(Quick note: Chapters 1 and 2 have been updated. Nothing major; they just look a little better.)
~Universe #64~
Master Hand, while not normally one to gloat about his creations, often found himself marveling over the sheer technological superiority of his latest work. The Main Control Room, where he was currently overseeing the final checks of the systems, buzzed with activity from the numerous Miis working at their stations. Were any of them able to think to touch the floor, the power of their latest computers would be felt humming beneath its metallic surface. Monitors lined the walls, servers filled the corners, and neat rows of computer terminals saturated the floor space. At the center of it all was a custom-built console specifically for Master Hand's use, should he feel the need to take more direct action.
All of these crucial, powerful instruments provided their own contribution towards a veritable symphony of order.
He could only pat himself on the back of the hand for so long. Tearing his gaze of wonderment from his creations, he turned towards Maxwell, who was patiently floating alongside. "Do you have a status report for me?"
Maxwell smiled, taking a moment to push his gold-framed glasses up onto his 'nose'…though he never actually needed to do such a thing. When did he pick up that tick? Master Hand supposed it wasn't important, in the long run. He created them for the sole purpose to emulate humanity; emotions and idle actions were just things that came from exposure to people.
"Everything is coming up a lot more smoothly than it did during last season's development, Sir," Maxwell responded, gaze returning to his tablet as he checked on some of the facts. "The Original Twelve have finished testing out our new combat systems, and are reporting favorable results. The mountains of paperwork you've filled out have finally been approved by that Kharadjai bureau, and the rest of the initial invitations have been sent."
Master Hand sighed as he recalled the red tape that he endured. It felt like a thousand forms per combatant needed to be completed, ranging from liability over the competitor's injuries—despite his systems never allowing for lasting physical trauma of any kind—to liability over the competitor's universe. He also needed to fill out a sheet detailing how a fighter would be able to return home if called upon, and how such an event would impact their place in the roster (It wouldn't). It was all such tedious work, but those people apparently had much, much more experience in handling problems within the Multi-verse.
His fingers curled into a fist and he pivoted his wrist laterally, as if shaking out of his reverie.
"Excellent news, Maxwell." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Every invite was sent? Have there been any responses yet?"
Maxwell shook his head, the blocky blond 'hair' atop his head twitching with the motion not unlike a mold of gelatin. "We're still trying to get the last batches sent out. The Department of Locating Competitors is currently trying to work out some of the logistics. More than likely, any new fighters will need to make their debuts during one of the weekly shows, so we can properly build up their matches for the monthly event following their debut. Personally, I recommend the first show of the month. A handicap may need to be allotted, to make up the difference in victories, or we could just extend the season. Maybe we can get an extra year in, if the sponsors are generous enough."
"As for the invitations, there haven't been any responses, yet," Maxwell continued. "But the systems are showing a 'delivered' status for all sent missives; the last ones were just sent out a few hours ago. The hardest part was getting the invitations out to some of the more…backwater regions these fighters hail from. Did you know there are still some worlds that don't have even the most rudimentary postal system in place? The delivery team had to get creative, but it got the job done…hopefully with minimal destruction to the environments."
Master Hand let out a low, rumbling laugh as he took this in. "The result is what is most important. As long as we get their attention and they wish to join us, I care not how it was achieved. Fortunately, Opening Ceremonies will not be for a few months yet, so everyone should have plenty of time to get acclimated—"
Master Hand was cut off by an insistent beeping emanating from Maxwell's tablet computer, and he watched while his assistant frantically attempted to address the cause. Eventually the Mii looked up and stared across the Control Room. The beeping was syncing with a pulsing red light on a distant monitor at the far end of the room. As Master Hand understood, that particular section of displays was set up to indicate that a corresponding Smasher was in-universe. The pulsing red light then changed to a steady green, to join the twelve green lights already on the display.
"Well, well… Sir, it looks like we already have a new arrival: they're on Platform 15. Can't say I'm surprised they showed up so fast, given last season's…incident." Maxwell looked up expectantly towards Master Hand. "Are you ready to greet them?"
"Of course," Master Hand replied, before snapping his fingers and vanishing from sight.
Popo didn't even have a chance to register their method of travel. One moment they had their hands placed upon the strange Smash Ball, and the other they were standing on a pristine, white platform overlooking a forested vista during…either sunrise or sunset; they would find out in a few minutes. Somewhere behind them, the dull roar of a waterfall was audible, but not to where they would need to shout to converse.
Not that Popo was capable of speech at the moment. The instantaneous nature of their travel had left him quite disoriented, and the sudden spike in temperature left him breathing hard with a runny nose. The heat also made him want to sleep. Maybe he could just…lean on Nana for a bit and—no! He needed to put up a strong front; at least until they got to their room in the Mansion and he could sleep.
Noticing their hands were still extended before them, resting on an object that was no longer there, Popo took Nana's hand in his and smiled. A quick glance away from the (rising, it turned out) sun revealed that theirs was one of many similar platforms circling an enormous natural basin, each with their own sign displaying a number and accompanying symbol. All of the symbols immediately visible to him were recognizable; a stylized mushroom with eyes, three smaller triangles joined at the corners to form a single large one, a circle with the top half colored in…And at the edge of their platform, a purple eggplant with eyes, painted over the number fifteen.
After a few moments—and taking the time to make sure he wasn't dreaming—Popo turned and grabbed Nana by the sides, lifting her up to twirl them around and around. She gave a squeak in surprise, and broke out into giggles as they spun together.
"We made it, Nana!" He shouted, holding her up higher as a wide smile broke out over his round face. Eventually Popo would slow down, lowering Nana for a quick nose-nuzzling. "I can't believe…" He wobbled on his feet for a moment, as the temperature change fully hit him. "...So hot!" He barely had the presence of mind to set her down before plopping down onto his rear, focused on shedding his thick winter clothes. This was their third time here; why did he always forget about the heat!? He barely heard Nana following suit in her own attempt to cool off.
Most of their casual clothing was packed too deep into their overstuffed backpacks, so they settled with tying the arms of their parkas around their waist. They would have to walk around in their undershirts and winter pants until they could unpack. Popo, feeling significantly cooler, wandered over to the railing of their platform and folded his arms over it, Nana mirroring his pose. He suppressed a laugh at Nana's shoulder-length hair, locked in battle with itself. Her waterfall braid was coming unraveled, and the stray follicles couldn't seem to decide if they were sticking up from the static of her parka's removal, or laying flat from the sweat. No doubt his much shorter hair was doing a similar song and dance.
They could only really stand in silence for so long. Fortunately, it was Nana who broke the silence, since Popo just didn't feel like looking for the right words at present. The uncertainty tingeing her voice wasn't something he wanted to hear, though. "Popo…are we, ah, supposed to meet someone here? I remember at least a few Alloys puttering around the last time. But this almost looks…abandoned."
"That's because you two are the absolute first to arrive," a new, sonorous voice boomed from behind the Ice Climbers, startling them. Popo, on instinct, had actually reached for a hammer that wasn't there—it was strapped to the backpack leaning on the railing beside him—as he turned around to face this newcomer.
He somehow managed a calm front when he saw that the voice belonged to none other than Master Hand, floating in the middle of the platform they occupied. "How do you keep sneaking up on people like that?" Popo asked after a rather long beat.
A humming sort of chuckle came from the hand, before he waved dismissively. "Trade secret, I am afraid; I cannot go around ruining the magic of this place, after all. But since you arrived so quickly—" He gestured towards the area behind him, encompassing all that could be seen and more—"Allow me to say welcome back to Universe #64."
"Thank you," Popo began to smile as he spoke, but stopped partway when he caught part of Master Hands little speech. "Wait a second. 'Arrived here so quickly'? The thing said we only had a half-day to get here, and we were not taking our chances on missing out!" Less than five minutes after reuniting with the very creator of this world and its prestigious tournaments, and Popo already found himself raising his voice at him.
Master Hand's reaction was not expected. The two of them fully expected some sort of threatening display, but instead the tournament organizer closed up into a fist, an index finger extended as if trying to insert into a conversation.
"Wait, stop. Stop. A half-day, you say?" At the Ice Climber's synchronized nod, Master Hand's posture reflected the stroking of some invisible chin. If not for the fact that they've seen the eccentric left hand, Crazy, well away from Master quite often, Popo would have thought there was an invisible 'head' that spoke for them. Maybe one day he'll fire an ice chunk up there and find out. Master Hand continued after a moment. "You're certain that you only had twelve hours?"
"Y…Yes." Popo had taken a moment to think back to the display. There were only three sets of numbers for the expiration warning: Hours, minutes, and seconds. When he relayed that information, Master Hand had gathered up into a fist, trembling. Popo was just getting into a defensive position, one hand guiding Nana to stand behind him, when the fist loosened, and Master Hand had resumed a more default posture.
"I…see." The hand said, his tone turning neutral. "Apparently there are some…things that need to be addressed. In the meantime, let us take this to my office. We need to get your setup finalized for the Tournament registration."
Without waiting for an answer, Master Hand snapped his fingers and they all vanished.
Nana's first thought was that she was getting real sick of being teleported around like this. Her second thought wasn't so much a thought as it was a sigh of relief at the air conditioning in the extravagant office of the giant, disembodied hand. As they settled into the chairs before the enormous mahogany desk of Master Hand, she tugged at the collar of her undershirt; an effort to circulate more air over her to cool off.
"First order of business," Master Hand began, "is to start drawing up your contracts. Of course, to do that, I will need my Personal Assistant." Another snap of his fingers summoned a…well, Nana wasn't sure what this creature was. She had seen them in the crowds during the broadcasts, but with time, she was bound to learn.
The strange creature had popped into the room, and was not facing anyone, apparently having been summoned in the middle of a heated conversation.
"—think I care how it gets done? We need the closed-circuit feeds for the western hotels fixed yesterday and—why am I in your office, Sir?" He first turned towards the desk, and then noticed her and Popo in the chairs. "Ah, I see. Number Fifteen: The Ice Climbers. Allow me to be the second one to welcome you back to our realm. I am Maxwell, the first of the Miis created from the Alloys." At their lost expressions, Maxwell added, "Our personalities were sort of…transferred over into new vessels. I believe having more emotive features made us our constant presence more…palatable for visitors."
The Ice Climbers murmured their thanks for the welcoming words, as well as an understanding of the Mii's explanation about his kind. Shortly thereafter, began what Nana always considered to be the absolutely most boring part about their stays in Universe #64: the paperwork. There were a slew of forms presented before them, once their chairs were raised to be level with the fancy desk, which they had to go over. It was a combination of contract papers, liability waivers, and a lot of miscellaneous forms. Dear Sila, all of the signing they had to do… They'd surely have to spend at least an hour icing each other's wrists once all this was done.
Following the tedious paperwork, there was a crash course on the rules of conduct, which covered everything from fighting outside of sanctioned matches (Do not), to threats against staff and tourists (Do not), to vandalism and theft (Also do not). There was also a briefing on how to handle press interviews (Not without staff present to record for their protection/records), and even appearance requests (Meet and greets, autograph sessions, promotional packages, merchandise endorsements). Most curious was the last part, which mentioned a temporary confinement to quarters.
When Popo asked about that, Master Hand was eager to clarify: "Your return to action, among other things, is planned as a big surprise for the audience. You two will have free reign of the non-restricted areas until the tourist seasons begin, then you will be, ah…cordoned off until after opening ceremonies. Then you will have free reign again. Speaking of which—" he snapped his fingers, and some maps appeared on the desk, in addition to an extra piece of paper detailing a loose schedule for the next couple of months.
Maxwell took over the instructions then. "You two will need, within the month, to go meet up with the coordinators at the Primary Arena, which is detailed on the map. You will have to come up with a unique ring entrance, and you will have the following two months to rehearse it and get your timing down. You will also have your entrance theme from the Third Tournament to accompany you."
"I like that theme," Popo laughed, and Nana nodded in agreement.
"We thought so," Maxwell stated, a smile flickering onto his face with a small burst of snowy static. It will definitely take a while for Nana to get used to that.
"The last thing to talk about is the matter of your Currency Cards. You have coins already allotted to your accounts, and you will accrue payouts the usual way. You will also each receive a Meal Card, which will grant you three meals per day, but you can always order more food with your Currency Card. Both types of cards are on the living room table in your lodging. Due to some concerns—and lost keys—during previous Tournaments, we've decided that your touch alone will be enough to open the doors to your home. If you don't mind…" Maxwell held out his tablet computer towards Nana and Popo, and it helpfully prompted them to rest both of their hands, one at a time, on the smooth screen. Once they each performed the task, the Mii consulted the tablet and nodded once, returning his gaze to Master Hand. "Sir?"
"Thank you, Maxwell. You are dismissed." As the Mii began his exit, Master Hand continued, "On your own time, you two will need to stop by our physicians to receive the proper inoculations, as well as log your physical conditions prior to the beginning of the Tournament. Our menu has expanded a great deal since your last attendance, and some people have…delicate digestive systems. This should alleviate a lot of future problems. Do you have any questions?"
Nana found herself immediately standing, which had startled Popo with the sudden movement.
"Yeah, actually; why were we," a gesture to indicate her and Popo, "able to watch the last tournament when we were not invited?"
The second sight of Master Hand being put off-kilter was quite rewarding, but she would have enjoyed it a lot more if his response was…malicious. Like he had orchestrated some grand conspiracy to show that Nana and Popo weren't welcome, and that the Smash Brothers Tournament would chug along just fine without them (even though it really had). His confused demeanor took the wind right out of her sail, and with it, any righteous anger she planned to supplement her words with. Still, her glare remained fixed in place, and she peripherally registered Maxwell's quick return to his superior's side.
Master Hand, sharing a glance—or what Nana thought was a glance—with his assistant, appeared to regain his composure with a small sigh. "I am afraid I do not really have any explanation, because this, and the timeframe you were apparently provided, totals now two unknown oversights that require investigation. And those two oversights may quite suddenly become fourteen. Can you tell me, as well as you can remember, just what happened when the broadcast aired in your region? It would help us narrow things down quite a bit, and then you can go on your way."
Nana, with Popo adding where necessary, launched into a diatribe to relate their story. She began with how the matchup between Mario and Sonic appeared in the aurora borealis, and described the other shows to their best recollection up to the very last broadcast. Maxwell appeared to be taking diligent notes throughout the explanation. Eventually the two climbers talked themselves out, and they were permitted to leave. Master Hand felt the need to 'compensate' them with additional coins on their Currency Cards, despite protests stating that they really just wanted the problem solved. Nana waited until well after they had exited the Administration Building before confiding in her partner.
"Think they'll really do anything?" she asked, when she was sure no one was listening in.
Popo lightly scratched his cheek as he thought, before nodding. "Master Hand has always been kind of a control freak. If anything shakes his vision of order up, he's going to definitely want to smooth that sorta crap out. I just hope if he does, he'll let us know." A sigh escaped his lips, and he held up his map. "C'mon, I've had enough drama for today. Let's get situated in our room and I can take that nap I've needed since, like, yesterday."
Nana smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm tired of lugging this backpack around. Let's head on over."
Popo didn't need the map to navigate the two of them from the Admin Building to the fabled Smash Mansion; they had pulled a great many pranks and capers over the last couple of tournaments that they were often sent to Master Hand's office, and then confined to quarters as punishment. After so many of these visits, the Ice Climbers could have been blindfolded, spun around in a centrifuge, and still be able to sprint back and forth between the structures. They weren't even the only ones in and out of the office so often; Ness, Toon Link, and sometimes even Lucas were seen high-fiving or fist-bumping Nana and Popo as they waited their turns to be scolded. The years since his last visit here did nothing to diminish his desire to cause more (mostly) harmless mayhem for the grown-ups.
The Mansion itself loomed over them on their approach, its classical architecture a stark contrast to the rest of the very modern structures. The climbers were never quite able to grasp or appreciate the aesthetics of the building as much as Ness, Lucas,or even Snake seemed to. To Nana and Popo, it was just another large, fancy building they called their second home.
A deluge of memories flooded into his mind as they entered the Mansion, Popo paused just inside the large double doors to take in the lobby. It looked like a few renovations had taken place while they were gone. One wall was dominated by a large, marbled desk that had a few Miis floating behind it. The weird beings appeared to be setting up some sort of equipment behind the desk. More were out in the lobby proper, operating floor buffers, standing on ladders to dust off the chandeliers, or doing some other sort of sprucing up activity. Popo paid them no mind, he and Nana heading straight for the grand staircase that would lead them towards the first floor of the Smasher lodgings.
"Hey!" a voice bellowed from behind them. "Where do you two think you're going!?"
Popo froze, wondering if this was all some kind of trick being played on them. When no one jumped out to yell 'GOTCHA', he slowly turned around to face the source of the voice. It was one of the Mii workers, and…she (?)...had an indignant expression on her face. Popo was not going to be intimidated though, not with his much-needed rest on the line. His hands clenched into fists and a defiant look creased his features into a tired glower.
"Uh, we're going to our room. We're supposed to be here." Popo managed to keep his temper down, in spite of the sleep deprivation urging him to behave otherwise. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nana's look of concern. Normally he would provide her some sort of comforting glance, but he dare not take his eyes off of this new, sudden opponent.
"No one is 'supposed' to be here," the Mii stated after a pregnant pause, placing her hands on what he figured to be her hips. "The tourist season isn't starting for another couple months at least, and no reservations have been made. How did you two even get here!?" Her expression flickered again, this time settling somewhere between shock and rage.
Now, Popo had never considered the two of them to be super-important in the grand scheme of the Smashers. The previous rosters had an intergalactic bounty hunter, a goddess, reincarnations of a powerful hero, royalty, and many others fighting for the entertainment of untold numbers of fans. By contrast, the Ice Climbers led a relatively mundane life, but they did earn their place among this pantheon of fighters. For this Mii to think them to be some lost tourists, though…well, Popo was just plain insulted.
"We were invited by Master Hand to compete here again," he bit out, teeth bared. "We are going to our lodgings, so if you don't mind…"
The Mii's expression changed so quickly, it may as well have been the look she had the whole time; Popo recoiled quite noticeably at the instant transition from angry to cordial.
"Oh, you're Smashers! I do wish you'd started off with that, and I apologize for my behavior." She pressed her hands together in front of her torso, and bowed her head briefly. "However, you're still in the wrong area."
Popo's temper had all but completely boiled over when the Mii continued, her expression shifting over towards one of scrutiny. "I recognize the two of you now; you're the Ice Climbers, aren't you?" She continued without further prompting from Popo; Nana must have nodded instead. "That makes sense, you've been out of the loop since the third tournament."
The Mii pressed on "To keep it simple, Master Hand decided, somewhere between the third and fourth seasons, that the Smash Mansion was no longer a viable option. The logistics behind the maintenance of the building, as well as the idea of keeping heroes and their adversaries under one roof, were not sound. Sometime after he tailored suites for the upcoming fighters, he ultimately made the choice to convert this place into a super-exclusive resort, and house the Smashers in custom standalone homes. Did Master Hand…not inform you of this?"
That question brought Popo up short. Master Hand didn't really have the chance to bring it up; their grievances likely overrode a few key points of the meeting, and while he was certainly powerful, he wasn't omniscient. There were many factors, and Popo was too tired and on-the-spot to think of any.
"I see. Well, thank you for clearing it up. We'll get out of your, uh, hair, and see ourselves out," Nana had interjected, before Popo could say anything. It was probably for the best, as a protracted discussion would further delay their plans. His plans, anyway. Popo clenched his jaw shut, and stiffly motioned for Nana to follow him back out of the lobby. Once outside, he dug the map of the area out from his pocket.
"Thanks, Nana. I was about to say something I would have really regretted." He then started to scrutinize the map's features. "Okay, so everything's spread out a lot more since we've been gone. It looks like the Housing District is…hold on," Popo looked over the sides and corners of the map. Sighing when he couldn't find a compass on the map, Popo turned and faced the Mansion to get his bearings. "It looks like it's to the…northeast, if this thing is at all accurate. Up in…those hills." He pointed in the direction, after consulting the sun's position for verification. "Looks like a bit of a hike, but we should be able to manage. Let's go."
This map had no distance legend, and thusly had no sense of scale. At all. An hour after they departed the grounds of the Smash Mansion—no, Smash Resort—Popo began to lament not asking the Mii if they could get a ride of some kind to the Housing District. The idea just never occurred to him, and they were both paying the price for it. Some leader he was. At least the paved road they were walking along was the right direction.
Good thing that transportation would be provided for their matches, indicated in the notes of their schedule. If some fighters were made to walk that distance, even just to get some provisions, there was sure to be a riot.
His thoughts were interrupted when a number of low buildings, set behind a tall wrought-iron fence, began to appear at the end of their path. Instinctively, Popo broke out into a jog, his crampons clacking along the concrete. Nana's footsteps were heard picking up the pace as they ran forward to their goal.
Again, the heat caught up with them as they reached the open gate of the Housing District. Popo leaned against a stone column, and Nana was seated on the ground with her back pressed to the other. Both of them were panting heavily and repeatedly wiping sweat from their faces.
"Popo…please…stop...making us run…" Nana's voice rasped out, her head lolling back to rest against the column supporting her back. "We could… we could have just walked. The dang house isn't going anywhere…" Her words were scolding in nature, but her voice had notes of amusement strewn throughout.
"I…I know. I think I'm just eager to get…settled in," Popo wheezed out, one hand resting over his pounding heart. Straightening up, he looked in at the fenced-in gathering of homes. The plots of land, despite the houses on them varying wildly in size, were in neat rows. The result was that some Smashers would have much larger yards than others, but with so much to do, it wasn't very likely to matter in the long run; who knew how much time would actually be spent in their residences?
A half hour crept by as they wound down from their impromptu cardio workout, swigs of water downed from the canteens they packed before they left their world. A companionable silence fell over them as they began to wander through the 'neighborhood' of homes to try finding theirs. As they walked, they took turns pointing at some of the first houses and tried to guess at who was living there; the houses seemed to be built to reflect the aesthetics of the world their occupant hailed from. Eventually the same sorts of signage they'd seen at their arrival point started to show up on the lawns, probably to direct the new arrivals such as themselves. Nana quickly spotted their place, and was quick to call out to Popo while he was examining a miniaturized castle in the lot next to theirs.
"Popo! Over here!"
He raised his head to look, and a smile came over his face. A modestly-sized, two-story log cabin was placed on the back half of the lot. The property looked like it was maintained with care, but the fact that it was nestled in the middle of the homes, instead of at the end, raised some questions. His ruminations were short-lived, however, as he ambled up to the porch where Nana was patiently waiting for him. He was pleased to see there was only one door. Next to the doorknob was a metal panel that looked incredibly out of place, but the outline of a hand on its smooth surface quickly dispelled its mystery.
Eagerly, Popo slapped his palm onto the panel and was immediately rewarded with the click of a lock being disengaged. "After you, Nana," he said, gesturing for her to open the door. Nana's hand hovered over the doorknob for a long beat before she turned to him with a sly smirk.
"I appreciate your sense of chivalry, my Dear," Nana began, shrugging off her backpack. "But I think you need one more challenge before I let you sleep." She closed the already short distance between them, resting her forehead to his. His heart began to pound again, and he couldn't help shifting his eyes to look towards the street they came from; physical displays in public he hadn't quite gotten the hang of, even though everyone in the village—and maybe some of their peers in Smash—already knew of their involvement.
"A-and that is…?"
"I want you to carry me in." The small giggle that punctuated her request was more than enough to make Popo's face glow red. He hadn't realized that she undid the straps of his backpack until it thumped onto the porch, the sound from it landing on the wooden surface as loud in his mind as one of Snakes incendiaries. Still, he smiled and his eyes set in a determined manner, and he scooped Nana easily into his arms.
She laughed the whole way, lightly kicking her legs as they crossed the threshold together.
The sight that greeted them was…familiar, but not too familiar. He couldn't really put a word to the feeling.
As Popo gently set Nana down, he simply…stared. Everything had hints of home, from the curtains and shutters to the chairs and couch near one corner. Between those sat a low table, and from where he stood, Popo could see the cards that Master Hand was talking about earlier. A doorway opened into a modest kitchen, with the appropriate fixtures such as a sink, an oven with a stovetop, some nice granite countertops, and their old refrigerator from when they still lived in the Smash Mansion. If not for a microwave oven, the granite, and the lights set in cylindrical recesses in the ceiling, Popo would have thought the feast hall kitchen was scaled down to fit in their duplex back in Murasat.
Speaking of their Murasat home…
Popo was pleased to see that this place wasn't divided up into two separate sections. Not that their room in the Mansion was like that, but they spent a long time being told to live somewhat apart; to be out from under that command was…liberating.
Popo eventually ascended the sturdy stairway to the second floor of the residence, and only saw a few rooms. There was a large bathroom with all sorts of amenities that he never even thought of. The wooden flooring was lacquered heavily—to prevent water damage, he surmised—and there were bath mats all over the place. In front of the large bathtub/shower combination, one in front of the toilet, and a long one in front of a large counter that had two sinks set into the white marbled surface. The mirror on the wall of the sinks ran the entire length of the counter. Popo tried the light switches, and found the gradual increase in light levels pleasing. A late-night trip wouldn't sear his eyes with sudden, blinding beams.
He looked forward to them having their own bathroom. The ones in the Mansion were communal affairs, and when you shared facilities with Wario… Well, Popo didn't have to think about that anymore.
His foray into one of the other rooms was rather underwhelming. Barely larger than the bathroom, one end was dominated by the computer he remembered fumbling with during the other two tournaments; he only knew enough to receive the messages and sort through them. It wouldn't hurt to learn, but they just never got around to it. There were two chairs, and a small couch was resting along one wall. A brief examination showed it was a pull-out bed too. Maybe they could have sleepovers like they did in the past…
Popo's musings were disrupted when he heard Nana's voice drifting from the bedroom.
"Son of a…Popo, take a look at this!"
"Coming!" he called back, wondering just what made her sound so strange. She was leaning against the door frame, which forced him to sidle around her to see what the fuss was about.
Well, there was his answer.
The décor of the bedroom, innocuous in design, brought back his previous blush, and a slew of questions along with it. There was two of everything that he could see, for the most part. Two wardrobes, two racks for their mallets, two nightstands, two lamps on said nightstands, two pairs of slippers on the floor, two low tables lining the walls, and two pillows.
Two pillows that were neatly placed upon the one large bed in the center of the room.
Popo gulped loudly. Okay, so maybe they fooled less people than they'd thought, but Popo remembered Master Hand at one point trying to forbid romantic involvement among the Smashers…did he give up on that, or was Popo misremembering? He shook his head, and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. Yeah, there were a lot of times where they slept in one another's arms, but most of those times were for survival purposes. They were imparting body heat to one another, and were separated by layers of winter clothing for the duration.
"You know, Popo," Nana began, her hand lightly rubbing at his shoulder. "We spent so much time planning out how to bring up taking down the duplex wall to Harasen, and we get nervous just by looking at a single bed." Her hand was trembling on his shoulder now, and he happily placed his own shaking appendage over hers.
"Hey, if anything, we have plenty of time to get used to this. Worst-case, I can always take the couch for a bit…" Popo began to laugh, but was cut short when he found himself forcibly turned around, to face a mock-glare from Nana.
"Nope!" she began with cheerful gusto. "Practice starts right now. We're tired from walking all day and smelly from sweating all day. We will take a couple of showers, and then we will sleep until we feel like moving around again." She wrinkled her nose playfully. "As the current Lead Climber, you get to go first. So…get goin', Stinky!"
"Yes, Ma'am!" Popo sketched a quick salute and smiled, before running off to do as Nana commanded.
He was fast to scamper down the stairs, and retrieve their backpacks from the front porch. The least he could do, he figured, was bring them up to the bedroom so maybe Nana could unpack hers while he cleaned up. Rummaging through his backpack for some clean clothes, Popo would absentmindedly respond to Nana's discoveries in the main living room; a fireplace that appeared to not need wood, and a large television that was recessed behind a panel of some kind. He recalled there being a lot of downtime when they were last here. Those amenities would probably see a lot of use, but that would remain to be seen.
Suitable sleep clothes in hand, Popo returned to the spacious bathroom. It didn't take long to actually wash himself off; the real time-waster in the whole affair was remembering how to operate a shower. The push-button shower back in the Mansion was a simple operation, but one had to keep holding the button down because the water only ran for like 15 seconds at a time. This setup was a lot different, with the knobs and the thing to pull up to divert the water and an apparently removable showerhead. But he ultimately finished his ablutions, dried off with one of the provided fluffy towels, and redressed in his sleepwear.
Popo suddenly felt drained and so, so heavy. He didn't even remember calling out to Nana, to let her know the shower was free, before he found himself in the bedroom once more. The mountain was conquered, and his goal lay before him. He should have waited for Nana, but the siren's song of the pillow was far too strong, and he didn't even register sliding beneath the covers; one moment he was standing, and the other his head was descending towards the pillow.
When sleep claimed him, Popo completely forgot about his misgivings with the sleeping arrangements.
Author's Notes: (09/12/2019) Man, this was a big one for me. I thought maybe I could get this split into two chapters, but none of the scene breaks felt right to end it on. Hopefully I can tone down some of the more melodramatic parts now that they've arrived and Popo finally gets his sleep (I really relate to that, these days, but I hope I don't make it an overarching theme). Once again, I'd like to give thanks for the views and reviews, and the favs/follows!
I also need to figure out pacing issues, if the second wave of fighters is to make it into this story...