On an otherwise unremarkable night, the Smash Mansion was dead quiet.

Not to say that silence was a rarity in that building. Quite the opposite, in fact. There was the peaceful quiet when one chose to step outside in the late springtime afternoons, the chirping of birds and the gentle breeze providing a relaxed ambience to watch the world go by. There was the thoughtful, introspective silence when a fighter slipped into an old, forgotten room (of which there was no shortage in the Smash Mansion) to stop and think on a past match, or to simply reflect on the events that had led them to that moment.

But this silence was different, neither serene nor contemplative. It was heavy and anticipatory, waiting for one's fate to be sealed, hoping and dreading the moment at once, with the feeling of a great iron ball in one's stomach.

That was the position that Master Hand and Crazy Hand found themselves in as they floated in their office, huddled around a laptop on the desk.

"How long are we gonna wait here for?" asked Crazy Hand after some time.

"In due time, brother," replied Master Hand, idly tapping his index finger on the desk. "I choose to maintain faith that all of our efforts will bear fruit."

Crazy Hand flopped down onto the floor and began to mirror the same finger-tapping action of his brother. "Oh, okay," he murmured. "It's just that, out of everyone we sent the invites to, this is the longest we've waited for any response."

"I am aware," replied Master Hand.

"And," continued the left hand, "that this particular universe was really hard to locate, let alone make contact with…"

"Yes."

"And everyone else up top seemed kinda scared of trying to send an invite to—"

"Scared isn't the word I would use here." Master Hand's tapping quickened in pace. "Doubtful, perhaps, or maybe hesitant—"

"Not to mention the legal nightmare the lawyers warned us about—"

"I know."

"They sure talked a lot. Something about 'opening the floodgates' to—"

"Oh, don't even get me started—"

"Not to mention that you, personally, seemed really disappointed the last time we tried—"

Master Hand abruptly stopped tapping on the desk. "What are you saying, brother?"

"Well…" Crazy Hand's fingers curled inwards slightly in what was his equivalent of a shrug. "You looked really down when you were told that he wasn't 'realizable' or whatever…"

Master Hand did not answer.

"It's just, you've put a lot of effort into this one last challenger, and, y'know… what if they say no?"

The right hand remained silent for a moment. "…They will not," he said at last, resuming his tapping.

Crazy Hand said nothing, simply returning to stare at the laptop screen. The seconds seemed to drag on for hours, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights seeming much louder than normal. Master Hand's tapping, meanwhile, steadily grew louder and quicker by the minute.

And still, there was no answer.

"You're getting agitated again."

Master Hand seemed ruffled at the very suggestion. "I am not," he said, keeping his voice even.

The left hand gave no response. Instead, he simply gestured downwards, specifically the spot where Master Hand was still drumming on the desk.

There was now a large fingertip-shaped dent on the surface.

A deep sigh escaped from Master Hand's… palm, and he sank lower to the ground in defeat. "Can you blame me for worrying? You know just as well as I do of this world's 'special circumstances', as it were. If we are to jump through all these hoops, I would much rather it not be all for naught."

"Not be all for naught," repeated Crazy Hand, amused by the rhyme. "But you know we have other choices, right? Like, we could still send something to—"

"I know we have other choices," said Master Hand with a curt chop of his body. "I have chosen him for a reason. No other potential Decidedly Late Challenger has seen the demand that he has. I have worked too hard and made it too far to give up on him now."

Crazy Hand fell silent. There was no sound, save for the buzz of the lights above.

Master Hand floated closer to the desk. "Fine," he sighed. "You got me. I suppose I have had my heart set on this for quite a while. Since the announcement of the tournament, if I'm being honest. I'll admit, I'll be a bit… disheartened if we don't get—"

Before Crazy Hand could offer any response, the laptop made two small beeps in quick succession, indicating that a message had been delivered. On the screen, an envelope had appeared with a red dot in its corner.

Both hands' breath caught in their throat. Crazy Hand clung to the desk and began to quiver in excitement. "Ooooh, finally! Open it, open it!"

With a shaking finger, Master Hand slowly navigated the mouse to click on the message. It opened to display a few words on the screen.

We've reached an agreement. Please see the attachment for more information. Everything is a go!

- [S]

An image of a circle with two smaller circles atop it was stamped below. A paperclip icon in the contact information signified the attachment.

Crazy Hand whooped and hollered and took off like a rocket, soaring and speeding around the office and nearly knocking priceless artifacts off their shelves. "We got him! We actually got him!"

Master Hand, for his part, was much more subdued in his reaction. He was just as excited as his brother, but was trying to keep a cool head, as it were; torn between reading through the attached files (as he had expected, there were many stipulations that came with the agreement) and trying to keep Crazy Hand from waking up the entire mansion. "Yes, yes, I know—please, brother, I'm happy, too, but—be careful with that!—make an attempt to control yourself—"

Crazy Hand suddenly stopped mid-loop-de-loop and straightened himself out. "Oh, right-right-right! After all, these walls have eaaaaars!" he sang.

The right hand had crouched under the desk and pulled out a small red device that looked vaguely like a printer, with a keyboard and small screen attached to its side. He pushed a few keys, and a large hologram of a star map was projected above. Countless stars stretched across the map, and swirling galaxies drifted almost lazily along.

"Good thing I wrote down this world's coordinates for just such an occasion," mused Master Hand as he tapped on the keyboard to make the input. At once, the star map shifted and adjusted itself to zero in on a specific cluster of stars. A prompt appeared on the screen:

Connection established. Universe Codename HIKARI-2002 located. Send invitation?

Yes

No

"How long have I waited for this moment…?" asked Master Hand aloud. His finger hovered over the keyboard. "This will make quite an exciting finale, don't you think?"

And with an extravagant final flourish, Master Hand pushed the key.

Message sent successfully.

OK

The printer shuddered and shook, and from a slot on its side, a beam of light shot out from the machine and through the open window, disappearing into the night sky. On the hologram, a shooting star streaked across the cosmos, landing squarely in the middle of the cluster and bursting into light.

Master Hand stretched out his fingers and slumped to the floor. "Finally," he sighed. "A weight has finally been lifted off my knuckles."

"Gosh, I'll say!" chirped Crazy Hand. "We're finally done with everything!"

The right hand rotated his wrist either in agreement or to simply let go of built-up tension. No sooner had that finished than he immediately snapped back to attention. "Now, then!" he declared, causing Crazy Hand to mimic his actions. "Down to business! It's time to prepare for one final conference…"

The printer was put away, and both Master and Crazy Hand crouched in front of the laptop. There was still work to be done yet.

To say that the lounge and its occupants were excited on that brisk autumn morning was, for the most part, an understatement. Just twelve days prior, every living being in the mansion had received the long-awaited news: there was to be a special presentation to reveal the final new fighter, much like the one that had been broadcast a month before the tournament's start. It had certainly been a… memorable kick-off.

And from the buzz that spread over the lounge, the finale was looking to be just as grandiose.

"I don't care who it is," drawled Midna as she reclined and supported herself with her hair. "I've heard plenty of rumors flying around, and none of them appeal to me."

Hammer Brother shrugged as he took a seat next to the imp. "I ain't too sure about that. You saw the notice they sent out? 'A celebration to make waves throughout the multiverse'…" He spread his arms out as if he was revealing the name of the newest challenger in lights six feet high. "Pretty sure it's gonna be someone big."

"Has to be," agreed Samurai Goroh, sagging into a chair next to Hammer Brother. "I may not seem like it, but I've kept my finger on the pulse for quite some time now. And y'know? I haven't heard a word ever since they brought in that blonde guy with the trucker hat. Things have been under lock and key." He paused, exhaling deeply and leaning back in his chair. "No way are they gonna play this up the way they're doing if it was some nobody."

Midna rolled her eyes. "You say that, but watch them announce another one of Marth's friends."

Samurai Goroh grunted. "Fair enough." A thought suddenly occurred to the man. "Oh, jeez. Imagine if they end up adding Tin—"

Regardless of to what degree Goroh was joking, the feedback on his suggestion was swift and abrupt. The Hammer Brother picked up a handful of hammers and prepared to throw them, while Midna morphed her hair into an arm to seize Samurai Goroh by the scruff of his neck.

"Don't. Even. Joke about that," growled Midna. "We all agreed not to speak his name out loud."

Samurai Goroh simply nodded, wisely deciding to keep his mouth shut this time. Slowly, Midna lowered him back into his chair, but not before giving him a venomous glare and making the widely understood "I'm watching you" gesture.

On the other side of the room, Lyn was chatting amicably with Bomberman and Starfy. The latter two held soft pretzels in one hand, and little flags printed with the tournament logo in the other. The former, meanwhile, held an almost comically-sized drumstick in her own hand.

"Who do you think it's gonna be?" asked Starfy, taking a bite from his pretzel.

Bomberman examined his own pretzel, stuffed with jalapeno and cheddar cheese. "Ooh, you know who I've heard? That wolf goddess that Ryu fought that one time! She's a pretty popular choice!"

Lyn nodded. "Personally, I'm hoping they'll invite that puzzle solving gentleman. You know, the one with the tall hat?"

Bomberman raised an eyebrow. "Really? Him? What makes you want him so bad? …Uh, not to criticize your choices or anything." Beside him, Starfy chewed his pretzel and stared up at the girl with inquisitive eyes.

Lyn shook her head. "No worries. It's just, there's something about him that really intrigues me." She turned to look into the distance and closed her eyes, deep in thought. "I'll admit, I really want to hear more about his own world. A world where solving puzzles is the path to victory… It just sounds so fantastical. I mean… 'London'. What kind of place name is that?"

She opened her eyes and turned back to her friends. Starfy was staring off into space, while Bomberman was smiling amenably up at her. Her eyes fell on the pretzel the robot was holding, from which a bite had been taken.

…

…A bite?

It was indeed a missing chunk of pretzel. Bomberman kept smiling, his eyes merry and lighting up his otherwise featureless face.

"Ah—"

Bomberman's smile faded. "Huh? You okay, Lyn?"

"I, uh…" Lyn glanced at the wall, hoping that it would perhaps provide a distraction from the unsettling implications that were beginning to worm their way into her brain. When that failed, she turned to the star-shaped creature two chairs away. "Starfy!" she began, a bit too strained. "Who do you think it's going to be?"

Starfy blinked as he swallowed. "Oooh! I want, uh… I want… Oh! I hope it's the guy from Cosmo Land! The one with the big wrench! He had his friends here last time!"

"Oh, right, I remember them," remarked Lyn. "They were one of the first assistants in the program. But they didn't make it this time…"

"Yeah, I've heard of those guys," recalled Bomberman. "I saw some of the tapes from the archives. Wonder why they didn't come back…"

"Maybe they were saving them for now!" said Starfy, bouncing in his seat.

The star-creature's enthusiasm proved quite infectious. Both of his companions looked over at the clock to check the time. Not much time left now. Lyn in particular brought her chair a bit closer to the projector screen.

"Well, see, that's the best part!" said Bomberman. "Who knows who it could be? It could be just about anyone!"

"Waaah!"

"Oh, great."

Waluigi, who had been sitting right behind the trio and had heard every word of their conversation, scooted his own chair closer, close enough for him to lean over Bomberman's seat. He smiled a devious, insincere smile as he rested an arm on the robot's head. "Guessing at who the last fighter is, eh?"

"Yeah!" replied Starfy, almost completely unaware of Lyn and Bomberman's sudden change in mood. "Lyn says it's gonna be the puzzle-solving guy, and Bomberman wants it to be—"

Starfy's explanation was cut short by a derisive guffaw that morphed into a long, patronizing sigh with a countenance and tiny shake of the head to match. "Ha! You really think one of those has-beens is gonna be the last fighter? Gimme a break!"

Lyn's eyes quickly narrowed, while Bomberman let out a long, exaggerated sigh. Starfy, still failing to pick up on his friends' clear annoyance, met Waluigi's contempt with the innocent sincerity of the child he was. "Well, Bomberman said that it could be anyone…"

Once again, Waluigi snorted as he gazed down at the star-creature. "Puh-leeze. You really think this guy—" he flicked Bomberman's antenna for emphasis— "would know anything? Hmph. Losers." He paused, idly twirling his mustache. "…But, in spite of that, Bomb Boy does have a point. It could be anyone. And luckily for you, I know exactly who it's going to be!"

"Really?!" said Starfy, his eyes filling with stars in an instant.

"Really?" reprised Lyn, raising an eyebrow in both disdain and disbelief.

"But of course," confirmed Waluigi, sneer slowly spreading across his face. "I've kept my ear to the ground ever since they invited that noodle girl, and I've narrowed it down to one prime candidate."

Of the three in Waluigi's audience, Starfy was the only one taken in. "Who is it? Who is it? Tellmetellmetellme!" he squealed, practically vibrating in his chair.

"Yes, please do," reiterated Bomberman, trying and failing to get the purple-clad man's arm off his head.

Waluigi's sneer turned into a grin that almost seemed feral, soaking in the attention he was getting. He beckoned them closer (nobody dared) and after a dramatic pause for effect, he almost whispered, "…It's-a me."

"Whaaaat?!" Starfy nearly jumped out of his chair. Several eyes turned to the group. Lyn simply pinched the bridge of her nose, while Bomberman managed to successfully end his tenure as Waluigi's armrest.

"It's true," affirmed Waluigi, his chin up and his chest out. "The hands have finally seen their error in excluding me three times in a row, and I'm all set to take the spotlight at last!"

Starfy's eyes were as wide as dinner plates, while Lyn and Bomberman simultaneously rolled theirs. "But… but how?" asked Starfy once the initial shock had worn off. "How do you know that you're the last fighter?"

"Yes, how?" asked Lyn.

"An excellent question!" began Waluigi, leaning back in his chair. "I'll spare you the recap of how I was unfairly snubbed at the start of the tournament. Waaaah…" His smirk faded into a scowl as he crossed his arms. "Oh, they say, 'everyone is here', but they exclude Waluigi? Bah!" He leaned forward, his grin returning. "But now, the tides have changed. Ask yourself, why would they play this up for all it's worth?"

"Because it's the last fighter," retorted Lyn. "They held a similar event last tournament."

"Exactly!" said Waluigi with a snap of his fingers. "The last fighter. The last hurrah! Remember how Waluigi was robbed and humiliated at the start of the tournament?"

"I thought you said you weren't gonna go over tha—"

"Oh, the indignity!" cried Waluigi suddenly, pressing one hand to his forehead and the other directly in Bomberman's face. "The ignominy! The disgrace! I was robbed! Humiliated! Deprived of my destiny! We all remember the outcry!"

"Yeah, we do," came a voice from the crowd. "Get over it."

"We all remember," repeated Waluigi. "And no doubt it caught the attention of Master Hand. So, naturally, who better to close off the tournament with than the one who deserves it than with me? Me, Waluigi, the perfect bookend! Finally, I'll get my chance to get what I so rightfully deserve! Waluigi is going to be the last Decidedly Late Challenger! Waaa ha ha ha!" He finished his explanation by leaping up onto his chair and laughing loudly for all the lounge to hear.

Bomberman and Lyn could only stare at him dumbfoundedly. Starfy, meanwhile, stared at him with wonder and honest-to-goodness admiration, which was exceedingly rare for Waluigi. At last, Lyn spoke up. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard leave your mouth."

"Yeah, that sounds more like a wild theory than anything," agreed Bomberman. "What makes you so sure it's gonna be you?"

"Geh—waaah?! I just—!" He slapped a hand over his forehead and dragged it down the rest of his face. "Ugh. Fine. Let me explain slowly so losers like you can understand. Waluigi got robbed at the start of the tournament, and now they've realized the error of their ways, so they're adding Waluigi as the last fighter. Got it memorized?"

Hearing Waluigi's theory, some of the eavesdropping assistants had tuned him out to return to their own chatter. Lyn turned back to the screen, with Bomberman and Starfy following suit. "Yeah, sure, whatever," mumbled the robot.

"Bah!" grouched Waluigi. "Just you wait. You ignore me now, but don't come crying to me when it's finally Walui—"

"Shut up! Shutupshutupshutup!" came a voice. "It's starting! Here we go!"

Any and all discussion was silenced as everyone turned to look at the now-black screen. The lights were quickly dimmed as a countdown began. Once it reached the end, the zero faded into a flaming version of the tournament's logo, and an extravagant theme began to play. The logo faded into a series of scenes of many battles over the course of the tournament's run, ending with a scene of several of the veterans battling with a handful of the newcomers on the Battlefield stage. The clip then cut away as the screen filled with colored panels, each containing an image of every fighter included, from Mario up to the humble Piranha Plant.

The lounge erupted into cheers, somewhat muted as the music indicated that this opening wasn't quite finished yet, but no less enthusiastic. Only a few of the assistants remained silent, though there were a couple of groans and eye-rolls as the Piranha Plant's panel flitted past.

The music continued as a boy with dark hair and a mask appeared on the screen, snapping his fingers as a figure surrounded by blue flames appeared behind him. This cut to another boy with long brown hair flinging a fireball, followed by a red bird carrying a bear wearing a backpack. A man in a trucker hat launched Ganondorf away with an explosion, and two people with short grayish-green hair, one wielding a bow and the other carrying an axe, brandished their weapons back-to-back. Min Min came next, followed by a figure made entirely of blocks, then a silver-haired man facing away from the camera and swinging a sword taller than he was. A red-haired girl appeared on the screen before suddenly being replaced by a blonde girl wearing white and turquoise, and finally, a man with scars all over his body and a glowing red eye battering Ryu before launching him away with an uppercut. The scene cut back to the screen filled with panels as yet more joined them, these containing the fighters just shown. But next to the scarred man's panel was one final panel, this one completely white and containing a single question mark. This scene faded back to the flaming logo as the music followed suit.

The lounge was hushed as Master Hand and Crazy Hand appeared on the screen against a dark background. "Welcome, one and all," began Master Hand. "I am Master Hand, host of the Super Smash Brother tournament."

"And I'm Crazy Hand!" announced his twin. "We did it, everyone! We finally reached the end!"

"Yes," chuckled Master Hand. "Yes, we have. At last, we are finally here. The final fighter announcement for the tournament. It has been a long, arduous journey to reach this point. But I believe that we have managed to create something truly worthwhile—something beyond a mere tournament of the greatest warriors in the multiverse. No, this is something much more… extraordinary."

As Master Hand continued on, Waluigi remained laser-focused on the screen, hunched over in his chair and steepling his fingers. He had been right. The hands were really playing this up as the truly, honest-to-goodness final fighter. And he had a pretty good feeling about who it most definitely was.

"Believe us when we say," continued Master Hand, "we are just as excited as you are to see the final competitor."

"This final Decidedly Late Challenger really is a challenger like no other!" agreed Crazy Hand.

Yes, it had to be Waluigi! A slow grin crept up his face. A challenger like no other, eh? Well, there was no one like Waluigi! Clearly, they were tacitly that they had been wrong to snub him while all those other losers took the spotlight! He chanced a glance at the lounge door. Any minute now, someone would walk in to hand him his invitation. At this point, it was almost inevitable.

"But enough words," said Master Hand. "Allow us to at last introduce the final challenger!"

The screen faded to black. Several breaths were held, and chatter faded to background noise. Waluigi gripped his chair. It had to be him. It just had to be. He could practically feel the invitation in his hands. It was finally happening. At last, the coveted spotlight would finally be his! At last, he could finally make that nobody Luigi feel all the humiliation and misery he'd felt for years! At long last, he would finally show Daisy who the real champion was! Then she would see. Then they'd all see! Oh, he could hear them now. Oh, Waluigi, we were wrong to exclude you! We were fools! You're the only one who could make a proper finale! You deserve to be the superstar of—

The sound of Red shushing snapped Waluigi out of his reverie. On the screen, Mario was standing in a black void, approaching a flame on the ground. Clenching a fist in determination, he plunged his hand inside.

It's a tennis racket! thought Waluigi. This is it! This is my big moment!

With all the energy he could muster, Mario threw the flame into the darkness.

At last! It's finally Waluigi time!

The flames dispersed, but not completely. The camera zoomed in on a key detail of the object hidden within, a token of a circle with two smaller circles above.

"…!"

The fire fully dissipated, revealing a large object shaped like a key.

Someone passing outside the lounge, or indeed, roaming anywhere in the Smash Mansion at that moment would have thought that someone had made a fatal mistake in the Blast Box storage. The walls shook, vases on pedestals wobbled precariously on their perches, and a deafening roar sounded through the corridors. Every creature in the mansion, large and small, stood glued to whatever they were watching the conference on in either disbelief and elation. The key had shot a beam of light to create a keyhole-shaped portal. Music, slow and elegant but still triumphant, had commenced as a boy wearing huge yellow shoes and brown hair that seemed to jut out in all directions floated forth from the keyhole. He flew through the darkness as sparkles trailed behind him, his very presence seeming to bring light to the space. Finally, he came to a landing in front of a handful of Smashers, the key floating above. As if waiting for its master, the key flew up and into the boy's hand, who hoisted it over his shoulder and grinned widely.

The camera cut back to Master Hand and Crazy Hand. "You're not imagining things," declared Master Hand. Although his words were neutral, his tone (and his barely contained quivering) betrayed the immense pride and accomplishment he felt. "At long last, Sora is finally here!"

The lounge was physically sound, but emotionally in shambles. Baito had been the first to react, jumping out of his chair and cheering at the top of his lungs before Nikki tackled him in a hug. Beside him, the Sablé Prince had also leapt five feet in the air before giddily dancing on the spot, his royal upbringing forgotten. Rodin let out a triumphant cheer of his own before extending his hand, into which a grouchy-looking Samurai Goroh placed a large stack of coins. Ashley, for her part, raised a single eyebrow in interest but otherwise showed no other reaction, matching with Shadow, who sat behind her, but in a stark contrast to Red, who was on the ground, nearly in tears. Everyone present, be they human, beast, alien, divine, demon, or whatever Color TV-Game 15 could be classified as, felt some kind of reaction to the events that had taken place.

Everyone but one, that is.

One sole man, clad in purple, sat there still staring blankly at the screen. He barely noticed his fellow assistants whooping and cheering over the newest arrival. He barely registered Master Hand talking about how Sora was "fairly difficult" to invite, and how he was the most requested challenger to join the tournament.

The most requested…

An odd feeling made itself known in Waluigi's chest. It was bitter and foul and ugly, the same feeling he'd had when he lost to Luigi in the Star Cup finals, or when he had first learned he would be an Assist Trophy for the third time in a row. Vast, crushing disappointment mixed with sick, sullen anger.

Once again, he had been given the shaft while some nonachiever hogged the spotlight. Once again, all the honor and admiration that was rightfully his was snatched away and given to someone else. Once again, he was stuck as a minor role, a background character, a bit part.

Once again, he was stuck on the sidelines.

Waluigi got up from his chair, heavily and woodenly, like he was being piloted by some outside force. His fists were clenched, knuckles as white as the gloves he wore.

This would not stand.

This would not stand.

With leaden legs, Waluigi stormed out of the lounge with stomps he severely hoped were loud enough to drown out the sounds of jubilation surrounding him. (They were not.) But there was no time to think about those losers, or that stupid kid with his stupid key. He had been cheated out of his prize for far too long, and he was going to get it no matter what.

It was time to file a formal complaint.

Author's Notes: Happy New Year! I swear I'm not late on Sora!

So, Ultimate has drawn to a close. It's been quite a ride, huh? But not everyone is happy with this big finale... I wonder how Wally's gonna take this?

Another thing is, this chapter, or at least its premise, was initially much longer. I had planned for it to feature the events here and subsequent antics surrounding the reveal, but as the chapter grew longer, and after several weeks of not getting anywhere that turned into months, I decided the best course of action would be to split the chapter up into smaller, more digestible parts. Thus, we're left off on what I hope is a satisfactory cliffhanger. I do hope you enjoy this, and what is yet to come regarding this story!

As one last aside, I was flip-flopping on the universe codename up to the very last minute.