Under most circumstances, Maxwell didn't mind attending meetings with Master Hand. It was a simple task of activating his recording functions and silently floating in the corner until the conclusion while he monitored the resort systems. The nature of this meeting, however, left him apprehensive.
Through one lens of his gold-framed glasses, he was observing the last of today's matches. Like the previous night's matches featuring the newcomers and returning veterans, it featured two teams of three with only a single elimination allowed for each participant. The only difference here was who comprised the opposing teams. The competitors of this match were King K. Rool, Isabelle, and Incineroar for Team Newcomers, while Team Veterans consisted of Young Link, Pichu, and the Ice Climbers.
Those last competitors, as expected, were the focus of the video conference call that Master Hand was currently suffering through.
"Consider your cooperation in this matter a blessing," A human male in a tailored suit with short dark hair was saying from the monitor. "Reticence or delays would have my superiors mobilizing to shut you down."
The man, Daniel Gennaro, was a regular contact/thorn in Master Hand's side during the setup of the past three tournaments. A knowledgeable attorney, he was the single thread that linked his organization, the Multiversal Protection Agency, with Super Smash Brothers. The moment last night's incident occurred, Maxwell immediately knew there was going to be a lengthy conversation with this man.
"The safety of my Smashers is of the utmost importance," Master Hand stated, slowly tapping his index finger on the mahogany surface of his desk. Mid-tap, the finger stretched out to drag a sheet of paper closer. "What happened last night was an oversight, not the negligence that this…complaint suggests." He flicked the paper away.
Gennaro frowned and shook his head.
"This isn't the time to argue semantics, Hand," He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "You've assured us that your 'rigorously-tested systems'—your quote, by the way—were in place for maximum protection. And then what happens? Someone nearly dies on the very first match of the season. Do you have any idea how bad that makes you look right now?"
Master Hand floated off of his desk and hovered in front of the monitor. After a second, he lowered himself to 'walk' on the floor using his index and middle fingers. It took a great deal of discipline for Maxwell to maintain a neutral expression; it had been years since Master Hand carried himself in such a manner.
After a minute of silently pacing back and forth, Master Hand finally spoke again.
"We are well aware of the impact this can have on our organization's image, and we are ready to issue the necessary statements in case news outlets put out anything covering what happened. As far as the attending audience was concerned, we have yet to hear anything negative about the match." The glove ceased pacing to dramatically 'point' at the monitor with his thumb. "However, I find the phrase 'nearly dies' to be quite an exaggeration."
A flat expression and an arched eyebrow was Gennaro's only response to the gesture. "Then perhaps you can tell me what really happened then." He reached off-camera and a blinking light flashed to indicate that the recording function was turned on.
There was no attempt to hide Master Hand's impatience. "Did your people even read the report submitted by our medical staff, or did they merely skim over it? The good doctor Thaddeus was very thorough in his account of the incident."
"Our organization requires a statement from you as well," Gennaro said simply, folding his hands atop the desk. "The sooner you give it, the sooner I stop taking up your time."
Though his face remained an impassive mask, Maxwell was frantically searching for anything he could do to aid his creator in this cross-examination. Out of all probable solutions in the database, only seventy-four options were at all viable, and even those still required verbal intervention to provide information. Uncertain of how Gennaro would respond to such an interruption, he chose to stay put and continue recording.
"Very well," Master Hand replied curtly. He curled his thumb back to join the other three fingers while he stiffly resumed pacing. "Of the systems we have in place for Smasher safety, our most important feature is the combination of nanites we issue to our competitors along with their mandatory inoculations. The first type of these little machines is strictly for maintenance purposes; keeping the body functioning, regulated, and healed. The second type is a reactive machine that resides in surface-level skin cells; they harden the flesh in anticipation of incoming attacks."
"However," he pressed on after a significant pause. "A tail strike from Fighter 65, Ridley, was somehow able to quite literally pierce through these defenses to impale Fighter 15-A, Popo. Although the wound was instantaneously healed on the surface, the internal nanites were left scrambling to repair the massive damage. Our medical staff quickly noticed the dropping vital signs and remotely triggered an emergency injection of Vita-Serum via his wrist-mount in order to buy the nanites time to finish the task."
Master Hand ceased his two-finger walking to hover once more. He snapped his fingers and two video feeds—one showing the pertinent footage from last night's match and the other showing the current bout in progress—appeared on Gennaro's end of the communication.
"As you can see on your left, the subject performed just fine after he had gotten up from that devastating attack. And the window on the right shows he is performing at that same peak today. To prevent a repeat of last night, we have rolled out an upgrade for all nanites passing through our fields with much higher damage tolerances and a significantly increased mending speed. This will not happen again."
The attorney paid almost no mind to the live feed, only sparing it occasional glances while focusing the bulk of his attention on the pre-recorded footage. After a few loops of the video, he'd lifted a hand from his desk which disappeared somewhere beneath the monitor's field of vision. For the next couple of minutes, the footage would rewind, zoom in, replay, pause, rewind again, resume playing, and finally zoom back out. Gennaro blew out a sigh and once again leaned back in his chair. He looked at the live feed for a few seconds and finally turned towards Master Hand.
"Your statement on the incident is certainly corroborated by the video you've provided me," he began with an air of cautious optimism. "I will submit the video and your recorded statements to my superiors for further review." He reached off-camera for a moment, and a few sheets of paper printed out of a machine on Master Hand's desk as he continued. "I'm also formally requesting samples of these nanites—as well as one of the wrist-mounts—for our experts to go over. Preferably one loaded with this serum you've mentioned."
Master Hand closed into a loose fist and bobbed in a stiff nod. It was stiff for a disembodied glove, anyway.
"Very well, Mr. Gennaro ," he said in a slightly strained voice. "You can expect to have the parcel on your desk by either tomorrow morning or the morning after, then."
"Wonderful! As I said earlier, your cooperation is a blessing that could help sway my peoples' opinion of the situation. If I need anything else, I'll be sure to contact you again as soon as I can."
With a professional smile, Gennaro reached off-camera and the cut the call's feed. At least the call was short, considering the situation that warranted it.
Master Hand hovered in silence for a few seconds, before floating backwards to slump over the top of his desk. Maxwell activated his tablet computer and waited patiently while Master Hand rapidly drummed his fingertips. Once the match's video feed appeared on his handheld, the display in his glasses winked out. The match was down to Incineroar and Isabelle, who were keeping the Ice Climbers penned back-to-back in the center of the ring.
The giant glove groaned, pulling Maxwell's attention back towards the desk.
"That was the last thing I wanted to happen," he muttered, closing into a fist and lightly pounding on the desk as though he were knocking on a horizontal door. "That technology was supposed to stay here, not in the hands of some grubby little 'expert'—" he reared up enough to do air-quotes with his index and middle fingers before slumping onto the desk once more. "—who could reverse-engineer it for whatever purposes they can sell it for."
"Sir, you and I have both seen the level of technology that the M.P.A. boasts," Maxwell said patiently, toggling the display on his handheld. The video feed of the match was halved to make room for Popo's vital signs, transmitted via his wrist-mount. Apart from a higher pulse—for a rather obvious reason—everything was reporting as normal. "While we're incredibly advanced ourselves, their stuff easily outclasses the best we've got. They'll probably just check to make sure everything functions and leave it at that."
Master Hand said nothing and switched to a loud, irregular drumming of his fingers. Maxwell simply shrugged, floated over to the desk, snatched up the paperwork, and quickly scanned over it.
"A simple enough request, and I can do it one better," he said with a surge of pride. "I'll have the items sent out, and even add in a batch of nanites with the older software so they can see the improvements we've made. We can definitely have the materials sent off before sundown."
Maxwell switched applications on his tablet, punching in the order to staff members in the Medical, R&D, and Shipping/Receiving departments. Almost immediately, he'd received pings with green checkmarks of acknowledgement and he smiled. Efficiency at its finest.
Looking up from the device, he frowned. While Master Hand had stopped drumming, he was slowly tapping his index finger in an irregular rhythm. Every so often, the finger would hang in the air for some time before falling upon the desk's surface.
He's sulking again. Wonderful.
"Try not to let this get to you, Sir," he said gently. "This is an unprecedented occurrence; an anomaly we couldn't have possibly considered while the system was being developed."
The glove gave no response and flattened himself over the surface of the desk. Nearly a minute had passed before he'd even started moving again, and even then it was only to roll into a palm-up position and slowly close and open his fist. Maxwell suppressed the urge to sigh and simply switched the tablet over to the match in progress.
Nothing left to do but wait this out, he supposed.
In one of the Primary Arena's many backstage lounges, Lucas sat on a couch and stared intently at the monitor before him. He folded his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow while the action played out. Not for the first time in the past few minutes, he wished he had access to the Production Facility so he could watch everything without all of the cuts and changes in camerawork. It wasn't that he had trouble following the flow of the match or anything, but the current format made it hard to focus on his friends.
And considering everything that happened last night, he really needed to gauge Popo and Nana's mental states.
"You talk to either of them, dude?"
Lucas shook his head and sighed through his nose, scooting over to make room for Ness.
"No, they were heading to the staging area as I was heading to the locker room after my match. There were too many people around though, so I let them go. What about you?"
The couch shifted as Ness vaulted over the back of it and landed on the cushion with a dismissive wave.
"Nope, didn't have time," he admitted with a shrug. "Apart from my own match, I've been doing interviews and photo ops all ding-dang day long. I did see them show up after I got out of my morning press conference with the other Originals—they ducked down a side hall though." He pushed up his baseball cap a bit to scratch his head. "You think they're okay?"
Lucas rubbed a finger across his upper lip for a moment as he reflected on the brief encounter. "Definitely still rattled, but they're at least in better spirits compared to last night."
"If that party was any indication, Popo should probably avoid the spirits from now on," Ness quipped, turning his attention to the monitor.
Lucas rolled his eyes and followed suit. Apparently they had missed most of a frenzied exchange between both teams. "I don't think he even knew what that stuff was; you saw the face he made when he took that first drink." He winced out of sympathy; Pichu just took a cannonball, courtesy of K. Rool, straight to the head and was sent flying backwards. He tensed for a moment, but relaxed when the electric mouse landed quite short of the Elimination Field.
Ness scoffed. "Yeah, but I also saw Nana's face when she was dealing with him, Snake, and Falcon. She's definitely performed that dance before." He let out a sigh, his voice softening. "I shouldn't be too hard on the guy though. I'd probably do the same thing if I were in his boots last night."
A shiver crawled up Lucas's spine, and not even K. Rool eliminating Pichu could completely stop the memory of that incident. As much as he tried to tamp it down, his mind seemed all too eager to play back the highlights.
Ridley's barbed tail bursting out from Popo's back…
Nana's pained howl of rage as she charged after Ridley…
The vacant, yet still shocked, expression on Popo's face as he collapsed in the middle of the ring…
A whoop of encouragement from Ness snapped Lucas back into the present, just in time to see Nana in pursuit of the oversized crocodile. She leapt into the air, delivering a spinning aerial attack to the side of K. Rool's head and sending him straight into the Elimination Field. Popo and Young Link had pushed forward to keep Isabelle and Incineroar from assisting their ally.
"Atta girl, Nana," he cheered with a grin, one fist thrusting up into the air triumphantly. "Turn that prick into a handbag!"
"She put a lot behind that swing," Lucas said with a soft laugh. "Wonder if she was imagining York right there."
"God, speaking of pricks…" Ness's smile immediately inverted itself "I won't lie; I was really hoping Nana was gonna slug his smug mug last night. I bet Dedede would've looked the other way, too..."
Folding his arms across his chest, Lucas sat back and looked to the floor. "I wonder what he said to get her so worked up…we felt her anger from clear across the room." One corner of his mouth pulled down in a lopsided frown. Out of all the villagers, York had the easiest time getting under everyone's skin—even Lucas's! Last night's exchange, however, easily set an all-time record for incurring someone's wrath.
"I have no clue," Ness said with an air of indifference and he slouched in his seat. "She coulda still been on edge after…you know…all of that." He gestured vaguely. "At least Popo had a better encounter, but of course it had to be Primm, y'know?"
Rolling his eyes, Lucas leaned against the couch's armrest and propped up his chin with one hand.
"C'mon, she's not that bad. She's just—"
"—completely obsessed with a guy she's only seen on video, for some reason." The grin could practically be heard in Ness's voice, drawing a sigh from the blond.
"She only asked a few questions; hardly counts as 'obsessive'," Lucas huffed, turning his attention back towards the monitor. The two teams were slowly circling one another in the ring. After a while, a smirk began to creep across his face. He cast a sidelong glance towards the other PSI-user. "Ness, are you still sour about last season?"
For nearly a minute, there was no response from the other boy as his eyes flicked over the screen. In that time, the two groups had converged in another exchange of blows.
"What're you talking about?" Ness's voice was tight when he finally spoke, and Lucas couldn't help feeling satisfied.
"You know, last season," he pressed on with a quiet chuckle. "The tournament where a girl starts occasionally hanging out with us and isn't all giggly around you?"
"That's a low blow," Ness bit out. He folded his arms and turned an icy expression towards Lucas. When Lucas's smirk didn't waver, he flopped against the back of the couch and threw his arms up. "Look, at first it was cute for her to be so interested in the guy when he wasn't around." He paused to point at the monitor. Link was blocking Isabelle's slingshot pellets with his shield while Nana helped a sprawled Popo to his feet. "But now that they're back and…together…"
Ness trailed off, and the bitter note coloring that last word made Lucas raise an eyebrow.
"'Ness, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous of those two—"
"No!" Ness interjected, thrusting a palm out towards Lucas before letting his arm fall limp. With a heavy sigh, he let his head fall upon the back of the couch and he stared up at the ceiling. "I dunno, man. Maybe I am or something."
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth. "It's not just them, I guess. Couples are getting reunited through invitations, or Smashers just start dating each other, and all I've got is my phone time with Paula." He shook a finger. "Don't get me wrong—I wouldn't give it up for all the tournament wins in the universe, but it'd be nice if she were allowed to at least visit sometimes, y'know?"
Nodding slowly, Lucas's smirk turned into a gentle smile and he reached out to lightly pat Ness's shoulder. "Yeah, I think I get it. What you two have is great!"
Without warning, Ness opened one eye to stare at Lucas. A smirk of his own crept across his face, and Lucas quickly retreated to his end of the couch.
"Oh yeah, Paula's amazing for sticking with me," Ness began. "But enough about me…what about you? Anyone back home you think about when you're kicking ass and taking stocks?"
"Oh, I, uh…" Quickly breaking eye contact, Lucas looked to the floor with a blush.
"Oh my god!" Out of the corner of Lucas's eye, Ness's teeth flashed in a Cheshire grin. "You totally have a girlfriend back home! Why didn't you tell me?"
Lucas leaned forward and buried his burning face in his hands. "It's not like that, Ness… Not for a lack of trying, anyway. I'll spend a whole, one-sided conversation just trying to think of how to get my words out there to tell her how I feel…"
Ness slapped Lucas on the back, and then draped an arm over his shoulders. "C'mon man, at least tell me what her name is! Maybe I can have a good word passed down the generations for you…"
Lucas lowered his hands and stroked his chin thoughtfully. It was definitely a tempting offer. All he needed was to supply the name sitting on the tip of his tongue…
"Nah, nah," he quietly muttered.
Ness tilted his head slightly and frowned. "What's that? You gotta speak up more often, dude…"
Lucas opened his mouth to clarify, before he paled and snapped it shut. Did he really just—no, he could still salvage this. Maybe.
"I mean, nah, thanks…I think I can do this on my own," he finally stated with a smile. "Besides, it'd be really weird to get back home and suddenly…I dunno, suddenly everyone has my name or something."
Ness laughed and scooted away, lightly punching Lucas in the shoulder as he disengaged.
Phew. Nailed it.
"Fair enough! Still, the offer's there if you need it," he said in a singsong voice. He then turned towards the monitor and scratched his head. "Hey, where did Link go?"
Lucas blinked and stared at the screen. With glares of determination, Popo and Nana stood back-to-back in the middle of the ring while Incineroar and Isabelle stalked a slow circle around them. Link was nowhere to be seen.
Furrowing his brows, Lucas peered over steepled fingertips and settled in to watch this play out.
The circling stopped, and the attack finally commenced.
With a menacing snarl, Incineroar charged at a full pelt towards Popo. From an outstretched palm, Popo channeled a Blizzard. Whorls of frost blasted outward, halting the advance and encasing the fiery feline in ice as Nana let out a startled yelp. Popo spun around just as Isabelle's fishing line pulled taught, yanking a flailing Nana away. He sprinted after her, but was nowhere near fast enough to stop her from being flung into the Elimination Field by the plucky secretary.
As Isabelle dusted her paws off, Popo bore down on her, veering slightly to the left and adjusting his grip. He swung, and she'd turned around just in time to catch his mallet directly in the midsection. Her shocked and pained expression had him cringing from the moment the swing connected before she went careening off towards the same field she'd just sent Nana through.
He let out a low whistle as he leaned on the ring ropes to watch her go. If she'd turned around any sooner, he might have pulled back his swing. Maybe.
A large hand clamped down on Popo's shoulder, forcibly turning him around. Before he could react, Incineroar clubbed him across the chest and throat with a powerful—and strangely wet—arm. The impact flipped him over the top rope, and he landed on the floor below in a heap.
He laid there for a few moments, gingerly rubbing at his throat, and then blinked several times. Shouldn't there be a follow-up attack?
Rising to unsteady feet, Popo hazarded a peek over the edge of the ring.
Incineroar, soaking wet, stood in the center of the ring. It was violently shaking its head and body, sending a fine mist of water droplets flying about. In one corner of the ring were the melting remains of the pokémon's former frosty prison.
The large feline's drying routine abruptly stopped when it locked eyes with Popo. Incineroar pumped its arms, and its belt of flames flared up. Whatever water that remained in its fur had instantly evaporated and a cloud of steam billowed outward. As the cloud dissipated, Incineroar held out a hand and crooked its fingers dramatically.
The crowd roared its approval and started chanting for Popo to enter the ring.
Popo frowned as he regarded Incineroar, who confidently sauntered to one of the farther corners and leaned against the pad covering the turnbuckles. It stared at Popo with an air of impatience, and once again made a beckoning gesture before folding its arms across its chest. The crowd sounded just as impatient now.
Popo took a deep breath and leapt into the ring.
His boots hit the canvas and he immediately took on a defensive stance. A toothy smirk flashed across Incineroar's face before it surged forward with arms spread wide. Popo stepped to his right, then immediately spun out to the left. Incineroar likewise performed a spinning attack, and mallet met palm as they passed by one another.
Skidding to a halt, Popo whirled around and sent out an Ice Shot. Incineroar dropped low and kicked the sliding stalagmite, sending it right back to Popo. The projectile burst against his face, forcing Popo back a couple steps as he quickly shook his head to clear his vision.
Incineroar pounced and landed in front of Popo. Popo took another step backwards and found his back against the ropes. Large hands grabbed hold of the front of his parka and Incineroar slammed home with a nasty headbutt. Popo's vision flared white for a second. He ground his teeth and shook his head to refocus. Incineroar reared back for another headbutt, but Popo snapped his head forward and met the pokémon halfway with one of his own. Sharp pain shot through his rattled skull, not unlike the headache he'd experienced this morning, but it was a small price to pay for the joy of watching the overconfidence drain out of Incineroar's face.
For good measure, he delivered another headbutt.
In one fluid motion, Popo worked his arms around Incineroar's forearms, and thrust his palms against its inside elbows to break the hold. Incineroar staggered back towards the center of the ring with wide eyes, before schooling its features into a hardened glare. It stalked towards him in a guarded stance. Popo moved forward cautiously, and the two slowly circled one another around the edge of the Smash logo.
Popo blinked and almost instantly ate a knee. He flew backwards and awkwardly sagged against the ropes. Incineroar came barreling towards him and Popo rolled forward to avoid a leaping attack. After coming out of the roll, he hopped backwards and sent out a backhanded attack. The mallet glanced off of Incineroar's head, and Popo used the momentum from the follow-through to hit the pokémon square in the stomach.
With a groan of pain, Incineroar doubled over and clutched at its middle. Popo strode forward, mallet at the ready. As he drew near, Incineroar shifted its stance and suddenly swung upwards with interlocked fists. The blow cracked Popo in the face and sent him halfway across the ring.
He landed in a kneeling position and quickly channeled a Blizzard spell. Incineroar stopped short of the spell's range, which allowed Popo enough time to stand and dash forward. An upwards mallet swing caught Incineroar in the chin which rocked it back on its heels. A second one knocked it off its feet and out of the ring in dramatic fashion.
Popo had taken only a few steps in pursuit when Incineroar leapt up onto the ring apron. It took deep, laborious breaths as it glared at Popo, before slowly dragging a thumb over its throat. Popo bared his teeth and stomped the ground before charging towards the pokémon with intent to take its head off. He got within striking distance, wound up a lateral swing, and let loose.
Incineroar dropped down to the floor and the mallet's head harmlessly passed through the air.
Waving both hands dismissively, Incineroar turned and started to hobble up the blue entrance ramp. Popo stood there blinking for a moment before stepping through the ropes to follow. He got halfway through when he abruptly froze.
"No," he muttered and stepped back into the ring. "Something's not right here..."
He backpedaled to the middle of the ring and observed the retreating form of his adversary. Within seconds, Incineroar had stumbled to a meter or so away from the Elimination Field and turned around. Its eyes traveled down the ramp, and then settled on Popo. Even at this distance, Popo could easily make out the open confusion and disappointment on its face as, after several long seconds, it walked back to the ring. The fact that its gait was now suddenly normal earned raised eyebrows from Popo.
After Incineroar slid into the ring and stood, it folded its arms and stared at Popo. Popo stared back, idly tightening the grip on his mallet. Incineroar's ears twitched and it shook its head fractionally. The noise of the crowd, which had faded to a dull rumble during the stare-down, gradually picked up again when Incineroar slowly unfolded its arms and held its hands up and slightly outward from its body. Popo readied his mallet and took a step forward, but Incineroar shook its head again and took a step back.
This dance carried on for almost a minute; Popo would move forward and sometimes take a swing, and Incineroar would backpedal and shake its head after each forward movement. It kept its hands in the same position. Only once it started wiggling its fingers did Popo realize what it wanted—a traditional test of strength. Popo slowly retreated to the farthest corner and warily eyed Incineroar. Of all the times to make this request, why do it now? Did it forget that it just tried—and failed—to sucker him into a position for easy elimination?
Maybe it was the pressure from the crowd influencing him, but eventually Popo nodded and secured his mallet across his back with the rope sling. Once that task was completed, he removed his leather mittens and shoved them into a pocket. All the while, Incineroar maintained its stance and…was making its arm and chest muscles bounce about independently. Great.
Incineroar's teeth flashed in a smile as Popo approached, and it held its hands out expectantly. Popo squinted into Incineroar's eyes in one last attempt to find any hint of deceit. Unable to determine anything, he carefully locked hands with his imposing opponent, and hoped he wasn't making a mistake.
His hands were all but immediately forced backwards. Sharp pain lanced out from his wrists and traveled through his arms as Incineroar torqued its grip against his almost effortlessly.
Yep. Definitely a mistake.
Incineroar began to march forward, leaning into its hold. To relieve the extra pressure on his poor wrists, Popo backpedaled at a similar clip. Incineroar's intent to back him into the ropes or one of the corners was quickly uncovered, and Popo suddenly halted their procession by digging in his heels and pushing his hands outward. In a surprisingly small amount of time, he managed to get their hands into a more neutral position.
The stalemate was brief. A clearly frustrated Incineroar lashed out with a kick, forcing Popo to throw his weight backwards to avoid it. He let go of the pokémon's hands and quickly darted back into the fray. He slammed his shoulder into its midsection and tried to grab its legs for a takedown, but a muscular arm started to lift him by wrapping itself around his head and wrenching it upwards. Popo responded by cinching his arms around Incineroar's waist and dropping his weight low. The two pushed against each other and a new stalemate began.
Airflow was suddenly reduced when Incineroar's arm shifted slightly and tightened around his neck. Popo tried to wriggle out of the hold by shuffling from side to side. The effort was in vain; Incineroar's forward movement only made them rotate in place.
Fatigue was quickly setting in. His arms were slackening, and his vision was blurring. He had to do something, and do it fast.
Taking as deep a breath as he could, Popo planted his feet and used the last of his strength to haul his opponent upwards. Incineroar's forward momentum proved to be a capable assistant, allowing Popo to bridge his body backwards and slam the pokémon onto its back. As Incineroar hit the canvas, Popo's shoulder was driven into its solar plexus and the arm around his neck went mercifully limp.
Gasping for air, he held the bridged position before intense pain suddenly erupted from the small of his back. There was no stopping his agonized groaning while he crawled, scrambled, and flopped across the canvas to get away from Incineroar's supine form. Either by time or adrenaline, the pain had faded when he reached the corner and hauled himself to his feet, and he turned a baleful glare towards the still downed pokémon.
"What the hell's with everyone trying to choke me," he snarled through gritted teeth, taking weapon in hand and stomping towards his opponent.
The mallet was raised overhead for an ending blow when Incineroar suddenly leapt to its feet with a kip-up maneuver. Popo swung anyway and Incineroar puffed out its chest. Mallet met sternum and Popo was blown back towards the ropes when a burst of flame enveloped Incineroar. When the smoke cleared, Incineroar's body was suffused with an orange glow. Whatever this meant, Popo decided, it couldn't be good.
The distance between them was, unfortunately for Popo, very short. Incineroar lunged forward and easily grabbed Popo by the parka. A set of ring ropes strung between two yellow posts materialized behind it, which Popo was unceremoniously flung into. Popo hit the ropes and was sent running back towards Incineroar, who simply leaped over him. There was no time to process, well, anything before he bounded off of the ropes of the ring itself. This time Incineroar stood its ground, and met the oncoming Popo with a stiff arm across the throat.
Popo barely had time to register how quickly the ring shrank away before he hit the Elimination Field.
A flash of white was the only transition for Popo's eyes as the red padded room—the Elimination Chamber, he now dubbed it—appeared around him. His feet hit the floor and he stumbled backwards in an attempt to remain standing until the unstable, inflated floor got the better of him and he fell backwards…
…Right into the waiting arms of Nana.
After planting a quick kiss to his forehead, Nana beamed down at him. There was a mischievous sparkle in those violet eyes of hers. "What were you doing out there, you big goof?"
In spite of the loss, Popo couldn't help a fond smile. "Oh, just thought I'd show off a little bit of the ol' Murasat Style before falling for you again."
Rolling her eyes halfheartedly, Nana dropped Popo. He bounced off the inflated floor and landed on his feet with a wide grin. "Ugh. I've never seen you do anything like that last slam back home." She then wrinkled her nose with a matching grin. "Also, save that line for when you're not so smelly; you don't have permission to be smooth right now."
His retort was cut off when she suddenly grabbed his hand and nodded towards the circle of light that had appeared on the floor nearby. "C'mon, let's get the results over with. We still have a busy afternoon ahead of us."
Popo slowly nodded as Pichu and Link stepped past them both towards the teleportation circle, the latter clapping Popo on the shoulder and shooting him a knowing grin before he vanished.
The Ice Climbers followed suit and appeared in the ring to politely applaud while Crazy Hand officially crowned Blue Team as tonight's winner. Flanked by Isabelle and K. Rool, Incineroar struck a mighty pose for the crowd. After showboating for a bit, Incineroar marched straight towards Popo with purpose in its stride.
Its expression was unreadable as it stared down at him. Popo, in no mood to deal with gloating or intimidation, stared right back at it with a stony expression. Nana whispered a quiet warning of some kind, but Popo didn't quite catch the words.
To his surprise, Incineroar suddenly flashed a toothy grin and held out a single hand. Popo stared blankly at it as the crowd hollered and cheered. Again, Nana said something but it was drowned out. Eventually, he took the offered appendage with a firm grip.
In an equally surprising act, Incineroar turned towards the crowd and raised Popo's hand to a swell of applause while flashbulbs suffused the arena.
There was nothing as refreshing as a post-match shower.
Nana sighed contentedly as the hot water washed over her, rinsing away the soreness from her match. From outside her stall, bits and pieces of conversations between the other women were occasionally heard as they walked by, or chatted with each other over the partitions of the nearby showers. Though she didn't join in on any of the dialogue, the bustling activity of the locker room made the atmosphere a lot more welcoming. Especially when compared to how…cold and barren the locker room often felt during her first two tournaments.
She briefly considered hurrying things along, but the Security Mii posted at the entrance to the locker room said the meet and greet session wasn't going to start for at least another hour. She hit the button for another minute of flow and simply stretched beneath the shower head. After the water shut itself off, the temptation to start another round tugged at her mind, but instead she wrapped a towel around herself and exited. She grabbed a smaller towel on the way out and started drying her hair as she padded over to her locker.
Smiling fondly, she took out her backpack and the extra snowsuit ensemble she'd brought and sat down on a nearby bench. She rubbed her hand over the pale, ice blue material for a moment before neatly folding the outfit up and setting it beside her. A minute of digging through her backpack produced her undergarments, as well as the pink mittens and boots that went with the suit, and she quickly got dressed.
Smoothing out a few wrinkles in the fabric, she crossed over to a full-length mirror and looked over herself with a satisfied smile. She loved this outfit, and loved the nearly identical one Popo was going to be wearing even more. It was a shame that they rarely had a chance to wear them back home, as these particular suits were reserved for formal occasions. But they were always told to wear 'something nice' for fan interaction events, so what could be nicer than a dress parka?
Realizing she'd struck some sort of pose—she had one hand on her hip and the other at the side of her head—she sighed and let her posture slump forward. Nana knew that she wasn't completely above the occasional bout of vanity, but this was a step too far.
"Oh Nana, you look great in that!"
Nana jumped and stiffened at the sound of Isabelle's voice. With a flushed face, she slowly turned around and smiled guiltily. Just how much had she seen…?
"Aw, thanks! Hey, you too," she beamed while taking in Isabelle's outfit of a red jacket, dark skirt, and matching yellow ribbon tie and hair band.
Isabelle took on a bashful expression and rubbed the back of her head. "You really think so? I've never done this sort of thing before, so I wasn't quite sure how to present myself…"
Shaking her head, Nana moved to stand beside the dog woman and rested an arm over her shoulders. "Don't worry about that! All you have to do is make sure you don't wear whatever you'd just fought in and you'll be fine." Nana giggled a bit. "Popo and I didn't have anything fancy to wear our first time here, so we always stunk up our section of the room if our match was on last."
Nodding slowly, Isabelle seemed to calm down for all of a second before suddenly tensing.
"That's right," Isabelle began, appearing to carefully consider her words. "Nana, I wanted to ask you if uh…"
"If…?" Nana gently prompted.
"Did I do something wrong in the match today?" Isabelle turned rapidly-misting eyes towards Nana suddenly. It took a great deal of willpower for Nana to not let go and take a step backwards.
"Something…wrong? I don't understand what—"
"It was right after I'd eliminated you," Isabelle clarified with a tiny, wet sniffle. "When I turned around, Popo was right there and he had this…this look on his face before he'd eliminated me."
Why did hearing about this continue to surprise Nana? She almost rolled her eyes, but she didn't want to be misinterpreted as dismissing Isabelle's worries. Instead she sighed and gently rubbed Isabelle's shoulder.
"No, no…you did everything right. Popo just uh—I mean, I do it too—but uh…" Nana looked away and raked her fingers through her hair as she tried to find the right words. A moment later, she stepped away, sat down on a bench, and folded her arms across her chest. "Look; it'd take me forever to run through everything, but the short of it is that we're…a bit overprotective of each other. And when something happens to one of us, sometimes the other gets a little…emotional, I guess."
Looking relived, Isabelle rested a paw over her chest and exhaled softly. "Oh, thank goodness. I was certain he would be holding a grudge about that."
Slowly shaking her head, Nana stood up and smirked. "Nah, you're fine. Most of the time we leave everything out there in the arena." Her lip twisted and she looked towards the ceiling for a moment. "Well, unless someone's a jerk about it afterwards."
Isabelle poorly hid a giggle behind her paws. "Yes, I've heard some of the stories about some of the…brasher competitors here. You won't have to worry about that with me, though!" She placed her paws on her hips and took on a confident pose.
"I don't know, Isabelle," Nana said, clapping the secretary on the back with a proud smile. "Between last night and today, you already have three eliminations to your name. You might have room for an ego yet!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Nana spotted Peach exiting a shower stall. That was as good a signal as any to, as Snake once said, 'exfiltrate the hot zone'.
Springing into action, Nana quickly grabbed her backpack and crossed the short distance to her locker. On the way over, she tossed her used towels into one of the many laundry bins in the changing area. Upon reaching the locker, she swapped her backpack for her mallet (many fans liked to take pictures of her and Popo brandishing their weapons) and quickly glanced towards the shower area. At the moment, Peach was in a conversation with Palutena and Leaf; it was as good a distraction as Nana could ask for.
Securing her mallet across her back, Nana closed the locker and spun around to lean against the door.
"C'mon Isabelle," She said with a smile and jerked her head towards the exit. "Let's get outta here. We can hit up Catering before the autograph session."
Though Isabelle looked justifiably confused, she quickly perked up and nodded with a peppy smile.
"Excellent idea," she chirped and fell into step alongside Nana while they made their exit.
The cool air was a refreshing slap to Nana's face as they stepped out into the corridor. It was a welcome relief from the steam and humidity of the locker room, which often left her in a drowsy state. Letting out a contented grunt, Nana stretched her limbs and tried to search among the gathered Smashers. When her search failed to produce Popo, she started to thread through the crowd while Isabelle trailed behind her.
"—seen you throw anyone like that before. Did you pick up any new moves while you were gone or something?"
Intrigued, Nana stopped at the sound of Young Link's voice; she barely registered Isabelle's hasty apology after the surprised secretary all but walked up her back.
"Nah," Popo's voice replied with a chuckle. "Well, sorta, I guess. I kinda had to improvise that one."
Following their voices, Nana altered course towards somewhere slightly further down the hallway. Naturally this route was full of people just standing around doing nothing—the nerve of some people! Bowser and K. Rool were the worst offenders, as they apparently decided to hold some sort of debate in the middle of the damn hall! Without a second thought, she strolled right between them and finally reached the other side of the hallway…all of ten feet away from where she began.
Slightly ahead of her, Popo lounged against the wall with his arms casually folded over his chest. He continued to chat with Link, who stood in a similar stance. As Nana openly gawked in admiration, she was suddenly struck by how long it had been since she'd last seen Popo in this…resplendent outfit.
Okay, apart from the blue mittens and boots, his ensemble was ostensibly the same as hers, but there was something different about seeing him in it. She found the sight…captivating—maybe even a little intimidating. She lightly bit her lip; she should have definitely gotten over that second thing since they started dating…
Whatever conversation they carried on with was all but muted as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Eventually, Nana snapped out of her borderline trance and frowned. She'd just now noticed Link, who was leaning forward to peer at her from around a talking and gesturing Popo. Her face immediately heated and she quickly shook her head. As a grin blossomed across his face, the Hylian slowly nodded and reached out to lightly smack Popo's chest with the back of his hand before pointing at her. Time all but slowed down as Popo turned, and panic took hold.
Oh no. No no no…
Another detail she'd forgotten about this outfit suddenly surfaced; it really brought out his eyes. The moment that dark blue gaze locked onto hers, Nana knew she was in trouble. Back home, there was a joke among some of the other girls: You had to draw a map of those eyes to avoid getting lost in them. Popo hated that joke, and there was a pile of confiscated sketches sitting somewhere in Harasen's office to prove it. At the time, Nana tried to convince herself that she was above that sort of thing, but oh boy, if Popo ever found the stash of her own attempts at cartography…
Right now, she definitely wished she had one of those crudely-drawn maps to get out of this mess.
Fortunately for Nana, Popo was just as stunned. Mouth agape, he simply stood there and stared back at her. Suddenly, he lurched forward with a yelp and flailing limbs. Nana came to her senses in time to catch him in an embrace, though she had to stumble backwards to keep from toppling over. A startled squeak sounded from behind her and a pair of tiny paws pressed against her back, which thankfully stopped their momentum.
Having regained his composure, Popo laughed and smiled at her for a second or two before whipping his head around to glare over his shoulder.
"What the hell was that for, Link!?"
Link stared blankly at the two of them for a beat before slowly turning his head to look left and right. He then pointed to himself and mouthed "Who, me?" At Popo's curt nod, he simply shrugged and strolled off in the opposite direction with his hands folded behind his head.
"I'm gonna kill him," Popo grumbled, though a smile played at his lips.
At Isabelle's insistence, the three of them left the locker room hallway and followed the signage towards the cloister of conference rooms nestled in another section of the Arena. The labyrinth of backstage corridors was well-designed; Smashers and staff were able to travel efficiently without being seen and subsequently mobbed by crowds. Within minutes, they came to a narrow dead end with a large set of double doors on both sides. The doors on the left opened up to reveal an enormous room that was bordered by tables. Signs with symbols and numbers were hanging above those tables, and Nana took note of the eggplant silhouette that designated their spot near the far end of the room.
Turning away, she was pleased to see the doors on the other side of the hall leading into a makeshift cafeteria. Round tables were neatly arranged within the center space, while Miis laid out sandwiches, bags of chips, bottles of water, and other odds and ends on several long tables joined end to end. With growling stomachs, the trio marched up to the food-bearing table, loaded up their paper plates, and seated themselves for a light lunch.
As much as Nana wanted to keep putting things off, she and Popo soon found themselves in the previous conference room, seated beneath their eggplant sign.
From where they sat, Nana had no trouble hearing the mass of humanity on the other side of the closed public entryway. She frowned slightly, twirling one of the many provided markers between her fingers as she stared at the grand set of ornate double doors. Maybe fifteen or so minutes remained before those doors opened and the throng would flood the room. As more and more Smashers filed in and took up their posts, the rumble of the outside gathering grew.
A light weight settled against her as Popo brushed his shoulder against hers. She smiled and leaned into him.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this," he mumbled softly. It took considerable willpower to not shiver as his breath tickled her ear. "You heard the crowd last night; they went nuts when our music hit."
Humming in thought, Nana turned her eyes towards the public entryway. Shadows were rapidly shifting beneath the tiny gap between the closed door and the floor, and she could hear feet stomping in unison as the gathering tried to keep themselves entertained.
"We'll just have to keep our wrists limber and chilled, Love," she finally stated, letting out a patient breath.
"You remember what to do for these, right?"
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "How could I forget? It's just a couple hours of signing names, kissing hands, and shaking babies."
Several moments of silence passed before Popo snorted and slumped forward. His body shook with suppressed laughter as he buried his head in his arms, which were folded on top of the table. Grinning, Nana reached forward and gently rubbed between his shoulder blades. Her peripheral vision caught Bowser rolling his eyes as he took his seat at the table to their right, and it took some effort not to say something to the overgrown turtle. Instead, she imagined an eventual match with him instead.
By the time she'd envisioned a fifth swing upside Bowser's head, the sound of something heavy landing on top of their table grabbed her attention. Before her was a box that seemed entirely the wrong size for the noise it made. Leaning over that box was a short female Mii sporting an expression somewhere between haggard and prideful. While part of her was fascinated at the level of nuance with which these Miis could express themselves, she was far more fascinated with what was in the box.
Popo, thankfully, was there to pick up on her thoughts and eloquently vocalize them, befitting his future as Murasat Chief.
"Whatcha got there?"
Okay, maybe not so eloquently. Fortunately for the both of them, the Mii either didn't notice or didn't care.
"This," the Mii triumphantly intoned, "is your first bit of new official memorabilia!"
After tearing off the top of the box with a surprising bit of dexterity (the standard Miis only had those weird balls for hands, after all…), the Mii took out a pair of posters and presented one each to Popo and herself. Nana scanned her eyes thoroughly over the printed images splashed over the portrait, not at all caring about the pain her big dumb grin caused her face.
On the left side of the poster was a still image of Popo, captured halfway through the slam he'd performed on Incineroar. The pokémon was almost completely inverted at this stage of the maneuver, a look of furious surprise written onto its face. Only a little of Popo's face was visible, as it was oriented towards the lights above, but the determined (and slightly panicked) expression was still clearly there.
The right half of the poster was a picture from last night's match, when she'd mounted Ridley. This moment depicted one of the earlier blows she'd landed on the thing's head, which was a two-handed swing that forced it to bite its own tongue. The look on her face was one of pure joy—as indicated by her open-mouthed smile—accompanied by a manic glint in her eyes.
Above the dual tableaus was a rectangular gradient that started at blue and ended at pink, with '#15: ICE CLIMBERS' stenciled across it.
Curse this sudden onslaught of totally existing dust motes, making her eyes misty and her nose sniffly.
"It's…it's beautiful," was all she managed.
Popo nodded, running his mitten across the poster's surface. "You guys do fast work…this picture of me only took place in the last couple hours."
The Mii giggled, holding her hands in front of her mouth. "Well… I already had Nana's side and the rest of the composition all set to go. It was just a matter of waiting for you to do something cool, finding the best angle, and making it fit." The Mii cycled through several expressions before she'd settled on a pensive appearance. "To be completely honest, printing everything out was really the most time consuming part of it all!"
All but pressing her face against the glossy paper, Nana continued to pore over the smaller details of the poster. With a soft chuckle, Popo spoke up.
"Well, thank you so much for putting these together for us, Miss uh…"
"Oh, right," the Mii exclaimed. Nana glanced over and nearly burst into laughter at the sight of the little Mii standing bolt upright and saluting. "I'm Sophie, and the Creative Team assigned me to design your merch! You shouldn't see me too often, as we're trusted to whip up things at our own discretion, but sometimes I'll show up in case I need your input on a thing."
Somewhere in the center of the conference room, a chime was ringing softly. Sophie spun around and looked in its direction for a moment, before turning back to Nana and Popo with a relieved expression.
"Looks like I couldn't have cut it any closer," she said with a soft, electronic sigh. "I'd better get back to my department, but I'm glad I was able to get your stuff to you! Enjoy the meet and greet!"
With a smile and a jaunty wave, Sophie floated away with impressive speed. The Mii easily zipped through the last of the Smashers that marched in. Nana watched her go for a few seconds, until a shiver ran up her spine.
Someone was watching her.
Subtlety wasn't normally her forte, but she did her best to look casual as her eyes sought out the usual suspects. Popo was still engrossed in the poster, and Peach was chatting with Daisy and Mario. It clearly wasn't either of them. Softly rubbing the bridge of her nose, she then turned to risk a glance towards the back half of the room.
The Koopalings were, as expected, causing a ruckus at their section of the room. It looked like an argument was springing up between Ludwig and Iggy about stolen markers. The multicolored mohawk of Lemmy was poking just above the surface of the table as he moved between each Koopaling, somehow managing to stay hidden as he snatched up more markers and placed them next to Ludwig. Eventually he'd reached Wendy who, with a flat expression, brought her scepter down onto the tiny Koopaling's head. While all this went on, Larry watched it all unfold with a genuine air of boredom.
It wasn't him either. This left only one other culprit…
Nana didn't even bother to hide her disdain as she leveled a baleful glare at the Villagers' table, only to see that York's attention was focused entirely on the sandwich he'd brought in from the temporary cafeteria. The wind was taken out of her sails and her glare dissipated. She slouched into her chair and folded her arms with a confused grunt.
Must have been her imagination.
Shrugging, she turned her attention back to Popo. He was still admiring the poster with a small smile, though he briefly looked up to wave at Ness as he walked past. Nana absently echoed the gesture.
"What's got you so enamored with that thing anyway?"
The smile transformed into a smirk as Popo cast a sidelong glance her way. "Oh, uh…I was just sorta thinking—" He gestured to her side of the poster. "—if you weren't trying to bash his brains in here, I think I might be a little…jealous of ol' Ridley here."
A raised eyebrow and a minimal shrug was Nana's only response before she turned back to people watch. A second passed, and she whipped around to stare incredulously at her now laughing boyfriend.
"Popo!" she hissed, swatting him on the arm. He only laughed harder, and while she tried to rally a glare, the way his eyes twinkled had sapped all the resistance out of her. She slumped into the chair with an exasperated groan, covering her scarlet face with her hands. "Ugh, don't say those things in public—"
The rest of her words died on her tongue as the double doors slowly swung open. Bit by bit, the throng was revealed, and a swell of applause and cheers washed over the assembled Smashers once the crowd realized the event was about to begin. The Security Miis stepped aside and the crowd all but stampeded into the conference room.
"We'll talk later," Popo said in an amused tone. He quickly withdrew a small stack of posters and set them on the table before hefting the box and placing it on the floor behind them. Nana produced a couple of the extra water bottles she'd taken from the cafeteria and handed one to Popo, who took it with a thankful smile.
"Right," muttered Nana. "Time to meet the public."
What followed was, over the course of the next hour, a whirlwind of short conversations and signing posters. Every so often, a fan would ask one or both of them a question. Not that Nana paid it any mind; it was a good excuse to surreptitiously channel small bursts of chilling winds on her writing hand while answering. The questions were largely simple affairs, covering a vast range of subjects. Nana preferred the simpler queries, like whether Popo or she felt rusty in their return matches, and did her best to deflect those about their whereabouts during the last tournament.
The occasional flirting, though, she could've done without. Popo also seemed uncomfortable, but they were both able to shrug off those rare advances and keep the line moving. Popo's foot would nudge hers beneath the table whenever it happened, and she happily returned the reassuring gestures.
A little over an hour after their first fan interaction, and there was finally a lull in the line. Grinning broadly, Nana gave one final wave to the little girl dragging her frazzled—but still quite pleased—parents towards the next autograph station while admiring her freshly-signed poster. Out of the corner of her eye, Popo turned towards her after taking a long pull from his water bottle.
"You holding up okay? How many more posters we got left?"
She nodded at the first question, and leaned back in her chair to check the box's contents.
"Let's see," she mumbled. "We got maybe a third of the box left?"
Popo let out a low whistle, and stared out at the crowd. "And we're only about halfway through the session…hope we don't run out of materials."
"I'm sure they'll have their own things for us to sign," Nana said in a low voice, even though no one was close enough to hear it at the moment.
Chin propped up by hand, Nana's eyes scanned over the crowd with interest. One of her favorite things about these sessions was seeing the occasional costumed fan, and today's gathering had a strong showing of well made Smasher outfits. However, there was no shortage of people in completely…different costumes milling around out there. There were armored knights, astronauts, bionic suits—not to mention the bulky, blocky animal costumes that looked like they were made out of cardboard boxes. The award for weirdest costumes, though, would probably have to be split between the cartoony-looking skeleton holding a strange hand-puppet and the guy with the bug-eyed teacup for a head.
Well, no one said the fans had to dress like Smashers if they didn't want to…
She kept her eyes on the chubby little skeleton as he meandered throughout the conference room. His aimless path seemed to suggest he wasn't interested in getting any autographs. Had he already met the Smashers he'd wanted to see and was now waiting for his friends to finish? Nana quickly recounted the event as best as she could, but she couldn't recall ever seeing that costume at any of the tables. For that matter, nobody in those unrelated costumes came even close to approaching any of the Smashers.
Eventually the skeleton briefly put a hand to the side of his head, and then made his way over towards the opposite side of the room, where the newcomers sat. It was then that Nana noticed a large concentration of those odd costumes hanging around the area in front of Ridley's booth. From here, she could swear she'd seen electricity flickering over the blade of one of the knights—
"Heads up," Popo suddenly said, pulling her back to the immediate. "We've got incoming."
Nana quickly pasted on a casual smile and watched a pair of young men swaggering their way up to the table. As they drew near, a dull ache manifested itself somewhere behind her eyes, which probably came from looking at their loud T-shirts that looked like the Inklings had all taken turns puking onto a stencil. The only legible details were the two large-print words flanking the unintelligible design, which simply said 'YOUNG STAGS' in neon yellow letters.
"Aw, hell yeah," the clean-shaven of the two yelled out, wiping a hand across his bandanna. "I thought we'd miss the session!"
Popo, likewise wearing a diplomatic smile, simply shook his head with a small lift of his shoulders. "Nope, about forty five minutes to go still."
"Alright, awesome," the other said, scratching his close-cropped beard. His eyes quickly settled on one of the posters and his face lit up in jubilation. He gently grabbed it and held it aloft. "Oh, this is just too sweet. Hey Nick, take a look at this beaut!"
The first one, Nick, leaned in so he was looking over the shoulder of the second and let out a low whistle. "Ooh, those are good angles too. They easily caught the best part of Nana's mount—that was real smooth teamwork getting her onto that freaky dragon thing."
"Yeah man, and look at the line of action on Popo's side here," the second said, setting the poster flat on the table and tracing his finger over the glossy surface. "One of the cleaner-lookin' ones I've seen!" He suddenly looked to Popo with a thoughtful expression. "That was some fast thinking you did there—what made you decide to counter that front facelock with a Northern Lights Suplex?"
Scratching her head, Nana finally spoke up. "I'm sorry—a Northern Lights what, now?"
"I didn't even know I was doing anything specific," Popo admitted, rubbing at his chin. "I just had to get outta that chokehold, you know?"
Nick turned to the other with a shrug and clapped him on the back. "Told ya, Matt; completely by accident."
Shoulders slumping, Matt grimaced. "Man, he did a picture-perfect body bridge and everything…" He suddenly straightened up and put on a camera-ready smile. "Ah, forget about all that. You got any more of these posters?"
Nodding once, Nana jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "We got plenty back there. You two want some autographs?"
At their enthusiastic nods, she turned around and pulled out a handful of the memorabilia. She handed one to Popo and went about signing her name on her half of another poster.
While Popo did the same on his poster, he glanced towards the surprisingly patient duo. "We're making it out to Nick and Matt, right?"
Nick nodded, and then snapped his fingers as a look of realization flashed over his features.
"Oh shit, I almost forgot—can you make one out for our bud Kenny too?"
"Can do," Popo gave them a thumbs-up and started on a third poster. Once he finished with that, he swapped his two with Nana's single poster and they signed their names in the appropriate halves. They then quickly added the personalization touches.
After Nana inspected their handiwork, she held out the glossy sheets. Matt took them and gingerly placed them in a plastic bag at his feet, before quickly producing a handheld gizmo.
"You two have time for a picture?"
Nana got halfway out of her chair and peered behind the duo. Seeing no one behind them, she settled back down and smiled.
"Sure do! How you want us to pose for it?"
"Uh, hold on a second," Matt quickly said. Turning around, he flagged down a Worker Mii and handed over the device. Once the Mii confirmed it knew how to take the picture, he turned back to Nana and Popo. "You two do a high-five and we'll do our own pose. How's that sound?"
"Seems simple enough," Popo stated with a smile, before standing and holding his hand up for Nana. She slapped his hand and held it in place. Meanwhile, Nick and Matt stood in front of them and flexed their arms while leaning away from each other. At Matt's signal, the Mii snapped the photo and handed the phone back.
"Awesome, thanks you two," he said, pocketing the phone and grabbing the bag off of the floor. "Really appreciate you putting up with us!"
Nick echoed the sentiment, and with a wave the both of them swaggered back the way they came, disappearing into the crowd.
Once she was sure they were out of earshot, Nana turned an appraising gaze towards Popo. After a moment of studying his features, a wry smile wormed its way onto her face.
"I don't think that was the weirdest interaction we've had today. But it does remind me of something I'd forgotten about until now."
He turned towards her, a piqued expression on his face. "Oh? What's that?"
"You're not allowed to grow any hair on your face."
Her words were immediately rewarded with a roll of his eyes and a raspberry blown through his lips.
"Oh, come on," he scoffed while waving a hand dismissively. When her smile didn't falter, he frowned. "Wait, really? I thought you would've liked me looking all rugged and tough." He tried to emphasize his point by flexing his arm and glaring at a spot on the far wall.
It was her turn to roll her eyes, and she stuck out her tongue for good measure. Before he could look too crestfallen, she continued.
"Between Harasen's broom of a mustache and Kallik's patchy, early-puberty 'blessing' from three years back, I think I've seen my fair share of that stuff." Quick as a viper, she reached out and gently squeezed his hand. "I just want to see as much of your face as possible; please don't hide it behind some scraggly thing that makes you look like a crazed nomad."
Popo snorted, but squeezed her hand back all the same. "You sure know how to flatter me out of decisions, don't you?"
"Years of practice," she beamed, fluttering her eyelashes in a decisive, finishing blow to the discussion.
The rest of the session went about as she'd expected, with only a handful of fans showing up to their table in the remaining half-hour. Not that Nana minded, really. It was a nice time to unwind and chat casually with Popo while she occasionally watched the crowd. With about five minutes remaining, the Security Miis started to comb through spacious room to warn any loitering public about the impending closing time while Worker Miis started to clean the conference room.
She allowed her thoughts to wander while she waited out the final minutes. She looked forward to changing out of her parka, as the heavier crowd from the initial rush had raised the room temperature significantly. Outside of that, she really wanted nothing more than to have a nice dinner with their friends, and eventually go home and snuggle up with Popo while they looked for a movie to watch on the television. Maybe after a while, they'd stop paying attention and—
"A-hem," a high-pitched, raspy voice impatiently huffed from in front of her.
Sitting bolt upright, Nana quickly wiped drool from the corner of her mouth and looked around to see…nothing. Was she hearing things?
"Down here, Miss," the voice exasperatedly emphasized.
Leaning forward and tilting her head, Nana found herself staring into the beady, tired eyes of a Toad. Nodding once, the little guy rummaged through his messenger bag for a bit before producing an envelope. He held it out towards Nana and she hesitantly took it. Without another word, the Toad spun on his heel and marched off to wherever his next destination lay.
She stared at the pink wax seal on the envelope, immediately recognizing Peach's royal insignia from the many tea party invites she'd received throughout the tournaments. The level of effort the Princess was putting forth here could only be for one reason, which was confirmed the moment Nana broke the seal and read the short message. As she'd suspected, Peach had already scheduled the 'girls' day out'; a short four days away from today. Pocketing the letter with a groan, she folded her arms on the table and rested her head in them.
Nana was not looking forward to this weekend.
(11/23/2020) Maaaan, this took so long. Easily my least productive stretch of time, and I really need to start figuring out how to write more efficiently if I'm gonna keep this story goin'! Thank you all, new and returning readers, for giving this a looksie and I'll see ya again next time. Or if you'd like to see me sooner, hop on over to the Super Smash Prose server on the discord (gDK48ua)! Until then and beyond, be safe out there, please!