"Well, you know what they say," he said lightly, grinning, "Delayed noodles are eventually good. But bad noodles are bad forever." The annoyed cashier could only shake her head again.

"Just please head back, Shigeru. Before the orders pile up again." Miyamoto, however, didn't seem very bothered by her, and he squinted out into the restaurant.

"Goro, hm?" he mumbled. "Where'd he go, then? Don't tell me he left without his order!"

The cashier accusatorially thrust a finger down towards Pit and Luigi. "They're taking it to him."

Miyamoto looked down at them, and his expression morphed from surprise, to shock, to horror. "You!" he hissed, eyes locked on Pit. "What do you want?"

"Hello, Mr. Miyamoto," Pit said casually. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

Miyamoto, stunned, simply tripped across his words for several moments before finally managing to spit, "I…well…never mind that! What are you doing here now?"

Pit's lips were pulled into a hard line. "My friend wanted to talk to you."

Miyamoto's head immediately snapped over to Luigi. His eyes passed over him without the merest hint of recognition. Luigi felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "Why? Who is he?"

Pit sighed. "It's easiest to say that he's a fan of your…ah, past work."

"Shigeru," the cashier cut in, drumming her fingers against the register, "The orders…?"

"Ack!" Miyamoto silenced her, holding up a finger. Despite himself, Luigi felt a momentary surge of pride. "Gimme a minute, would ya?" The cashier gave a huff of disapproval, but when Miyamoto swung his legs over the counter and seated himself on a bar stool, she didn't complain.

Miyamoto squinted at Luigi, who in turn was watching him with open, miserable awe. "What's this, now? You're here to complain about a few old videogames, is that it?"

"No!" Luigi cried, and Miyamoto leaned back, apparently surprised. "No! Never! But…how did you wind up here?"

Miyamoto looked at him as if he had asked why he couldn't breathe underwater. "You don't honestly think I'd still be with Nintendo after that fiasco, do you?"

Luigi grappled with his words. "I don't understand! The games were so good!"

"That's your first problem!" Miyamoto cried, "They weren't good, and anybody could tell you so!"

"I couldn't!" Luigi countered. "Those games were marvelous, and there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to see that."

"Don't," Miyamoto said stiffly. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. "I can accept criticism, thank you very much. I don't imagine I would have even gotten as far as I had if I couldn't. Don't patronize me. It's only embarrassing."

Luigi was desperate. "But I'm not patronizing you!"

Miyamoto nodded bitterly, uncaringly. "In that case, thanks, I guess. For what it's worth." He shook his head. "But your opinion isn't going to change Super Mario. And it's not going to change the past, either. If you'll excuse me."

Silently, he got to his feet, bowed hastily and retreated back behind the counter. Luigi watched open mouthed until he'd disappeared from view. He was shaking against his will. He felt as if his head had suddenly become very hot. Something had settled against his throat from the inside, pressing hard, and he looked straight up, blinking back tears and wondering how much longer Pit's horrible program could possibly drag.

Pit's hand pressed against his back. "Luigi," he whispered gently, "you really have been more important than any of us could say. Please believe me. You may not be a big shot like Mario, but it's been through your help that he's been able to succeed. No one person is the sole purveyor of success for anything. It's a matter of teamwork. It always is. Everyone contributes something, whether they get to be Shigeru Miyamoto or have to be Misato Sodeyama."

Misato! Luigi was suddenly on his feet. He climbed up the barstool and shouted back towards the kitchen. "Shigeru!" he cried, "Shigeru, wait a sec! Let me ask you one more thing!"

To Luigi's profound relief, Miyamoto suddenly reappeared in the doorway. Luigi could feel himself shaking. "Please," he said, "Do you know where Misato Sodeyama is in this reality?"

For a moment, Miyamoto only stared at him. But then he raised an arm and he pointed out into the lobby. From the corner of his eye, Luigi could see that the cashier was pointing as well. The room had fallen eerily silent, and Luigi turned to see that all the patrons of the restaurant had paused to point as well. Sitting alone at one of the tables and stirring a cup of virtual coffee was Misato Sodeyama. The real Misato Sodeyama, having physically walked onto the immersion platform and into his own program.

The spell was broken immediately. Juxtaposed against Sodeyama, the world Pit and Luigi found themselves standing in was clearly and undeniably illusory. There were obvious polygons in the graphics. These had always been there, but Luigi had simply failed to recognize them before. The movements of the program-people, when mirrored against the natural grace of a living person, suddenly seemed false and jerky. Misato smiled at them tiredly.

"I'll take it you two are ready, then?"

Luigi nodded, stupefied. The world around them began to dissolve. Characters, textures, and environment all blended into one another. The world swirled slightly on its axis. Just before everything faded to white, Luigi saw for a final time the face of program-Miyamoto. He was smiling at him with a silent pride.

And like that, the world was gone. The final vestiges of the program faded into the air, and Luigi and Pit found themselves back in the physical world, both completely numb, and standing in an empty, plain white room. Luigi caught sight of a hand on his shoulder, and startled, he looked up to see Sodeyama. He gently led both of them outside, back into the server room.

Then they did nothing. All three of them were still too dazzled. They had found a comfortable place in the lobby, and Misato, exhausted, had gotten himself a cup of real coffee to nurse. They had all expected that they would talk, but despite that, none of them did.

"Do you," Luigi began finally, not sure if he could find the right words. Pit and Misato looked at him expectantly, and he swallowed. "Do you, you know…really believe all that?"

They waited for him to elaborate, so he did. "You know, that we're…all important, I guess?"

"You don't get important by doing nothing, of course," Misato said. "But as long as you work hard, I think that no matter who you are in a project, you can rest assured that you are important."

"And you really ought to be recognized more than you are, Luigi," Pit said, nodding eagerly. "But that's not usually the way these sorts of things work, I'm afraid. But don't let it get you down. You work hard no matter what anybody says. Or no matter what anybody doesn't say, rather."

"For what it's worth, I know you're important," Misato said, sipping his coffee.

"Me too," Pit nodded eagerly.

Luigi wanted desperately to thank them, but he could not have possibly framed the gratitude he felt into adequate words. As it was, he was too moved to trust himself even to look at them. He was mortified that they might think he was ungrateful, but as it was they did not think that at all. They chuckled at his evident discomfort and knew that this was the most accurate way he could express himself.

"It's morning," Pit said stupidly, sitting up suddenly and looking at the warm orange beginning to leak between buildings. He looked sympathetically at Misato. "You're going to get in trouble if somebody realizes you've been here all night."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Misato sighed. "Nobody's going to be coming in." Pit still looked skeptical, so he added, "It is a holiday, after all."

AFTERWORD: I don't honestly think I'll get in trouble for this dinky little fan story, but I feel inclined to say, just one more time, that the characters in this story who resemble real people are used in a 100% fictitious way.

However, I was mostly inspired by an interview I once found with the real-life Shigeru Miyamoto. During the course of it, he stated that he was a little embarrassed by his fans singling him out. He insisted that the games were the result of teams of people working together, and that their success was something that he would never dare take credit for alone.

I admit I found his modesty moving. I began thinking more about this idea of success-as-a-team-effort. Just how important is it to be recognized for contributions?

Very, I think, at least for the sanity of the contributing individual. You can find examples everywhere. Blood donors receive stickers. Fast-food joints and grocery stores often hold drives where contributors get to write their names on a tearaway and tack it to the wall. People who give sums to schools and charities may have their names displayed on the building. Recognition is proof from the outside that an individual has done good and is good. It is reaffirmation of one of our most abstract and yet oddly integral desires: to feel as if we matter.

A spoof of It's a Wonderful Life using Luigi was something I had wanted to do long before, and these fresh revelations were perfect to tie the parody together and make it relevant.

Anyway, I didn't mean to get so embarrassingly quasi-intellectual on you all. In closing, I also want to say that the main Misato Sodeyama exists in real life. He worked as a general programmer for New Super Mario Bros. Wii, and that is absolutely the only thing I know about him (him?). I found the credits online and just picked a name off that I thought sounded nice. So Mr. Sodeyama, if you've stumbled across this somewhere out there and are wondering what the flying pastrami, I hope this clears things up a little.

Thanks for reading! I guess it's time for me to crack my knuckles and start thinking about Fatty and the Kid 3.