"Good morning, assistants!" rang the voice of Dr. Wright over the intercom. "Rise and shine! It's a busy, busy day ahead of us!"
The assistants rose from their sleeping quarters, feeling rested after a long night's sleep. As they ambled into the lounge, the sun arose on the horizon, its golden glow stretching out through the sky and across the land. The sun rose higher, and the waters twinkled in gold and magenta. There were no clouds present, none of them daring to intrude on the scene. If any of the more tender-hearted assistants had chanced a glance out a window as the rays of light peeked through the glass, they surely would have shed a tear.
Kapp'n took a glance, and a single tear crept down his cheek, in awe of the sight before him.
"…Kapp'n, are you crying?" asked a curious Isaac.
"Gar, and what if I am, ya wee sprat?!" replied the kappa, hastily wiping his face. "Just look at it! It reminds me of when I was but a lad by the shore!"
Isaac, too, gazed out the window. "I… wow. It is pretty nice, actually." He stood next to Kapp'n to lean against the windowsill, resting his head in his hands.
As the assistants dug into their breakfast, Dr. Wright rapped with his baton for attention. "Alright, everyone," he began, "we've got good news for today." Everyone paused and looked up from their meals.
Dr. Wright flipped through his clipboard. He smiled slightly as he took a glance at one of the sheets of paper. "Everything is running smoothly," he announced. "No chores today."
A sigh of relief swept over the breakfast table. Many of the assistants leaned back in their chairs and folded their hands behind their heads, looking forward to a day dedicated to rest and relaxation.
"However…"
Oh, of course. The assistants sat back up, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"However…" continued the doctor. "The hands have packed the schedule full of matches, and Crazy Hand has chosen to raise the frequency of items. This means that everyone should always be ready, for any of you could be summoned at any moment!"
And with that final warning, the meeting had come to a close. The assistants finished their breakfast and meandered out of the lounge and into the hallway, spreading out in different directions.
As they walked, the Hammer Brother folded his arms and sighed. "And here I was, lookin' forward to a nice, relaxing day off…" he mumbled.
Rodin, walking alongside him, simply shrugged. "Speak for yourself," he said. "Much as I love running the Dump, I need my breaks from work too, y'know."
"Yeah, 'cause you run a shop, or a bar, or whatever that place is," retorted the Hammer Brother. "I'm out there workin' my duties for Lord Bowser and everything else I do as an Assist Trophy. You got it easy."
Rodin arched an eyebrow and chuckled knowingly at the turtle's complaints. "Easy, huh?" he mused. "Try dealing with my clients for a couple days. See how you hold up then."
Dr. Wright remained in the lounge, looking on as the rest of the assistants went their separate ways. He noticed Starfy wandering about, the usual wide smile on his face, Baito eagerly gushing about something or other to Bomberman, Zero cautiously looking around with his sword ready, Dr. Wily walking quickly and hurriedly, eyes flitting left and right, and Midna drifting lazily along.
It had been quite a long time since the Assist Trophy program had started, hadn't it? Back then, things had seemed so simple, so small. He had been one of the first, a veteran, and he had unofficially taken the managerial position. A smile played on his lips as he remembered how nervous he'd been the day after the opening ceremony. There he'd been, he, a mere assistant to the mayor, plucked from his post and whisked off to a mysterious dimension, tasked to manage participants in a fighting tournament, of all things… Only twenty-seven back then, and now fifty-nine… he almost missed those days, in spite of their primitive technology!
But as he watched them go, an odd feeling bubbled up in his chest. He found it hard to believe that something so robust and thriving could have come from something so modest. He felt proud, yes, proud of his fellow assistants for making it what it was, but he couldn't help but feel…
…Lost?
…
Dr. Wright shook his head. Now wasn't the time to ruminate. Any of the Assist Trophies could be summoned at any moment, and he was no exception!
He sat down at a desk. If nothing else, there was still plenty of paperwork to be done. Plenty of paperwork indeed.
"Alright, fellas, I'm feeling really good about today!"
So said a small red ghost to his differently colored comrades. The four of them had remained in the lounge, idly hovering around a table.
"Er…" The light-blue ghost cleared his throat. "What exactly is there to feel good about?" he asked.
"Isn't it obvious, Inky?" said the pink-colored ghost to her blue-colored ally. "Today's the day we finally live up to our legacy!"
"Yeah, our legacy!" cheered the orange ghost.
The red ghost nodded with conviction. "Look at us!" He pointed to each of them as he named them, starting with himself, and moving on to his pink, blue and orange partners. "Blinky, Pinky, Inky, and Clyde. These are names that have made history. We've been around forever! We're not only the oldest Assist Trophies in this shindig, but the oldest people here, period!" He paused. "Well, except for that sheriff guy."
"And Color TV-Game 15," added Pinky.
"…Does Color TV-Game 15 even count as a person?" asked Inky.
"Well, that really depends on what constitutes a person," replied Pinky. "Like, are we even sure it's alive?"
"Flies and Hand is alive," put in Clyde.
"I mean, it moves around and it eats," said Inky with a shrug. "I guess that makes it alive?"
"Just because it moves doesn't—wait, what?" Pinky did a double take. "That thing eats?"
Inky nodded. "It just sorta puts its paddles around its food, and… something happens. Now that I think about it, how does the Sheriff eat? I've never—"
"Guys," interrupted Blinky, "I think we're getting a bit off topic here. The point of this is, I've finally come up with an unbeatable, winning strategy."
The other three ghosts stopped their chatter, suddenly very attentive. "A new strategy?" asked Inky.
Blinky folded his arms and nodded. "This is gonna land us in the history books of the tournament for years to come!" He pulled out a small whiteboard and marker from somewhere on his person, and scribbled doodles of the group on it. "Okay, you all know our normal strategy. I—" He raised a pointer at the image of himself— "am the main chaser, while Pinky—" he pointed at the image of the pink ghost— "tries to intercept and ambush. Meanwhile, Inky will try to scout ahead of me, and Clyde…" He paused, sparing a glance at the orange ghost. "Clyde just does whatever he wants. That's how things normally go. But! This new strategy is different! This time…" He flipped over the whiteboard to draw four more doodles of the group in different positions. "This time, Pinky will chase, while Inky ambushes, and I scout ahead!"
At once, Inky's cyan color blanched to a pale teal. "M-m-me? Ambush? Uh… er… I'm not sure if I can—"
"Ah, c'mon, Inky, don't be so modest!" interrupted Blinky. "Remember that time we were chasing Pac-Man and you nearly got him?"
Inky nodded slowly. "Y-yeah," said the ghost. "He nearly bumped into me and then he went down that hallway to get a Power Pellet and he—"
"The point is," cut in Blinky, "you almost got him that time, right? And if you nearly got him while scouting, imagine what could happen if you tried to ambush!"
Pinky, however, remained unconvinced. "…You sure about this?" she asked. "Listen, listen, I'm loving the enthusiasm, but… you're basically asking us to switch our roles out of nowhere, with no practice. You're positive this is a good idea?"
"Absolutely!" Blinky held his head high, and his posture was as tall as a small ghost like himself could manage. "Whichever poor sap we face won't know what hit 'em! And do you know why?"
"Because we're good at chasing!" cried Clyde.
"Even better than that," said Blinky. "We're the best dang pursuers this side of Smashville! Sure, some people might say this idea is 'dumb', or 'ill-advised', or 'poorly thought-out', or whatever. Who knows if those guys are right. Maybe they are! But you know what? If nothing else, you know what this plan is?"
"Incredibly impulsive?" mumbled Inky.
"Bold!" finished Blinky, as though he hadn't heard his blue companion. "Bold, that's what it is! And you know, a wise man once said, you don't win by being lucky, you win by being bold! That's how we're gonna be remembered around here!" He turned to face the other three. "Because who are we?!"
"We're the Ghosts!" cheered Pinky, Inky, and Clyde.
"Who are we?!"
"The Ghosts!"
"…We really gotta think up a better name for us," said Blinky.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than all four of them felt a familiar tug in their backs. A faint glow began to envelop them, growing brighter with every passing moment.
"Alright, guys, this is what we've been preparing for!" said Blinky. "Remember our positions! Pinky's gonna be chasing, Inky ambushes…"
"I-I'm not ready!" yelped Inky.
"Don't be ridiculous, of course you are!" responded Blinky. "This is what we've been preparing for, remember!?"
"But we haven't prepared for anything!"
"We've prepared emotionally!" said Pinky.
"Here we gooooo!"
There was a flash of light, and then the lounge was empty, the whiteboard on the table the only trace that they were there at all.
The light faded and the ghosts' eyes began to adjust to their new surroundings. The sun was setting, and a grand and imposing castle towered in the distance. Below them, a bridge crossed over a canyon where they could just barely make out a flowing river. Inky could see Princess Peach holding the base of a capsule, the glass shards falling away and dissolving into nothing.
"Alright, guys, there's our opponent!" shouted Blinky from some distance away. A small yellow mouse-like creature with black-tipped diamond-shaped ears stood quivering on the spot, just below Pinky.
"You know the plan!" called the red ghost. "Let's give 'em what for, fellas!"
Pinky took off like a shot, pursuing Pichu as it retreated. Inky quickly swerved above her, hoping to catch it by surprise. But just as Pinky was about to ram into it, Pichu quickly zipped forward and past her, narrowly avoiding a turnip thrown by Peach in the process.
"It's coming your way!" said Pinky. "Get 'em!"
"Whuh? Er, me?" Inky halted mid-ambush, trying to regain his bearings. Below him, Peach seized the mouse by the ear and lobbed it upwards like a volleyball.
Off to the side, Blinky raced into the action, eager to fulfill his role. "C'mon, box 'em in! Box 'em in!"
Pinky rushed towards the Pokémon, who began to retreat after a split second of hesitation. As it scampered across the bridge, Inky dropped down from below roughly four paces in front of it. Pichu screeched to a halt and doubled back the other way, but not before Inky rammed into it.
"I… I got 'em! I got 'em!" cheered Inky. "Didja see that? I actually managed to get 'em!"
"Great, real nice!" called Blinky. "Now keep that momentum going!"
Clyde, who had spent most of his time on the battlefield wandering about and doing his own thing, had taken the opportunity to saunter up behind Pichu for a surprise attack. But Pichu, already on edge, turned around to see him coming. It yelped in surprise and fell backwards.
"Eep!" Clyde, too, cried out in surprise, and quickly darted away to another corner of the stage.
Pichu righted itself and stood on four stubby legs, fur standing on end and its eyes darting back and forth between its opponent and the ghosts floating above. Its breathing was heavy, and the telltale steam that signalled high damage rose off its body. Even the lightest hit would be enough to knock it out.
Blinky observed the scene. "Time for phase two! Everyone speed up!"
Pinky charged forward. Pichu froze, its ears faintly twitching. Inky circled around to catch it from the side. Peach waited, standing firm, a tennis racket in her hand. Pichu's cheeks flashed for an instant, a dark cloud formed above it, then…
"Pi-chuuu!"
With a high-pitched shriek of its own name, Pichu called down a bolt of lightning from the cloud to strike where it was standing. The resulting discharge sent the princess hurtling across the bridge, while Pinky and Inky took the brunt of it.
"Guys," panted Inky, "I don't think we're gonna make it." Steam rose off his body, billowing out and up into the sky.
"Nngh… don't be ridiculous!" snapped Blinky. Despite not being hit at all, he, too, had steam swirling off him, as did the other ghosts. All of them were close—not exactly one-hit close, but too close, in Blinky's opinion—to being knocked out. The ability for Assist Trophies to be knocked out was a new addition to the current tournament, and a frustratingly common occurrence among the assistants as of late. And since there were four of the ghosts, Master Hand had elected to have all of them share the damage.
Four ghosts, four targets, four opportunities to attack, he had said. I think that's a fair trade-off.
In that instant, Blinky began to wonder just what, if at all, Master Hand had been thinking. "We just gotta last a little while longer! Don't give up yet!"
Pichu leapt up to avoid a turnip flying at him. Pinky took the opportunity to ram into it from above, giving Peach ample time to remove her crown and smack the mouse Pokémon away. It sailed towards Clyde, who almost didn't notice as he collided with it.
"…Huh? Oh, oh, hey! I got 'em!" hollered Clyde. "I got 'em, I got 'em, I—oof!" His celebration was interrupted, for Pichu had struck him with a flying, electrically-charged tackle.
The ghosts' pace quickened, eager to knock out Pichu while trying to avoid being knocked out themselves. As the mouse darted to its left, the foursome scrambled in pursuit, Pinky leading the charge and Inky hovering close behind. Peach surged forward, pulling out a golf club from somewhere on her person.
Pichu skidded to a stop and rolled, rather ungracefully, around the princess, the golf club hitting the ground and sending bits of stone and debris flying. As it righted itself, it leapt up and backward to avoid Pinky charging into it. Inky, seeing an opening, descended upon it to attack, but Pichu twisted its body in midair to sidestep the maneuver. Peach swung again, her face scrunched in determination. It missed her intended target, but it narrowly clipped Inky as he sped past after his quarry.
Blinky floated some distance away, hoping to find an opening. As he circled around, he suddenly heard a low beeping in his ear. Based on the others' brief hesitation, it was a safe bet to assume they heard it as well. Their time on the battlefield was almost up.
"Come on! Just a little bit more!" called Blinky. He rushed down, breezing by Peach to get into position. "We're almost there!"
Seeing Pinky and Inky converge on its location, Pichu tried to bolt, but was stopped by Blinky ramming into it. Peach took the opportunity to approach, frying pan at the ready. The beeping in the ghosts' ears picked up speed. There wasn't much time left now. Pinky grit her teeth and put on a burst of speed in one last attempt to get Pichu.
Behind Peach, a heart-shaped object popped into existence and drifted slowly down like an autumn leaf, its lavish golden trim glinting in the sun. The mouse Pokémon's ears pricked up, and Peach, noticing the change in posture, turned around to look. With the princess distracted, Pichu zipped past her at lightning speed and reached out for—
"Oh, no, you don't!" Pinky rammed into Pichu in a rather impressive football tackle. It flinched and fell backwards, allowing Pinky to roll over it again, knocking it flat on its back. This time, Pichu rolled away from her, right into the waiting arms of the princess.
At that moment, the beeping suddenly ceased, and the ghosts began to fly up and away from the stage as though pulled by an invisible force. Their time was up and their job had been done, so it was out of the battle and back to their normal business.
The last thing the four of them saw before a flash of light engulfed their vision was none other than Pichu itself, its face scrunched in pain, launched up, up, and away by Peach's frying pan.
Blinky was the first to arrive in the lounge, rematerializing with a loud pop as he landed clumsily in a chair. Pinky came next, falling on her side and on top of the tea table. Inky was soon to follow, having the unfortunate luck to land on his head and on the floor. And lastly, Clyde brought up the rear as he always did, falling on a side table and displacing the lamp that resided there, which was only saved by the quick hands of a passing Jeff. All four of the ghosts simply lay there as they tried to catch their breath.
"I think… I think that went pretty well, didn't it?" panted Blinky.
"About as well as… as I thought it would," came Pinky's response.
Blinky grinned through his exhaustion. "So you admit the plan was great, then."
"Didja see me?" wheezed Inky. "I got 'em. I actually got 'em…"
"I got 'em, too!" said Clyde.
"Yeah. You got 'em," said Blinky, nodding slowly. "We all got 'em. All thanks to my flawless plan that I thought up last night."
A feeble, but still earnest cheer went up among the group. The ghosts lay there, their focus drifting from the exciting events that had just transpired to the fluorescent lights that hung above.
"…So what do we do now, Blinky?" asked Inky after a pause.
"What do we do now? Well…" Blinky thought for a moment. "Well… ahem! Well, obviously we're gonna think of another plan that's really gonna knock their socks off. But for now… for now, we sit back and reflect on our triumph."
"Our triumph," repeated Pinky. "Well said."
Blinky slowly readjusted his position on the chair. "We've got a lot to teach these other guys. Might as well set a good example."
"We have a legacy to live up to," agreed Clyde.
"Yep," nodded Blinky. "Quite a legacy indeed."
The four of them sat in a comfortable, satisfying silence.
Far away from the lounge, the training room was buzzing with activity. When Guile didn't have any classes scheduled on a given day, it was often occupied by other assistants who wished to hone their skills. That day, it was populated by Lyn, Isaac, and Shovel Knight. All three of them were practicing with their weapons, performing repetitions on their own punching bags.
"Okay, but why am I doing this?" asked Isaac out loud. "When I get summoned, I don't even use my sword."
"It's important to keep all your skills in top form," said Lyn. "During my travels, I had to become familiar with both swords and bows."
"But you don't use a bow," countered the boy. "You only ever use your sword."
"On the battlefield, yes." Lyn winked at him. "But we do have a recreational archery range. I'm still an old hand with a bow, as Link can attest. …And what about you, Shovel Knight?" she asked, turning to the blue-clad warrior on her right. "Any skills you've been hiding from us?"
Shovel Knight stopped mid-swing. "Well, not exactly skills per se… but, yes, I, too, have brought a great deal of relics that I don't use when summoned."
"Relics?" asked Isaac. "Ooh, show us, show us!"
"Hmmm… Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt." He rummaged around in his pocket to pull out a small thin knife, with a propellor at its hilt. "This is the Propellor Dagger. It allows me to soar through the air while attacking." Shovel Knight leapt into the air and sailed forward, ramming into a punching bag in the corner.
Lyn quirked an eyebrow, while Isaac's eyes grew wide. "Whoooa… what else you got?"
Shovel Knight took out two large bronze gauntlets to place on his hands. "These are the Dust Knuckles. They're very useful for punching through large blocks of dirt that stand in my way." He paused as he noticed the look in the Adept's eyes. "You certainly seem eager to have a look."
"Huh? Oh, um…" Isaac blushed and took a few steps back. "It's just… You don't really see stuff like this back in Vale."
"Ah, it's quite alright!" replied Shovel Knight. "It's always nice to see young folks have such a vested interest in treasure!"
Lyn smiled as she watched her companions appraise the rest of Shovel Knight's arsenal. As she turned back to her punching bag, her thoughts turned to her homeland of Sacae, and of Elibe. She began to wonder how her friends back in her world were doing. Were they well? She hoped they were. As much as she loved being a part of the tournament, she often found herself wishing to see them again.
She swung her sword, making a thin rip in her bag. Lyn wondered, then, if they could see her, assisting the fighters. What would they say? Would they be proud of her?
…
Nonsense. Of course they would be. And she'd make them proud.
A sudden, gentle tugging sensation made itself known in her back. Her hands were bathed in a faint whitish glow that slowly grew stronger, spreading to her sword.
Isaac, who had been busying himself with a small coin, looked up. "Summoned already?" he asked.
Lyn nodded. "This shouldn't be too long. If I don't come back in time, you'll know where to find me." Already, her hand fingered the hilt of her sword. Her eyes fell to the Propellor Dagger in Isaac's hand. "Don't do anything too reckless, now."
Lyn crouched down, closed her eyes and let the light take her.
When Lyn opened her eyes again, the first things she noticed were the sudden change in temperature and the salty smell of the sea. She looked down and found that she was indeed standing on a beach, with an ocean that seemed to go on forever. Behind her, a Mii threw a flying disc for her dog, who readily chased after it.
Falco Lombardi stood nearby, impatience written on his face. As he tossed aside the base of the capsule, he was suddenly struck from behind by a spiked ball with eyes, hurling him up and over Lyn's head.
King Dedede stormed ahead, brushing past Lyn as if she didn't even exist. A quick glance behind her showed her his targets. Ryu and Wario were busy battling it out, seemingly matched blow for blow, while Cloud was going on the offensive against Mewtwo.
Lyn wasted no time. She crouched down and gripped the hilt of her blade.
"Prepare yourself…"
Lyn remained still as the fight raged around her. She took a breath, not flinching even when Ryu landed flat on his back in front of her.
A single second passed. Above Lyn, Mewtwo teleported out of the way of another mighty swing of King Dedede's hammer. The world around her grew dark and hazy. Only the battle remained.
Two seconds. Falco skidded to a stop in front of her and took off, kicking up clouds of dust and sand. Behind her, there was the sound of steel clashing against steel, followed by several yelps of surprise.
Three seconds. Cloud fired off a green shockwave from his sword, just barely grazing her skin. The sand beneath her boots gave way to hard plastic, signaling that the stage was about to move again.
Lyn shut her eyes. A cold, but refreshing wind blew through her hair. It was not unlike that which blew through the plains of Sacae. The sounds of frenetic battle began to fade to mere background noise.
Images of her friends appeared in her mind's eye. Their faces varied, showing either determination, confidence, or encouragement. But they all seemed to ask the same question.
Why do you fight?
"..."
Lyn opened her eyes. Cloud was flying up and away from behind her, launched by a decisive whack of Wario's fist. Falco was standing in front of her again. His jacket was torn in a few spots, and his feathers on top of his head were singed. His eyes briefly flicked to something behind her.
Lyn's sword arm shifted, ever so slightly. Falco whipped out his blaster and pulled the trigger.
The world came back to her in a rush. Light and color filled her sight as she moved as swiftly as the wind. By the time Wario realized she was there, it was too late.
"Taste my blade!"
Wario careened off the stage, some of the hairs of his mustache still floating in the air. An explosion of color signified his knockout. Lyn got up and sheathed her sword.
I fight for my homeland. I fight for those I care about. I fight for all that I hold dear!
There was a flash of light, and Lyn was gone.
Lyn landed elegantly back in the training room. She smiled as she brushed some loose hairs out of her face. "Well, that went well, I think," she said out loud. Hearing no response, she looked around. "Isaac? Shovel Knight? Are you there?"
"We're right here. Ah… a little help, if you don't mind?"
There were Isaac and Shovel Knight, plainly visible behind Lyn. Or at least, half of Isaac was plainly visible. The rest of him was hunched over in a hole in the pristine white wall. Next to him, an odd contraption consisting of two gears was also embedded in the wall, smaller cracks spidering out from the point of impact.
Shovel Knight could only shrug apologetically. "I did try to warn him," he admitted.
Lyn sighed and folded her arms. "Call it a learning experience, I suppose."
"Yeah, I've learned something, all right," groaned Isaac. "Wear a helmet riding these things."
The other two assistants shared a good laugh over that.
Somewhere else in the Smash Mansion, a certain tall, thin and purple-clad man was making his way down the hall, sneering at anyone who crossed his path. Waluigi had no real destination in mind, but he would gladly take an opportunity to cause trouble should it present itself. All he had to do was keep an eye out for it.
As Waluigi walked, his thoughts turned to other subjects. Right away, he thought of his favorite sport: tennis. As far as he was concerned, he was the best tennis player he knew. Obviously. Nobody played tennis better than he did. And if things weren't going his way in a match, no one could cheat like he could. Because, as was known by all, he was the best at cheating. So, naturally, he had to be the best at tennis! It was basic science!
He smirked as he recalled a particularly interesting match during his stay in the Kingdom of Bask. It had been in the semifinals of the Star Cup, against the wicked Bowser. Waluigi had stepped onto the court that day with all of his usual conceit and boasting, not entirely unearned thanks to his recent string of victories in exhibition matches. But even his arrogance paled in comparison to that of the Koopa King. Bowser had leaned against the net post, buffed his claws against his chest, and sneered at the gangly man on the other side of the court. "Take a good look, weakling," he had growled. "Or don't. After all, you'll have plenty of time to get an eyeful when I win this thing!" His lip curled. "Heck, if that tennis racket of yours is still holding up after this, I'll have something to autograph at the end of the day! Gwa ha ha ha!"
Bowser paid dearly for his swaggering. Neither player was particularly quick-footed, but Waluigi's long limbs gave him the advantage over his opponent's slow and lumbering steps. As fast and strong as Bowser's shots were, Waluigi was able to return each and every one with almost no trouble at all. Every flat, slice and topspin was returned as if the entire match was a Sunday picnic for Waluigi. Even when he had been driven to the far edge of the court and Bowser had sent a wicked drop shot his way, he was able to swiftly moonwalk back up to the net and send it flying right past Bowser's own racket.
Waluigi had walked off with the victory that day, and Bowser was none too pleased about having to eat his own words. In his frustration, he had slammed his racket against the ground, shattering it and sending bits of asphalt and string flying. "Too bad," Waluigi had scoffed when all was said and done. "You won't have anything for me to autograph once I win! Waa ha ha ha ha!" It was only by the enraged Koopa's son rushing in at the last minute to hold him back, and the eyes of many in the stands watching him, that Waluigi was able to escape unscatched.
The lanky man sighed as he gazed at his racket. It had been a wonderful summer day, and the Star Cup finals were just a week away. His opponent was unknown at the time, but did it matter? His long reach would win the day, as it had against Bowser. Why, the match was practically won already!
But then…
Three days before the finals, he felt something fundamentally change in the air around him. He remembered it vividly. It was the day he learned that Luigi, of all people, was to be his opponent in the championship match.
Waluigi wasn't one to believe in superstitions, but in the days leading up to the finals, he felt as if someone, somewhere, some greater higher power, was actively working against him. Suddenly, he found that his serves weren't quite as strong as they were, his volleys didn't soar through the air like they used to, and he found himself lunging for the ball more often. No matter how hard he practiced in those three days, these new found issues continued to plague him.
Was he in a slump? Had he lost his touch? Or was it simply bad luck, punishment brought about by his egotism, the fall that succeeded his pride? No one knew for sure. But when both players took the court, and shot after shot whizzed by Waluigi's racket, and point after point was scored, there was something everyone could recognize, from the spectators in the stands to the cameramen broadcasting for viewers watching in their homes.
Waluigi was no longer the terror on the court he once was.
He watched as Luigi lightly stepped onto the stadium to raucous applause. He scowled as Mario and Princess Daisy followed him, smiling wide and embracing the victor. He fumed as Luigi blinked and tried to shield his eyes from the onslaught of flashing cameras, awkwardly holding up his trophy, as if being on center stage was still a new experience to him.
Many others would come to Bask after that, some of whom had never so much as picked up a tennis racket before. The tennis matches would continue, and he would pick up a victory here and there. But his clear and dominating mastery over the tennis court was gone. That much was certain.
Waluigi scowled as he brusquely shoved an Inkling out of his way, ignoring her indignant clamoring. Too bad, kid, he thought to himself. The world is cruel and unfair. And nobody knows this better than I do! Waaah!
A small tugging in his back snapped him out of his reverie. His eyes widened. This could only mean one thing.
Waluigi took out his tennis racket in anticipation. Who was summoning him? Perhaps it would be Wario, and the two of them could team up for some old-fashioned mischief. Was it Daisy? He hoped it was Daisy. Then he could swoop in and play the dashing hero and sweep her off her feet, and she would see who the real superstar was! If he was being honest, he didn't really have any other preferences for who his summoner was, save a couple of fighters that he refused to mention by name. Ah, but there was no time to dwell on that now! It was almost time!
He floated up, up, up, and disappeared in a flash of light.
Waluigi landed on a wooden platform, tennis racket in hand. There was a cool wind blowing, carrying with it the smells of fruit, pine trees, and fresh soil. An assortment of animals watched the scene from the back, gathered around a large tree stump. He deduced that he was on one of the stages based on the Animal Forest.
"Oh, no…"
He paused. Now there was a voice he recognized all too well. He whirled around to meet the source of the voice.
There he stood, his mustache smooth and well-groomed as usual, with bright blue eyes, and a green cap with a green "L" symbol stitched on the front. From the looks of it, his opponent was giving him a rough time, based on how tired he looked. Or maybe he just didn't look too happy to see the new arrival.
Waluigi's eyes narrowed. "You," he hissed.
Luigi sighed. "It's-a me," he replied.
The purple-clad man grinned, brandishing his tennis racket. "Ohoho, I've been waiting for this moment!" he chortled. "Finally, I get to humiliate you in front of everyone!" He moved in closer with every word.
"Wait, what? Nonono, wait!" cried Luigi, holding out his arms to prevent Waluigi from coming any closer. "I'm the one that-a summoned you!"
"W-Waa?" Waluigi looked down. Sure enough, the base of the capsule was in Luigi's hand, vanishing into multicolored dust on the wind. "…Oh." His mustache drooped slightly. "Oh, this is just great. Now I have to help you. Well, luckily for you—" he jabbed a finger into Luigi's nose— "I'm in a good mood today, so I'll help you out just this once."
"You don't really have a choice," mumbled Luigi.
"Now then!" said Waluigi, doing an about-face and "accidentally" smacking Luigi in the face with his elbow, "who's my real opponent?" He scanned the stage until his eyes fell on a figure standing innocuously on the far side of the platform.
A plantlike creature, with a large red head with white spots and sharp teeth in its mouth, sat in a flowerpot slowly waving in the breeze. Upon noticing Waluigi, it straightened up and snapped its teeth at the air.
Waluigi glared daggers at the plant. "You," he growled. "My old arch-nemesis."
"Piranha Plant?" asked Luigi, the confusion plain on his face. "I thought I was your arch-nemesis."
Waluigi turned to glare down at Luigi. "Not everything revolves around you. I have a personal beef with that stupid weed. Now step aside! It's Waluigi time!"
The three of them charged, exchanging blows from the moment they clashed in the center of the stage. Luigi kicked, swatted, and fired off a plunger from a vacuum cleaner on his back. But the Piranha Plant struck back, using headbutts, swinging its flowerpot at him, and spitting spiked balls from its mouth.
Eager for a piece of the action, Waluigi leapt in, stomping the Piranha Plant into the ground with his long legs. "Waa ha ha ha! Lousy plants like you belong in the ground!" he jeered as he continued to stomp.
While the plant was stuck, Luigi took the opportunity to strike it with a knifehand thrust. It sailed away, landing on a smaller platform floating just above the abyss.
Waluigi was none too pleased about having his onslaught interrupted. "Hey! Stay outta my way when I'm working!" he barked.
"But you're supposed to be helping me!" said Luigi. "That's how this works!"
"Yeah, well I can help just fine without you getting in my way," retorted Waluigi. "So back off, or I'll—"
His threat went unfinished, as a spiked ball had dropped from above and landed squarely on his head. A blue and white cat in a sweater winced as he went flying to the other side of the stage.
Gritting his teeth, Luigi bounded up to challenge the plant hand-to-hand, but was promptly smacked away by a swinging headbutt, launching him straight into a recovering Waluigi. As it did so, a black and gold baseball bat dropped from above in front of it, which it eagerly picked up with its leaves.
"Gah! Get off me!" cried Waluigi, shoving the green-clad plumber off him. He stood up and dusted himself off. "Ugh. The last thing I need is you getting your essence all over me."
"My essence?" repeated Luigi, peeling himself off the ground and readjusting his hat. "What's-a that supposed to mean?"
Before Waluigi could provide a snide explanation, the air around them grew thick with a foul-smelling purple cloud that caused both men to cough and choke on it. Luigi stumbled about, trying to clear the air. The Piranha Plant drew nearer, bat in leaf.
The poison dissipated. Waluigi raced towards the plant, smoke and yellow sparkles trailing off his body. The Piranha Plant paused its offensive to put up its shield, blocking Waluigi's rapid-fire stomps.
A plunger shot out from behind Waluigi, latching onto the plant's head and yanking it out of his way and directly into Luigi's grasp. "Gotcha now!" Before it could react, Luigi slammed the plant into the ground and hopped up to cuff it with a downward knifehand thrust as it bounced back up. It dropped the bat it was holding as it flew back towards Waluigi.
"Haha! Take that, loser!" Waluigi leapt up to assail the Piranha Plant with more stomps as Luigi picked up the bat. It was now buried in the ground, flowerpot and all, and smoke billowed off its head and stem.
Waluigi sneered down at the plant as it struggled to get free. Lousy weed, thinking it can outshine Waluigi… He noticed the yellow sparkles coming off him, and began to wonder if anyone was watching him. Obviously, they'd have to be. After all, who would miss an opportunity to see him in action? He could hear Luigi approaching behind him, most likely to finish it off with the bat. But there was no need for that. He certainly didn't need Luigi ruining his big moment. He may have been close to being eliminated, but he wasn't going down so easily. He could beat this plant just as well, and with twice as much style!
He raised his leg for more stomping, but just before his attack could continue, the Piranha Plant broke free from its earthy prison, jumping safely out of range of any further stomps. And from the way its wide, toothy mouth was contorted, it was not too pleased with Waluigi's presence.
"W-waaah!" Waluigi quickly sidestepped just as the plant landed, its leaves spinning like helicopter blades. He tried to attack it from behind, but it stretched out a leaf to seize him by the arm.
The lanky man struggled and writhed in its grip. "Waa—hey! Lemme go! Stupid weed!"
The Piranha Plant grinned, its sharp teeth glinting in the sun, and bit down hard on Waluigi's chin.
"Waaaaaughh!" Waluigi screamed as he tried in vain to get the plant off him. It clearly had no intention of letting go so easily. He thought he heard Luigi's startled squawk through the pain. What was he waiting for? He could use a little help!
The Piranha Plant gripped Waluigi's chin just a bit harder. Without warning, it turned around to fling him toward Luigi in one fluid motion.
Waluigi flew, but managed to land rather clumsily on his feet. He staggered for a bit, trying to regain his balance. He was concerned with righting himself that he almost didn't register that it was Luigi that he had bumped into. He was about to ask what, pray tell, was taking him so long, when he noticed something.
Luigi's face, which currently adorned the dartboard in Waluigi's room, was scrunched up, his eyes shut tight in a wince. He also noticed the way Luigi was holding the bat, as if he was winding up to—
"Uh-oh."
A distinct, high pitched cracking sound rang out as Luigi swung for the fences. There was a sudden pain in Waluigi's stomach. Then, complete and total darkness.
Waluigi rematerialized back in the hallway, the force of the blow sending him skidding across the floor, before he finally came to a stop in a billiard room. Mercifully, it was empty and silent, save for a television displaying the match, so he was all set to regain his bearings in peace. Eventually, the room stopped spinning, so he was able to haul himself up into a chair and think about what had happened.
I was about to finish off that plant… but it turned the tables… it bit me and threw me aside… and then…
And then… he…
The sound of an audience cheering blared from the television, demanding his attention. Waluigi looked up. There was his rival, standing there under a rain of confetti as a fanfare played from an unseen band. He stood there, making little gun motions with his fingers, pointing them back and forth, yet still looking quite humble and nervous.
Even now, he was still as unused to the spotlight as ever. Somehow, that was what infuriated Waluigi the most.
Waluigi sat and scowled at the television. Figures, he thought to himself. I'm the one doing all the work for him, and he smacks me outta the picture to take all the glory for himself! He grit his teeth in frustration. Lousy, no-good cheater!
Just then, a crowd of cheering fighters passed by the empty billiard room. From the sound of it, they were all celebrating Luigi's victory, with Mario, Yoshi, and Daisy's voices being the loudest and most spirited. Waluigi refused to grace them with his attention, pulling his hat over his eyes.
Everybody cheating but me. Waaah…
And so he sat there, alone, stewing in his own jealousy.
Elsewhere, far away from these somber affairs, Dr. Wily made his way up a flight of stairs. He walked quickly and quietly, making himself seem as unassuming as possible. And he had every reason to. He was on an important mission, after all.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he continued to walk through the hall, moving quickly and staring straight ahead as if he had somewhere extremely important to be so he couldn't possibly stop and chat, thank you very much. The last thing he wanted was for someone to ask what he was doing.
Like him, for instance.
Wily shuddered. It was not the big, mean-looking brutes like Bowser or Ridley that were most intimidating to him. Nor was it his demonic cohorts Ghirahim and—okay, maybe Ghirahim a little bit. Even Mega Man, who the doctor knew didn't trust him for a minute, who was a constant thorn in his side even in his nightmares, felt like a more welcome sight. No, it was Zero who frightened the doctor the most.
Dr. Wily wasn't terribly familiar with Zero. He hadn't really gotten to know him at the orientation; all he knew was that he was a robot much like Mega Man. But something about him seemed very familiar, and unsettlingly so. Ever since his first attempt to steal Master Hand's device, where Zero had stopped him, he had a nagging feeling that he was watching him.
…
Suddenly perturbed, Dr. Wily quickly checked over his shoulder. No one else was there, save for a passing Mii.
The doctor groaned and massaged his temples. He needed to get that mailing device quickly. If Mother Brain or Ghirahim didn't do him in, his own nerves would.
Dr. Wily passed through another hallway, turned another corner, and once again, he found himself in front of Master Hand's office. The hall was completely empty. As he gazed at the door, tall and imposing, he could still feel that same powerful energy coming from the other side. He pressed his ear against the door. There was absolutely no sound from within.
His eyes fell to the handle. He reached out to slowly twist it and…
…
…
…Wait. Was the door unlocked?
Dr. Wily blinked. Seriously? The door handle was twisted all the way down. If he pushed forward a little, he could open the door a crack and catch a glimpse of the inside.
Somehow, this was what gave him pause. Was Master Hand really foolish enough to leave the door of his office unlocked? Or was he confident enough in his own power that he knew no one would dare to sneak inside? Maybe this was a trap after all.
Dr. Wily closed the door. Drat. And here he was, about to waltz right in like he owned the place! He couldn't possibly risk an ambush waiting for him on the other side. He'd have to find another way in. As he pondered the merits of crawling through the vents and lowering himself inside by cables, he abruptly felt a tug in his back.
His heart jumped, but the momentary surprise was quickly replaced by a twinge of annoyance. Of course now would be the part where he was summoned. Mercifully, no one was around to see him. "Well, let's get this over with," he said out loud.
And with those words, the doctor was whisked away, leaving no trace.
When Dr. Wily opened his eyes, he found himself in the leather seat of his escape pod, the Wily Capsule. Looking around, he saw that he was in an area that greatly resembled a French Gothic cathedral. He wondered how he always appeared inside of his capsule, no matter how far away it was. But there was no time to ponder such questions, for there were enemies to defeat.
Down below, the robot known as R.O.B. threw aside the base of the assist capsule to fire a laser. The target was an angel with black hair and wings, wearing a matching black tunic. Dr. Wily was quick to identify him as Dark Pit. He nimbly dodged the laser and charged towards R.O.B.
Despite the circumstances, Dr. Wily still took a moment to roll his eyes at his summoner. Just look at it… he thought. Such a primitive design… Although I suppose everyone has to start somewhere. If nothing else, there were worse people who could have summoned him. Nothing to be done about it now. Time to crush this angel under his heel!
With the push of a button, the Wily Capsule fired four orbs of energy, two made of fire, and two made of ice. They homed in on Dark Pit, who was forced to stop his assault to put up his shield. R.O.B. took the opportunity to grab the angel and perform a reverse piledriver.
Dr. Wily winced as Dark Pit bounced off the ground. So primitive, but still so savage… he thought. He shuddered as he imagined having to deal with R.O.B. instead of Mega Man. He pulled a lever to teleport to another part of the stage.
He reappeared right behind Dark Pit, who was preoccupied with slashing at R.O.B.'s chassis. Throwing off the camouflage cloak, Wily pushed another button and the two spikes at the side of the capsule sparked with electricity before directing it towards the ground, sending four orbs that traveled along the floor.
Dark Pit grit his teeth as the electricity stopped him in his tracks. With an elegant twirl, he took out two small shields that in turn summoned two larger energy shields to deflect the electric spheres. At the same time, R.O.B. fired a spinning top at the angel, but this, too, was deflected by the shields.
The doctor teleported again, firing off more flames as he observed the battle below. He could tell that Dark Pit was getting aggravated now that he had two foes to deal with. Both he and R.O.B. were clashing in the middle of the platform, the angel's bow against the robot's own arms. At last, Dark Pit kicked R.O.B. in the chassis, causing him to trip and land on his side.
Dark Pit closed in for the final blow, separating his bow into twin blades. Above him, Wily grinned. Well, he was here to assist, wasn't he? He gripped both levers and pushed them forward. The Wily Capsule spun around and descended.
It was a mighty blow, the hovercraft ramming into Dark Pit spike-first, sending him careening off the platform. At this point, R.O.B. had recovered his bearings, and he leapt up after the angel, arms rapidly rotating to finish him off. Meanwhile, Dr. Wily had teleported back above the main platform. He sneered and pulled faces at Dark Pit as he struggled to recover. A fairly irresponsible decision, but was it so wrong? As far as Dr. Wily was concerned, he had earned the right to be a bit brazen every once in a while.
Dark Pit growled as a device that looked like an electric generator materialized around his arm. He lunged towards Wily in midair to deliver a fierce uppercut on the capsule's skull-shaped bottom.
"G-gah!" Wily yelped as his hovercraft shook from the impact. He hadn't expected Dark Pit to make it back so quickly, let alone have enough time to counterattack. He quickly teleported away to the far edge of the stage.
As the camouflage cloak came off, a speaker above him began to beep. Dr. Wily sighed, partially relieved that he was almost out of danger, and partially dreading what awaited him back in the mansion. He launched more elemental shots, this time one ice, one fire, and the last two electric. Dark Pit swerved around the electricity, but was promptly encased in a chunk of ice as he rolled into the ice blast.
The beeping grew quicker. Wily pondered a second ramming attack or using the lightning again. He watched as Dark Pit broke out of the ice and pushed R.O.B. to the edge of the stage. The robot's shield was up, but slowly shrinking. Dark Pit reached out a hand as if to seize him by the chassis, a maneuver that R.O.B. promptly sidestepped. No sooner had R.O.B. righted himself than Dark Pit prepared his bow and separated it into two blades to slash at him, launching him off the stage and into an explosion of light and color.
Wily frowned as he pushed both levers forward. As primitive as R.O.B. seemed, and even though their partnership was only for this match, he was still rooting for the little guy. Dark Pit barely had time to cry out in pain as the hovercraft rammed into him from behind, sending him hurtling towards the same boundary he'd just launched R.O.B. into.
At that moment, R.O.B. descended from above on a floating platform, and the alarm in the speakers finally stopped. Dr. Wily took the time to laugh at Dark Pit as he descended on his own revival platform. "So long, nincompoop!" he jeered. "Wily always wins! Bwa ha ha ha ha!"
And with those final words, the Wily Capsule sped off into the distance, disappearing in a faint blink of light.
Dr. Wily's first thought upon landing back in the Smash Mansion was relief that he was safe and out of arm's reach of any of those musclebound buffoons that would do him harm. His immediate second thought was Oh, good Lord, my back.
He nearly fell over, catching the handle of the door at the last minute to keep from hitting the floor. "Ughhh…" He clamped a hand on the base of his spine in pain. If nothing else, he was glad that was over.
The sound of chatter amongst friends resonated from around the corner. The doctor jumped in alarm and frantically straightened himself up, trying to look as casual as possible. A crowd of people, animals, and who-knows-what came into sight. Among them, he could see Lucina, carrying her sword and looking quite alert, an Inkling boy completely absorbed in his phone, Shulk discussing something with a blue bipedal canine whose name escaped Dr. Wily at the moment, the young prince Roy peering over the Inkling's shoulder at his phone, Donkey Kong crowding the hallway, and Vince and Chef Kawasaki bringing up the rear, chatting as though they'd been friends their whole lives.
To his immense relief, Zero was not among them.
Dr. Wily did not move a muscle as the crowd passed. None of them paid him any mind, save for Lucina, who peered at him with an unreadable expression. She eventually turned away, the Inkling tearing his eyes away from his phone to tug at her sleeve for her to catch up.
The doctor only exhaled when the last of Kawasaki's toque disappeared from sight. That was too close, he thought to himself. The last thing I need is more eyes on me.
He stared at the door to Master Hand's office. As far as he knew, it was still unlocked. Did he want to try to break in again?
…
…
With a sigh, Dr. Wily turned away. Best not push my luck.
Another time, perhaps.
The sun sloped towards the west, its rays shining on the world, and directly into Takamaru's eyes. He shifted ever so slightly to his left, using the branches of a nearby tree to shield his vision. The training dummy stood silently in front of him. The indoor training room was still busy, so he had taken his training outside for the day. A good thing, too, for it was such a nice day out, it would be a waste not to go out at least once.
Takamaru gripped his katana. A light breeze picked up. The dummy wobbled ever so slightly. Then, without warning, he rushed forward.
The samurai swung his sword in quick, choppy motions, hacking away at the dummy's arm and sending bits of wood flying. Lyn and some of the other sword users had raised some eyebrows at his technique, calling it "odd" at best and "impractical" at worst. But it worked for him. Why bother fixing what wasn't broken?
He jumped back and threw four windmill swords that flew out around him in an X shape, one of them making a solid whunk as it hit the dummy square in its chest. He dashed back up to the dummy and resumed his rush of frenzied sword slashes. It was now looking a bit worse for wear, its right arm dangling at the shoulder and its left arm completely gone.
Takamaru lowered his katana and surveyed the damage as he hummed softly. The dummy was made of tougher stuff than that. He glanced down at his sword. It had gone through so much over his life. The blade had saved his life on more than one occasion. Too many to count. From the moment he'd set out on that adventure so long ago, he was assaulted by all sorts of people. From the many ninjas that seemed to pop out of nowhere, to those he considered friends and allies, all had fallen under the influence of the wicked otherworldly force. It had fallen to Takamaru to purge the evil from Japan, and so he did, driving out the menace armed with nothing but his katana, some windmill swords and a strong gumption.
He had fought alone, and he supposed he had come out stronger for it.
A finger ran across the blade. Confidence welled up inside him. He gave a few practice swings, slashing at the air. A falling leaf was sliced cleanly in two, its halves falling to the ground at Takamaru's feet.
He smiled. Yes, he had gotten stronger.
As he sheathed his katana, he felt a small tugging in his spine. His hands were steeped in a white glow that quickly spread to the rest of his body.
Takamaru gave a wry grin. Figures that he would get summoned right when he was done practicing for the day. Ah, well. If nothing else, it allowed him to iron out a few wrinkles in his technique. And, if he was done practicing, he might as well go straight to the real thing, right?
He took a breath, and the light overtook him.
Takamaru emerged from the capsule, water splashing as he landed. Blinking, he saw that he was standing in a large, yet shallow pool of water, with an elegant-looking fountain off to the side. There were three platforms above the pool, two of them supported by jets of water, and strange-looking trees and mystical towers loomed overhead in the back. A night sky dotted with stars shone above.
Ah, but there was no time to ponder such beauty! From the corner of his eye, he could see Lucario throwing aside the capsule base. In front of him, Solid Snake was fending off Diddy Kong and a drowsy-looking Villager wearing a blue tie dye shirt. It was time to do what he'd been summoned to do!
Quick as a whip, Takamaru rushed forward and began to slash at the Villager. Diddy Kong leapt out of the way just in time. His cuts were rapid, trapping the boy in place before launching him away with a final slash.
Behind him, Lucario ducked a missile, charging forward to grapple with Snake directly. Takamaru backed up a few paces to see Diddy Kong leaping down from above, wooden popgun in hand. He dodged the barrage of peanuts, then threw his windmill swords. The one that flew above him sliced through a peanut to clip at Diddy's tail. The monkey squealed and hissed in pain, falling to the ground in a heap, his aerial assault ruined.
Meanwhile, Lucario had now mounted a full offense against Snake. He struck at the man with precise palm thrusts and kicks, his paws blazing with bluish fire. For his part, Snake refused to go down without a fight, countering with kicks and knee thrusts of his own. The Villager, who had recovered from Takamaru's attack, saw the tussle that the two were getting into and wisely decided to stay out of their way.
Takamaru, seeing that Snake was distracted, hurried up to him to provide aid to Lucario. He threw more windmill swords to cover his approach, then slashed at the mercenary with more erratic slashes. Combined with the Pokémon's blasts of aura, it was enough to launch Snake off the stage, a colorful explosion signifying his KO.
Lucario and Takamaru shared a quick nod before the latter went off towards his next target. While Snake descended on the revival platform, Diddy Kong and the Villager were grappling for space as one of the smaller platforms descended towards the pool. As Takamaru moved in for his next attack, a rainbow-colored capsule dropped in next to the scrap. He paid it no mind, solely focused on the two fighters in front of him.
Although, he wondered for a brief moment what would happen if he were to pick it up and summon someone.
The Villager was quick enough to jump out of the way, but Diddy Kong was not so lucky. He was caught in a hurricane of sword swipes before being flung away the same as Snake, bit of fur and red fabric fluttering in the breeze.
Takamaru turned back to Snake. The Assist Trophy was gone. He looked around for any new arrivals. Odd. If someone had used it, normally someone would be here by now. Perhaps it had simply disappeared after no one picked it up.
Something small brushed past Takamaru's hair, snapping him out his musings. Was that a… pebble?
He turned around just in time to dodge another pellet as the Villager advanced on him. The drowsy-looking boy jumped up to attack Takamaru from above, pulling from his pockets a handful of… turnips?
Takamaru tried to take every opponent as seriously as he could, but some of these fighters still surprised him with how bizarre they could be.
He stepped back and back again to dodge the vegetables. Seeing that his strategy wasn't working, the Villager reached in his pockets to pull out an umbrella dotted with paw prints that he brandished like a melee weapon. Takamaru would've thought it cute had he not needed to dodge the swing. With a fierce shout, Takamaru answered with a swing of his own sword. The weapons clashed, neither combatant willing to give in.
An explosion from one of Snake's grenades caused them to break the clash. Lucario soared overhead, fresh burns appearing in his fur. The Villager was about to pull something else out of his pocket (Was that an axe? What else did he have in there?) when Diddy Kong snuck up from behind and flung the boy up and out of the way. Takamaru was almost grateful, up until a popgun was levelled at his face.
Another flurry of slashes, and Diddy Kong was temporarily subdued. A quick glance behind him told Takamaru that the Villager was very close to being knocked out. He saw the boy looking over at Snake, who was pulling the pin on a grenade even as he chased after Lucario. He reached into his pockets again. In that moment, Takamaru remembered something crucial. The Villagers were known for carrying many of their weapons in their pockets. But that wasn't the only thing they could hold.
The Villager held the capsule above his head, and a loud pop sounded, getting the attention of everyone.
"Here I go…"
He stood there grimly as he surveyed the battle, covered head to toe in jet-black armor, with a red cape that fluttered behind him despite the lack of a breeze. But it was his sword that caught everyone's attention. It was a silver two-handed blade that seemed to glimmer against the dark sky, whether by catching the light of the stars or by its own power. The Black Knight dropped off the platform and marched forward, slowly, deliberately.
Takamaru watched him carefully, studying his movements. His eyes flicked between the newcomer and Snake, who was suddenly trying to stay out of his way. The Black Knight's movements seemed sluggish; his armor was most likely slowing him down. He probably wouldn't pose a threat. Takamaru settled on Snake, charging towards the mercenary with his katana raised.
He dodged Snake's explosives and mortar shells, blocking a grenade with his sword. Just when he was about to close in, Diddy Kong yelp of surprise rang out. Moments later, he passed both of them by, clearly fleeing from some unknown danger.
The Black Knight was still there, where Diddy Kong once was, continuing his stride. The Villager stood behind him, his shovel in hand.
Takamaru pursed his lips. What had alarmed Diddy Kong like that? He wasn't that close to being knocked out again; his damage percentage was too low. Unless the Villager had used his axe? No matter. He had business to attend to. The samurai continued his rush against Snake, who was now putting up a rather impressive defense. He was almost there now.
Snake sidestepped what would have been a finishing blow and quickly slammed a rocket launcher on the ground, ready to fire. But Takamaru deftly leapt backwards to avoid the explosion, landing on his feet a few paces away and wincing at the spray of shrapnel that flew out from the ground. His hand had flown to his pocket to fling more windmill swords when a presence made itself known right behind him.
Takamaru started. Was it Diddy Kong? No, he was right behind Snake. He was about to throw the weapon when his eyes fell on his reflection in the water. He could see his face somewhat, and there was a bluish shape that looked like Lucario if he tilted his head, but there was no mistaking the black armor and red cape.
He whirled around, just in time to catch a glimpse of silver, but too late to do anything about it.
The sword, glinting in the starlight, swung true, and that was the end of it.
Takamaru made his entrance back on the grounds the only way he could under such circumstances: by popping into existence with all his momentum and tumbling along the ground, kicking up dirt and rocks in the process. He finally came to a stop at the base of the dummy, scattering the birds that were resting on it.
He groaned and rolled over so he was lying on his back. The sky was an orange gold, the clouds tinged pink. There was a pain in his forehead that throbbed with every breath he took.
One hit.
He wasn't too familiar with the Black Knight. All he knew was that he was connected with Ike, and that he was feared for his immense strength.
But this…
Takamaru had faced seemingly insurmountable odds over the course of his adventure. He'd fought wave after wave of ninjas, vengeful spirits of the departed, castle guards with innate power over fire, and a mysterious entity from beyond the world.
And here he was, lying on his back after getting swatted like a fly.
One hit.
Takamaru grit his teeth as he got to his feet. Had he gotten stronger, or had he gotten complacent? He glanced at the dummy. It stared blankly back at him.
One. Hit.
"...Hm."
At this point, he was much too injured to continue his training. But at six in the morning tomorrow, he would be right back here, training like his life depended on it.
He would never let this happen again.
At last, the day had officially come to an end. The last of the matches had finished (a real nail-biter between Robin and Samus in her Zero Suit), and most of the technology had been given the okay after some maintenance on the teleporters. For the assistants, this meant they could finally unwind and settle in after a long day's work. A good thing, too, for some of them had really been run ragged!
But luckily, Chef Kawasaki had handled things pretty well over the day, and he was able to serve up a spread of impressive looking (and smelling) dishes for dinner.
"So!" began Dr. Wright as everyone began to dig into their meals. "I trust we've all had a busy day?"
A hum of agreement spread across the lounge. "You can say that again," grunted the Hammer Brother. "Lord Bowser made me his errand boy for the day. If I have to look at another cannon today, I'll just die."
"Well, I, for one, had a wonderful day today," said Vince, putting down his fork. "Some of my students have made a breakthrough in their painting." He turned to smile warmly at Starfy. "Isn't that right?"
Starfy nodded excitedly. "Uh-huh! I finally learned how color theory works! One day, I'm gonna paint a really big picture of everyone!"
Kapp'n laughed heartily at the star's zeal. "Gar, that's the way, wee one! Hitch your sailboat to a star!"
"Yeah, sure, aim high, or whatever," grouched Waluigi. He scowled into his grilled red snapper. "Lemme give you some advice, kid. You can aim as high as you want, but there's always gonna be someone who'll pull the rug out from under you. That's why you gotta treat everyone as a rival! You never who's gonna stab you in the back!"
Nobody seemed terribly enthused by Waluigi's advice. "Waluigi's just sulking because Luigi knocked him out after summoning him," said Takamaru, not looking up from his meal and pressing an ice pack to his head.
The purple-clad man sneered. "Yeah, well, at least it took a couple hits for me, Mr. I-Got-Whacked-In-One-Hit! He got you in the back!"
Anger flickered over the samurai's face for a brief moment. "That is true," he said slowly. "If I may give some advice, Starfy. You can achieve as much as you want, but you must never become too complacent. Always, always strive to be the best you can be."
"Well said, Takamaru," acknowledged Dr. Wright. "Truly words to live by. And on that note…" He glanced up at the clock. "We've got another busy day tomorrow, so after dinner, I suggest everyone get as much sleep as they can! We all tried our best today, so let's see if we can't repeat that success tomorrow!"
So the assistants ate and talked amongst themselves, swapping stories of their greatest triumphs and crushing defeats. Even the most bitter among them were able to cheer up upon being reminded of their achievements.
It had been a pretty good day, all things considered. And tomorrow was a new day.
Author's Notes: You like action sequences? Well, here's five of 'em! (...The Takamaru bit actually happened to me.)
Feedback is very much appreciated!