The next day was Sunday. The last day of fun and relaxation before the smash battles began again come Monday. And since Saturday was already taken up by the Young Ones Programme, Sunday was specially reserved for the kids to sleep in. Everyone was glad for it, relishing the extra hour or two of silence before the kids woke up and began wreaking havoc, as usual.
Today, though, was thankfully peaceful. It seemed that the more rowdy among them had calmed themselves for the time being, lest they make Master Hand even more angry than he already was.
And as the different Smashers went about their day, a rainstorm broke out overhead, covering the whole city in various shades of grey. It added ambience, as well as a new element of coziness, to the already cozy Smash Mansion.
Beebs had woken up fairly early, when the sky was just starting to light up. She didn't get up though, instead choosing to reach over to her nightstand and grab the crime thriller she'd borrowed from the library, and dig out a packet of candy from under her bed.
She lay on her side, immersed in her book, the flavours of lemon and cherry coating her mouth, wrapped up tightly in her blankets, Duck Hunt snoozing against her legs, with the sound of rainfall outside.
She felt completely at peace.
Sunday was shower day for Palutena, so as soon as she got out of bed, the bathroom was off limits to all but herself.
She stood for a long time under the hot water, letting it soothe her body that was sore from sleeping on a tiny bunk. She grabbed her special shampoo and worked it through her ridiculously long hair. Then she lathered her soap all over her body, filling the air with the scent of burnt vanilla orange.
She quite liked that soap; it was a limited-edition scent from Lux Beauty. Robin had given it to her for Christmas last year. During his most recent visit, while Pit and the others were elsewhere and therefore unable to see their exchange, he'd presented it to her, having wrapped it himself, albeit quite messily. She was delighted by it.
Palutena was suddenly jostled from her thoughts by the disgusting, slimy sensation of the shower curtain sticking to her damp leg. She audibly gagged at the feeling.
"EWW!" she squealed, her voice shrill, as she slowly peeled the offending material from her skin.
Stupid gross shower curtain!
Little Mac got up fairly early every morning, in order to squeeze some more training in. It was a routine he was used to, and didn't want to give up any time soon. He wouldn't get better if he didn't train, after all.
He entered the gym, shivering in the cold morning air as he pulled his pink sweatshirt closer around himself. Doc Louis was already there, standing next to Sandbag eating a chocolate bar.
Doc Louis didn't need to tell him what to do. This was a routine they did every morning, after all.
Little Mac pulled on his trusty boxing gloves and got into position, standing in front of Sandbag, ready to punch the living daylight out of it. Doc Louis gave him a sharp nod.
"Show this thing what you got, Mac baby," he instructed, even though Little Mac didn't really need to be told at this point.
Heyyy Midna how are you doing, Link typed out on his phone, sending it to his girlfriend once he was done.
He only needed to wait a minute for a response.
Just fine, wby
Link smiled. When Midna left to go back to her people, he thought, sadly, that that was the last he'd ever see of her. The very thought of remaining separated made his heart ache something awful.
So when he discovered that they could reach each other via the teletransporters, one of which, surprisingly, already existed in her world, he could have leapt with joy.
He couldn't bear the thought of living without her.
Mario woke up to the sound of his alarm buzzing. He immediately rolled out of bed in a smooth, well-practiced motion and headed straight for the bathroom. The first thing he did every day was make sure his mustache was in tip-top condition.
He inspected it in the mirror. A bit on the messy side, but nothing that a little combing couldn't fix.
He reached into the cupboard under the sink and pulled out his kit. Oil, combs, razors and the like, all kept neat and tidy in a small waterproof bag that Luigi had given him for his birthday some years prior. His most prized possession lay inside of a small, rectangular wooden box lined with dark blue velvet: a gold-tooth comb.
He took it out and carefully got to work.
His mustache wasn't iconic for a lack of grooming, after all.
In three separate rooms on opposite ends of the hallway, Wilson, Willow and Captain Falcon got out of bed, dropped to the floor and did twenty push-ups each.
Willow and Wilson went on to do jumping jacks and sit-ups followed by some light yoga, while Captain Falcon pulled on his skintight suit and headed downstairs for breakfast.
He walked into the cafeteria, expecting the usual selection of porridge, cereal, toast and fruit, but was instead greeted by the warm smells of bacon, syrup and… something else.
Something sweet-smelling…
From where he stood at the service counter, he could see several Miis in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter and pouring it onto hot plates, cooking bacon, caramelizing bananas, and preparing large jugs of maple syrup.
Before he could even open his mouth to ask for the biggest serving possible, RedQueen was already handing him a plate holding five pancakes stacked with caramelized, syrupy goodness.
He didn't say thank you, he simply held onto the plate for dear life, as if he was expecting someone to snatch it from him, and walked quickly to a table. Stormy was already sitting there, shoveling bits of pancake into her mouth with one hand holding a fork, while her other hand was busy scribbling something furiously into a notebook of some kind.
Captain Falcon wrapped an entire pancake around his fork, with difficulty, ignoring the syrup running down his arm, and shoved it into his mouth.
The following passage is taken from page 12 of Stormy's second dream journal. It was written in messy Aurebesh.
Yoo I had a really creepy dream last night. I was inside this little wooden cabin that had nothing in it except for this table I was sitting at. The table was all scratched up too, like someone had dragged their claws all over it. I was looking at a book on the table - looking, not reading - and I look up and see this girl standing near the doorway. She was maybe my age or a bit older, and she had really ugly, uneven brown hair, like she'd cut it herself with a pair of scissors. She also had lots of freckles, too, and these really wide, crazy-looking eyes. She was smiling at me, really widely. I could see how sharp and shiny her teeth were. It was really creepy.
I look back down at the book. When I look back up again, the girl was standing closer to me, halfway across the room. She was still smiling at me. I turn my head to face away from her.
And I don't know why, but I look at her again, and this time she's standing right next to me. All of a sudden she starts pulling my hair and screaming at me. Her mouth was really wide and I thought it looked like a bottomless pit. Her screaming had a sort of echo sound to it. It was really terrifying.
I woke up then, and I swear to god that I could still see her standing by the bedroom doorway in the dark. But when I turned on the light, she was gone. And I have no idea what it's all meant to represent.
Falco sat behind his drum set, drumsticks in hand, trying to get a good rhythm going in his head. He'd woken up earlier than usual and decided that it would be a good chance to get some more practice in.
While he didn't necessarily have dreams of becoming a famous drummer in an even more famous band, it would be nice to be known as a man who can drum his way into people's hearts.
Now, if he could only motivate himself to practice more often, instead of procrastinating whenever he thinks to himself: I should probably practice my drumming.
But in his defense, he's usually too comfortable where he is than to go into the music room, which was often too cold for his liking, and sit on his still, which was too hard and uncomfortable.
In fact, he was extremely tempted to call it quits and go back to bed, but the stubborn, constantly disappointed part of his brain demanded that he quit his whining and practice, for goodness sake.
So he stayed put, readied his drumsticks, and muttered, "One, two, one two three…"