. I thought it might be fun, and I needed the income boost. It was really the only reason I fought. It wasn't because I had some tragic backstory or needed to be strong enough or anything. I just liked it. The adrenaline rush, the million things going through your head, all of your skill and experience, focused into your opponent. It's why I live the way I do.

Ever since I was a kid, I always loved how movies and TV shows portrayed martial artists. The old senseis, as I called them, always had white hair with white beards. They were wise, mysterious, and sometimes died near the end, telling the student to remember his training. The student either had a lot going on in his life, a tragic backstory, or some sort of handicap that didn't let him fight. He would learn how to be brave and patient, and win in spite of everything that was holding him back.

Whenever I watched those kinds of movies, I always thought to myself that I would grow up to be that person. I used to tell my mom that I wanted to grow up to be a ninja, and she would always tell me that they didn't exist anymore. Later in 7th grade, there was a mixed martial arts club at the school I went to. I begged my mom to sign me up, and ever since then, I realized that being a martial artist was harder than I thought. By high school, I had already given up on going professional with it, but I kept taking classes anyway.

A few years later, there was a martial arts event for seniors in the academy I trained at. It was a county-wide competition, and I participated just for the fun of it. Before my first match, my mom asked me, "$, are you sure that you want to do this? I'm pretty sure that there are better ways to spend your time than fighting other people." "It's okay, mom. I just want to see how good I am" I replied. As I left, she yelled one last "don't get hurt!" and gave me a thumbs-up. Long story short, I left the academy with a silver medal and a cast for my broken arm. In the car, my dad jokingly commented, "look at my son. He could have been a mathematician, a scientist, or maybe even a doctor! Instead he's out here picking fights and getting beat up." I responded with, "that's what I get for not listening to you guys, huh?" Ever since then, that was the family inside joke.

I sighed as I pulled up near my neighborhood. Back then it was all for fun. I don't really know why I still fight now. I mean, the checks are nice, but is here some other reason? Maybe fighting is the only thing I can be proud of. Maybe I've put so much time and effort into it, that I don't want to let go of all my hard work. Maybe there's something else that I want. Maybe there's something else I want to find.

Speaking of finding...