~Prologue~

It all happened in a split second. In front of me, my mom stands, her feet planted into the ground, her eyes blazing, her arms outstretched against something I can't see. I run to her side, but with a frantic rush of incoherent words, Claus clumsily fumbles for my arm and drags me away.

A flash of green blinds my eyes. A resounding roar rings in my ears. A woman's bloodcurdling scream tears through the night.

My mother is gone.

.

.

.

~Chapter Fourteen~

When Victory Tastes Sweet

.

.

.

The early morning sun peeks over the horizon. The sound of birdsong tentatively peeps into the air, and a low, shivering gong fills the Buddhist temple with life.

Bright yellow petals adorn her smiling portrait.

Hinawa.

Laying the sunflowers on the golden metallic shrine, I push myself back onto my numb knees. I can't remember why, but after the fatal car accident on New Years Eve, no one retrieved my mother's body for a proper cremation.

That didn't stop my father from changing the flowers at her makeshift grave. Daily.

As soon as I returned home last night with groceries, Dad clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder and stopped me in place.

"It's been a while. Go visit your mother," he said gruffly.

The smoky essence of scented candles gently tickles my nose. A stray whisper of wind swirls through the marble clearing, dancing around the jars of the cremated with a soft sigh. My thoughts linger towards the fate of my runaway brother. Dead, Master Hand implied. Dead, like my mother - dead without a body to bury.

No, Claus promised me he'll return. He's alive. He has to be alive.

I close my eyes and try not to think.

As they always do, things returned to their normal pace. My fever passed. Dad slowly recovered from his pneumonia. The bank mailed over a new credit card, and the phone company promised to reimburse my lost phone.

Then there was Ness.

His daily visits were expected, but unexpected. Skipping over at random times to slamdunk servings of his mom's soup onto my kitchen counter, Ness was a welcome reprieve to my monotonous routine, but aside from a cheery word or two, he left as quickly as he arrived. I didn't question it. It had been a long while since Ness had gone home - a long while according to his standards. He most likely wanted time to catch up with his own family.

As I'd correctly predicted, Ness's "crush" was only a fleeting phase. He'd finally sorted out his feelings. The revelation should've left me glad and relieved, but all I felt instead was empty.

I'm not quite sure why.

So I start running again - partly because the Winter Championships is rearing its ugly head around the corner, and partly because I want to keep my mind off of things. Something. Someone. My lungs burn. One foot after another. Panting as the cold early morning air sears my throat raw, I double over on my burning thighs.

Ness can afford to make mistakes. He's a member of the Original Twelve. He's only known a life around people who love him, around people who care and support and back his every move on the playing field. Naive and trusting, Ness has had everything planned out for him from the minute he became the Chosen Boy on his quest.

I don't have that luxury. My family is in debt. When we first moved to Onett with nothing but the dirt on our hands and the clothes on our back, my dad initially had trouble finding work. Even after he found a steady income, our staggering debt remained. Interest rates skyrocketed. Bills stacked up over time. Money is money, and the price has to be paid.

I'm doing the right thing. Ness doesn't understand. His reputation is at stake. I'm trying to save both of our careers from the chopping block.

But somehow, with a single sentence, Ness had soundly put me to shame.

"Well, I think you're more important to me than my stupid job!"

I dig my nails into my skin. I needed the money. I needed this job. And because of Ness's declaration of love, my job as a Smasher is on the line - a job that Master Hand can snatch away in an instant and replace with a pink slip. Yet I find that I can't bring myself to get mad at Ness, because he didn't mean to screw us over. Beneath his huge pride, Ness means well. He doesn't admit it, and most likely won't ever admit it, but often times, it's no surprise when he ends up placing my well-being before his own. His carelessness is troublesome, but my own indecision even more so.

I don't know what I want.

I take in a shaky breath. It's all my fault. I never should've let Ness kiss me, because now I feel confused and strange and awkward and not myself. My pale reflection glances back at me from the bakery windows. This scared person isn't me. This scared person can't be me.

And it isn't because I find myself thinking about how Ness would snort on his popcorn during a rom-com. Or how he would sock me in the shoulder with a lopsided grin on his face. Or how he would scrunch up his face and cry like a baby when he was sad. Or how he'd get embarrassed for going soft and vehemently deny it to the ends of the earth until his face turned red.

Ness is my best friend. Ness is just my best friend.

I kick into a vicious sprint.

It isn't until three days after the supermarket trip when I finally spot Ness again. He's crouching off the edge of the icy boardwalk, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, and in one fluid motion, he snaps out his legs like a spring. I watch him go soaring and spinning like a corkscrew before his fingers nab his skateboard in midair. With the impossible ease of a parkour artist, he twists around and lands lightly back on his feet.

Something about the way Ness takes off is breathtaking. It reminds me why he was elected one of the Chosen Twelve.

Even though he sure doesn't act like it.

Spotting me, Ness's eyes brighten up in recognition. "Lucas!" he yells, waving his arms like a toddler on a kiddy slide.

I throw a snowball at his face.

Headshot!

Giving a screech worthy of a flustered chicken, Ness topples backwards and falls flat on his rear. When he wildly whirls around, face pale in shock and hair matted with snow, I helplessly clutch my ribs and break into a laugh.

Not a minute later, a scowling Ness wrestles me down into a headlock and dumps a whole sheet of snow down my shirt.

I recoil violently. "C-Cold!" I say, my teeth chattering.

"That's for ambushing me," Ness says, panting and bent double. He extends an arm and helps me back onto my feet. "Huh, you're out early. Are you running laps around the neighborhood?"

"I'm timing myself."

"And...?"

"I got slower," I groan, patting the snow off my damp clothes. "I'm so out of shape-"

Ness looks at me incredulously. "Are you freakin' serious? Have you seen me?! I'm the one out of shape. Like, look at me-" He gestures to his stomach. "I'm a fatass."

I snort. "Ness, stop."

"No, you stop. You don't understand the short people struggle," Ness moans and buries his face back into the snow, muffling his voice. "I'm so faaaat."

I enviously glance at his well-toned calves. No matter how hard I trained, I could never gain muscle mass as easily as Ness could. Maybe I shouldn't have taken the past three days off.

"I ate an entire pizza last friday," Ness continues miserably. "And a tub of icecream. And a whole bag of cheetos. All in two hours."

"Good grief."

"I know. I wanted to throw up."

Shaking my head, I check my one-dollar watch. Its hands point at six O' clock. Perfect timing. Most of Onett starts stirring around seven. We can easily avoid unwanted eyes and return home with enough time to spare.

"I'm thinking about getting something to eat," I begin. "The bakery should be open for breakfast-"

At the word breakfast, Ness's eyes light up like a kid's on Christmas Day. "FOOD!" he screams before shoving me aside and sprinting away like a five-year-old hyped up on sugar.

The race is hardly fair. When I skid in front of Crepe King a horrible sweaty mess, gasping and clutching the stitches at my side, Ness lifts his head and shoots me such a smug look that I have to resist the urge to knock it off his face. Stupid, smol ball of energy.

"I win," he crows, proudly puffing up his chest like a rooster.

Still wheezing over my knees, I'm too busy trying to catch my breath to give a proper retort. "You... had a fucking... skateboard..."

Ness watches me expectantly as if waiting for me to award him the Medal of Valor. When I refuse to give him what he deigns a satisfying reaction of one who has lost, he struts over like an overly-proud peacock. "Praise me!" he chirps.

"For what?"

"For winning!"

I push his sweaty head away. "No."

Ness isn't to be deterred. He fists my shirt. "I won fair and square," he insists. "I'm awesome! Praise me!"

"I can't believe you're older than me," I deadpan, extricating my shirt out of his grip.

Shoulders slumping into a sulk, Ness trudges into the bakery. "One day, I'll make you admit how amazing I am."

"Good luck with that."

"Good luck with that," Ness mimics in a poor imitation of my voice, and when I shoot him a pointed look, he gives an undignified squeak and backpedals away. Within seconds, he peeps back around the condiment counter. "I'm paying," he declares firmly, drawing himself back up. His eyes flicker to mine as if daring me to argue, but when I don't, he socks me goodnaturedly in the shoulder and leaps over the counter with a wild whoop.

Watching the bill of his cap bob amidst the empty store, I absentmindedly rub my sore arm. I don't know how Ness does it. He makes touching look so easy, so natural. Hugging me. Ruffling my hair. Socking me in the shoulder. Friendly gestures. Encouraging gestures.

My stomach does a weird back-flip.

Embarrassed, I duck my head. It's not fair that I still feel so flustered and awkward and weird when Ness is acting so scarily normal and on-point to his character. Ness skips back over, and I vaguely take in whatever excited chatter he's spewing out now. Something about hotdogs. I think.

I steel my nerves. It's hypocritical of me to expect Ness to play his part alone when we're stuck in this together. This means that I have to stop avoiding him like the plague and reassure him that we're still friends... somehow.

It's what friends do.

It's what best friends do.

Swallowing down my trepidation, I slowly reach for the top of his head.

Then Ness turns around, and I quickly withdraw my hand, pretending to reach for the napkin dispenser at his side. Happily oblivious to my awkward attempts to socialize, Ness beams widely, one generously chocolate-drizzled, fruit-topped crepe in each hand.

"This one's for you," he announces, shoving it into my agape hands. "Cause you lost."

"I'm touched."

Ness's eyes light up with the competitive spark I know all too well. "I know! Let's see who can eat the fastest!"

I give a long-suffering groan. "But I want to enjoy my crepe-"

"Three, two-"

"If anyone asks, I don't know you-"

"-one!" With a loud omnomnom, Ness crams his entire crepe into his mouth - a feat that makes me cringe in disgust - and with his cheeks bulging with food like a hamster, swallows it all down in one go. Messily wiping the chocolate syrup off his mouth, Ness checks his watch. "Ten aaand a half seconds. Okay, your turn!"

"I forfeit."

Ness pokes me in the shoulder with the tip of his skateboard. "Lucas-" he whines.

"This is dumb," I say plainly.

Ness puffs his cheeks up like a hamster. "You're dumb."

"That's a weak comeback, even for you, Ness."

"Just once, please?" he begs, tagging along my heels. "For me?"

I roll my eyes. "Then that's a definite no."

The fire dies from his eyes. Ness's shoulders slump over into a sulk. "You never do anything fun."

Is he trying to guilt-trip me? I raise an eyebrow. Clever tactic, but it's not going to work. Dessert wins over friendship, hands down. When Ness stays miserably quiet, I spare him a tentative side-glance.

Ness is still sulking.

It's in that moment of clarity that I come to my senses and recognize the precious, everlasting value of friendship. And deep, deep down in my heart of hearts, I know exactly what I have to do.

I unwrap the foil around my crepe. "Start the timer."

In total disbelief, Ness snaps his head up. "For real?!"

"For real."

As if he had never been depressed, Ness shoots up and excitedly scrambles for his own watch. "Okay, okay," he says, setting the timer, then expectantly glances up at me. "Ready... set..." He slams the button. "Go!"

Breaking into a slow smirk, I take a bite of my crepe... as leisurely as I can.

Within the blink of an eye, Ness's expression changes from puppydog excitement to the unadulterated fury of one who has been soundly duped. "You're not even trying," he hisses.

"I'm trying." Dramatically raising a finger, I pause. And swallow. "Trying to take my sweet time."

"Lazy ass," he mutters under his breath.

"I like chocolate," I say innocently. I chew a mouthful of crepe, savoring the sweet, sweet taste of victory and enjoying the indignant scowl on Ness's face too much for my own good before taking another infuriatingly slow bite. "Mmm. This crepe is DELICIOUS. Too bad you ate all of yours."

Ness storms out of the bakery. "You're a horrible human being. I hope you choke."

"Why, thank you," I say cheerfully, and Ness whirls around to sock me in the shoulder...

But not before I grab hold of his head and roughly ruffle his hair.

Triggered. Clapping a hand over the laugh that threatens to escape from my mouth, I push myself out of the bakery and sprint away for dear life as Ness quickly takes chase, hollering angry expletives in my direction.

Yes, life is good again.

Author's Note:

Before anyone screams CONTINUITY ERROR, don't worry. We'll get more details about Hinawa's death soon. Or at least, what Lucas remembers of it. And we'll get around to Master Hand's - and Crazy Hand's haha! - reaction to Ness leaving the mansion. Ness isn't getting off scot-free fo sho.

For plot purposes (shhh), I watched a Game-grumps playthrough of Sonic: Rise of Lyric, and I have to say, Eggman is a riot.

Also, I'm traveling to Italy this Saturday for a study abroad program. Dunno if I'll write anything, but if I manage to update something, hey, that'd be pretty cool.

Thanks for the kind reviews. Each of them is well appreciated. This goes without saying, but remember to be courteous and refrain from flaming other authors in the review section :)

Happy reading!