Amidst all the hubbub of Sora's participation, the rest of the week passed far too quickly, and before anyone knew it, the day of his arrival, and subsequently, the party, had arrived. Rumors spread like wildfire over when and how he would appear, and as the day went on, and the sun began to tip towards the west, it became clear that he would make his proper debut at the gala.

Standing in front of his bedroom mirror, Spring Man carefully combed the tip of his pompadour into a playful upward-pointing curl. He'd been at this for quite some time now, for a single rebellious hair insisted on straying away to stand out from the rest of its siblings. It was a hard-fought battle, but fighter had triumphed over follicle eventually, and so the hair remained firmly in place. "Finally got that done," he said, tossing aside the comb and stepping back.

Spring Man tended to be humble both on and off the battlefield, but he would've been lying if he said he didn't like what he saw. In the mirror, he saw himself wearing a gray suit that looked dark blue if the light hit it just right, with a white dress shirt and hot pink bowtie to match his mask.

Mercifully, it was linen, and not cotton like the last suit he'd had to wear…

His thoughts were interrupted by a brisk knock at the door. "Oh, Spring Man!" came the Sablé Prince's voice. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, just about!" After a quick last-minute check that his pompadour was still in fine form (it was), Spring Man stepped out the door.

The Sablé Prince, who was waiting patiently outside, had forgone his usual tunic and cape in favor of a rosewood-colored suit with matching tie, and shoes that were polished to a shine. From the way the suit shone, it seemed to be made of silk. Looking at his short stature, Spring Man very nearly called him "cute" before stopping himself. It was then that he noticed that the prince was rather openly giving him a once-over. He suddenly felt very vulnerable.

But the feelings of exposure soon melted away as the Sablé Prince smiled and gave him a small nod. "Well met, Spring Man," he saluted, and gestured with his hand. "After you, then." Spring Man gave him his own nod in return, and off they went.

As they walked, the sounds of music and excited partygoers floated forth from the Grand Hall, growing louder the closer they came. Along the way, they passed by Chrom, flanked by Lucina and both Robins, all of whom chose to wear their regular clothes, and all of whom gave the duo a friendly wave in greeting.

"Uh, Sablé Pri—I mean, uh, Your Majesty," began Spring Man as he cleared his throat. "Have you been to one of these galas before?"

The prince nodded, slowly like he was recalling something. "Oh, yes," he said, his eyes far away. "Every year, all three kingdoms—ah, that's the Custard, Mille-Feuille, and my own Sablé kingdom—" he added, seeing the confusion starting on Spring Man's face, "would join together on the day of the summer solstice. The Sunbeam Festival, it was called. It doubled as both a celebration of summer and a show of solidarity between the three kingdoms. Every year, our parents made us both attend." He smiled a faint, reminiscing smile. "The rascality we'd get into in our youth… I wonder if he's doing alright…"

"Your dad?" asked Spring Man.

"Ah—oh, not my father, no," corrected the Sablé Prince. "I was talking about my friend Richard of the Custard Kingdom. Ehmm… perhaps friend-slash-rival would be a better way of putting it. We still write each other regularly, you know."

"You two must be pretty close, then," remarked Spring Man.

"Hm hm! Unquestionably!" The young prince tossed his head haughtily, but there was a genuine smile there. "Even now, after everything, we're still quite close. Ah, but listen to me rattle on. We're here."

Colorful balloons printed with a three-pointed crown surrounded a set of stately wooden doors, marking the entrance to the gala. Upbeat pop music swelled from within, mixed in with the chatter of the attendees.

Spring Man and the Sablé Prince exchanged a glance. "Shall we?" said the latter.

The spring-armed man grinned widely. "Let's get this party started!" And with a flourish, the two of them pushed open the doors to enter the Grand Hall.

It was as if they had stepped into another world. The chandeliers were the standard lighting in the hall, but on that night, they seemed to glow against the soft white drapes hanging from the windows. On either side of the hall, rows of tables were present, holding up an impressive spread of food and drink, where King Dedede was busy indulging himself (in that moment, Spring Man wondered if Chef Kawasaki wasn't passed out on a couch somewhere). Synthesized music played from speakers above, upbeat and heartening, although there were some Miis holding musical instruments off to the side. In the background, more Miis carrying brass instruments bustled around while yet more snaked between the partygoers, providing refills on drinks and cleaning up discarded napkins. Streamers, long and dazzling, hung from the ceiling, carrying such messages as 'Welcome Sora!' and 'Everyone is Here!'

Spring Man let out a low, appreciative whistle. "I guess Goroh was right. They really are rolling out the red carpet for him."

Their thoughts were quickly dispelled by the approach of Dr. Wright, clad in a pale green blazer, smiling wide and holding a drink. "Spring Man, Sablé Prince! You made it!"

Spring Man's teeth flashed in a grin. "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"Hmm hmm hmm! I don't think any of us would!" He took a sip of his drink, and his expression sobered fairly quickly. "But in all seriousness… you two understand that this is one of the largest galas ever thrown in tournament history, yes?"

They both nodded. "I would assume so," said the Sablé Prince.

"You've seen the flyers, yes? 'Everyone is here'? Which means…" Dr. Wright leaned in, as though divulging classified information. "Everyone is watching us."

Spring Man and the Sablé Prince exchanged a glance. "…And?" asked the former.

Dr. Wright huffed and adjusted his glasses. "What I'm saying is, more eyes are going to be on the Assist Trophy program than ever before. And you know just as well as I that Master Hand likes everything going as smoothly as possible. I know you two probably won't do anything, but… for heaven's sake, don't embarrass me—us."

Unconsciously, both lads stood a little straighter. "We won't," they said in unison.

Dr. Wright brightened, again fairly quickly. "Good! Great! Well, enjoy yourselves!" He abruptly turned on his heel and left, running a hand through his hair and taking another, shakier sip of his drink.

Once he was gone, the Sablé Prince crossed his arms and pouted. "Hmph! Coming to me and telling me to behave myself? After I spent all those agonizing weeks in finishing school?!"

Spring Man just folded his arms behind his head. "Aw, cut him some slack your highness," he sighed, watching the doctor approach Knuckles to give him the same warning. "You've known him for longer than I have, and we both know he's a huge rules guy. Maybe he's just super stressed."

"No kidding," came a voice from behind him.

There was Rodin, in a long black leather jacket over a light gray vest and white dress shirt. His lips were curled upwards in a small smile at seeing Spring Man and the Sablé Prince jump in surprise. "He's been givin' that speech to the rest of us assistants, too. That man just cannot relax… But anyways. Y'all enjoyin' yourselves?" he asked.

"Ah—um," stammered the Sablé Prince, regaining his composure. "We just arrived ourselves. Has Sora…?"

Rodin simply shrugged. "Probably saving him for when things really get started." His smile grew wider, in a way that was only somewhat welcoming. "But hey, if you're looking to pass the time…" He slipped Spring Man a ticket that gleamed silver in the light. "Stop by the Gates of Hell if you can. Gotta fresh batch of Hashimoto sake recently."

"I'm sorry, the what?" asked the Sablé Prince, looking rapidly between Rodin and Spring Man, his eyes wide. "The Gates of where now? Hmm?"

Spring Man stretched an arm to put a comforting hand on the prince's shoulder. "Aw, don't worry about that, Your Highness. It's just a name he gave it to make it sound cool. Right, Rodin?"

Spring Man found himself talking to thin air, for Rodin had already disappeared.

"…I think," muttered Spring Man. "I hope."

Before either of them could say anything further on the matter, their attention was seized by the voice of Tiki calling out to them. "Spring Man! Sablé Prince! Over here!"

She was seated at a round table, wearing a deep burgundy trumpet gown and her green hair worn loose and flowing freely. Beside her, Phosphora, Takamaru, Vince, and Dillon were sipping from drinks and chatting amongst themselves.

Both the prince and the pugilist bounded up to the table. "Oh, hey, Tiki!" called Spring Man.

"Yes, good evening to you, Miss Tiki," echoed the Sablé Prince. "I trust you and your friends are enjoying yourselves?"

Vince briefly paused his conversation with Takamaru to wave at the prince. "Hello, Your Highness! Have you tried the fondue?" He picked up a piece of carrot, dripping with cheese. "Chef Kawasaki really has outdone himself."

The Sablé Prince shook his head. "Ah, good evening, Vince!" He bowed slightly. "We only just arrived ourselves. I haven't had the chance…" He, too, picked up a carrot and after staring at it for a moment, tentatively took a bite.

"Well?" asked Vince.

Spring Man couldn't help the grin creep up his face as he watched the boy's eyes lit up. "I—ahem—" He coughed, having swallowed a rather large piece in his haste. "Gracious! D-delicious!" He reached out to grab yet more carrots, paused, then calmly plucked another off the plate. "Ahem. Yes, quite nice. …Another, perhaps?"

Spring Man chuckled as he turned back to survey the rest of the party. Captain Olimar was off to his left, chatting with Rosalina and Fox McCloud. Lucario was also present, seated at the far end of the room and playing the old grand piano. The tune he played was elegant, but with an underlying sense of menace about it. It sent a chill up the spines of those who stopped to listen.

The door swung open, and in walked Guile, walking like he was trying too hard to be serious, clad in a dark gray suit and his flattop haircut combed and coiffed to be even flatter than it normally appeared. Riki was standing near a table at the far side of the hall, sipping from a glass, having swapped his regular blue and purple jacket for one that was colored black and gold. Banjo and Kazooie were present; the former wearing a black suit jacket and a white dress shirt that clashed with his ever-present yellow shorts, while the latter had simply tied a bow tie around her neck. Luigi and Daisy were by the snack table, the latter feeding the former a cupcake. Ashley, lurking in one of the few unlit corners, had forgone formalwear entirely, wearing her standard red dress and orange neckerchief. Red, meanwhile, had gone in the exact opposite direction, wearing a golden, sparkling tuxedo with matching bowtie, and a skull-shaped pin on his lapel.

What even was the dress code for this party…?

"Never gets old, does it?" came Tiki's voice.

Spring Man blinked, not expecting to be addressed. "Yeah," he sighed, glancing back at the manakete. "This really feels like a once-in-a-lifetime thing, doesn't it?"

"Mmm." Tiki nodded. "It's been three years, but it feels like it's been forever…"

"Ain't that the truth." Spring Man's gaze turned pensive. "In a weird way it's kinda sad, if that makes any sense."

Tiki hummed in thought. "Yes, I can see what you mean. This is the final send-off for the Decidedly Late Challengers. We won't see any new faces after this."

"And it's more than that, too." Spring Man sighed again, more wistfully this time. "Like, they hold this tournament every coupla years, and I heard this one was really hard to put together. So, y'know… who knows if we're all gonna see each other again?"

Tiki was quiet. The question had been lingering on everyone's minds ever since that final conference. Who would return for next time? Would there even be a next time? Once this tournament officially ended, would it be the last time everyone saw each other?

"It is a bit upsetting, yes," began Tiki, her eyes turning towards the floor. "All the fun we've shared, all the connections we've made… But!" She perked up quickly. "Who's to say this is the end? For all we know, they could just as well bring everyone back for next time. And even if they don't… we'll still have the good memories, won't we? It's like they say: 'Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened', you know?"

Spring Man was facing away from Tiki, but she could still tell he was smiling. "Heh. That's exactly what the last Spring Man said when he retired."

Tiki blinked. "The last Spring Man? What do you mean?"

"Oh, yeah, I don't think I ever told you, did I?" Spring Man leaned his head back. "I'm actually the third guy to be Spring Man."

"Really?" Tiki opened her mouth to ask further questions, but was interrupted by a swell of music from the speakers, a lively, upbeat piece that opened with the unmistakable sound of an upright bass, with steady piano notes coming in some seconds later.

Tiki's eyes lit up as she bounced up and down in her seat. "Oooh, I love this song!" Some of the other guests clearly shared the same sentiment, as they were already heading out onto the floor to dance. Tiki got up and extended an arm towards the spring-armed man. "May I have this dance, Spring Man?" she asked, halfway between teasing and pleading.

Spring Man was experienced in many hobbies, such as fighting, training, and eating as much pizza as he could. Dancing, especially in a semi-formal setting, was not one of those things.

"I, uh—" He glanced over at the crowd, at Guile awkwardly stepping in place, and at Kirby hopping, spinning, and swiveling his stubby arms, before finally settling on Tiki's eager grinning face. "Okay."

"Yay!" Before Spring Man knew what was happening, Tiki had seized his hand and begun to drag him out onto the dance floor, extending his arm in the process. "I should tell you," she warned, "I don't have much experience dancing, so bear with me."

The rest of Spring Man's body caught up with his hand. "Well, uh… neither do I," he admitted.

Tiki giggled. "Well! Looks like it'll be a learning experience for both of us, then! Shall we?"

A broad grin stretched across Spring Man's face. As the trumpets began to blare and he took to the floor, he had a pretty good feeling that this would be a night to remember.

"Oh man, oh man, this is gonna be a night to remember!"

Baito rubbed his paws together as he paced back and forth in a waiting room hidden in the back of the Grand Hall. His face was flushed, his ears stood tall and twitching, and his eyes held a certain fire within.

"You're telling me," said Marie, sitting on a velvet couch with her cousin. "Master Hand's been going on and on about this for days. Of course he went all out."

"Nah, but he's gotta point, though," pointed out Callie, who lay down facing the ceiling. "Did you see the lineup they got planned? It's decked out."

"Exactly!" gushed Baito. "Like, holy cow, all of these people are in the same place, together! This is…" He touched his paws to his temples and moved them outwards in a classic "mind blown" gesture. "…Huge!"

Marie propped her head on her left hand. "Isn't that exactly what you said on the first day?"

"…Huh. I did say that, didn't I," muttered Baito. But he regained his excitement almost immediately. "But still! This is huge! This is, like, once-in-a-century type stuff we're—no, once-in-a-lifetime stuff that's happening here! Something like this is probably never gonna happen again! Aren't you excited to be a part of this?"

Before either Inkling could answer, the door opened with a creak. A white dog with thick eyebrows carrying a guitar on his back strolled in, his posture relaxed, and ambling along like he had all the time in the world. He blinked slowly as he took in the scene before him. "Hey, there," he announced, lifting a paw in greeting. "This the waiting room for the big ceremony?"

Baito froze, his eyes wide as dinner plates. "Oh. My. Gosh. It's him."

Callie sat up. "Oh, ship! Is that you, Slider? 'Sup, dog!" She leapt up from the couch to embrace the new arrival. Marie, meanwhile, simply waved genially at him.

"M-M-M—K.K. Slider," breathed Baito. "Really here, in the flesh." His brain caught up to the events playing out in front of him, and he blinked. "W-wait—you two know K.K. Slider?!"

"Sure do!" replied Callie, flashing her beak in a wide grin. "He opened for one of our concerts, remember, Marie?"

"Yeah, I remember that," said Marie. "That was… that was the world tour we went on, right?"

"Nah, you're thinking of the other thing," replied Callie. "The one with the holograms and the laser light shows?"

"Well, I sure do," put in K.K. "When you've been around for dog's years like I have," he winked, "some things you just never forget."

As K.K. and the Squid Sisters caught up on times missed, Baito took a moment to sit in a chair and reflect. How long had it been, since that day he'd gotten that letter? How long since he'd walked through that front door, and nearly passed out upon meeting Mario, the real Super Mario in the flesh, and shaking his hand? It had felt like a dream come true… and three years later, his conviction had not changed in the slightest. He considered himself very lucky indeed to—

The door creaked open once more, interrupting not only Baito's train of thought but the general stream of dialogue in the room. A tall woman with long wavy hair and wearing a dark red pantsuit walked through the doorway. "Excuse me?" she asked. "Is this the right place?"

Baito froze, his eyes wide as dinner plates. He opened his mouth to say yes, she was in the right room, but his words came out less as actual words and more as an odd, airy wheeze.

The tall woman blinked. "Um…"

The rabbit pointed a finger at her, trembling with something that was beginning to form into excitement. "Y-You're…" he breathed.

"Mayor Pauline," she finished, kneeling down to meet the rabbit's eye level. "It's nice to meet you," she greeted, and shook his paw.

Baito stood there, staring at where the mayor had taken his hand. He did not speak. He did not move.

"Uh… Baito, my man?" asked K.K. Slider. "You good?"

"C'mon, Baito, use your words," said Marie.

Regrettably, words failed Baito. He stood there, staring up at Pauline, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He swayed on the spot.

"…Baito?"

Abruptly and with no prior notice, Baito passed out and fell to the ground, his long ears going limp. A blissful smile was etched onto his features.

Pauline gave a small yelp, while K.K. simply quirked an eyebrow. "Great Scott!" cried the former. "Is he gonna be alright?"

"Meh. He'll be fine," shrugged Marie. "He passed out like that when he first met me, too."

Where are you?

The man tapped his foot impatiently in a dark room. He glowered down at his phone. He'd texted him hours ago and he still hadn't responded! Where was he?!

Where are you? Everything's almost ready do you have the fireworks or not?

Still, there was nothing. Not even the three dots that indicated he was typing.

Oh, come on! He impatiently tapped a finger on the big, bulky box next to him. Typical. Just typical. Almost all the pieces of his plan were in place, and the one part he needed was in the hands of someone who was dragging his feet! How was he supposed to claim the spotlight for himself without proper presentation? If and when he got his hands on his accomplice, he'd throttle him.

The display on his phone read 6:15. Okay, so there was still time. But only so much. Pretty soon, the festivities would start, and he'd be left out in the cold again. Again.

But that wouldn't happen this time. Never again.

A gloved hand idly reached up to trace the brim of his fedora. Soon, it would be time.

Very soon, it would be his time.

"Are you always this cranky?"

Shadow the Hedgehog stopped swirling his drink to frown up at the imp before him. "And what does it matter?"

"Dude, it's a party," drawled Midna as she reclined in midair, cup in hand. "Wouldn't kill you to loosen up every once in a while."

Shadow only huffed, staring back into his cup. It was clear and orange in color. He took a tentative sip and grimaced. Far too sweet for his taste.

Midna quirked an eyebrow. "Whatcha drinking?"

The hedgehog glanced over at the cooler. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even considered reading the label. "…Pinap Juice."

"Oooh, tropical!" Midna's gaze traveled to a point behind Shadow, and she let out a low whistle. "Sheesh. Don't look now, Shadow, but I think you got some competition in the brooding department."

Following her gaze, Shadow spied Zero standing by the wall, Z-Saber in one hand and a drink in the other. He stood completely still, holding his glass in a vice grip, and his mouth was a thin line etched on his visage. He looked very much like he wanted to be anywhere else.

Midna let out a low whistle. "Geez. What's got his goat?" She nudged the side of Shadow's head. "You should go talk to him."

Shadow folded his arms. "I'm not here to socialize," he answered, not taking his eyes off Zero.

"You came to a gala and you're not gonna socialize?" Midna gave him a wry look. "Sorry to disappoint you, but you're gonna fraternize with the rest of us whether you like it or not!" Morphing her hair into a hand, she reached out into a small crowd to pluck out a certain echidna and ungracefully plunk him down in front of the hedgehog. "If not with one of us, might as well chat with someone you know!" With a snap of her fingers, she disappeared in a shower of black and yellowish squares, her knavish laughter fading to an echo.

"Y-you—!" Knuckles swatted at the thin air where Midna once was. He sighed an exasperated gusty sigh before glancing at the less-than-impressed hedgehog beside him. "…Shadow."

Shadow rubbed at his brow and regarded the echidna before him. "Knuckles."

The two of them leaned against the wall in unison, unintentionally, as a relative silence settled between them. It wasn't quite leisurely, but it wasn't quite as stiff as it could have been. The music had since faded from a synthesized techno beat to a pirate shanty punctuated by shrill trumpets and thundering percussion. Hearing the opening notes, King K. Rool had leapt onto a table and begun to sing along as only he could; that is, raucously, noisily, and sounding less like a melody and more like a garbage disposal on the fritz.

Knuckles jabbed a thumb at the corpulent crocodile. "Get a load of this guy, huh?" When he received no response, he changed the subject. "So… we're really at the end. The last new guy."

Shadow stared off into the distance. "Yes."

The echidna gave him a look. "What, you're not even a little excited? …Nah, who am I kidding? You're never excited."

Shadow did not respond. His eyes briefly flicked towards Zero.

"C'mon, man, Midna's still watching us, just say something."

"…Something."

Knuckles blinked. He leaned back against the wall, a small grin stretching his muzzle. "Huh. Never thought you actually had a sense of humor."

Shadow gave him a smirk of his own. "Hm. I've picked one up over the years."

Another period of silence followed. The pirate shanty had picked up in tempo, the drums growing more booming and frantic. K. Rool, for his part, had begun a merry jig on the table, which creaked and threatened to buckle under his performance. To the side, a grinning Wario held up his phone to film the moment.

Knuckles opened his mouth to speak. "So when do you think—"

"Hey, bestie!"

"What the—"

"Excuse me—?"

Sonic the Hedgehog was walking—for once—towards the duo, beaming as he raised an arm in greeting. Actually, scratch that, he was sauntering along, shoes squeaking lightly against the hardwood. "Long time no see!"

Shadow rubbed at his brow, while Knuckles gave Sonic an unimpressed glare. "You see us all the time. Like, literally every week or two."

"Yeah, but things have been so busy lately, it's like I never see you guys!" Before either of them could react, Sonic sidled in between them and slung an arm around their shoulders. "It's been way too long, right, besties?"

Shadow's scowl deepened. "We are not 'besties'."

Sonic paused, rubbing his chin in feigned thought. "Rival-y?" he hazarded.

"That's not a thing and you know it."

"Aw, come on, Shad, I'm just messin' with ya!" grinned the blue hedgehog. "You gotta loosen up every once in a while!"

Shadow scoffed. "You're far from the first person to tell me that, Sonic."

"For real, though, it's not healthy to be all business all the time," continued Sonic with a wag of his finger. "You don't wanna end up like Knuckles, do ya?"

"Wh—" Knuckles spluttered. "I am not a stick in the mud!"

Sonic shot him a look. "You literally had Master Hand put a baby monitor near the Master Emerald when you left."

"One: it was not a baby monitor. And two: that's not being a stick in the mud, that's being responsible for once!"

"Aw, you know what I mean," sang Sonic, an almost-but-not-quite irritating timbre to his voice. "But for real, though." He began to walk, dragging his workmates with him. "C'mon, you two. Refreshments are on me tonight!"

"The drinks are free!" retorted Shadow and Knuckles in unison.

Sonic simply laughed as he pointed them towards the Pep Brews imported from Dream Land. The pirate shanty dropped, and so did K. Rool, the table at last giving way under his girth, as Knuckles took a sip of a fizzly, sweet drink. Wario laughed a hearty, bellicose laugh as the massive Kremling continued to sing undeterred. And Zero continued to stand there, aloof and unmoving.

Still nothing. Did he even have his phone on him? Where in the world was he?! Probably pigging out at the snack table, he thought crossly. He tapped at his phone again.

Seriously where are you? I don't know how much time we have!

He waited. And waited. And waited some more.

The phone remained still in his hand.

"Rrrrrgh…" He knew his partner had a tendency to take his time, but this was just ridiculous! At this point, he had half a mind to just go ahead with the plan by himself. Then… then, he'd finally get what he deserved. All the fame, all the attention, all the admiration, would finally belong to him! At last, he'd finally be on center stage, and he'd finally be—

"Er, ah, excuse me?"

…What? Who said that?

"Ah… down here, actually."

The man looked down. Standing there at his feet was a… figure, not more than four inches tall, smartly dressed in a blue top hat and black blazer, and carrying a burgundy umbrella. The person held up an arm in greeting. "Howdy. Mind if I bend your ear for a second?"

The man scowled. "Whaddya want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"It'll be just a minute. If you'll pardon me…" Without warning, and with the grace of a grasshopper, the creature leapt up onto the box to get a closer look at his conversational partner. "What are you doing here in the dark? There's a big party goin' on out there. Aren't you gonna go out there and have some fun?"

The taller man snorted in response. "Pssh. I'm not going to that loser Sora's party. Not yet, anyways."

"Why not?" The smaller being tilted his head. "Sora's a very good friend of mine, you know," he affirmed, puffing out his chest in pride.

"Puh-leeze. That guy's a—" He paused, and his eyes narrowed. "Say… how do you know who Sora is? Who even are you, anyway?"

"Oh, um…" The figure shuffled in place, wringing his umbrella. "Well, uh, technically, I'm not even supposed to be here, actually… but neither are you, I'd bet." He pointed a not-quite accusatory finger up at the man.

The man scowled, sitting on the box. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Ah. That. Just, ah…" The figure thought for a moment. "Just think of me as your conscience."

"My conscience?" The man's lip curled in suspicion.

The figure nodded. "That little voice in your head that tells you what's right and wrong, and that people don't listen to!" He shot the man a knowing look. "And I'll bet you haven't listened to yours in a long while, huh?"

The man groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, great. First my so-called pal isn't answering my calls when I'm on the verge of greatness, and now I'm being lectured at by some pixie thing."

The "pixie thing" did not answer. Instead, he simply sat down on the box, umbrella by his side, and tapped his fingers together. "You're planning something that'll ruin the party for everyone, aren't you?"

The man froze. How did he—?

"Don't ask me how I know," said the small creature, as if reading his thoughts. "I just know."

When his shock had melted away, the man leapt up, pointing a very-much accusatory finger at the smaller figure. "And so what if I am?!" he declared. "I deserve this! A little bug like you would never understand!" His face began to flush with color. "That should be me up there, with all the praise and prestige! That's-a my spotlight, and I don't care how much I have to cheat to get it!" He lifted up a long, lanky leg in a telegraphed threat. "Don't try to stop me or I'll—"

"Oh, I'm not trying to stop you," replied the creature, lightly stepping off the box and drifting down to the ground with his umbrella. "But I'll only say this: from what I can tell, you've been pretty sour about this whole thing. Even from before this, I'd say. All the bad luck you've had, or all the times you've felt slighted, with no light at the end of the tunnel… And all that bitterness and darkness has built up inside of you, and led you to do rotten things."

For some reason, the man felt a chill race up his spine.

The figure hesitated, and gave a small, apologetic smile. "…I'll be honest, I'm technically not your conscience, but I know a thing or two about 'em. And if you started listening to yours, then maybe—just maybe—you wouldn't feel as crabby as you do."

The lanky man gruffly turned away, folding his arms in a pout. "Gimme a break. You sound like a preschool show. If there's one thing I've learned here, it's that sometimes, you gotta cheat to get what you want!"

The only response was the muffled sound of music coming from the Grand Hall.

The man paused, realized what the silence meant, and whirled back around. "And don't try to rat me out either, or I'll—"

The small being had disappeared without a trace.

He stopped, letting his shoulders slacken. After a while, he huffed and pursed his lips. Whatever. He didn't know how that guy got in there, and he didn't care. What mattered was the plan. Everything was set in place… well, almost everything. He still had to wait on his comrade who had better answer in the next half hour—

He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Nothing to do but wait, he supposed. No matter. This was one scheme that couldn't possibly fail. He plucked a rose from somewhere on his person.

The spotlight would be his, no matter what.

Author's Notes: There's a party in the World of Smash, and everyone is invited! But who is that mysterious figure lurking in the shadows? Who could it possibly be?

Hey, next chapter is the twentieth chapter, and the conclusion to this little arc...