.

.

.

~Chapter Nine~

Breaking the Mold

.

.

.

Despite all the shit we gave each other, the smashers are like one weird extended family.

As the "grown ups" of the family, a lot of the older smashers act surprisingly protective over us. Peach is the mom who'd bake five cakes for a birthday. Ganondorf is the grumpy uncle who'd give you a blind eye for rule-breaking in one of his better moods. Snake is the old neighbor next door who'd offer us cigs and a wise word. Even Wario, who gives over half of the smashers an aneurysm, is a greedy, egotistical jerk who'd-

Okay, stretching the family metaphor a bit too far.

Long story short, if the Smashers have a little, defenseless brother everyone wanted to protect, it's Lucas. Not that Lucas is defenseless, or even little now that he's over six feet tall, but something about Lucas screams, PLEASE PROTECT ME. I guess it's his gentle nature. That was Lucas for you. Little Lucas who somehow wormed his way into the hearts of Bayonetta and Cloud; little Lucas who didn't piss villains off or got in anybody's way. He didn't bother people, and in turn, they didn't bother him.

I don't know how it happened, but over the years, anybody who gave Lucas grief mysteriously ended up with fresh bruises in the morning, or a set of shriveled shoulders the next. It isn't to say that Lucas is excused from his own share of teasing, but anyone who genuinely gave him a rough time knew what to expect.

The ribbing Wario gave us back in the cafeteria hasn't gone unnoticed. When I came down for breakfast earlier, I saw him sulking into his bacon. Someone grilled him good for sure.

So when I leave Lucas behind in the cafeteria, I get a surprise in the name of Samus Aran. Normally, she's intimidating, but we're not on the battlefield, and at best our relationship is okay - the never-piss-off-the-badass-older-sister okay.

I relax with an easy grin. "Hey, Samu-"

The blaster to the head cuts me off. "Save it, shorts."

A little more about Samus: Standing at a staggering six foot three, she's a figure that strikes fear into the hearts of every testosterone-filled male within a ten mile radius. Gorgeously attractive and deadly in combat, she wastes no time beating around the bush to say what she needs to say. Rumors say that at the age of ten, she knew twenty-five ways to incapacitate a man with only a thumb and a toothpick.

Despite her fearsome appearance, Samus isn't hostile. She just couldn't stand bullshit because she saw right through it. The only guys in the mansion who weren't intimidated by her fearsome skill and stunning beauty are Kirby, who was obliviously happy 99% of the time; Pikachu, who'd won over her special "best BFFs forever" business card; Red, who didn't give a flying fuck about anything; and Lucas, whom everyone knew she had a soft spot for-

Oh.

"Seriously?" I complain.

"Yes, seriously," she says, her angry blue eyes boring into my head. "Listen, Ness. I don't know what's going on, but I've heard all sorts of rumors flying around. Rumors about you trying to pull some funny moves. Are you trying to mess with us?"

I blankly stare at her. "...What?"

"I thought you were better than that. Taking advantage of Lucas because he's your best friend, are you now?"

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

"I didn't take advantage of him-" I begin hotly.

The barrel of the blaster presses itself harder against my head. "If Lucas says no, then he means no," she hisses. "Don't you dare bother him."

"Samus-"

"Touch him again, and you're dead."

Retracting her blaster from my forehead, Samus pushes her way into the cafeteria. Weak in the knees, I hobble away from the traumatic encounter, somehow feeling like it was a tad bit unfair. No one's ever threatened me over hurting Lucas before. It's always been the other way around. I've been at Lucas's side longer than anyone else dammit! I was his overprotective brother way before it turned cool!

Samus's encounter stings my pride. I'm not going to lie and say that I don't have strong feelings for my best friend, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to jump him on the spot! Does Samus really think I can't hold it in my pants for over two seconds? Geez, does anyone in this mansion trust me anymore?

Upset, I storm off, only to bump right into a giant gloating glove. Apparently Master Hand has been waiting to ambush - no, interrogate - me in his office. It was a serious matter, he said. One he had to address.

I knew I had it coming. With the recent scandal and my attitude, the dreaded office talk was only expected.

So I trail behind him with the air of a school kid about to get his ass suspended. It doesn't help that Master Hand's office is the stereotypical four-walled room with papers stacked up to the ceiling and metal Walmart cabinets flanking the side.

Once I settle myself into the red fold-up chair in front of his desk, Master Hand taps his fingers to talk. "How are you doing?"

I crack a wry grin. "We both know why I'm here, Master Hand. I know I caused a lot of trouble-"

"Which can be justified. I heard about your parents' divorce. My condolences to you."

I suddenly swallow down the lump in my throat. "Yeah, thanks... I guess."

"That's not- ah, nevermind. Your performance has been falling. I'm sure that you noticed. Your mains aren't happy."

"I've seen better days."

"At the very least, I can offer you a sick Leave of Absence, though I will highly advise you against it. An extended L.O.A. will be a risky move before the Championships-"

"I'm not taking the L.O.A.," I say, clenching my fists. The last thing I want is to show everyone I'm rattled, and I'm not. "I'm just worried about Lucas-"

"I spoke to Lucas yesterday. More specifically, about your feelings for him."

It's not even a question.

"Oh." I feel my face heat up. "I guess you could say that," I mutter, fixing my eyes onto the floor.

Master Hand heaves a low sigh. "Don't take this to heart, Ness. Crushing on someone is a natural part of growing up. These things happen, and you aren't the only victim of young love here, especially at your age. But bear in mind that this mansion has certain restrictions that you have to follow. More specifically-" Master Hand snaps his fingers, and his rulebook flutters open to the right page. "Rule Seven thousand-"

"-Four hundred Forty-Seven," I finish with a groan.

"Precisely. As a member of the Original Council of Twelve, you should be familiar with Rule No. 7447 - RULE SHIP - which dictates all the DOs and DONTs of shipping and regulates the types of relationships allowed under this roof."

If possible, my face boils up more. "Like what? People ship me and Lucas all the time-"

"Shipping is common amongst fans. It's good for business. I can allow teasing the prospect, but having serious feelings for someone is entirely different. You two are from different games. Do not take Interdimensional relationships lightly, lest you incur the wrath of atrocities such as the Grandfather Paradox and the like...! Imagine the paperwork. What a headache. Thankfully, you two are unrelated, but-"

"What? But we're from the same dimension-"

"Same universe. Different timelines."

"We're from different timelines?" I say weakly. "But I've known him all my life!"

"I won't go into detail, but take my word as fact. Lucas is not from your time. Neither of you should have met in the first place. In short, you two are not meant to be." Vaporizing the rulebook with a CRACK of magic, Master Hand peers over his desk like a kind principal trying his best to remain stern. "While it's unfortunate that your love interest happens to be your fellow representative, bear in mind the consequences of your future actions."

I catch the hidden warning from his tone. To fall in love with another smasher isn't unheard of.

But to defy canon is forbidden.

"I'll send you a copy of the rulebook as a reminder of your responsibility. Ask me - or by extension, Mario - if you seek clarification on any of these rules. It is your duty as one of the Twelve, after all, to set a good example to the others on the roster..." The heavy rule book materializes back onto my hands, and surprised by the sudden weight, I faceplant into the ground like a seesaw. Satisfied, Master Hand draws his fingers up into a point. "Lucas is aware of your feelings for him. He will not encourage them, and you will do the same. Do not harass him. Do not make him uncomfortable. If necessary, I will separate you into different rooms. And if worst comes to worst, I will take disciplinary measures... Measures you won't be happy for me to take. Do you understand?"

Ears ringing with his rebuke, I nod.

"You are dismissed."

.

.

.

~oO0Oo~

.

.

.

Naturally, the first thing I do is look for Lucas.

He's not in the cafeteria. Nor is he back in the dorms.

He's simply vanished off the face of the Earth.

I don't blame him. After our embarrassing debut yesterday, I figure that he needed some space to himself. Just thinking about how I reacted... downstairs... is enough to make me blush furiously to the roots of my hair. Great, forget best friend. Now Lucas probably thinks that I just want a piece of him.

"Way to go, you idiot," I swear, slapping myself in the face.

Lucas is not from your time. Neither of you should have met in the first place.

In short, you two are not meant to be.

Master Hand has to be wrong. It's not possible. No way, no shit. Lucas is just like me. He was invited to Smash Mansion after going on his quest...

A quest that he's never brought up.

This bothers me.

I've known Lucas all my life. We've known each other since... third grade? Which means that unless my counting is a complete fail, Lucas should've gone on his quest before then. And if we were both from the same universe, his quest couldn't have been an easy feat, no less for an eight-year-old. I recall Lucas's jumpy childhood self.

Who exactly is Lucas? Did I really know him as well as I'd thought?

...Maybe sleeping this over might help my nerves. Shuffling past the living room, I'm so out of it that I'm about to flop into bed until I catch myself and flounder the fuck back. My cheeks burn.

Oh no, as if I need another goddamn replay of last night!

Thoroughly miserable, I decide to nap on the couch instead. I'm not looking forward to the PREVIEW match I have with Lucas today. An apology too, is owed.

But when my alarm wakes me up, and the clock ticks closer to two, I grow uneasy.

Lucas still isn't here.

This weirds me the fuck out. We've always left together for team brawls. Warmed up together. Made sure the other arrived on time.

Maybe Lucas was waiting ahead for me.

I quickly shrug off the empty pit in my stomach, and swinging my legs off the couch, head over to the prison on the 15th floor.

Prison is what I aptly dub the prep room, because I think it's a huge fucking crime to sit still and do nothing. My hands grow restless, but again, I can't do anything, so I settle for jiggling my right knee. The prep room is like time-out for grownups, but worse, because it resembles a hair salon with all its fancy tiled floors, lavish mirrors, and rows of bottles of Bath-and-Body-Works. Makeup of all colors obnoxiously crowds each other out in the carts. The sickening-sweet hairspray assaults my nose. I sound melodramatic, but it's the truth: I don't like salons. With their fluorescent colors and bright lights, salons look far from natural. I'm easily reminded of an exotic zoo where all the animals are polka-dotted pink, because everything smells funny and looks funny.

Lingering in the waiting room, I fiddle with the brim of my hat. Before SMASH, my mom used to cut my hair. She never dealt with any of these chemicals. Some of them are okay, and others exciting, but really, clustered all together in this AC-blasted room, they do not please the nose.

When I'm finally called to one of the private booths - each complete with a changing room, mirror, and wardrobe - I nervously resign myself for an hour or three of boredom. Oh well, at least the walls are made of glass. Sightseeing for the win.

My mood is improved slightly when see the head stylist for today.

Mr. Emo jabs his finger down. "You. Ditch the hat."

"Nice to see you too," I say, and Shadow grumbles off to grab the hair gel.

I don't think anyone in a blue moon saw it coming. Shadow-the-Hedgehog and hair-stylist are two things that people would cry OoC, especially since the job sounds like something he'd easily consider "below him," but when he's not out wrecking people as an assist trophy and "remembering his past," Shadow's got a surprising talent for flair and color.

So yeah. Whenever Phosphora isn't around, Shadow's in charge of the hair team, mostly because he doesn't think that anyone in the Mansion can style his quills right, and mostly because Ashley is Ashley. Don't get me wrong, Ashley's good, but she's either lazing off or throwing another tantrum 95% of the time.

Shadow lets my bangs fall between his fingers. "Ness, you wear a cap on stage. Why the fuck do we style your hair?"

"I ask myself the same question every time."

"Well, you're lucky I'm in charge." Shadow impatiently snaps his fingers. His nervous salon attendant hurries over. "Use the Tea Tree Shaping Cream to flatten out his hair," Shadows says from behind me, and I shiver when the cold, wet gel hits the back of my neck. The bristle of a comb tickles my head.

"I haven't seen you around in a while," I start.

"Been out and about," Shadow says vaguely.

"Where did you go?"

"Somewhere."

"What did you do?"

"Stuff."

I crane my head around. "Hey, where's Phosphora? Isn't she your co-stylist?"

"She caught the flu." Shadow taps me in the temple with his knuckles. "Hey, shut up. You talk too much."

I make a face and sit back down. "Just asking. How was your LOA?"

Shadow rolls his eyes. I don't think he's going to respond, but he does anyway. "My Leave of Absence? It was nice," he admits reluctantly. "How's life?"

"Good. How's Sonic?"

"Still annoying."

We don't speak after that, but it's a comfortable kind of silence, the same kind of silence where I don't feel obligated to fill up with words. Shadow's still a moody prick, and clashes with Sonic for a helluva time, but he's not a bad person. I think he just needed time to grow up.

About a few more minutes of watching his attendant finish up, Shadow abruptly steps back.

"Going so soon?" I whine.

"I'm off to fuck up Lucas's hair," he groans, and I laugh because it's true. I don't think I've met anyone who's successfully made heads or tails of Lucas's gravity-defying hair.

"Good luck with that."

"Tch." Shadow leaves. The nervous student cosmetologist - fancy, over-the-top word for a hair stylist intern - follows him out, and the make-up team arrives in their place.

I miss Shadow's company. Styling my hair never takes long. It's simple and takes like ten minutes tops - lather some gel, comb my bangs. Dry for an hour. Booyah, done.

Makeup is different. Waiting while artists paint my face like a palette of Vincent Van Gogh? No fun at all. I hate the mascara brush poking into my eyes. I sneeze when the pale skin powder tickles my nose. The caked foundation feels dry and cracked against my tan skin. We keep up with the year's fashion trends. Apparently pale skin is all the rage in Smash City these days, so every time I go out on stage to fight, I'm white-washed.

Lucas is lucky. His skin is naturally pale.

On the bright side, I get to see the Assist Trophies scramble onto their platforms. Through the glass walls, they scatter across the white floor beneath us like colorful skittles. In the midst of flying feet and hands, Jeff looks up and catches my eye. Even from afar, I can tell that he's looking straight at me.

I wince. I have another talk to look forward to.

One makeup session later, I linger around glass elevators in the waiting room. There's an occupied make-up station to the far right, and I've craned my head over to see whose it is when an angry Shadow bursts out of the stall, throwing his hands up in a hissy-fit over something. He doesn't look very happy.

A girly voice floats into my ears. "Watcha doin?"

I whirl around. "I'm waiting for Lucas."

"Lucas?" Tilting her head, Ashley innocently blinks back. She chews on her bubble gum then makes a loud, obnoxious pop. "He's not here."

"Has he gone down?"

The child witch shrugs. "Probably. I don't remember. You'd better go before you miss your match." Giving me her signature wah-tever wave, she skips away, her dress fluttering behind her like a cape.

From afar, Shadow hurries back into the private stall with more hair gel in his hands. I sense that he's upgraded to pissed-off mode, so I hastily scramble into the glass elevator. The walls slide shut around me with a pneumonic hiss.

"Level One: Arena."

The elevator pad shoots down like a bullet.

When I step off, ears popping from the sudden altitude change, Red lunges over to grab my arm. His pokeballs hang from his belt, polished and gleaming like quicksilver under the stagelight.

Red's voice sounds harsher than usual. "Where's Lucas?"

I step back in shock. "He's not here?"

"He never showed up for his stylist."

Both of us glance up at the clock. Five PM, exactly. Lucas is running late.

Lucas is never late for his matches.

Red looks ready to barge back into the elevator, and I'm about to join him when a second elevator lands on its grate with a pleasant ding.

"Level One: Arena."

Our designated arena mentor for the match, Link, steps out with Villager at his side. "Is that everyone? Great." He claps his hands together. "Okay, guys. Get yourselves into gear. Last chance to use the bathroom if you have to. Warm up for the next fifteen minutes, because we're about to air in-" He frowns at our frozen postures. "Where are you two going?"

"We can't brawl now!" I panic.

"Why not?"

"Lucas isn't here," Red says.

Link's face pales. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, we are," I beg, struggling to push past him. "I think Lucas forgot about the match-"

Link swears in Hylian, then rapidly flips out his smartphone. "Master Hand," he calls, pacing back over to the elevators. "We have a problem-"

Villager tugs on my arm, and points to my pockets. "(Call him)."

I snap it open in a fumbling frenzy. Red stands over my shoulder, and ignoring him, I dial Lucas's number, then press the receiver against my ear.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

Then the call dies. "Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message-"

I stare at the flashing screen as if I can't believe my eyes. "...He cut me off."

Then the anger hits me like a twenty-ton truck. Yeah, I get that Lucas was upset with me last night, but is he actually gonna miss his PREVIEW match over this? How can he be so irresponsible? For fuck's sake, it's HIS rep on the line!

I shake my phone like I'm wringing a certain blond by the neck. "I can't believe he cut me off!"

Red picks up his own cell and starts texting. He furrows his eyebrows together.

"Is he answering?" I ask.

Red shakes his head.

I swear loudly, then race to the elevator before someone else yanks me back by the scruff of the neck. "You're not going anywhere," Link says sharply.

"But I need to-"

The glass elevator dings open for the third time that day. Hanging onto his sock hat, Toon Link hurries out. "Sorry, I'm a little late," he gasps, doubled over for breath. "Prepping took a while-"

I frown at him. "What are you doing here?"

Regaining his breath, Toon Link importantly stands upright. "I'm here to replace Lucas for the match."

"Replace?"

"Master Hand said that he called in sick."

.

.

.

~oO0Oo~

.

.

.

The PREVIEW match passes in a blur. Everything is muscle memory. PK Flash, PK Fire, PK Thunder. I'm moving like my life depends on it, but my mind has gone still.

I can't concentrate on the match. All I can think of is Lucas ailing away in the hospital ward, because I know how much Lucas loathes talking about his own health, but if it's gotten to the point where it's gone this bad, if he's ended up needing medical attention...

After all those sleepless nights, after all the trouble I've given him, Lucas didn't tell me once about his own failing health. How selfish could I possibly get?

My chest constricts painfully.

The victory screen lights up, decorating our names in electronic confetti, but in no mood for celebrating, I sprint up to the hospital ward and push open the double doors.

"Lucas-!"

My voice dies. No one's here. Was Lucas transferred to another hospital? Is he really that sick? Worried, I try reaching out to him, but my telepathy - as shitty as it is - draws a blank. He's out of my radius. I tug on my empathy link instead and - oh good. I feel something. So he's still alive. Maybe I can track him down.

I spend the rest of the afternoon running around the mansion trying to get a good grip on his location, but fail miserably. My mental GPS doesn't do squat. Lucas isn't in Smash Mansion. I stare at the windows as if they could spit out the answer for me. Fuck, I hope didn't catch anything serious.

But when the days pass and Lucas's absence slowly stretches to a week, even that hope wanes. Each morning, I wake up to the same empty bed beside me. Each night, the mattress becomes harder to sleep on.

Then the realization sinks in. Lucas is horribly, horribly ill. And there's nothing I can do to help him.

Eventually I don't find a point in getting up. I stay in bed.

Of course, of all people, the underclassmen are the first to witness my descent to misery. When I leave the apartment unlocked to draw in some fresh air (and not because I was hopefully waiting for Lucas to waltz in at any second), I groggily stir to Toon's wide cat eyes staring me in the face. There are more members in the Freshman gang, as I aptly dub them, but it seems like Megaman and Villager have decided to wait outside. A wise choice.

With a grunt of irritation, I rub my eyes. "Dude, what the fuck."

Stepping back, Toon whips into a nervous bow. "S-Sorry to bother you! The door was open, so we thought you were awake."

Behind him, Red apprehensively lingers in the doorway.

I wouldn't have seen their friendship coming from a million miles away. Raised by his grandma in a cottage by the sea, Toon is a courteous goodie-two-shoes. He reminds me of one of those naive overachievers from school - the kids who will do anything to avoid detention, fear nothing more than a teacher's scorn, and consider anything below an A a death sentence.

Sure doesn't match up with Red's inner Teenage Rebel.

Toon speaks up, "Master Hand wants you to brawl."

"Is Lucas back yet?"

"No..."

"Then I don't want to brawl."

"Ness, you can't lie in bed forever."

"Watch me."

From the corner of my eye, I see Toon exchange a helpless glance behind him, and Red shakes his head. Toon returns to heckling me. "Ness, um, I don't want to be rude, but you can't stop showing up for meals-"

"Don't tell me what to do, Toon."

"You can't neglect your training-"

"Seriously, if you want another sparring partner, go bother Link. Nothing personal, but I'm not in the mood," I interrupt, dejectedly rolling away from them. "So do me a solid and fuck off."

"Don't tell him to fuck off," Red suddenly says.

I sit up with a scowl. "Oh, and since when did you start giving a flying fuck about me?"

Red's eyes flicker to my face in distaste. "I don't."

"Good. Then leave," I snap.

"You can't keep missing meals. You'll get sick!" Toon bursts out. "Ness, my grandmother sent me some of her herbal tea-"

"I don't want her tea. All I want is for both of you to leave," I snarl, but when Toon deflates, I instantly regret snapping at him. I don't need an empathy link to realize he's upset. Agitated, I shove a hand into my hair. "Fuck, no. Toon. Agh, don't cry. I'm sorry, it really is nice of you to stop by and all, but please, leave me alone."

"I'm not crying, I only want to know if you've heard back from Lucas," Toon shoots back, but I still catch the rustle of a sleeve wiping a face and a quiet sniffle. My stomach twists into a horrible pretzel of guilt. Shit I shouldn't have lashed out at him. So much for not being the worst douche in human history.

"I haven't heard back from Lucas," I say quietly. "But I'll let you know when I do."

If I do.

I wrap the covers around my suddenly shivering shoulders.

Surprisingly, despite the crappy way I've been treating everyone, people keep popping in to visit. They knock on my door: Peach. Jeff. Toon and Red. Popo and Nana. Their worried voices cut into my ears.

I don't answer. I don't open the door.

Wrapping the sheets over my head, I shrink away from their voices. I want to mope alone.

I don't know when it happens, but I finally come to my senses. It's a bit strange how Lucas disappeared the same day Master Hand dragged him in to talk. And awfully suspicious that Master Hand dragged me into his office not long after. Sure, Lucas could've gotten seriously sick, but that drives the nature of the phone call into mind. Lucas wouldn't have left me hanging. Even if he was sick, he either would've picked up my call, or wouldn't have answered it altogether.

The only reason Lucas would cancel my call... is if he was undercover.

Minutes later, I'm pounding away on the office, and when Master Hand flicks it open, he's got the nerve to sound surprised to see me. "Ness-"

"Where is he?"

"I know that the news is upsetting-"

"Where is he?" I repeat, standing in the way.

"Lucas is ill. He's been transported to one of our sister hospitals-"

"Lucas isn't actually ill, is he? Where is he? Is he on patrol duty?! What did you do to him-"

"SILENCE!" Master Hand roars, looming into my face. His fingers cast an intimidating shadow over me. "Lucas isn't feeling well. He's highly contagious, so we've quarantined him from visitors. Once he recovers from his illness, he'll return. Don't bother me again."

Master Hand slams the door in my face.

I ball my hands into fists. "Fine! Ignore me! Like I care!"

Of course, Master Hand doesn't respond.

Fuming, I march away.

It's pretty obvious at this point. Lucas doesn't want me to find him.

But when I return to the dorms, I almost bump right into the crowd standing outside my room.

"Um, Ness? Ah, can you, uh... open the door-?"

Nana pats him in the back, all reassurance. "There's no point in being polite, Toon. He's not going to answer." She squints into the peephole. "D'you think he's sleeping?"

Popo grimly raises his hammer. "This mopefest's gone for long enough. I say we smash ourselves in-"

"Are you serious?!" Nana snaps, pulling her twin brother back. "Give him a break! He's worried about Lucas-"

"Worried, my ass. Oi, Nessie! Come on out!" Like the monkey he is, Popo starts going all extra and flails his fists against my door like a freaking lunatic. The deafening bangs draw attention from our neighbors, who - after craning their necks out of their respective apartments - hastily close their doors. Great, I guess I'd better expect some fucking noise complaints tonight. "Ness, you lil shit, quit moping around and open the damn door!"

I clear my throat.

Nana shrieks and drops her hammer on Popo's foot. Yowling in pain, Popo bumps into Red, who bumps into Toon, who ends up sprawling straight into the carpet.

"N-Ness!" Toon stammers, scrambling to his feet.

The rest of them follow, pelting me with questions and exclamations of disbelief, but I stop them by blurting out, "What are you guys doing here?"

Nana scrambles to her feet, accidentally treading on Popo's toes a second time. "Lucas can't be sick," she said rapidly. "I checked the hospital ward-"

"I know," I say. "He's not there."

Toon Link hesitantly looks into my face. "Did Lucas send off a distress signal?"

I shake my head.

Smashers are more than celebrities. As a seal of contract, we're required to give a service to the people who funded us. Namely, we have to return the favor to Smash City.

And what better way to repay it than fighting crime?

You heard right. Alongside our brawls, we were sometimes placed on patrol duty. Any villain who threatened the people of Smash City risked suffering the wrath of our awesomeness. Grumbling and complaining aside, it took some of the more villainous smashers a bit of convincing, but they bought into the pact.

That's because Master Hand had given us the ultimate saving grace.

As long as we're in Smash City, we were immortal... Kind of. We had immunity. It's not to say we can't get hurt - broken bones, cuts, and bruises are still fair game - but a fatal blow transforms a Smasher into a statue. Anyone who's been petrified sends off a distress signal to the motherboard, where Master Hand dispatches the rest of us in for backup. Touch the base of the petrified victim with a hand, and - voila! - instant revival.

So if Lucas hasn't sent off a distress signal from somewhere in the City, his illness isn't fatal.

Probably.

"He could be on patrol duty," Nana suggests.

"For an entire week? During Preview season?" I say skeptically.

Nana worries on her lip. "That's true... it does sound weird for Master Hand to send him on patrol duty now. Do you think something's happened to him?"

"Only one way to find out." I push my way into the bedroom, and everyone else follows suit.

Everything on Lucas's side is neat and organized. Clothes are either hung on the rack or folded into tiny squares into his wardrobe. His sheets lie untouched without a single crease on the bed. Outside in his Terrarium in the living room, Rope Snake snoozes through his hibernation. Rope Snake has to sleep in increments of weeks throughout the winter. Even Lucas doesn't dare to disturb him, and I know better than to try. If we don't find anything, Rope Snake's gonna be my last-ditch solution.

"He took his keys with him. So if he left somewhere, he could come back," I say.

Never a help, Popo giggles, swinging around in Lucas's swivel seat. "Dude, these free chairs are awesome!"

Nana smacks him in the shoulder. "Get off, you moron. This is no time to be playing around-"

"Ow, Nana-"

"I found something," Toon Link speaks up, holding a fluttering letter in his hand. "This was lying opened on his desk."

"Opened?" Instantly, we crowd around him like he's won the golden ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. I vaguely remember Lucas mailing letters to his dad - something about his dad never picking up the phone and never trusting "Happy Boxes." Maybe he's told his dad about his whereabouts.

"What does it say?" Nana demands.

Shriveling up in guilt, Toon Link hesitates, throwing an unspoken plea my way.

I understand. I really don't want to dig through Lucas's stuff, and I'm all for respecting his space, but Lucas could be in grave danger for all we knew. Besides, the letter was already lying open on his desk. His safety, above everything else, is our primary concern. "Read it. We have to know."

Toon unfolds the inky envelope. For an entire page of paper, the letter from his dad is only one line long.

I stand by what I said. Don't argue with me.

A chill crawls down my spine.

Involuntarily, I reach for the letter, and when Toon hands it over, I stare at the words floating in front of my eyes. It resurfaces a memory. An unpleasant one. Lucas's reluctance to talk about his family. The bitter tone he takes on whenever he speaks of his dad.

The signs are so obvious.

"He's being abused," I say suddenly.

Popo looks up. "Who's being abused?"

"Lucas. He's being abused by his dad."

"Eh, I'm not saying that you're wrong, but I don't know..." Toon Link glances nervously at the letter in my hand. "Don't you think that's a little too extreme? Lucas would've shown signs-"

"What signs? It's been there from the beginning. Let's count them." I number them on my hand. "Lucas doesn't talk about his family. Lucas doesn't like physical contact. He's withdrawn. He has a distant relationship with his dad. And as for any bruises... we have other psychic powers outside of Smash City. Healing is one of them. If his dad is really abusing him, then he can easily hide the scars."

Red sharply turns to me. "Is this true?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I've never seen his dad before, and judging from what Lucas says, they're not too close either..."

Nana claps both of her hands to her mouth in horror. "Do you think Master Hand knows?"

"How could he know? He's too busy running the tournament!" Furious, I whirl around and slam my fists into my bedframe, and walls shake. "Dammit Lucas, why didn't you tell me?"

"If Lucas went home, then we need to bring him back," Toon insists, looking terrified. "But none of us know where he lives-"

"I do. I've never been there before, but I know the neighborhood." I dig under my bed for my bat, then flicking the brim of my cap around, pat down my shorts to check for my yo-yo. "Once we leave the mansion, we take the SkyTrain to Onett-"

"I still don't know, Ness..."

"This is Lucas we're talking about. D'you think he'd tell us if he's being abused? We need to leave now, Lucas could be hurt, and I don't..." I stop short, flashing to an unpleasant memory of Lucas bruised and battered in my mind. My stomach twists with guilt.

"wOAH. Okay, just... back the fuck up." As if to prove his point, Popo raises his hands up. "Bro, like, I'm not saying you're wrong, but aren't you like, jumping to this way too fast-"

"Fast or not, I'd rather be safe than sorry." Making sure that I've packed everything, I shoulder on my bag. "I'm teleporting to the SkyTrain Station. You guys stay here. Make sure no one realizes that I'm gone-"

Someone tugs on the straps of bag. "I'm going too," Toon said stubbornly.

I wrench my fingers out of his grip. "No, it's too dangerous-"

"We need to stick together-"

"I don't have time to babysit you, Toon. Go spar-"

"Why won't you take me seriously?" Toon balls his fists at his sides. "I'm shorter than you, but I'm just as strong as you are. I'm younger than you, but I'm just as qualified. We've all gone on dangerous quests before, and that hasn't stopped any of us from getting hurt."

"I never said-"

"I'll tell you about my quest. The reason I'm here is because of Aryll. I lost her. I lost my little sister to Ganondorf, and I thought that she died!" Toon begins to choke up. "It was the worst moment of my life. Ness, I know. I know what it's like to fight for your life. I know what it's like to struggle against enemies that re-spawn and outnumber you in seconds. I know how it feels like to lose someone close to you!" His voice turns hoarse. "You respected Link. You respected Young. So why won't you respect me?"

I open my mouth to respond.

...and nothing comes out.

After all those times teasing him for his immaturity, Toon wasn't as hard of hearing as I'd thought.

Toon's shoulders sag over in a quiet slump. "Lucas is our friend too. Don't think that we're letting you go alone."

Shame creeps into my voice. My excuse sounds feeble in my ears. "I... I didn't..."

Red places a firm hand on Toon's shoulder. A clear indication of his assent.

I can't recognize my own voice. It sounds strange to my ears. "Guys, if more of us go, then someone's bound to recognize us-"

"That's why we need to go, dude. Us bros stick together," Popo asserts, swinging his arm over my shoulder. After a moment of looking stupidly thoughtful, he gives Nana a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, so... Nana, you're staying. You're, uh, a girl-"

"Excuse me?" Nana fumes, storming over to us. We all shrivel under her temper. "And why exactly do I have to stay? Since when did I turn into a damsel in distress?!"

"Well," Popo says, bewildered. "This is a guy thing, right?"

Not a smart answer. Nana looks two seconds away from blowing her top.

To our surprise, Red intervenes. "Nana, you should stay here." I don't know how he manages to stand down her furious scowl, but it's an impressive feat that deserves a golf clap.

Despite myself, I find myself speaking. "Red's right," I say, and Nana scorches my insides with her laser eyes. "We need someone to cover for us. Toon's..." Faltering, my eyes flicker to him, but Toon crosses his arms and stares pointedly at the wall. My stomach sinks. "Toon's too honest, Red can't blow his cover without talking, I'm on sick leave, and Popo can't keep secrets for his life. You're the only one responsible enough to pull the act off. Besides, if you tagged along with Popo, you two would stand out."

Anxious, Nana chews on the bottom of her lip. "Guys, you won't be in Smash City. If you get hurt-"

"We'll be careful," Popo reassures her.

"Please, Nana?" I begs. "It's Onett. I'll know the way around..."

With a reluctant sigh, Nana drops her hands to her sides. "Fine." The stern look returns. "But if you find Lucas, you'd better give me a call. I want to make sure he's all right too."

Popo salutes her. "Yo, roger that."

She hugs her brother tightly. "Don't get into trouble without me, okay?" she says, her voice suddenly soft. "It's not like I'm tagging along, so I can't bail you out of danger this time."

For once, Popo cracks a sincere smile. "I'll be fine, Nan," he promises, hugging her back. "You be good too. Don't get any sleezy boyfriends while I'm gone-"

Nana rolls her eyes and shoves him away. "Go, you silly goose."

Everyone links hands. Grabbing hold of Popo at the end of the line, I sprint around in a circle. A blur. A whiz. Psychic sparks flow from my feet. A familiar warmth shoots up my body like exploding firecrackers. On impulse, I lift my head.

The last thing I see is Nana framed against the doorway, pale-faced in the perfect picture of worry.

Author's Note:

*In Earthbound, Jeff is one of the playable protagonists in Ness's Party.

*In the start of Wind Waker, Toon Link loses his little sister, Aryll, to the Helmaroc King (a giant bird), who in turn mistook her for Tetra and planned to deliver her to Ganondorf.

Cue Assist Trophies. They're brief cameos at best, but I wanted to introduce more worldbuilding. I haven't played a lotta these games either (e.g. Sonic, Warioware, etc.), so bear with me if they're out of character. Shadow-the-Hedgehog is edgy af. Dont let your memes be dreams

Happy reading. :)