Disclaimer: No, I don't own Kirby. And if I did, I would probably screw it all up. There, I said it.

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III

Several days had passed since Galacta Knight had left Marx to fend for himself, and if anything, the jester felt even more miserable than before.

After hours of walking right after Galacta's departure, he had arrived to the small town he had spotted back on top of the hill. Once he arrived, he tried talking to the townspeople in the hopes that someone knew about him, but the looks they gave him made him reconsider his idea. Some of the inhabitants glared at him with resentment and anger, others with fear and even surprise, and finally those who wouldn't even look at him. And yet none of them dared to talk to him or acknowledge him in any other way, and it was the ignoring part that hurt Marx the most.

Is this because I don't have arms?, the purple puff looked at his sides, hoping that those same golden wings from the other night would come back, if I could just make them appear, they would see that I'm not armless and then they would talk to me and like me…right?

But no matter how hard he tried, the wings never appeared. And that made the jester even sadder since he had wanted to see how it felt to fly. And he wanted to see those pretty rainbow-colored mirrors again, too. Either way, after leaving the town, he decided not to go through any city, village or place with people in it again.

Those stares had really scared him.

It was a good idea at first; food was not a problem since there was food scattered everywhere he went: apples, ice cream, sandwiches, lollipops…he wasn't sure how that worked, but he didn't complain. And sleep wasn't an issue either; he would simply lie down on the soft grass and watch the stars sparkle at night until sleep came to him. As long as he avoided anyone who came across his way, everything would be fine.

And there was also his memory. Every day, names of places and people from all over Dreamland would flash across his mind randomly: Birdon, Orange Ocean, TAC, Grape Gardens, Scarfy, Mt. Dedede…using his recovered knowledge, he realized he was currently in Cookie Country, and that if he kept going north he would arrive at Yogurt Yard. Finally knowing where he was and where he was heading to relieved him.

But soon enough, the loneliness took hold of him. He was sick of traveling without anyone to talk but himself – which made more than one Bronto Burt stare at him funny – and he was sick of being afraid of going into the villages just because people didn't like him having no arms. Because that was the reason they didn't like him, right?

And now here he was; at the entrance to a town's marketplace somewhere in Yogurt Yard. Every fiber of his body was yelling at him not to go inside, but the laughter of children and the fragrant smell of cooked food that filled the air were too much for him to ignore. Once he entered, he discovered much to his delight that people were too busy buying and running around to even notice him, and soon enough he lost himself too to the colorful displays of the market.

The marketplace was much bigger than he originally thought, and everywhere he looked there were shops selling all kinds of things: jewelry, machine parts, books, tools and utensils of all sorts, weapons…and even more numerous were the food stands. They sold all sort of meals from rice balls to cake, from hamburgers to donuts. There was even a stand that sold octopus casserole – which wasn't very successful considering the casserole seemed to be alive and trying to grab customers with its tentacles.

Marx was gazing hungrily at a Chilly's ice cream stand when a flash of color caught his eye. Right behind the ice cream stand was another one owned by a Poppy Bro, filled to the brim with toys and dolls. But what really caught his attention was the big, striped beach ball hanging from a cord attached to the ceiling. Walking closer to the stand, the purple jester never tore his gaze away from the ball, blue and red eyes shining as a warm feeling started to spread across his tummy.

"Look at me, Mommy! I did it, I finally did it!"

"Oh Marx, it's wonderful! I'm so proud of – Oh my goodness, be careful not to fall off!"

Marx felt his body freeze and go numb as the voices echoed inside his head. And for a split second, he saw a fleeting image of himself – or rather of a younger version of himself walking on top of a ball, smaller and wearing a dark purple sleeping cap instead of the red and blue jester hat he wore now.

He realized they were the same voices from his nightmare back in Dark Star. The first voice was obviously his own – of his younger self, to be exact. The female voice, or "Mommy's" voice as he called it, was still unknown to him. The voice didn't bring any more memories back to him, no face or name to recognize. But for once it didn't matter, because unlike his previous dream, this one had no screaming or bleeding or shouting or crying.

Only happiness.

"Hey kid, are you OK?"

"Huh?" Marx turned around to face the now concerned Poppy Bro vendor, and that's when he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. Shaking his head to wipe them, he tried to hide his sadness with the cutest, brightest smile he could muster, "I'm f-fine? Why wouldn't I?"

But the Poppy Bro inched closer to Marx instead, his concern soon replaced by something the jester couldn't identify. "Say, have I seen you before?"

The Bro's words confused Marx, and just as suddenly filled him with hope. Had they really met before? Were there others who knew him in this town? Because if that proved to be true, then maybe they could help him get his memory back! But his joy disappeared when he noticed the Poppy Bro starting to tremble, his face turning a pale, sickly color.

"It's you!" the terrified bomber pointed an accusing finger at the purple jester. Now as scared as the Poppy Bro, Marx turned around as if looking for an exit, just as everybody else turned their heads towards the source of the commotion, "But that's – Kirby – We all saw – "

Marx flinched at the word "Kirby", the blurry image of a blue-eyed, pink ball running towards him flashing across his eyes. His whole body shook as he felt his chest burn with an intense emotion he had never felt before, and at the same time he felt he was very familiar with…

"Hey! What's going on?"

"What's with all the shouting?"

"Stars above, is that-?"

"It is! But that's impossible!"

The crowd forming around the toy stand was now staring at Marx, the spectators' faces twisted in fear that soon became anger. They formed a circle around the terrified boy, imprisoning him from within. The jester looked for an opening, but everywhere he looked he was greeted by more hostile glances and scowling faces.

"What is he doing here!"

"Didn't Kirby get rid of him for good?"

"He probably heard that Kirby's away in Ripple Star!"

"Yeah, and now he's here to take over Popstar and enslave us all!"

Marx froze.

Well, I want to control Popstar!

A wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks, almost making him fall to the floor. The voice speaking inside his head was his, but it spoke with such malice and cruelty it horrified him. A hurricane of memories rushed into his brain, but they passed through so quickly that all he could register was a blur of color and noise that made his head hurt. And the angry mob ignored all this as they got closer and closer…

"Kirby or not, there's no way he's getting away with what he did!"

"Yeah, you said it!"

"Get out of our town, you freak!"

"We don't want you around!"

A red blur shot from somewhere in the crowd and hit Marx on his right cheek. Tasting the red goop that dripped from it with his tongue, he realized it was a tomato. Soon, everyone in the market was throwing merchandise at him – and half of it wasn't even food. He tried to dodge all the stuff thrown at him, but a spoonful of mashed potatoes hit him right between his eyes. Now blind, Marx stumbled backwards due to the force of the hit and into the floor, unable to do anything but curl into a ball, bracing himself for the incoming projectiles.

"Stop it…please…" his voice was barely heard over the jeering and shouting of the crowd. Why were they doing this to him? What could he have possibly done to make them hate him like this? Slowly, his terror and sadness morphed into anger, and it was so powerful it made his body shake as if in the verge of tearing apart.

"I SAID STOP!"

Suddenly, he felt warm, like if he had a giant lamp shining down on him. People started screaming, but he couldn't tell what was going on because of the potatoes blinding him. A strange tingle coursed through his body, intensifying by the minute.

"I can't see anything!"

"What the heck did he do!"

"The light! IT BUUUUUUUUUUURNS!"

And instantly, the mashed potatoes were wiped off his face. With his sight still blurry for having closed his eyes for so long, he could barely see figures either kneeling on the ground or running around aimlessly. But then his gaze caught something gold through the corner of his eyes, and his sight sharpened and focused.

My wings!

He grinned and wiped the potatoes off his claws, then stretched the golden limbs as much as he could. The light reflected off the rainbow-colored hexagons, filling the market with all the sparkling colors of the spectrum. But then he noticed the angry mob recovering from their temporary blindness, and before he could even realize it, the ground beneath him vanished as his wings took him to the skies.

I'm flying! The tiny jester thought to himself, complete immersed in the excitement and joy of his new ability. The wind flowed through his hexagons, rustling them as the sound of wind chimes filled the air. He looked down and saw the mob chasing him underneath him, looking no bigger than ants, and he couldn't help but laugh mockingly at them, "I'd like to see you losers catch me now!"

"You're not getting away with this, punk!" The same Poppy Bro from the toy stand broke through the crowd, a bomb in hand. Marx's satisfaction turned to horror as a Burning Leo rushed beside the Poppy, her flaming hair lighting the fuse. And with one mighty jump, the Poppy Bro fired.

He just barely dodged the bomb by making a sharp turn as it exploded, but his relief was short lived as he felt a searing pain on his right wing. Turning around to check the damage, he gasped at the golden frame cracking, the hexagonal mirrors crumbling into dust. And with a flash of light, the wings shimmered and disappeared, sending the shrieking jester plummeting towards the ground.

WHAM

Half-expecting to hear the sound of his bones breaking or of his brain turning to mush inside his skull, Marx certainly didn't expect to crash into something soft – it wasn't really that soft, but without doubt softer than the ground he was expecting to hit. Finally daring to open his eyes, the purple puff found to his relief that he had landed on top of some flour sacks stacked into a pile within the marketplace. Still a little shaken from the fall, he tried snuggling into the sacks and just rest for a minute or two or ten-

"There he is!"

Jolted awake by the shout, Marx jumped out of the flour sacks and fell face-first onto the floor. Looking up, he watched in dismay as the angry inhabitants of Yogurt Yard closed on him from every side, the ones at the front charging any power they had at hand.

"There's nowhere left for you to run, brat!" a Plasma Wisp floated in front of the others, wicked green energy crackling across his disembodied, floating gloves. "Now stay still and we might go easy on you!"

"And then we'll take you with Dedede!"

"Yeah! He'll whack you good for what you did!"

The image of an obese blue penguin in red robes flashed through Marx's mind. That alone didn't tell him much about this Dedede, but the smug grin and the massive hammer he held in his hands wasn't exactly reassuring, either. Knowing that there was really no escape for him this time – not without his wings, at least – Marx closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable pain.

And waited.

And waited.

And it never came.

"Hey! What gives?"

"Did we hit 'im?"

"Holy crap - ARE THOSE BLOCKS?"

Blocks? Confused by such exclamation, Marx opened his eyes and marveled at the barrier that had formed around him. It was entirely made of orange, yellow-edged blocks half his size with a white star emblazoned on each of their faces. He heard voices and loud thumps on the other side of the barrier, but the blocks didn't even budge an inch. But how –

"I can't believe you guys! What do you think you're doing!"

The blocks suddenly rose apart from their barrier formation and floated towards the sky. Marx – along with the whole angry mob – watched as they started spinning around as if caught inside a tornado and his eyes focused on the silhouette that was descending right in the middle of the vortex. As the figure came closer, slowly revealing itself, the jester came to the realization that this person, his savior, was nothing else but-

A giant onion! In times like these, he wished he had arms to rub his eyes with, or at least for pinching himself out of this bizarre dream, Man, I really should have eaten something earlier…

Said figure – which turned out to be really an onion, and a female one from the looks of it – landed right in front of Marx, broom in hand, as her big pointed shoes connected with the ground without a sound. Her round face was hidden in the shadow cast by her enormous purple-and-yellow striped hat, but Marx could make out the scowl forming underneath.

"An entire village against one single boy…" he heard her mutter between gritted teeth. Then she abruptly whipped around to face the crowd, which flinched at her sudden reaction. "Seriously, what is wrong with you people? I wanna know who's the freakin' GENIUS who thought this was a good idea!"

"But Grill," a young Birdon stepped forward while still holding on to her mother's wing, using the other one to point at Marx, "he's a bad, bad guy! He did bad stuff and really mean things and hurt people-"

"And I don't care." Onion girl – or Grill, as the little Birdon had called her – pointed directly at the crowd with her left gloved hand, the other holding her broomstick high in the air, "You should be ashamed of yourselves! Stomping around like wild animals and throwing stuff at him like that! You could've KILLED him, for heaven's sake!"

A grey-clothed Biospark snorted at her comment while twirling a shuriken around his index finger, "Oh, so now you're defending him, aren't you? It doesn't surprise me, though: Once a villain, always a villain!" The crowd behind the Biospark jeered and shouted back, some of them even starting to throw stuff at Marx again. Said purple jester couldn't get a good look at Grill's face from behind, but judging by the way her cream-colored skin slowly turned pinkish red, she was getting really pissed off.

"Ugh! You're all such JERKS!" Stomping her foot angrily, Grill was now brandishing her broom as if it were a sword, "I've had it with you people! Now get out and leave this guy alone or you'll be in for it!"

"We don't have time to deal with this," the grey Biospark stepped forward and pulled out three other shurikens, the rest of the crowd following in his steps, "You get out of our way and let us deal with him, or we'll have to go rough on you too!". His words sent the crowd on a riot, making them shout and jeer and throw insults at not only Marx, but now at Grill too.

The onion witch stood still for what felt like hours, simply staring at the crowd that was getting closer and closer. For a second, Marx considered making a run for it, hoping that the stranger would hold them back. But the idea was suddenly discarded; she had saved his life, it just wasn't right to dump her when these people were now mad at her for helping him!

Fortunately, Marx still couldn't get a good look at her face, or else he would have probably been scared senseless by the mischievous, almost cruel smile that spread across her face. "So you want to play rough, eh?"

The evil aura of mischief that seemed to flow out from her made the mob stop on their tracks, their faces now filled with doubt and even fear. This made Grill grin even more as she raised her hands towards the skies, "That's cool…if rough is what you want, then I can play that way too!"

And that's when all hell broke loose.

The blocks floating above Grill suddenly came down on the unsuspecting crowd, accompanied by dozens, hundreds, thousands of other blocks that popped out of nowhere. The now terrified townspeople dispersed in hopes of taking cover, but the blocks acted as if they had a mind of their own and followed them wherever they went. Some of the blocks even formed in groups to create figures like hammers and crocodiles that sped behind their victims, slamming and snapping.

Taken back by this sudden offensive, Marx turned to Grill. She was swaying her hands not unlike a director controlling an orchestra, but she abruptly stopped in her movements – oddly enough, the blocks kept tormenting the mob – and turned around to grab Marx's hat with her left hand, the right one holding her broom, "I think now's the best time to escape, don'tcha think?". And before Marx could answer back, he was roughly seated on the broomstick right behind Grill as both children lifted off and sped towards the northeast.

The broomstick soared through the skies like an arrow, the earth below passing by in a blur. Marx was trying really hard not to fall off or to throw up, but Grill's laughter made it clear she was having the time of her life, "WOOOOOO-HOOOOOO! It's been a long time since I've flown like this!" She then turned around to face Marx and smiled warmly at the jester, "That was a pretty close call, wasn't it?"

Marx couldn't bring himself into answering as he got a better look at the girl's face. Her face was pale beige with bright red streaks on her cheeks and an unruly mop of grass-green hair stuck out from underneath her witch hat to partially cover her face. Her eyes were a bright green the color of lime, and they sparkled with such childish mischief yet also with such tenderness that Marx fell his face grow hot with a feeling he hadn't felt before and scared him so deeply-

"Helloooooo? Popstar to big-eyed clown grape? Is somebody home?"

"HEY!" Abruptly cut off from his thoughts – which was sort of a good thing anyways – Marx pulled out his tongue at Grill and pouted, "I'm NOT a grape! Grapes are dumb anyways!" This earned him giggles from the onion witch, but they died quickly as her eyes focused on his right cheek and grimaced, "Ouch! You should really get that checked out…"

Confused, Marx poked his right cheek from the inside with his tongue and flinched at the dull, throbbing pain that followed. The tomato that had hit him there had left a deeper mark than he originally thought. Grill then stretched out her left hand and, while muttering something under her breath that Marx couldn't understand, summoned a perfectly cut ice cube and pressed it against his cheek, ignoring the jester's whimpers. "Try pressing it to your cheek with your foot, OK? We'll go to my place and ask my aunt to take care of it."

"Your aunt?"

"We're not really related, actually," she was now facing forward as the broom started to descend, "but I've been living with her for a while now, so I've grown to know her as my aunt." She bit her lip nervously, although Marx didn't notice, "She's not really accustomed to visits, especially surprise visits, but I'm sure that she'll understand your case. And after she heals you, I can take you home if you want –"

"But I don't have a home." Feeling as if a black hole was growing in his chest, the purple puff tried to distract himself by gazing at the clouds that zoomed across the setting sun in the distance, but the feeling proved to be too great. "I-I'm not really sure how it happened, but I lost my memory and I don't know where to go…it's complicated."

"…Oh."

The rest of the trip took place in awkward silence, with neither child sure of what to say after that. After the sun sank into the horizon and night crept in, Marx saw lights appear before them, and soon enough the silhouette of a mansion came into view through the darkness. It stood tall and proud, sharp towers reaching into the night sky like needles.

"We're here!" Descending right in front of the mansion's doors, Grill hopped off her broomstick with Marx in tow. Still feeling a little woozy from their trip, the jester sat on the floor to keep his head from spinning as Grill opened the massive doors with her magic, "Alright then, this is what we'll do: You wait here while I go fetch my aunt, and when she says it's OK for you to come in –"

"GRILL!"

Marx had no time to register what happened next. One second Grill had been speaking to him, and the next she was facing the floor with three smaller, tan-colored onions clinging to her back.

"You're back!"

"We were sooooooo worried for you!"

"Hey look! She brought a visitor!"

The three talking onions turned their attention to the light purple jester, who felt intimidated by the sudden attention. Forgetting completely about Grill, all three onions jumped off her back and floated – yes, floated – right into Marx's face.

"Who're you?"

"Where are you from?"

"Are you and Grill together?"

"Toget-NO!" Marx's purple fur turned into a deep, wine red from the embarrassment, "It's not like – I mean – I'VE JUST MET HER!"

"Guys, stop it! You're scaring him!" Peeling herself off the floor, Grill grabbed the floating onions by their tiny arms and legs. Had Marx not been so distracted by his own embarrassment, he would've noticed that Grill's face was just as red as his. "That's not something kids like you should know about anyways!" Turning to her friend, she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about my siblings. But now that you've seen each other, you might as well introduce yourselves, right? I just remembered I don't even know your name!"

"O-oh, right! My name's Marx….I think."

"Okay then. My name's Grill, but I think you knew that already." The tiny onions took the chance to sit in Grill's big striped hat, which made her roll her eyes, "and these annoying twerps are –"

"I'm Sugar!"

"I'm Salt!"

"My name's Pepper!"

"Uh…hi?"

"Well, now that that's out of the way, I might as well go look for my aunt." The young witch headed for the door, but was blocked by her three onion siblings, who were all shaking their heads. "Hey! What gives?"

"Auntie's painting in the basement again!"

"She said she doesn't want ANYONE to bother her!"

"I think she might stay there for a week or two…"

This obviously annoyed Grill, who let out an exasperated sigh, "Another of her random surges of inspiration? It's the third time this month!" She turned to Marx, who was confused by the whole dilemma and smiled apologetically, "Our aunt really loves to paint, and she often leaves for the basement when she's inspired so that no one distracts her. She can stay there for days or even weeks without coming out even once until she's finished…" She then summoned another ice cube since the first one was long gone and pressed it against Marx's cheek carefully, "I was hoping she would help me with your injuries, but it seems I'll have to go hit the healing spellbooks again."

"That means you have to make dinner too, sis!"

"Let's eat curry tonight!"

"Nooooo, let's have hot dogs instead!"

Sugar, Salt and Pepper hovered into the castle, still bickering about which dinner would be better. Grill walked right behind them, but turned around to look at the jester who was still standing at the entrance, unsure of what to do, "Well? You're not gonna stand there all night, will ya?"

"But…" Marx turned to the floor, suddenly interested in staring at his shoes, "your aunt 's at the basement…and you said she doesn't like surprise visitors-"

"It's OK, Marx," the jester almost jumped as he felt Grill's hand patting him on the head, "This is not what I had in mind, but we'll have to wait until she comes out. And I'm sure she'll understand, but for now you'll have to stay with us." Her soft expression became sterner as he put her hands on her hips, "Because there is NO way I'm letting you go with those bruises! What kind of friend would I be if I did that?"

Friend? Grill really considered herself as his friend? To Marx, the word sounded really weird inside his head, but it also filled with an unexplainable happiness that spread from head to toe. He skipped behind Grill and into the castle, her younger siblings flying and laughing above their heads as they chased each other.

And for the first time since arriving at Popstar, Marx smiled.

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AN: Dammit, every chapter is longer than the last one…that's not right.

I also want to apologize for the delay. For some reason, I only get the will to write these chapters when I'm at school. I could've finished this earlier at home, but I simply didn't want to….meh.

Also, GRILL. Because I've seen her in one and ONLY one fanfic, and she didn't even get a happy ending But I guess that's what you get for being a secret boss in this one Kirby game that couldn't get out of Japan…I imagine her as sort of cocky and a prank-lover, considering she's a villain. And I'm not really sure why but I see her onion henchmen as her younger siblings (Sugar is a girl and Salt and Pepper are boys).

Get ALL the cyber cookies by guessing who Grill's mystery foster aunt is! But send me a PM if you really want to know if you're right; if you are, I don't want spoilers leaking out or something…