A short chapter because I realize I always go too hardcore on most of them. Maybe I will write shorter chapters from now on. I'm going to try and keep this hot-blooded feeling for writing. On top of this I'm starting a webcomic and perhaps podcasting. Oh and I forgot about my classes. Damn you classes I actually have to study for!

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Pit looked carefully at his reflection in the mirror. At the circular movement of his wrist, the large not-quite grin as he went over his front teeth. His usual minty toothpaste had been replaced with something far spicier and slightly choked him upon hitting his tongue. He only had his brother to blame for that.

Spitting into the sink he wiped his mouth and checked his reflection one more time. Clear skin, large blue eyes, a mouth more inclined to smile than frown. Pit ran his fingers through his hair, no matter how hard and long he brushed it it always stayed messy: sticking out from all directions, cowlicks popping up here and there. At least his wreathed laurel gave it some shape.

He turned around to check his wings. He ran his fingers through the feathers. Snow white, soft, all appeared to be well.

Well.

Pit felt feathers between his fingers. He looked in surprise at the handful of fluffy feathers. He quickly spun around and let out a small groan.

"Blapi!" He called from inside the bathroom. When he didn't get a response he stepped out to see his brother tuning his guitar.

"Blapi!" His brother looked up and Pit held up the loose feathers. "I'm molting."

Black Pit stopped his strumming.

"Are you molting yet?"

"Started last night," Black Pit muttered before going back to strumming. Pit stared at him.

"How come you didn't tell me? I could have been more prepared!" Pit put his hands on hips. "You know we're on the same cycle!"

Black Pit put down his guitar. "Geez! Don't say that! It sounds girly as fuck."

"So?" Pit went to his drawer and pulled out a simple white t-shirt. "We are and it's useful to know when I'm going to lose feathers. Lady Palutena is going to make so many balding jokes..." Pit added in a depressed tone.

"That's why I'm not leaving this room. I'll finish molting in private, thank you very much." Black Pit went back to strumming his guitar while Pit finished dressing.

"What about your matches? You can't just stop because you're molting, and we have Spring cleaning this week! The Toads and Waddle Dees are on vacation, so it's up to us. You can't get out of those duties."

Black Pit knew Pit was right. He couldn't just skip out on his duties. If Nachure called he wouldn't be able to just say "No". He didn't want people to see him like this though. It wasn't overtly obvious. It wasn't like he looked like a newly plucked chicken, his skin as pink as a freshly scrubbed baby. Still, there were visible discolored patches if one looked for too long. His down a slightly different color than his regular feathers.

"You coming down for breakfast?" Pit asked, hanging near the door, his wings fluttering in anticipation of an answer.

"I'll catch up with you later," Black Pit said. He knew people would see him, but they didn't have to now.

Pit stared a little longer at his brother before leaving their room. He headed downstairs. The sound of utensils clinking and chatter greeted him before the smell of food and the sight of his teammates hit him.

He found a seat between Palutena and Rockman. Rockman gave him a nod of acknowledgement and continued eating, Palutena smiled at him.

"Good morning, Pit. How are you?"

"I'm good, Lady Palutena! Did you sleep well?"

Palutena nodded and handed Pit a plate of food. He examined the eggs and bacon on the plate. He wondered who had taken it upon themselves to cook. Hopefully it wasn't Palutena.

"Is Black Pit not awake yet?" Palutena asked pouring herself another cup of tea.

Pit answered between chews. "He, didn't, wanna, come, down. Molting."

Palutena's eyes lit with interest. Before Pit could stop her she poked his wings.

"Already? It's a bit early, isn't it?"

Pit squeaked a bit and curled his wings didn't have to guts to tell Palutena that he didn't enjoy having his wings touched. Some people believed that his wings were like less sensitive arms. He couldn't help but laugh at the ignorance. Even having people brush up against them made a shiver run down his spine.

"Ah, did that hurt?" Palutena folded her hands back into her lap.

"It's fine, Lady Palutena." One day he'd have the nerve to tell her.

"Hey, Pit," Mac called to him a few rows down. Pit leaned forward to see him sitting near a reading Meta Knight who only had a glass or water in front of him.

"Good morning, Mac! How are you?"

Mac nodded. "Good. Where's Black Pit? He didn't want to jog this morning."

"We're just molting. He locked himself in our room."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "Molting?"

Pit nodded with his mouth full.

"Youse two are losin' feathers?"

Another nod.

"I wonder if you and Blapi will stop molting once you grow up a bit more?" Palutena mused to herself.

Pit swallowed.

"I'm already an adult. My body is just small," he mumbled grumpily.

"Considering how small you were twenty-five years ago I'd assume you're still growing. Perhaps in thirty or so more years you'll have a more adult appearance," Palutena smiled.

Pit sighed. "Mac, how old will you be in thirty years?" Pit leaned over to look at the boxer. Little Mac quickly did the math.

"48-years-old," Mac almost grimaced. That seemed old compared to the youthful, wide eyed Pits.

Pit hummed. "I'd probably look your age by then. Thirty years feels so long," Pit shrugged to himself and went back to is meal while Mac thought over his words.

He was only human. (At least he tried to be) If he was lucky, free from sickness or injury, he could possible live to be in his eighties. Yet if he looked around eighty was nothing for some of the people in his presence.

Samus, Rockman, the Pits, Palutena, even Kirby. They all could live hundreds and hundreds of years.

And Mac would die. His skin would sag, his mind would fog, his dexterity would lessen. The thought made his stomach tighten and his throat dry. Even Link whose lifespan was as fleeting as a human often would remember his past lives. The minute the Triforce burned into his hand he could see all that was before his short life. He heard the same from Zelda. And Ganondorf who's magic lengthened his life just ever so longer than theirs looked back on his past lives failures and shortcomings. A constant animosity towards the world in his eyes.

Mac tried to bury the dark feeling trying to eat at his mind. He looked at his half-finished plate. He was no longer hungry. He looked at Meta Knight whose eyes swept like a typewriter across the pages of his book. After a moment he felt Mac's stare.

"Yes? Can I be of assistance?"

Little Mac almost said nothing but a nagging sensation stopped him. "Um, do you ever think of your life?"

Meta Knight put down his book. "Further explain."

Little Mac cleared his throat. "Do you ever think of how you'll die?"

Meta Knight closed his eyes. "I am only mortal. Of course I think of my demise. I hope I can only be at peace when the time comes."

"You and Kirby live a long time, right? You'll get to see a lot."

Meta Knight nodded. "I will see many things a human wishes they could see, however for a Star Warrior our lives may be cut short at any moment. I am much older than Kirby, I will die long before he will. I hope by then I have taught him enough for him to become a man he, and I can be proud of."

Little Mac was silent. Meta Knight assumed the conversation was over and went back to his book. Mac spoke again.

"Would you remember me after I die?" Mac felt like an idiot the moment that question left his mouth.

Meta Knight shut his eyes once more.

"I...Might. Not as a friend, as a fellow comrade in arms. Though I cannot promise. I have made many human friends, I can barely remember their faces. Even the ones I was truly fond of. The heroes and their deeds stay with me, but I do not feel anything looking back. I do not know if I will remember half the people here. Or if I will even try."

Little Mac wished he hadn't asked. That had just made his mood shittier. Meta Knight looked at him for a moment and said in a softer tone:

"Do not let my words hurt you. Living for thousands of years is not as great as it sounds. I am also not your friend. I am sure your friends will remember you long after you are gone. Do not think of the time you will be separated from them. Simply think of your life now."

Meta Knight turned back to his novel. Little Mac looked back at his cold eggs staring back at him with their gelatinous yellow eyes. He thought of what Meta Knight said.

His life as a human would be short. His friends may remember him...would remember him.

As a human. They would remember him.