Innocence Lost?

It begins again...

It was lunchtime. Wireframes were the cafeteria helpers, serving up the day's lunch special to Smashers in need of nourishment. They sat with friends, chatting about this and that while noshing on their food. Still blissfully unaware of the new tier list.

"…and then he asks, 'What do they feed you Mario Bros, anyway? Gullible soup?' If it weren't for the situation, then I would've laughed aloud! I mean, what kind of insult is that?" Luigi was saying. "I was nearly petrified, but at the same time, I was so fired up—then he pulled me onto the roof and got into that suit. Sucking up the spiked balls and launching them back at him was improvisation, really—but at least it helped me realize that it was just a suit. Otherwise, it would've been Game Over for…" He trailed off and cleared his throat. "During that battle, he did things. He spewed fire. He threw those spikey balls. He sucked me into his mouth and sliced me with his fangs. He punched me and slashed with his claws. But I kept on fighting. By the time I finally managed to suck him in, I was nearly dead on my feet. It didn't matter when I saw him in front of me, dizzy and shaken but alive. In his arms, I felt so safe—so safe…"

Luigi gazed at his listeners. It had been weeks since the adventure, but the adrenaline still flowed. Along with the fact that he'd beaten his worst fear and proved to God and everyone that he was somebody. But there was the downside of the adventures—the nightmares of what had transpired and what would've transpired if not for his intervention. Thanks to frequent appointments with Dr. Toadley and talking it over with trusted ones, the nightmares and flashbacks were abating.

The Smashers gazed back at him, digesting his story. This man was the ultimate brother! Constantly shelved in favor of the elder, but refusing to give in to jealousy! Ghosts made his skin crawl, but he still faced hordes of them for the sake of his sibling's well-being! Would any other brother be willing to do that? Probably not.

"You sure showed them," crowed Fox.

"I did," replied Luigi, looking him dead in the eye. Fox caught the unsaid message, I sure showed you and Falcon, too. While talking about the adventure and gesturing, the vulpine felt like most of the story was directed at him and his racer friend. And perhaps it was. Two years ago, he'd thought low of Luigi. Falcon had thought of him as "the last-place loser" and a n—b. And the King of all Boos had considered him laughable. And yes, he'd been unnerved in the beginning, but his strength and courage grew and grew and grew. Mario's voice in his head, encouraging him. And so, he sweated and bruised and bled and fought—and won. Later, those pent-up feelings were released via tears and laughter. He'd make the trek all over again—heck, he'd make the trek twenty times over—just to be in Mario's arms. His strong, red-sleeved arms—

"Poyo!"

Luigi shifted his gaze to Kirby, gripping the table and hanging on to his every word.

"That's right, Kirby. I did it. I set my mind to it, I poured my heart and body and soul into it, and no matter how scary it got, I just kept going. For Mario."

"Poyo, poyo, poyo poy," said Kirby.

"You knew I could do it? Aw, thanks, Kirbs," blushed Luigi.

"Poy popoyo poyo, poyo."

"I'm happy you always believed in me. Even during that." He fired a quick look at Falcon and Fox.

"Poyo—poyo poyoyo poy poyo, poyo popoyo," entreated Kirby. The puffball didn't want the past to complicate Luigi's relationships. Melee was a clean slate, and everyone was starting fresh.

"I know, but it still breaks my heart that they'd about-face like that just days into the tournament," explained Luigi. Though he'd forgiven—or was on his way to forgiving—Fox and Falcon for what when down in '99, he could never forget it. By telling them about his haunted mansion exploits, he wanted to remind them that they'd been wrong about him.

"Trust us, L—we've seen the light," said Fox with an easy smile.

"Yeah! Way to show those spooks your moves!" laughed Falcon.

"And if anyone has been fed gullible soup, then it's us," conceded Fox. "We love you, Luigi."

Luigi nodded crispy, still not letting them off so easily. "I know," he told them.

"Poyo, poyo poyoy?" asked Kirby.

"Of course I think you can do something like that," nodded Luigi. "You're small and light, but also capable. You've defended your homeland. You've buffeted all of us in Smash. If someone you loved was held in a haunted mansion, then I know you'll save them."

Kirby smiled. "Poy," he said.

"What are you thinking about, Kirby?" asked Luigi.

"Poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo poy poyoyo popoyo poy poyo," murmured Kirby. "Poyo, poyo, poyo, poy. Poyoyo poy popoyo poyo, poyo."

"Kirby—listen to me. I've had moments of low self-esteem, too. But I think you've fought well so far. Maybe you're a little rusty when it comes to Smash, but I'm confident that when things pick up, you'll fall right back into pace."

"Poyo," said Kirby, but he was still worried. He didn't do as well as he'd hoped in Melee's first battles—and lost several consecutive matches lately. His losses started to exceed his victories, another cause for concern. This was more than just being rusty after two years, the Star Warrior was sure of it.

"I know you lost some key matches, but a lot of other returnees have, too," Luigi went on, as if reading Kirby's thoughts. "You can't give up this early in the game. You'll feel the urge to, but you can't. And don't worry. I've got your back. And your other friends won't turn their backs on you."

Kirby puffed across the table and into Luigi's arms. "Poy," he said gratefully.

"Of course, Kirbs," smiled Luigi, kissing the top of the fluffball's head.

Across the room, a throat cleared.

The Smashers turned to see Crazy Hand floating outside the cafeteria entrance. "Uh, hey, you guys," he said. "In case you're interested, the new tier list is up."

Kirby turned light green. "Poyo…"

"Is—is that what you're worried about?" asked Luigi, trying to mask his own unease.

"Poyo, poyo poy poyoyo poyo," Kirby whispered into Luigi's ear.

Luigi just held him, because he had nothing to say.

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Just minutes after Crazy Hand's announcement, the 26 Smashers were crowded in front of the bulletin board, zeroing in on the new tier list.

It had a sleeker look compared with the first one. Instead of 2D drawings, there were photographs denoting each fighter, and above each photograph was a number from 1 to 26. A purple background replaced the simple white one. Once again, the list ran vertical. And once again, the Smashers jostled and crammed, eager to see their spot. The twelve veterans, especially, were eager to see whether or not their rankings had improved.

As index fingers or appendages quickly pinpointed the Smashers' placements, shouts of joy, awe, disbelief, anguish and grief filled the room as they reacted to their new rankings. Hugs, high-fives and sighs were exchanged. And in the case of several—

"No way!" hollered Fox, staring goggle-eyed at the piece of paper before him. "I'm really the best of the best this time?! I—I have a tier all to myself?" He thought for sure his placement had dropped, considering—

"And I'm second!" added Falco. "Not bad for a first-timer."

Fox playfully swatted Falco on the back. "Not bad at all, my man! Way to show 'em!"

"Well, I guess we're the cream of the crop now, huh?"

"You guess? You're darn right we're the cream of the crop! Look out, world!" whooped Fox.

The two Star Fox representatives did a chest-bump and began carrying on, tuning out the Smashers around them.

"Wow," mused Falcon when his finger found his tier slot. "Fourth. I guess I'm still pretty good."

"Yeah, Douglas, old pal! You're still with the big boys!" Fox threw his arms around him and gave him a noogie.

"And it looks like you're the top dog," nodded Falcon. "I'm happy for you. Just remember…"

"Yeah, yeah—there's nothing to worry about," laughed Fox. "I'm the best, baby! Wooo!"

Yet Falcon couldn't help but worry. Fox was starting to fall back into the same behavior which nearly cost him his burgeoning friendships two years prior.

"Puff," mused Jiggs, who was right next to Falcon, in fifth place. "Better than being in the middle, I admit…"

As Nana and Popo happily swung each other around, Peach regarded her tier slot with a coy smile, Mario at her elbow. "Look at that," she breathed.

"Yeah," added Mario. "I could never be prouder of you, Peachy."

"That turtle should be worried now," stated Peach. "Very worried." Her eyes swung down toward Mario's ranking, the first spot in the D tier. He'd gone from a mid-tier in 1999 to a low-tier fighter. Peach had seen her love's brow furrow when he saw this. She, too, was upset, but you couldn't get everything you wanted, right?

"Hey," she said.

"Hmm?"

"Don't take it so hard. You're still the all-around, the unofficial spokesperson," she said. "You're still my people's protector."

Mario smiled. "Thanks, Princess. Wanna go out tonight and celebrate, just the two of us?"

"Sure."

Samus nodded at her tier spot before looking at Falcon. "We've both moved up," she said.

"Yeah. Looks that way," said Falcon, kissing her cheek. "You sure showed them, Sam."

"I did, but—remember what happened last time," cautioned Sam.

Douglas dropped his eyes. "I know. I really messed up."

Sam tilted his chin up. "But you learned," she assured him. The racer saw forgiveness in the Space Warrior's eyes. Glancing in Fox's direction, she added, "I'd keep an eye on him, though."

The vulpine was putting on a big song-and-dance with Falco, much to the consternation of several Smashers.

"Whatever lesson he's learned, he conveniently forgot," grumbled Sam.

"It's just a phase," said Falcon, but deep down, he knew—

"This makes no sense!" balked Zelda. "How can I be in two places at once?" While she was in the second-to-last tier, Sheik, the "other her", was in the S-tier. "What in Nayru's name is this?"

Inside her consciousness, Sheik shrugged. "I guess I have more advantages, being a ninja and all."

"Oh, stop it," groaned Zelda.

Nobody even paid attention to Koopa, Ganondorf and Mewtwo ranting and having conniptions over being cast into the low-tier, despite their awesome might.

Meanwhile, Luigi and Kirby hung back, both quite wary over gazing upon that list. The former remembered what had happened two years ago, how so many people turned their backs on him. How two Smashers harassed him, belittled him, called him names and tied his shoelaces together, among other things. How the audience booed and splattered him with Maxim tomatoes and other foodstuffs, even when he won. How Jigglypuff had lent him the black marker which became the avenue for his malevolence toward that piece of paper. How…

The latter was off to a sluggish start in Melee. Sure, he didn't let his second-place ranking the first time around get to his head, but here, he didn't feel as good about his performance so far. He'd lost many key matches, including a few exhibition bouts, and he heard the crowd's titters and snickers, smelling blood and waiting to pounce. Also, he'd racked up more defeats than victories lately. Kirby felt his bottomless gut twist at the mere thought of it. He tried to talk to Pikachu about it, but the electric mouse seemed a little—distant—from him lately, strangely fixated on a certain plumber's side-special and how closely it resembled his Skull Bash—

"Well, here goes," said Luigi. "You ready, Kirby?"

"Poyo," Kirby replied, a little uncertainly.

The two Smashers blended into the crowd for a glimpse at the tier list.

Luigi saw his ranking first. And he couldn't believe it. His efforts had truly paid off. Now, he was a decent mid-tier, in 13th place. It was probably because of his wavedash. Or his new side special. Or his overall tenacity. Or—

A heart wrenching "POYOOOOO!" caught his attention.

Kirby stood there staring, aghast, at the tier list and where they'd put him. And when Luigi took a closer glance at that thing to investigate, his heart went into a tailspin.

For there, on the piece of paper before him, Kirby's worst fears were confirmed.

Last place.

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