You Haven't Changed
Patronize (vb): 1) To be a customer of; 2) to treat condescendingly, haughtily or coolly
-from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, 11th ed. (2004)
Strong trigger warning for violence, bullying, and a bit of blood at the end.
Somehow, Kirby managed to endure his first day as a bottom-tier fighter, knowing that at least some of the fighters, especially Luigi, hadn't jumped on the bandwagon of mocking him. In his young mind, he wanted to believe that this was only temporary. Of course, Luigi knew better, but he was also holding out for everyone to remember what happened in 1999 and snap out of it. He made sure to show up at all of Kirby's matches, just as Kirby had shown up for all of his matches two years earlier, sending out as much encouragement and optimism as he could for the puffball to absorb. It did little to help; Kirby still lost badly. He only won one of his scheduled matches, and that one was against Pichu. But the Star Warrior was grateful for Luigi's presence, as his words and soft embraces eased the pain somewhat. He only wished Pikachu would forget about his Skull Bash's similarities to Luigi's Green Missile for one second and give him some much-needed comfort.
Mercifully, the day came to an end. Kirby ate his dinner, tended to his toilette and went to bed, praying that this pointless hatred would have run its course tomorrow.
...
His prayer wasn't answered.
Kirby awoke in good spirits, only to have those spirits dashed the moment he entered the cafeteria. Snickers greeted him, and Fox and Falco looked at him in disdain. Pikachu grinned at him as if nothing was wrong, and some Wireframes gave him pitying looks. Scowling, Kirby snatched up a tray and served himself, piling up a plate of fluffy blueberry pancakes and drenching them in butter and syrup. After getting some napkins and utensils, he puffed over in search of someplace to sit.
Pausing at Fox's table, he cheerfully asked, "Poyo?"
Fox wrinkled his nose at Kirby. "Get away from me, you low-tier j—off," he spat.
"Yeah," Marth suddenly chimed in. "This table's reserved for real Smashers."
Kirby's eyes stung. "Poyo…" he whimpered.
"Hey, buddy, take your blubbering somewhere else," sneered Falco. "It's not helping us, and it's not gonna help you."
Hurriedly, Kirby puffed away, soft laughter following him.
"Filthy casual," Fox scoffed after him.
Sitting across from them, Luigi grew hot with anger. This was the same Fox who, two years ago, stood in this cafeteria and told everyone he was sorry and had learned his lesson. Evidently, he hadn't. He clenched his fist so tightly that the utensil he was holding—a metal utensil, to boot—was squeezed out of shape.
"Luigi…" Mario cautioned next to him, sensing his brother's heat and seeing his face redden.
Luigi whipped his head around and harpooned Fox with a stare powerful enough to fry him where he sat. Unfortunately, the vulpine didn't notice, as he was laughing with his friends instead. Then, Luigi's eyes went to Kirby, a despaired look on his face as he puffed aimlessly about the room. He knew he had to take action.
"Kirby?" the plumber called. "Wanna sit over here?"
Kirby's face lit up. "Poyo!" he cried, puffing over to Luigi's table.
Dutifully, the occupants made room for the little fluffball, who plunked himself down beside the man in green.
"Poyo," he said in thanks.
"You're welcome," beamed Luigi before turning around to fix Fox with a look that screamed, "So there."
Kirby dug into his pancakes, quickly getting sticky syrup all around his mouth. "Poyo, poyo," he grumbled with his mouth full.
"Kirby, just ignore him, all right?" said Luigi. "He's—he's in his own little world. Maybe he conveniently forgot how that attitude made others feel…"
"Bro," Mario broke in. "Maybe you should heed your own advice. Don't give him what he wants."
"He's right," added Peach. "If we don't react to his shenanigans, then he'll get bored and hopefully take the hint that they're not amusing."
"A lot of good that did," mumbled Luigi.
"L, engaging Fox won't do anything," Zelda said wisely. "It'll give him incentive to attack you, and you'll also get in trouble with Master Hand. And with Crazy Hand in the mix, Nayru knows what'll happen if you break the rules."
"I know about what happened with you and Falcon in the lounge," Peach added softly. "As satisfying as it must've been, and as much as I would've loved to watch, that was the wrong move."
"He attacked me," said Luigi.
Captain Falcon hung his head.
"He was drunk, he called me a name, and then he tried to punch me. I was sick and tired of his [bleep] and decided to fight back."
Kirby shot Falcon a venomous stare. "Poyo, poyo, poy!" he said angrily. Turning his stare on Fox, he added, "Poyo, poyo, poyo, poyo poyoyo poyoy popoyo poyo!"
Everyone blanched.
"Language, Kirby!" Peach admonished.
"Goodness, do you kiss Tiff with that mouth?" gasped Link.
Luigi rubbed Kirby's back comfortingly. "Look, Kirby, I felt that way toward them, too," he said, "but Peach is right. Maybe brawling with Falcon wasn't the best course of action. And Zelda—she also makes a good point. I shouldn't engage with Fox, because that's what he wants."
"And besides, Kirby doesn't need you acting like that," Zelda went on. "He needs your love. And that goes for the rest of you."
"What, so I'm supposed to let Mr. High-n-Mighty McCloud beat on me?" Young Link suddenly broke in.
"No, no, no. If he physically attacks you, then you have a right to defend yourself," Zelda said patiently. "All I'm saying is, Fox and the upper-tiers want to feel big, and reacting to whatever slight they commit on you gives them fuel. If we ignore them, then they won't feel big anymore."
"Or maybe they'll just move on to someone else," huffed Nana.
"Probably," said Popo.
"I know from experience that they're not gonna stop," said Ness. "Fox and Falcon were pulling their pranks on me—until I introduced them to my baseball bat."
Falcon visibly winced at the memory.
"But that was also because we stuck together," Luigi told him. "Link, DK, Samus, you and I—we didn't fall apart because we were there for each other. What Peach and Zelda are trying to say is—we need to be there for Kirby now. And we can't do that if we're acting on some selfish pride, are we?"
"No," Douglas finally spoke up. "We're not. And—can we not talk about the past? It happened. I did those things. And for the life of me, I can't undo them. I hurt a lot of people, and I'm trying to make it right."
Samus laid her hand over his. "Rome wasn't built in a day," she said softly, "and neither will this. Redemption and forgiveness aren't instant; they take time to achieve. And the things you did—the words you said—really hurt them." Her voice dropped to a painful whisper. "They really hurt me."
The racer knew exactly what she was referring to.
"Douglas, are you serious about this?" asked Luigi.
"Yes," Falcon said softly.
"Then work with us," implored Luigi. "Kirby needs as many people as possible in his corner. Will you be one of them?"
"Absolutely," said Falcon.
"Thank you, Cap'n," Ness said gently. "We really appreciate that."
Kirby smiled, his mouth full of pancakes. "Poy!" he chirped. This wouldn't be so bad, after all!
"Kirby, you may be a low-tier, but you're far from trash," said Falcon. "I've read about the monsters you've defeated. You stood up to a king, for goodness sake! A king! And you single-handedly prevented a famine from getting out of control! No matter what those bullies tell you, remember that you're the freaking Star Warrior, the Hero of Dreamland! And I know you'll find your groove again!"
Kirby blushed. "Poyo," he said.
"And don't worry," added Falcon. "I'll have a talk with Fox about his behavior. We're really tight now, and I know he'll listen to me."
"He doesn't listen to anyone anymore," huffed Link. "He thinks he so much better than us because he has his own tier."
The Captain shrugged. "Worth a try," he said.
"Hey, Kirby?"
Everyone looked up to see Marth, standing there with a tall, tall frosted over glass of milk.
Kirby's eyes narrowed. "Poyo?"
"Yeah, what do you want, Marth?" Luigi demanded of the bluenette.
Marth's face bore a disarming expression. "I just thought I'd bring little Kirby here some milk to wash down those pancakes," he said sweetly.
Luigi's face softened, as did Kirby's.
"That's very thoughtful of you, Marth," said Luigi. "Thank you."
"Poyo…" Kirby said dreamily as he imagined the feeling of the milk pouring down his gullet.
"Anything for a fellow Smasher," Marth said craftily as he slowly lowered the glass of milk toward Kirby.
Their guards lowered, nobody at the table saw Marth's smile morph into a smirk as he held the glass right over Kirby's head. And then, he made his move.
"Whoops!" he cried out as he tipped the glass over, dumping its contents onto the pink puff.
"Poy!" spluttered Kirby.
Everyone except the occupants of Kirby's table burst into laughter.
"Yeah? How about that?" guffawed Marth.
Kirby's round body turned beet red. "Poyo…" he squeaked.
"Hey, suck it up, Kirby!" laughed Marth. "That's all you're ever good for, anyway!"
More laughter.
Seeing Kirby's humiliated face, Luigi lost it. "Son of a…" he snarled, lunging toward Marth.
"Luigi, don't!" cautioned Mario, barely managing to restrain his baby bro.
"Ooh, better put a leash on that puppy," chortled Marth.
"Vaffanculo!" screamed Luigi, struggling against Mario's grip.
Peach blushed. She'd never heard Luigi say such words before.
"Marth, that was rude!" scolded Zelda. "Apologize to Kirby, immediately!"
"Or what? You'll sic Elf Boy on me?" snickered Marth.
Peach gave Marth a death glare as she sought to calm her friend, seeing magic swirl threateningly around her hands.
"Hey, Kirbs! Here's one for the road!" Koopa piped up, tossing his own milk at Kirby. Kirby screamed as the white beverage splattered onto him.
Still holding Luigi, Mario seethed. "Mamma F—er," he growled at his arch-nemesis.
"Try not to drown in it," sniggered Ganondorf as he, too, dumped his milk on Kirby.
"Why don't you have your cake and eat it, too!" SPLAT! Someone hurled their pancakes at Kirby.
"Stop it! Now!" yelled Luigi.
Nobody listened to him. All manner of breakfast foods, milk and juices began exploding over Kirby and the occupants of his table. Thinking fast, Luigi, Mario, Peach, Zelda, the Ice Climbers and Link attempted to shield Kirby with their own bodies, but it was no use. Along with the projectiles came jeers, mocking laughter and insults.
"Pudgy runt!"
"Since all you do is stuff your face, here you go!"
"Eat this, you pink ball of puke!"
"Loser!"
"Low-tier piece of [bleep]!"
"Filthy casual!"
"Filthy casual!"
"Filthy casual!"
"FILTHY CASUAL!"
"Let's go, Kirby," Luigi said tightly as he and his friends hastened Kirby toward the exit.
Wireframes desperately tried to restore order as lunch-goers continued to lob food and drinks at the retreating group. One Wireframe spoke urgently into a walkie-talkie.
"Oh, Kirby!" Fox sang out, striding toward the puffball, holding something under a cloth napkin.
Luigi and his companions stood protectively in front of Kirby, but the vulpine casually brushed them off as if they were mere flies and whipped off the cloth to reveal—a cup of coffee.
"A little something to perk you up!" giggled Fox.
"Don't you dare!" snapped Luigi, leaping forward to stop him.
He was too late.
Grinning sadistically, Fox spilled the hot beverage onto Kirby. The Star Warrior recoiled in shame and agony, shrieking as the coffee scorched his delicate skin. And worst of all, Fox leaned forward, as if to breathe in Kirby's suffering.
The lunch-goers, excluding Luigi and friends, cackled, whooped and cheered.
"Way to go, Fox!"
"That's a sure way to get him fired up!"
"Stop your screeching, Kirbs! Take it like a man!"
"Just like a little [bleep] to wail at a little heat!"
"You call yourself a warrior?! Get outta here!"
"Why don't you go back to eating cake?!"
"Why don't you go back where you came from?!"
Kirby's remaining supporters did their best to clean him up, but the damage was done. The pink fluffball was now a sobbing, trembling wreck in Luigi's arms.
The green-clad plumber glowered at the relentless lunch-goers. Just you wait till we're on the battlefield, you idiots, he thought.
"ENOUGH!" boomed a voice.
Everyone turned. Master Hand had arrived on the scene, and he didn't look happy.
"All of you who had a part in this, in my office! NOW!"
Obediently, the lunch-goers abandoned their food and slunk out after the Hand of Creation.
"Poyo?" Kirby softly uttered.
Luigi sighed heavily. "I hope he does something about this," he said, "I really hope he does something."
…
"What on Earth gave you the reason or the right to treat Kirby like that?!" Master Hand practically roared.
"Master Hand, with all due respect, we didn't intend to hurt him," said Marth. "It was all in fun."
MH bristled. "What did you say?"
Marth cleared his throat. "It—was all in fun, Master Hand."
"Don't give me that b.s.!" snapped MH. "Don't tell me that you considered the display I walked in on was something you considered fun! There's more to this than that, isn't there?"
Shifty glances were exchanged.
"Well…" said Ganondorf.
"It's that tier list, isn't it?"
No answer. The culprits looked guiltily at the floor. And glowering down at them, MH got his answer.
"Master Hand, if I may…" began Fox.
"No, you may not, Fox McCloud, because not only have you demonstrated that you didn't learn anything from last time, you have also set a poor example for your teammates at Star Fox." Master Hand said evenly. "Both you and Falco are hereby ordered to appear before the Lylat Disciplinary Council first thing tomorrow morning. The rest of you are on probation for a week, effective immediately."
Groans.
"Hey!" objected Falco. "I had no part in this! I just…"
"Yes, you did, Falco," MH cut him off, still in that dangerously even tone. "You were laughing and calling Kirby names. You did nothing to interfere."
"Aw, man! This sucks!" snapped Fox. "You can't punish me! I'm at the top of the pyramid!"
"Fox, I'm surprised at you," said MH. "You should know that your placement on the tier list doesn't entitle you to anything. Your actions triggered this tournament's zero tolerance policy, and you will be disciplined for it, as any other Smasher."
"Look, MH, you can't coddle Kirby just because he's the baby of the bunch," said Falco.
"Falco's right. Melee is a whole different ballgame," said Fox. "You sink or you swim. There's no middle ground. And if Kirby flails and sinks, then that's his problem."
MH shook his head. "I no longer wish to hear anymore on this subject," he said tightly. "All of you owe Kirby an apology and will spend the rest of the day thinking about what you've done. You are dismissed."
Sullenly, Fox, Falco, Marth and the others marched out of the office.
…
"Probation? After what they did to him, they only get probation?!" Luigi was beside himself.
"I am positive that they'll learn something from this," MH said gently. "Besides, if I suspend them this early in the tournament, I'll come off as too harsh. I'm dancing along a fine line here."
"Poyo! Poyo, poyo poyoyo poyo!" Kirby said vehemently.
"Language," admonished Luigi as MH bristled.
"Kirby, I'm sorry about what happened," said MH. "The display in the cafeteria was reprehensible, demonstrated bad character and violated Melee's code of conduct. I'm sure the Lylat Council will deal with Fox and Falco accordingly. But I must deal with offenders using equal parts compassion and force. If I'm too forceful, they can convince the higher-ups that I'm running this tournament like Neidermeyer."
"Poyo…?"
Luigi cracked a small smile. "I understood that reference," he said.
"Uh—okay," said MH. "Then I hope you understand that less people will want to join the tournament if people compare it to boot camp."
"Yeah, I do," said Luigi, "because that's how manipulative they are."
"Luigi…"
"You went easy on Fox and Falcon in '99. Look how great that turned out." In a softer tone, Luigi continued, "I endured the same harassment for being at the bottom of that list, but I'm a grown man. Kirby—he's young, he's innocent. He's just a baby. He doesn't understand why people are treating him like this all of a sudden. I'm trying to help him, but—it's a lot for his mind to wrap around. It's like—it's like they took something from him this morning—they ripped his innocence away from him, and they enjoyed every second of it."
Kirby nodded. "Poyo—poyo popoyo poyoy poy poyo," he said shakily.
"I get that you feel violated, but please, understand that there's only so much I can do," MH said with a heavy sigh. "The best course of action, in my opinion, is to ignore them and fight your best. I believe in you, Kirby, and I know you'll get through this."
Luigi and Kirby exchanged a look.
"Well—thanks, Master Hand," Luigi said finally. "See you round."
Hand-in-hand, he and Kirby exited MH's office.
…
Everyone thought that the dressing-down Master Hand gave Kirby's tormentors would sober them up and get them to finally lay off. They were horribly mistaken.
If anything, they only got worse. Instead of learning their lesson, they just held Kirby responsible for being on probation. All Fox and Falco cared about was that their stellar record was now stained. Contrary to MH's hopes, they all just started in on Kirby when his back was turned, threatening him to keep quiet or else.
Kirby didn't win a single match that morning. He tried to stay focused and tried to keep memories of what happened at breakfast from distracting him. But it was no use. Spectators relentlessly tossed insults and dirty hand gestures at him, which became Maxim Tomatoes, hot dogs and trash. There was also that phrase—"filthy casual"—piercing him like a thousand knives. Wireframe ushers escorted offenders out of the arena and banned them for a week, but they were quickly replaced by new offenders. By the time lunch rolled around, Kirby was frazzled, traumatized, confused and bruised. He purchased a cake from the commissary, locked himself in his room, and ate it.
He spent the entire lunch break in his room.
…
Luigi also took his lunch to-go, marching straight to his room and slamming the door after him. He set his meal on the table, booted up his computer and signed into his email account. After quickly reading through the emails he received, he began to compose an especially important one to an old friend.
Dear Sir Meta Knight,
I hope this email finds you well. As you know, the second Super Smash Bros tournament is underway. Unfortunately, it has been unkind to Kirby, as the heavy nerfs applied to him have cast him to the very bottom of the tier list. His heroic deeds have been all but forgotten as people have harassed him, called him names and utterly humiliated him as he tried to fight his matches. I'm doing what I can to support him, as are the rest of my friends, but I fear that it may not be enough. Please, contact me ASAP.
Sincerely,
Luigi Mario
Luigi smiled as he hit "Send". Help was on the way.
…
After lunch, Kirby managed to rally a little bit, but alas, it only made his detractors loathe him more. When he faced Fox, the vulpine's attitude nearly made both him and Luigi, who was watching from the stands, lose their [bleep]! Luigi gripped the armrests of his seat to keep himself from exploding as he watched Fox exploit Kirby's disadvantages, preen for the crowd, shoot off demeaning comments about his opponent's fighting style and deliberately provoke him into charging blindly. Luigi heard a high-pitched girl's voice cursing Fox out, and he knew that Tiff shared his anger.
Tuff and a few ushers had to hold Tiff back when Fox won, her enraged cries drowned out by cheers for the top-tier Smasher.
"Go to Hell, you b—d!" she yelled, shaking her fist at Fox.
As Fox gloated, Luigi rose from his chair and sought out Kirby.
In the showers, he heard him, crying hard, the sound of his sobs mingling with the running water. Luigi felt absolutely helpless. He wanted to go in there and dry Kirby's tears, but at the same time, he understood that he needed some space right now. Hopefully, Meta had replied to his email by now.
Setting his jaw, Luigi steamrolled toward Fox's room and rapped on the door.
"Yeah?" asked Fox.
"Fox, we need to talk," he said. "Now."
Grumbling. Then, Fox opened the door, a glass of champagne in his hand. "Hey, Luigi," he said, grinning an easy grin.
"Don't 'Hey, Luigi' me," snapped the man in green.
Fox blinked. "What's wrong, L?"
"You know good and d—n well what's wrong," Luigi said as calmly as he could. "Ever since that tier list came up, you've acted like you've owned the place."
"I can't help it Luigi," whined Fox. "It feels good to be at the top. And man, I have notched some good victories so far."
"See? This is what I'm talking about. This is the same attitude you displayed in the first tournament," said Luigi. "You and Falcon were Mr. Big Stuff, and everyone else was beneath you. Can't you see how much you're hurting Kirby?"
Fox took a sip of champagne. "Hey, c'mon—we were just fooling around…"
"Just fooling around? You made him cry." Luigi was trying his best not to raise his voice. "You violated him. You humiliated him and made him feel like dirt because—what? He's the worst fighter in Melee? That doesn't give you an excuse to torture him."
"With all due respect, Luigi, this isn't playtime. This is a fighting tournament," said Fox, "and Kirby needs to get his head into the grown-up world. Nobody's gonna hold his hand in here. My friends and I—we just wanna give him some tough love."
"That's what you call this? 'Tough love'?" Luigi asked in disbelief.
Fox shrugged. "Times have changed, L. And if Kirbs can't handle it, then that's his problem."
"Listen very closely, Fox," Luigi said in a shaky voice. "You may have done these horrible things to me two years ago, but by God, I'm not gonna let you do them to Kirby."
"'Horrible'? No," said Fox. "Toughening? Yes. Be honest with me, are you better off now than you were in 1999?"
"I've improved because I practiced and muddled through your b.s.," Luigi said sharply. "You actually think you're helping Kirby 'toughen up'? You're wrong."
Fox sipped some more of his champagne. "L, I get that you and Kirby are good friends, but let me give you some advice—step back. It's time for that fluffball to man up."
Luigi shook his head. "You haven't changed," he gasped. "You're the same old Fox I dealt with two years ago, snubbing and looking down on the lower tiers. I just—I can't talk to you right now." He turned on his heel and stormed out before he could do something he'd regret.
"Yeah, see ya!" sneered Fox. "Don't let the door hit you in the…"
SLAM!
…
"You've got mail."
Luigi had never reacted to that message so swiftly. He dashed over to his computer, opened his inbox and read Meta Knight's reply.
Dear Luigi,
Buenos tardes, amigo, como estas? Tiff told me what happened this afternoon, and I'm just as appalled as she. It appears that the lessons learned in 1999 have been forgotten or deliberately disregarded. I can't imagine to think about Kirby at the mercy of these sadists. On that note, I am thankful that you reached out to me regarding this matter.
So far, you are on the right course, giving Kirby much-needed advice and refusing to give in to foolish pride in spite of your own improvement. But I think there are times where the best course of action is to just let him be. It is true that you're trying to protect him, but sadly, you can't protect him from everything. Your comfort and encouragement may not be enough and can feel overpowering at times. If you give him space, then he can clear his head; he'll talk to you when he's ready. I know for a fact that he doesn't deserve this, especially since he maintained his humility when he was considered the second-best fighter in 1999.
Below, you will find my contact information. Please, keep me updated on this heart-wrenching situation. Tell Kirby that I'm praying for him.
Sincerely,
Sir Meta Knight
Luigi scribbled Meta's phone number and email address onto a Post-It note and slipped it into a pocket in his overalls. Feeling slightly better, he headed over to the Training Room to pound on a Sandbag or spar with a Wireframe. He hoped he'd catch Fox there; the Training Room would be an excellent place to really give the vulpine a piece of his mind.
Unfortunately, Fox was still in his room, and he'd invited Falco over, the two of them emptying wine bottles and grumbling over being dragged before some disciplinary council tomorrow. Luigi rolled his eyes as he listened in. Maybe this would teach them not to patronize their fellow Smashers!
By the time he arrived in the Training Room, Luigi's blood was once again boiling. He popped in a CD, stripped off his shirt and unleashed his aggression on the first Sandbag he saw, the incident that morning and Kirby's match against Fox playing over and over and over in his head.
You haven't changed…
…
Later that night, Kirby studied his tear-stained face in the mirror. Today had been far worse than yesterday, and it was taking its toll. The once-confident, carefree puffball was turning into a shaken, frightened young child who now doubted his abilities as a protector—and a Smasher. And it was all thanks to that tier list.
"Useless."
"Pathetic."
"Baby."
"Filthy casual."
Was he really those things? Were his days as a bona-fide Smasher numbered? What had caused his performance and his tier placement to drastically decline? Was he truly worthy of being Dreamland's defender?
Kirby remembered that he always assumed the worst over Dreamland's ruler. Pretty understandable, given that said ruler had stolen all of his dominion's food supply. But then that blue penguin had broken the Star Rod, and it had turned out to be a good thing, since Kirby repairing it landed it into the hands of the being known as Nightmare. Since that incident, an on-and-off truce existed between the two, eating sweets together one minute, the King siccing monsters on Kirby the next. But if Kirby couldn't trust Dreamland's sole monarch, then how could he serve Dreamland?
"Ha. Look at that wannabe."
"Loser."
"Weakling."
"Pitiful, low-tier trash."
"Filthy casual."
"Filthy casual."
"Filthy casual."
"POYO!" Kirby screamed angrily, sending a stubby arm into the mirror. Punching it over and over and watching his image distort and split into fragments of itself. Fragments—that's what he was becoming. Fragments falling apart and praying for something—someone—to piece them back together.
Kirby pounded the mirror until he could no longer ignore the burning pain shooting up his arm. He pulled it away to see that it was covered in blood, blood staining the now-destroyed mirror and dripping eerily onto the floor like crimson tears. Instinctively, Kirby put the appendage into his mouth, soothing the agony and tasting the sweet-metal blood. With his free appendage, he wiped the blood from what used to be a mirror, and then he bandaged his injured appendage.
A jagged shard of glass caught his eye.
Delicately, Kirby scooped it up and stared intently at it. Something warped and pink stared back at him. He should keep this shard. There could be some healing power in this shard. He could do many things with this shard.
He smiled.
Then, he floated over to his nightstand and placed the shard in the topmost drawer. After putting up a new mirror and cleaning up the rest of the glass, Kirby turned off his lights and slipped into bed, silent tears rolling down his face and sending him off to sleep.
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