Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Mario or its franchise; it belongs to

Nintendo and their affiliates. I just am really grateful to its creators for giving

me such a wonderful game and media series to write about!

I also don't own anything related to Harry Potter, all that belongs to J.K. Rowling,

but thanks go to her as well because, using her wonderful work, I can expand this

story to make it more interesting.

I also don't own anything related to Naruto.

Chapter Seven

It turns out I was wrong and the injuries I'd gotten this morning were worse than I thought; I don't think I'll ever forget the poor doctor's look of abject horror, however brief it was, when she peeled off my shirt in her office today. I guess my adrenaline was masking a lot of the pain because as soon as the skilled healer started treating the cut on my side, I had to grit my teeth and from then on the stinging and aching never stopped. Not even when the doctor finished dressing both wounds and had fresh white bandages on them. She'd tried to give me back my shirt but it was pretty much ruined so I declined and was about to leave when the doctor asked me, kind of hesitantly, how I'd gotten those injuries. All I'd said was 'General Zair' before she held up a hand and told me that explained it. That only made me wonder how many others the psycho-sadist had subjected his training regiment on.

Down the halls I was walking now, still wincing every now and again from the smarting wounds. I did pass a few people, and their stares or strange looks kept reminding me of my shirtless state. I even saw the woman from the Council, the one with the gold eyes and stiff attitude. She saw me and had to do a double take and the look she gave me was somewhat stern, yet she looked as if something were just now dawning on her. I didn't think much of it because I was tired and felt like the walking dead. I wanted a hot shower and some food to shovel into my face as soon as possible, then I just wanted to sleep for about a thousand years.

Soon I came to the room Daisy and I shared and I nearly ran into my other half. She stood in the doorway, presumably about to leave. There was a case of luggage being gripped in each of her hands and she looked sort of anxious. When she saw it was me she'd encountered, her face lit up in a huge smile. Then she frowned.

"Luigi," She spoke softly, "What...happened?"

In her pause, a look of concern and appreciation crossed her face as she looked me up and down. I shrugged but even that was a bad move what with the cut on my shoulder. I grimaced when I felt the biting stab of pain and Daisy dropped her suitcases and touched my arm.

"It's not so bad," I told her, "Just some scrapes I got this morning from training."

I just didn't want to worry her, and that outweighed my desire to out the General for the true lunatic he was. He had to be one, but then again, that would mean exposing myself because I was just as crazy for going along with his designs. Daisy seemed to understand my words and what they entailed, just like the doctor, because a look of understanding passed over her sweet face and she gazed at me with a bit more concern.

"Are you alright?" She asked me, then said, "You know you don't have to keep training with him. We could find someone else if it's too much or-"

"No, I'm alright."

Damn my pride, I thought, but I didn't want her to think I wasn't strong enough, or that I had to be accommodated. Daisy seemed to think otherwise by her skeptical glance at my shoulder, but she didn't say anymore on the matter. She just shook her head and reached for her bags again. Without thinking, I grabbed them for her and she glanced at me with worry.

Every nerve ending in my upper body screamed at me for this error, but I held onto the cases anyway.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" Daisy asked me. "I could get them, you know."

"I know," I told her quickly, "I got it."

I had to speak fast so that she wouldn't hear the strain in my voice. It hurt, but not tremendously so. Or so I convinced myself as Daisy stepped past me out of the room. She had to be wearing some kind of perfume because she smelled like ice cream, like vanilla. I thought it would just make me hungrier, but it didn't really bother me. I was just glad to be around her.

Daisy ran a slim hand through her long, dark hair and wrapped her arms around herself as she walked down the hall. I followed her and ignored the shoots of pain that came with every step. Instead I focused on her, on the girl I had seen less and less of since we got to her home country. She was wearing a plain navy dress but nothing was really plain on her. The fabric looked satiny and followed her curvy body loosely. It ended right before her knees and gave way to sheer stockings and shoes that had a small heel and looked like they were made of felt. I watched Daisy rub her arms and wanted so badly to hug her right then.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked her.

The morning was still just getting started and it was quiet in the palace. Not that it was ever really loud. Daisy's sigh stuck out all the more in the empty hall.

"Yes." She answered. "I have to go to each of the other kingdoms and handle some business there."

"What kind of business?" I asked.

Daisy shrugged and said, "Talk to the people, hire and fire some officials, set up coalitions..."

The girl was tired, I could hear it in her voice. Not to mention she was walking slowly, or maybe that was for my benefit.

She was leading, so it was at the front entrance of the palace that we stopped. She nodded at me and I set the cases down near the huge doors and then wasted no time in pulling her close to me. It did sting sharply when she put her arms round my neck and I wrapped mine around her waist but I forced that out of mind and focused on the warmth and softness of her body and how good it felt to hold her.

"How long will you be gone?" I murmured.

She pulled back a bit and told me, "Probably a couple weeks or a little more."

I glanced to the side so that she wouldn't mistake whatever manifestation of disappointment and frustration on my face for anger at her. I just got to see her, and now she was leaving again. I knew she was Princess and that duty would call, but I hadn't banked it would have her on speed dial.

"Luigi," I heard her say.

Her hands were on either side of my face, guiding my attention back towards her own. I could see she was sorry, it was in those beautiful light eyes. I could tell she didn't want to go any more than I wanted her to leave, but I could also see she resigned herself to this as just another of her royal obligations. I leaned down and kissed her forehead but she tilted herself up on her toes and pushed her mouth against mine and then I almost forgot how tired and hungry and aggravated I was.

"I'm sorry." Daisy whispered. "I'll work fast."

"No, take your time," I automatically told her. "I wouldn't want anything bad to happen because you were rushing to come back."

Daisy smiled and told me, "Luigi I swear..."

Then she leaned back down onto the flat of her feet and picked up her bags. Outside, there was a group of attendants standing near the royal guard. Daisy kissed my cheek as she passed by me and I watched her leave for who knows how long.

The cock was crowing; it was time to get up.

That was the cue for one seventeen-year-old to roll off the straw pallet he called a bed and stand and stretch. He had to get his body ready for a new day. His bare feet were used to the packed-earth floor beneath them by now, having been exposed to it every morning for weeks. He padded over to the wall opposite his pallet and bent down to retrieve the pair of coarse socks buried inside one of his boots. Once he had them on, he shoved his feet into his heavy-duty work shoes and laced them up over his plain black pants; the fabric of which being only a couple steps up from burlap. The teenager scratched idly at his arm, grazing a couple cuts that were beginning to scab over. The minor sting didn't bother him a bit. He just turned glanced up from the floor to the shelf situated against the wall in front of him. It was almost as tall as him and just as wide and held a few books, a couple knives, and a ton of little wooden figures he'd whittled himself. Some of them were crude, some were fine; they differed according to when he'd made them, as he'd had to teach himself to carve. He still had the old scars on his fingers as proof of his progress. He now used those finger to scratch his thick black hair on his way to the door of his little room. The young man lifted the bar holding the door closed and pushed at the old wood until he had to blink in the light of the early morning. He was bare from the waist up, so the growing heat didn't bother him at all.

He made his way around the back of his humble little dwelling where there was a specific place to relieve himself. He shut the door of the outhouse behind him and stared up at the little crack in the ceiling until he was finished. That way he wouldn't have to focus on the smell or the many little bugs and insects joining him.

Once he was done with that, the young man headed back into his room, little more than a wooden shack, and closed and barred the door behind him. He went over to the area to the right of the door where a stone basin stood under a naked spigot. He turned the knob and cold water gushed out, allowing him to wash his face and brush his teeth with his sparse toiletry supplies. With his fingers he combed through his hair and noted absently that it was a lot more unruly now that some weeks had passed. He couldn't tell that here, where there was no mirror, but he often went into town and saw his reflection in shop windows. There was a makeshift razor balanced on the lip of the basin. He wouldn't need to use it today because the prickly hairs on his face had already been dealt with. Idly the seventeen-year-old rubbed his palm over his mouth and jaw and chin; the area wasn't smooth as silk, but he'd done an adequate job.

He moved over to the crate near his pallet and rummaged through the few garments he owned in order to find a decent shirt. Over his head he pulled it and then went over to his shelf and pulled a piece of paper from between two books. Only then did he go outside and start his daily routine.

It was a farm he lived on, so his main duties consisted of either dealing with the animals or the crops or both. He looked down at his list and saw that he'd first have to go to the barn and feed all the animals and then clean up after them. He made a face but it didn't stop him as he trudged over to the big brown building. As usual, when he stepped past the giant doors, he was greeted by a slew of 'moos' and squeals and snorts. This job was a frequent and unpleasant one, but the young man didn't mind. He'd made the choice not to gripe and complain about his situation early on. His time at the palace was something of a nightmare. He was always being stifled with the presence of his overbearing Koopa guards. Not only that, but nobody liked him. He even dared say the people around him despised him for some reason.

Probably something about how my older brother basically stole their kingdom from them, the young man mused.

He couldn't stand it there, couldn't stand the dirty looks and the veiled insults and the constant, smothering atmosphere of resentment, so he left. It wasn't as if he knew the first thing about ruling, anyway. Plus his retainers, the ones who were supposed to be teaching him about the culture of the land and about what would be expected of him, those retainers ditched him.

I don't even think they stuck around a solid week, the teenager recalled.

They were probably afraid since it was no secret that the foreign young man was an enemy and anyone who aided him were counted among the ill-received. They were probably sent death threats. No less than what the young man, himself, received. He shuddered, still confounded at how much the people around here hated him when they hardly even knew him. That was why it was so hard to get around once he left the palace. Everyone knew him for his scar, the star-shaped mark around his eye, and even when he put up his henge to disguise himself, he still stood out. Broad shoulders, staggering height rivaled only by his two older brothers, and a sort of gruff, albeit reserved personality didn't exactly fit in around town. But it so happened that an elderly couple had mercy on him and decided to let him live in an old shed on their land, granting him free lodging and food so long as he agreed to do their grunt work around the farm. He'd cut the grass and plowed and tilled the land and fixed the couple's broken porch step and re-painted the barn and repaired the leaking sink in their kitchen and cared for the animals and did all the things they couldn't do in their advanced age. It was a small price to pay in the young man's mind, for the couple gave him total privacy and they trusted him enough to where they didn't hang over his shoulder as he worked or popped into the little shack to see what he was doing; something he couldn't say for the people at the palace.

The young man finished with the animals and headed over to the coop, because next on his list was gathering all the eggs from the chickens and putting them into a basket. He didn't mind the work because it wasn't monotonous or boring to him; animals were unpredictable and he found farm work was challenging in a way that allowed him to stimulate his mind and body while staying engaged. He would never wish to recount all the endless hours he'd spent utterly bored out of his mind while at the palace.

After he'd gotten the eggs, the young man went to the porch and picked up the glass bottles of milk that were sitting in a woven basket that resembled the one he'd put all the eggs in. He saw on his list that he was to take the eggs and milk and exchange them for some fruits and vegetables from a merchant in town. Apparently, the elderly couple had an arrangement with the merchant that allowed for the coinless barter. The teenager knew he would have to take the wheelbarrow from around the house to carry the fruits and vegetables back. He went to get it and was surprised to find that there was a little sack of money resting in the wheelbarrow.

For all your help, the note that was attached to the sack read.

The young man blinked at the gestured. He was so sure that everyone hated him here. Even the old couple, generous as they'd been, had to be merely tolerating him because they needed the help, or so he thought. Evidently that wasn't the case. The teenager pocketed the weighty little sack and put the eggs and milk into the wheelbarrow, then made his way into town.

It was a lengthy walk, which was why the young man was grateful it wasn't often that the couple asked him to go. Glancing at the list once he made it to town, he saw that the old man would need his medicine picked up from the apothecary. That was the last thing on his agenda, so the young man figured he would buy himself something good to eat. He didn't really care for jewelry like his older brother or toys like his little brothers, but he did enjoy a good meal.

The vegetable merchant was used to him, this having been his third or fourth time making the exchange, so when he went to trade the milk and eggs, the man greeted him with a faint smile. He didn't speak to the man except to thank him, but the merchant was used to the taciturn teenager. From there, the young man began to walk towards the apothecary. Along the way, he heard some kind of confusion.

"Where'd you put the money, you little thief?"

"Put me down!"

Instantly the young man's ears perked at the sound of those voices. The first one he knew to belong to a particularly ornery old baker, and the second, well; he couldn't put his finger on it because it sounded a little off. The teenager got closer and saw that the lean, grumpy baker was holding a child upside down and was shaking them. The child was a little boy, about twelve or so, with black wavy hair and flying fists.

"Stop it, you slimy, fat-headed jerk!" The boy protested.

That was all it took for something to click in the young man's mind. Leaving his wheelbarrow of goods behind he hurried over to the baker.

"Stop!" The teenager barked, "Let him go!"

The baker turned his angry eyes onto the young man and frowned, still holding the kicking and squirming boy. Once the boy saw the young man, his eyes grew wide as saucers and a bright grin lit up his face. The young man didn't see it because he was busy reaching in his pocket and digging into his sack of money. He shoved a handful of gold coins at the baker.

"Here," He said, "Now can you let him go? He's with me."

The baker seemed begrudgingly appeased as he took the money. He let the boy fall to the ground and turned to head back into his shop.

Behind him he called, "Make sure that runt keeps his hands to himself next time!"

The young man rolled his eyes and gazed down, almost in disbelief, at the child who'd stood now and was dusting himself off. Once they locked eyes again, the little one grinned and ran forward until he crashed into the teenager's middle.

"MJ!" He shouted, "I was looking everywhere for you!"

MJ glanced down at his brother uncomfortably, but he brought himself to pat his younger brother's head fondly. He had missed him, after all. He watched the boy gaze up at him with those big eyes and saw a mischievous grin split his face.

"Look, here's your money back," He told his big brother.

He bent down and took off one of his boots, then shook it until a shower of gold coins came raining out. MJ was both impressed and reproachful. If he hadn't already given the baker his own money, he'd have made his brother give it back.

"What are you doing here, Larry?" MJ asked, then blinked because he remembered something.

He quickly pulled his brother through the crowd and hoped the goods he'd gotten hadn't been stolen in the time he'd been away. Luckily, the wheelbarrow was still full of fruits and veggies when they got to it. MJ sagged a bit in relief and then regarded his brother expectantly.

"Well?" He asked.

Larry's cloak, black and heavy, was disheveled from his encounter with the baker, as was the black hair he donned in his henge form. He shed his cloak and tossed it in the wheelbarrow, giving light to the sky blue silk shirt and pants he wore underneath. He gazed up at MJ eagerly.

"I told you," He said, "I was looking for you!"

"Why?" MJ frowned.

"I dunno." Larry shrugged his shoulders. "My retainer dropped me off here and told me to come find you."

MJ's frown deepened.

Larry then asked bluntly, "Is Ludwig dead?"

"What?" MJ blinked, caught off guard.

Larry's countenance was serious when he relayed, "Some people in the place I was at kept saying that Ludwig was gone, that he was dead. That's not...true, is it?"

MJ didn't know for certain, but he did know that he didn't like the fear that was playing on his little brother's face. He shook his head in answer.

"Of course he's not, don't be stupid."

Larry didn't bother getting offended, for he was much too grateful for the assurance his big brother's reply gave him. He walked beside MJ as the young man headed to the apothecary. He was deep in thought.

I wonder what's happened to Ludwig...I don't think he's dead, but I haven't heard from him since I got here, the teenager mused. I haven't really heard from anyone, except for Roy, but that was ages ago.

True, MJ had received a letter from his older brother. It was a short letter, and in it was the request that the two of them meet up. But not long after receiving the letter MJ decided to leave the palace so there was that. He hadn't understood why Ludwig had split them all up, but figured he had his reasons. He also figured Ludwig would be in to check on him because that's what he was prone to do when they were all in the bunker.

Maybe Ludwig did come and check on me but I wasn't at the palace, so I missed him, MJ wondered, then refuted that. He didn't know how, but his brother had some uncanny ability of keeping tabs on them no matter where they were. MJ was yanked from his thoughts when he felt someone tugging on his arm. He glanced down at Larry.

"When is Ludwig coming back?" Larry wanted to know.

MJ could only shrug and say, "How should I know; I'm not him. I'm not in his head, I don't know his plans or what he's thinking or when he's coming back or where he is or-"

"Okay, I get it!" Larry cried, covering his ears.

MJ winced a little. He knew he'd earned the nickname 'big mouth' for a reason, and that was because he never knew when to stop. He couldn't help it. Sometimes he rambled when he was nervous, and not knowing where Ludwig is, not knowing if something really had happened to him, that made MJ nervous.

He stopped at the apothecary's shop and turned to Larry.

"Be still," He ordered, "I'll only be a sec. Don't get into any more trouble."

"Yeah, yeah." Larry replied, moving the items in the wheelbarrow around so that he could sit down.

MJ just shook his head, still baffled at the sight of his little brother here, and went into the shop. He was quick about picking up the medicine and was back out as soon as he said he would be. Larry was still sitting in the cart, munching on a green apple. MJ opened his mouth to rebuke him, but then shut it and shook his head.

At least he won't ask me a thousand questions if he's busy eating, MJ reasoned.

But Larry could multi-task and started in on his brother as soon as MJ began pushing the wheelbarrow towards the farm.

"Where are we going?" He first asked.

MJ said, "You'll see when we get there."

"What are we gonna' do now?" Larry then wondered.

With a sigh MJ said, "I don't know."

I would say look for Ludwig, but I have no clue where he could be right now. He was so secretive, MJ thought.

Over the rolling hills and plain dirt trails MJ walked with Larry in tow. It wasn't quiet for long. Larry had finished his apple and was working on a carrot, which he'd cleaned by rubbing against his silk shirt. MJ made a face at that and Larry shifted so that his legs draped over the side of the wheelbarrow and he could better see his big brother. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized his older sibling.

"You look different." Larry noticed.

MJ let his henge drop and Larry did the same, revealing that the blue hair that Ludwig had previously trimmed had grown back out, but now it wasn't in a mohawk, it was just all over his head in a shaggy style much like MJ's hair.

Larry asked, "How come you're not at the palace like they said you would be?"

"Who said I would be there?"

"My retainer."

"Oh."

"So how come you weren't there?" Larry persisted.

MJ rolled his eyes and said, "Because they hate me there."

Larry made a sour face and said, "Why? Did you beat people up or something?"

MJ chose not to answer the boy. It wasn't as if Larry could fathom the concept of predisposed hatred at his age.

Instead MJ asked, "Did they like you where you were at?"

Larry shrugged and said, "I guess so. The people acted nice and my retainer was nice and they treated me good."

MJ snorted and muttered, "Yeah, that's probably because you're little and cute."

"I'm not little, I'm twelve!" Larry spoke defensively.

But he wasn't very tall, so the claim couldn't stand. MJ stared straight ahead, wondering how Roy was faring in his kingdom. He knew that Roy had a temper and wouldn't do well if people even looked at him funny, let alone treated him with the same animosity that they did with MJ. But in his letter, Roy said that things were okay. That was it. What he was supposed to take from that, MJ didn't know. Roy could be awful vague when he wanted to be, and writing letters wasn't something he usually did; MJ was surprised to get one at from him at all. He thought that if anyone would write, it'd be his sentimental little sister, but he hadn't heard from Wendy at all. He worried about that. She was a young girl, left alone with a bunch of Koopas for protection in a foreign land. If they treated her anything like they treated MJ, then the young man knew there'd be cause for alarm.

But Wendy's a girl, and very pretty. I doubt they would treat her badly, MJ thought, mostly to stop his own panic from rising. Besides, if Roy wrote me, I know he must've written to her, and if she's in trouble she'd tell him. I can tell they're close like that.

"MJ?"

"What, Larry?"

"How do you know Ludwig is not dead."

MJ frowned and said, "He's not dead."

"But how do you know?" Larry asked insistently.

He was getting scared and he had his knees tucked up to his chest in the wheelbarrow.

"I just know." MJ snapped, trying to combat his own doubts.

He can't be gone, MJ thought fervently. It's probably just some dumb rumor people made up because they haven't heard from him in a while.

"But-"

"Larry." MJ stated firmly. "You remember when we were in the bunker, and a whole two months went by before Ludwig came to see us?"

Larry nodded silently.

"Well, this is just like that." MJ reasoned. "He'll come around."

Larry blinked and seemed uncertain, then the anxiety dissipated from his features and he let his legs stretch out again as he relaxed.

"How come you live so far out?" He asked.

MJ said, "Because I want to."

"You stay by yourself?" Larry enquired curiously.

"Sorta'." MJ replied reluctantly.

He didn't want to delve into the relationship he shared with the elderly couple. He wasn't in a talkative mood for once. That was why he was so glad when the farm came into view. He dropped off the wheelbarrow and put the fruits and vegetables on the porch with the bottle of medicine, then went over to his little shack with Larry on his heels. As soon as they got inside, Larry started touching everything.

"Ooh, cool! did you make these?" He asked his brother excitedly.

MJ snatched the wooden figure of an oak tree out his brother's hand and placed it back onto the shelf with the others, sitting it next to the figure of a deer. Larry stared at the figures with intrigue.

"Yes, I made them," MJ answered. "So don't mess with them."

"I won't break them," Larry vowed. "I just wanna' play-"

"They're not toys!" MJ lectured.

Larry's attention bounced from the figures to the books, and before MJ could stop him he snatched one off of the shelf and flipped through it.

"Hey," He cried, "There's no pictures in this book!"

"Course they're aren't." MJ frowned, taking it from his brother and re-shelving it.

Larry asked, "Then why read it? It looks boring."

MJ started to say something but Larry pointed to the wooden figures again.

"Why would you make these if they're not to play with?" He wanted to know.

MJ wanted to tell him how they were just projects to pass the time but he was yet interrupted.

"How did you make 'em, by the way?" Larry wanted to know, then asked, "Did you use this knife-"

"Don't touch that!"

MJ first grabbed the whittling tool from his brother and then lifted his sibling up by the underarms.

"Hey!" Larry protested.

Onto the straw pallet MJ plopped his little brother and said, "Now don't move: you're starting to get on my nerves."

And I'm starting to remember how annoying you can be, MJ added in his head.

Larry pouted and crossed his arms but stayed put, contenting himself with looking around the place. He quickly lost his anger for wonder.

"How come your place is so small?" He blurted.

"I like it that way."

"Where's the bathroom?"

"You don't wanna' know."

"How come there's no food-"

"Larry," MJ sighed, "Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Because I wanna' know things." Larry answered in a small voice.

MJ hadn't meant to raise his own, but he was just getting irritated. He now gazed at his brother with a softer expression and came to sit beside him on the straw pallet. He rubbed his shoulder and gave him a small smile.

"Oh." He said, then added, "Well I guess that's okay."

Inside, MJ was still perturbed by the fact that Ludwig was gone so long because he could just feel that something was wrong. He ran his mouth a lot so he knew a thing or two about rumors, and one fact was that there was always a bit of truth to every one; which meant that something must have happened to his eldest sibling.

I have to find out what, he knew. And after a few more moments of thought, thankfully Larry kept silent, MJ stood. Larry gazed up at him, alert.

"We're going to Arid City." He announced.

Naturally, Larry asked, "For what?"

"Roy."

A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you liked it everybody. I know it wasn't very long, but oh well. Please don't hesitate to tell me what you liked or disliked about this latest chapter in a review!

We'll check in with our eldest Koopaling, yo, and also see what princess-y duties Daisy has to take care of, and see Luigi get a change of scene in his training (don't worry, his training's almost over)

Until then!

~DymondGold~