It was a fairly quiet day among the Assist Trophies. Indeed, it seemed so peaceful that even the clouds seemed to be sleepy. There were very few scheduled battles for the day, so plenty of fighters and assistants alike were off for the day. And Spring Man was spending his day off the best way he knew how: kicking back in front of the television with his feet up and a slice of Diamond City-style deep-dish pizza in his hands, courtesy of Chef Kawasaki. With his free hand, he idly flipped through the channels with the remote control.

"Hmm…" He pressed a button on the remote, and the channel switched to a man grinning widely, holding up several fancy-looking watches in different colors. "When you wear this watch, you'll be sure to make a statement. Coming from a long line of Galarian watchmakers, one of these can be yours for the low, low price of—"

Click. Spring Man changed the channel. Now, there was a scene of a group of foxes standing in the middle of a snowy field. They were of varying sizes, but they all had the same snow-white fur. A gentle, soothing voice began to narrate: "This skulk of Fox Pokémon has taken a short rest in this field. Under the watchful eyes of their Ninetales parents, they are free to play and wrestle as they wish." One Vulpix pounced on its sibling from behind. The two of them tumbled around and around in the snow, pawing at each other's faces.

"Aw…" Spring Man's adoring smile spread wide across his face. The two Pokémon were quite cuddly.

The narration continued. "In other circumstances, the parents would join in the fun themselves. But today, they are on guard, protecting their pups. Note the purposeful stance: tails up, legs stiffened, and ears high and erect. They could be besieged at any time by predators."

At that moment, the camera panned over to a group of mammalian Pokémon with bluish gray fur and bright red crowns of feathers on their heads. "These Weavile have been quietly observing the family for quite some time. And now…"

The Weavile rushed forward, leaping out with bared teeth and ice beginning to form on their claws.

"…They strike."

Quick as a whip, one of the Ninetales lunged, the other pacing protectively around the Vulpix. "Here, the mother goes on the offensive against the Weavile, while the father stays behind to mind the pups." The mother Ninetales expelled a cold, sparkling mist from its mouth, slowing some of the Weavile down. As the two groups continued to fight, the Weavile with the largest crest snuck past them and advanced on the cowering Vulpix.

"No!" cried Spring Man.

As the Weavile raised its claws, the father Ninetales pounced on it, sending the two Pokémon rolling through the snow. Spring Man silently cheered as the fox pushed the weasel off it with its feet.

While the Ninetales and Weavile squared off, the rest of the gang was pestering the mother with attacks, forming icicles in their claws to throw at her and striking at her tails when her back was turned. The Ninetales fought back as best she could, flinging powdery snow at those that were farther away and snapping at those that tried to get closer.

Suddenly, the mother crouched down, her tails almost parallel to the ground. The Weavile paused, exchanging glances amongst themselves. "The mother takes a defensive position. Its aim is to confuse the Weavile and goad them into attacking." There was a short, tense silence between the Pokémon. Spring Man leaned forward in his seat, completely enthralled by the spectacle and drama of the encounter.

At last, one of the Weavile took the bait, moving in for the kill. As it raised its razor-sharp claws, the Ninetales leapt up and pounced on the Weavile, turning over its prone body with its snout and bashing it with her paws. The unfortunate Weavile went sailing into the distance.

"One of the Weavile falls for its tricks, and is punished swiftly and harshly," said the narrator. "It uses a technique scientists refer to as 'Play Rough', a maneuver that is very effective against Weavile and other Pokémon of its type. One might say it's even 'super effective'."

Spring Man cheered loudly as the rest of the pack of Weavile began to back off. "Yeah-hah! You show 'em!"

"Must be a pretty exciting movie, huh?"

Spring Man stopped mid-applause. Isaac and Phosphora were standing in the doorway, both of them looking like they were trying their best not to laugh.

"…Oh." Spring Man's long arms dropped to the ground as he noticed them. "Yeah, there's this really cool Pokémon documentary on now. They had a Ninetales just absolutely wail on one of those Weavile things! Here, watch!"

Phosphora and Isaac stepped into the room to watch the film. The television now showed a Weavile advancing on a prone Vulpix pup, with the parents running to its rescue in the background. One of the Ninetales, noticed Spring Man, had a limp in its stride.

"The parents rush to save the left behind pup… but it is too late," came the silky smooth voice of the narrator. "The Weavile sharpens its claws and begins to—"

Spring Man stretched out one of his arms to turn off the television before Isaac and Phosphora could be exposed to the horrors of nature in the Pokémon world. "They were winnin' before," he mumbled. "So, what'dja need?"

Phosphora regained her bearings first, having been put off by the sudden violence of the documentary. "…Oh, yeah! The street market is back in town!"

Spring Man blinked, confusion knitting his brow. "The… street market? Is that some kind of fundraiser or something?"

"Ehh… kind of," began Isaac. "Master Hand lets a bunch of people from a bunch of different worlds come to the mansion to sell things! You can get plenty of stuff there that you can't really get here!"

"They only ever come once every month or so," continued Phosphora, "so everyone tries to buy as much as they can! Crazy Hand says it's 'good for publicity', or something. Not that we need it, considering I'm here, but it's great for us!"

"Anyways," said Isaac, "we were wondering if you wanna come with!"

Spring Man grinned. "Yeah I'd love to go! I've had some extra cash burning a hole in my pocket, anyways!"

"Great!" said Isaac. He glanced up at the clock. "They've probably finished setting up by now. Let's go!"

Together, the trio left the room and raced down the hallway, eager to browse some interdimensional wares.

"So what do they even have at the street market?" asked Spring Man.

"That's the best part," answered Phosphora, pushing past Marth. "Hey, watch it! …It's different every time, so there's always a reason to go!"

"They used to have these all the time back in the Brawl tournament!" said Isaac, nearly tripping over Dr. Wily, who seemed like he was in a hurry to be somewhere. "Ooh, sorry—Yeah, I feel like you'd love it!"

The trio reached the main entrance of the mansion. In the distance, they could see several mysterious individuals carrying boxes and setting up stands. Spring Man opened the door, where a bus was waiting for them.

"Ahoy!" called Kapp'n with a friendly wave. "Off to the street market, are ye? Well then, hop on me bus, by gar!"

The three of them boarded the bus, where someone was already waiting in a seat, staring contemplatively out a window. He had long white blond hair and piercing golden eyes, and wore a black jacket with a white cravat, with a black overcoat covering his outfit. His gaze met that of Isaac, who hesitated. "Oh, I—um…"

"Hello," said the man. His voice was low and aloof.

"…Hey." Isaac awkwardly waved a hand. Feeling that the conversation was over, he sat down, with Phosphora and Spring Man following suit.

"Alrighty!" said Kapp'n. "Next stop, the street market! Now, listen to a grand sea shanty o' love and loss!" He began to sing:

"Me new hairstyle, it's really easy ta fix,

A pair o' chopsticks that's what I use for a comb…"

"…Does he even have any hair?" whispered Phosphora. Kapp'n kept singing.

"I'd like a perm or an afro, a mohawk or odango,

But I got just one lock, so's I usually just shine up me dome!"

Kapp'n glanced at Spring Man through his rear view mirror. "I don't suppose that comes naturally, does it, me heartie?"

"Nope!" chirped Spring Man, running a hand through his pompadour. "Just this morning, it took me hours to get this baby presentable!"

"Gar!" laughed Kapp'n. "Some people have all the luck!"

As the old kappa chortled over his joke, Phosphora and Isaac pulled Spring Man aside. "Hey, Spring Man, who's that guy?" asked the Venus Adept, gesturing towards the blond man. "I've never seen that guy around."

"Hmmm? Oh, that's Alucard!" said Spring Man. "I met him back at orientation. He mostly keeps to himself, but he's pretty cool."

"Oh, really?" Isaac glanced at Alucard, who was still gazing pensively at the countryside. Isaac couldn't help but admit that he looked quite impressive, what with his incredible fashion sense and his calm, stoic demeanor. "Lemme try and talk to him. He's new, so maybe I can give him some tips." He sidled up to the man. "Hey, Alucard, how's it been?" he asked, as though he'd known him for more than fourteen seconds.

Alucard glanced sideways at Isaac. "…It's been passable, I suppose," he mused. "If nothing else, it's been peaceful."

"Great! Cool!" said Isaac. "…So, this your first time at the street market? Looking to find anything cool?"

"You could say that." Alucard did not elaborate.

"…Right on. Right on." Sensing that the conversation was dying, Isaac tried to rack his brain for a topic. No way was he gonna make a fool of himself in front of Alucard. From what Spring Man had said, Alucard was a newcomer, and he was a veteran. He had to show him the ropes, or at least give off the image of a cool, dependable mentor-type! There had to be something… Anything would do!

"Is your world flat or round?"

Alucard slowly turned to face Isaac, looking at him as though he'd grown a second head. Behind the boy, Spring Man's shoulders sank, while Phosphora covered her mouth with her arm to hide her laughter. Even Kapp'n slowed down the bus as he absorbed the information that flowed out of the Adept's mouth.

"…Um."

Isaac felt his face heat up. He glanced towards the window and wondered for a moment if he could safely throw himself out of it. Not daring to even look at Alucard, he slunk back into his seat.

"Isaac, what was that?" asked Spring Man, genuinely confused.

"I… I panicked," mumbled Isaac. "I just thought of the first thing that popped into my head."

"Yeah, real smooth, flat-earther," teased Phosphora. "But hey, you definitely made an impression on him."

Isaac could only groan as he buried his face in his hands. "Yar," came the croaky voice of Kapp'n, snapping him out of his reverie. "We've reached our destination."

"C'mon, Isaac, buck up," said Spring Man, standing up and stretching his legs. "Some shopping will be sure to cheer you up!" The three of them stepped off the bus as it drove away behind them.

It was unlike anything the three of them had ever seen. A plethora of homemade shops, booths, and tables spread out and out all across the mansion lawn. Just as many fighters, assistants, and even some others that none of them recognized were out and about, perusing the stalls, chatting amongst themselves, or simply sitting under the sun to quietly observe the scene.

Spring Man, Isaac, and Phosphora exchanged gleeful grins. Then, without a moment's hesitation, they all sped off into the thick of the market, eager to shop until they dropped.

As the trio wandered around the fair, wondering where to start, they were suddenly stopped by a tired-looking young man in a lavender polo shirt. "Excuse me!" he called. "Excuse me! Hey, you! You there, with the blue arms and the toothpaste hair!"

The man with the funny-looking pompadour pointed at himself, mouthing "Who, me?" He was beckoned closer to the stall. "Yeah? Whatcha need?" he asked.

The tired man smiled. As Spring Man drew closer, he could see that he was holding a small white box with the image of a Poké Ball engraved on it. "I see you have quite the eye for luxury. Let me ask you something, sir. How would you like to be the envy of all your friends with the cutting edge of technology?" Coming from his mouth, the words seemed quite stilted and rehearsed. Without even waiting for Spring Man to answer, he continued, "Introducing the latest and greatest evolution in electronics in Sinnoh, a true technological marvel, it's the one, the only, the Pokémon Watch!" He opened the box with a flourish to reveal two shiny digital watches, one blue and one pink. "It functions as a regular watch, but its variety of apps includes a memo pad, a dowsing machine, a pedometer, and a dot art program!"

Spring Man's eyes grew wide and he leaned in closer. "Oooh…" Just as he reached out a hand to touch one, the salesman quickly closed the box.

"Er… yeah, sorry," began the man, "but my boss says—I mean, we at the Pokétch Company have a strict 'no-touching' policy for unpurchased merchandise. The only way to touch one is to buy one, so…"

Spring Man reached into his pocket and slammed a few bills onto the counter. "Blue, please!"

The man smiled a tired smile. "Great!" He collected the payment and handed him another Pokétch wrapped in plastic. "Thank you for your patronage! Come again!"

The spring-armed man tore open the packaging like a child on Christmas morning and slipped it onto his wrist. "Mondo cool…" He flicked through some of the apps, using a color changer app to change the background screen from green to blue. "Guys, you gotta check this… out?"

Isaac and Phosphora did not share the same enthusiasm that Spring Man had for his new purchase. Isaac was staring at him with an almost-worried expression, while Phosphora looked as though he'd grown a second head. Spring Man blinked, oblivious to any wrongdoing on his part. "…What?" he asked.

Phosphora stopped walking and faced Spring Man, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This… this is your first street market, right?"

Spring Man nodded slowly in response. "…Yeah. What about it?" he replied.

Phosphora nodded, a quick and hurried motion in contrast. "Yeah, I figured as much."

Isaac shot her a look. "Phosphora, be nice."

"What?" she said defensively. "I'm just being honest! If anything, it's my fault for not warning him earlier."

Spring Man's eyes darted between the two. "W-warn me? About what?"

Isaac sighed deeply. "You know, about the people that try to—"

"Scam people," finished Phosphora. She jerked a thumb in the direction of the Pokétch stall. "I'll admit, that guy wasn't so bad, but what if it was someone who was? You really need to be careful around here."

Isaac nodded in agreement. "Back in the Brawl tournament, there were a lot more con artists at the street market. Like, a lot more. More scammers than there were legitimate shops. Midway through, Master Hand had to put a bunch of restrictions on it to make it fair for everyone."

Spring Man stared glumly at his Pokétch, which already seemed like it was losing a bit of its luster. "Jeez," he mumbled. "Not even ten minutes here and I already made a bad decision, huh?"

"No, no, come on," reassured Isaac. "It's not your fault! That… Pokétch is really cool, actually! It's just like Phosphora said, you gotta be careful at a street market."

"What I mean is, you can't be taken in by marketers and all their flattery," said Phosphora. "That's how they get you, y'know. And it's not just buying stuff, either. Just look what happened with poor Lyn. The higher-ups took in her and the rest of her friends, probably smooth-talked 'em with fancy words and corporate jargon, and bam! Now they're in—ugh!—a gacha."

"Yeah, pretty much," agreed Isaac, wincing at the mere mention of the genre. "The important thing is, you gotta use your good judgement around here. Do you get what we're saying?"

Spring Man nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Thanks for giving me the heads up."

Isaac shot him a thumbs-up in response. "No prob. Alright, let's see what else we got!"

The trio continued to roam around the marketplace. As they walked, they noticed that the shops weren't necessarily grouped by their home world. In fact, the standowners had intentionally placed their stalls near those from other worlds. "Makes sense," Phosphora had explained. "It's pretty exciting to get stuff from other places, isn't it?"

They continued their tour, observing some of the strange people that they saw. A couple of llamas, one blue and one pink, strolled hand, or hoof, in hand, casually browsing. Meanwhile, two sharply dressed women in hats were chatting between themselves. A portly man was leaning against a stall, haggling with the proprietor over the price of a fruit none of them recognized. The sun shone gently down on the marketplace, and the aroma of spices mixed with the scent of flowers filling the air. Isaac was just about to stop and get a bite to eat when he heard someone calling his name.

"Isaac! Hey, Isaac! Over here!"

There was Lyn, accompanied by the Sablé Prince, both of them sitting at a table and waving frantically. "Well met, Isaac!" said the Sablé Prince. He stood up and bowed politely. "Fancy meeting you all here."

"It's so great to see you all!" said Lyn, beaming wide. "Street market day definitely gets exciting, doesn't it?"

Spring Man nodded in agreement. "This place is bananas! You guys find anything you like yet?"

In response, Lyn took out an ordinary-looking flask that held a strange purple liquid. "Vulnerary," she explained, seeing the confusion on everyone's faces. "It's a common healing solution from the plains."

"Seriously?" asked Phosphora. "You're buying from your own home when there's a bunch of cool stuff for sale? Oh, come on, Lyn, live a little!"

"You may call it boring," replied Lyn, "but for me, in such a strange world, it's nice to have at least some sense of familiarity." She pensively traced her thumb along the bottom of the flask. "If nothing else, it lets me provide support for small businesses."

The Sablé Prince nodded in approval. "It's a noble goal to have," he admitted.

"Well, what about you, Your Majesty?" asked Isaac. "Did you find anything you like?"

The prince pouted. "Not quite yet, I'm afraid. I confess that these wares are quite appealing, but so far, nothing's truly managed to capture my attention. Why, if there were something truly captivating, then I'd—"

A scrap of paper fluttering in the wind interrupted the prince's musings, smacking him clean in the face, much to the amusement of those present. He peeled it off and read the words that were written on it.

Twenty paces behind the papaya tree,

Incredible wares you soon shall see.

"Whoa," said Spring Man after he had read it. "It's some kinda riddle map."

"That's weirdly convenient," commented Phosphora.

"Indeed it is," concurred the Sablé Prince. "And if this flyer tells the truth, then perhaps I'll be able to find something worth buying!" He stood up and pointed into the crowd of people. "Now then, let's be off! We must find this mysterious store, without delay!"

The prince and his apparent entourage filed through the plaza in search of this new shop. The crowd was bustling, with chatter between sellers and buyers filling the air, old friends catching up after a long time, and new friendships being forged. Off to the side, Isaac spotted Samurai Goroh, sitting at a table with the Hammer Brother, Wario, and a wolf with an eyepatch. All four of them were huddled around a small television, watching it closely and whispering to each other. The television made a noise that sounded much like someone getting launched away in a Smash battle. Wolf let out a hushed cheer and shot a smug look towards Wario, who sulkily dropped a few coins in his outstretched claw.

"Ignore them, Isaac," commanded the Sablé Prince. "They are naught but knaves engaged in their shady dealings. You would do well to avoid them." He lifted his chin a little higher and sniffed. "Luckily, I know how to be prudent and sensible with my money."

The prince and his train continued to snake through the crowd. A skunk in a hat and suspenders was showing off assorted shoes to a shoal of Inklings, a tall woman was selling ice cream with an oddly familiar shape, and an odd-looking humanoid with a palm tree growing out of its head, standing at what looked like a fruit stand.

"Howdy!" greeted the palm tree person. "Fancy a papaya? They're fresh from Isle Delfino!"

The Sablé Prince paused. His gaze flicked back and forth from the fruit in the vendor's hand to the palm tree on his head. He beckoned Spring Man closer. "Ah… Spring Man, was it? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

The gears began to turn in Spring Man's head. He glanced down at the paper that the prince was holding. "A papaya tree…" He rubbed his chin in thought.

"I'm beginning to think that perhaps the papaya tree is not, in fact, an actual papaya tree," said the Sablé Prince, beginning to rub his own chin. "Perhaps the papaya tree is simply a metaphor for this chap selling them, and our destination is somewhere nearby! But where…?"

"Well, it says that it's 'twenty paces behind the papaya tree'," said Spring Man. "So… maybe it's that conspicuous-lookin' place right there behind the fruit stand?"

Sure enough, behind the fruit stand, Spring Man was pointing at a tent deep red in color, roughly twenty paces away, give or take a couple of steps. It certainly stood out, not just in its appearance, but in the fact that it stood far away from the other shops in the street market.

The Sablé Prince paused. "Oh… what? …I mean, yes, of course! I knew it was there all along! I was simply waiting for the rest of you to catch on! Ah ha ha ha ha!" Based on the way the young prince avoided eye contact and adjusted his cravat, it was very clear to the rest of the ensemble that he had had no idea where he was going. "Now then, let us investigate this mysterious tent!"

They walked up to the tent, its fabric fluttering gently in the breeze. The Sablé Prince cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Hello? Is anyone there?" he said politely.

There was a rustling sound from inside the tent. "Hehehe… you did well to find this place," rasped a voice.

"I mean, it was kinda out in the open," commented Phosphora.

"Do you have a member's card?"

The prince paused. "A—a what?" he asked.

"A member's card," repeated the voice, as though they were explaining it to a child (which technically, they were). "Or a VIP card, as it's known in some circles. Do you have one or not?"

"It's all right, Your Highness," interrupted Lyn. The look on her face seemed to say that she had been in this very situation before. She pulled out a small plastic card from somewhere on her person. "This will suffice, I think," she said, extending her arm toward the entrance.

A hand immediately shot out from inside the tent and snatched the member's card from Lyn's hand. For a brief moment, they thought they saw a tuft of red hair. After some time, the hand returned the card to Lyn. "Alright, this looks like the real deal," said the voice. The fabric of the entrance parted a little, allowing them to enter. "Come on in!"

The tent was mid-sized, and despite the dim lighting, it looked as bright and as cheery as a candy store. Dozens and dozens of shields with odd symbols on them and weapons that none of the assistants recognized lined the walls, and rings and medals contained in glass cases were arranged in neat aisles. Standing behind the counter was a young woman with bright red hair, leaning against the wall and smiling widely. "Welcome to Anna's Superstore!" she declared.

Lyn returned her smile and shook her hand. "Ah, Anna! It's been too long. I trust you've left Elibe in good hands?" she joked.

Anna blinked as she furrowed her brow. "Elibe?" she repeated. "I've never been there in my life. You must be thinking of one of my sisters."

It was Lyn's turn to look confused. "Your… sisters?"

"Oh, yeah, I got a whole bunch of sisters all over." replied Anna. "They're all over the world, and they're all named Anna."

"Ohhh, I get it," said Phosphora. "You set up shop back at the mansion, same as the Nooklings and Beedle, right?"

Anna looked at her quizzically. "What? No, actually, I came here from—h-hey! Hands off the merchandise!"

Spring Man, who had been handling a large silver jousting lance, started and dropped the weapon to the floor with a loud clang. "Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly as he scrambled to set it back on the wall.

Elsewhere, Isaac and the Sablé Prince were browsing the aisles of glass cases. The prince seemed particularly interested in a bow with silver limbs and a blue leather grip. His eyes shone with admiration. "Isaac! Oh, Isaac, you must take a look at this bow! Isn't it marvelous?"

Isaac let out a small hum of appreciation. "Yeah, this looks great! Pity I'm not so good with bows…"

"Oh, really?" replied the Sablé Prince. "Well, I dabbled in archery a bit in my youth."

"Did you now?" asked Isaac, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," nodded the prince. "Of course, it was very soon after that both Richard and I took up fencing." He gazed contemplatively at the bow. "A Brave Bow, hmmm…? Maybe I'm not so rusty after all…"

Isaac stopped. "Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa there," he began, remembering what happened with Spring Man earlier. "Are you sure you want to spend your money so soo—aaaand he's gone."

The Sablé Prince walked up to the front of the store where Anna was waiting and placed the bow on the counter. "Excuse me, Miss Anna? How much for this Brave Bow?"

"Ah, a budding archer, are you?" said Anna as she began to appraise the bow. "Well, luckily for you, this little number is at the low, low price of… of…"

Anna's voice trailed off as she stared down at her customer. The Sablé Prince had taken out a large bag of money that threatened to burst from its weight. The wooden counter creaked under its weight as he placed it on the counter with a loud thunk.

Anna's jaw dropped. She quickly composed herself, saying, "Wow, that's, uh… quite a lot of money you got there, isn't it, little guy?"

"Oh, it's nothi—e-excuse me?!" cried the Sablé Prince. "Little guy?! Do you know who I am?! I am the esteemed and most excellent prince of the kingdom of Sablé, Prince—"

As he declared his name out loud for all the world to hear, Spring Man dropped an incredibly expensive-looking vase, shattering into several less expensive shards with a loud, harsh crash that drowned out most other sounds. "Sorry!" cried the spring-armed man from across the store.

Anna's nose twitched as she adjusted her collar. "Okay, I may not have caught your name, but I did hear that you're a prince, right?" Phosphora noticed that the whimsical gleam in Anna's eye was gone, and she was now looking down at the prince with a strange, calculating look. "Well, why didn't you say so?! You know, we have a, uh… special discount for royalty…"

"A discount, you say?" said the Sablé Prince, his eyes shining.

"But of course! It's not every day I get to meet a prince from a foreign land!" said Anna, smiling wide and placing a finger on her cheek. "Please, have a look around!"

Lyn sighed as she watched the Sablé Prince examine Anna's other wares. "I have a bad feeling that we'll be here a while." She turned to Isaac, Phosphora, and Spring Man. "You guys can go on ahead."

"You sure?" asked Spring Man. "We can stick around. It'll be like what, five minutes?"

"No, you don't know him very well," said Lyn, shaking her head. "He has basically no impulse control. Anna will be lucky if there's anything left." She sighed again as she watched the prince's eyes light up when he spied a ring with a glowing ruby. "We'll catch up with you later."

After leaving the store and bidding farewell to Lyn and the Sablé Prince, the trio was back out in the square, where the crowds seemed to have thinned out a bit. Now that there were less people, they could easily see what each shop had to offer.

"Hey! Hey, over here!" said a burly-looking dog in a blue sweater and jacket. "Interested in our new line of acorn and barrel nuts? They've got the Cornerian seal of approval!"

"Crazy Cap! Welcome to Crazy Cap!" called a pair of snails wearing tall yellow and purple hats. "We have souvenirs straight from Bubblaine!"

"Turnips for sale! Turnips for sale!" squeaked a small young boar carrying a basket of turnips on her head. "It might not be Sunday morning, but I've still got a fresh crop of turnips!"

"Ooh hoo hoo! Did you say turnips?"

Chef Kawasaki waddled up to the turnip stand, holding a basket filled with fresh produce in his stubby arms. "I'll take some!" he declared, setting the basket down.

The boar beamed. "Great! Let's see… so, right now, turnips are going for 102 Bells. Do you wanna buy some? We sell 'em in bundles of ten."

The chef paused. "…B-Bells?" he asked, tilting his head. "Oh, right, that's your money system, right, right. Um… I don't think I have those…" He pulled out a phone from his apron and swiped at the screen. "Hold on, what's the exchange rate here…?" He put away his phone and placed a handful of bills on the counter. "How much will this get me?"

The boar took the bills and slowly counted them out. "Okay, this will get you… eighty turnips!" She ducked behind her stall, took out an armload of turnips, and dumped them into Kawasaki's basket. "Enjoy!"

Kawasaki nearly toppled over under the weight of his newfound goods. "Thank you!" he replied. "Oh, boy… sautéed turnips and carrots for supper. Mmmm-mm!"

"Yep, sautéed turnips and—wait, what?!" said the boar. "Wait, but Gram-Gram said turnips aren't for eating!"

"Yo, Kawasaki!" called Spring Man, waving one of his long arms. "How's it hanging?"

"Hey, Spring Man," waved Chef Kawasaki with a free hand. "Take a look at this!" he declared, proudly presenting his basket of produce. "We'll be eating like kings for quite a while!"

"Ooooh…" The trio marveled at the assortment of treasure in the basket. There was a collection of carrots that split into two roots, an odd triangular pepper that seemed to give off heat, a bushel of ripe red tomatoes with the letter M printed on them, plump-looking berries that none of them recognized, and a case of fruit juice that came from a fruit called the Pinap.

"Luckily for me, all the food stalls are in one place!" continued Kawasaki. "I dunno if it's for competition or 'cause of regulations, but it sure makes things easier for me!"

"Hmmm… you know, I could go for something to eat right about now," said Isaac. "You guys up for something?"

Spring Man and Phosphora nodded. "Yeah, I could go for something," said Phosphora. "As long as it isn't… celery." She wrinkled her nose. "Yecch!"

The other three assistants stared blankly at her. "…Celery?" asked Spring Man. "What's wrong with celery?"

"Gods, it's the worst!" gagged Phosphora. "It's so stringy, and it tastes like sink water, and Viridi keeps serving it as a snack every day! Awful!"

Chef Kawasaki stared at her. "Well, I don't really discriminate," he said. "Vegetables are vegetables."

"No, no, Phosphora's right," said Isaac. "Celery sucks."

"Well, I can assure you, whatever food we get probably won't have celery," said Spring Man. "Now let's get moving! See ya, Kawasaki!"

Chef Kawasaki waved them off. "Make sure to tell me if there's anything you like!" As he called out to them, the basket fell out of his hands, spilling its contents all over the ground. "And make sure to—aw, my basket."

"Now that I think about it," said Spring Man with a teasing grin, "I wonder if they've got celery pizza out here…"

"Don't even start!" said Isaac and Phosphora in unison, their faces turning pale.

"Kidding!"

Back in the mansion, Dr. Wily tiptoed down a flight of stairs, making sure to keep as close to the railing as possible. Once he reached the bottom, he stopped and waited. The room seemed empty, but he still paused and listened for any passersby. From there, he darted to the nearest wall and hid behind a column.

The mad doctor peeked out from behind his cover to scan for anyone else present. Seeing nobody, he shuffled along the wall, keeping as close as possible to any large objects in case he needed to duck for cover.

And just as well, for footsteps echoed from just around the corner. From the sound of them, there was more than one person coming. Wily could see shadows drawing ever nearer, and a voice he couldn't recognize was speaking in a relaxed, but observant manner. But he had no time to ponder who it was. He dove behind the nearest large wooden crate, wincing as a sudden pain made itself known in his back.

The footsteps drew closer and closer. Wily's heart began to pound in his chest. He paused, considering what he was doing. Here he was, one of—no, the most brilliant mind in the world, hiding behind a crate from who even knew! Why was he so afraid?

Because, said another part of his brain, you're sneaking around trying to steal something while the place is crawling with brutes three times your muscle mass. Why didn't you—

The crate suddenly disappeared, lifted away and tossed to the side. Dr. Wily flinched and scampered away, pressing his back to the wall and covering his face with his arms.

A pair of turtle-like creatures, one muscular and wearing sunglasses and the other tall and lanky with regular glasses and light-green hair, were staring quizzically down at the man. Dr. Wily recognized them as Roy and Iggy Koopa, two of Bowser Jr.'s substitutes in battle. He squeaked and crouched closer against the wall.

Roy simply continued to stare at him. His expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses. "What're ya doin'?" he asked.

Dr. Wily found his voice just in time. "Oh, I'm just… doing some Pilates! Yes, that's it! Pilates! Great for lumbar support! Nothing too out of the ordinary, right?"

Iggy tilted his head in confusion. "Pilates?" he repeated. "Behind a wooden crate?"

"Yes, behind a wooden crate," replied Wily hotly. "I was doing just fine until you two came along."

"Hey, you know, I once knew a guy that was into Pilates," said Iggy. "He said it was great for strengthening his core. One time, he tried to do a single leg stretch, and he just straight-up exploded! Bahahaha!"

Roy rolled his eyes as Iggy wiped away at his own. "Hey, wait a minute," said the burlier Koopa suddenly, rubbing his chin in thought. "Ain't you one of those Assist Trophies?"

"Huh? I…" Dr. Wily was a bit taken aback by the question. "Yes, I am. What of it?"

Roy stared fixedly at the scientist for a moment. Then he crossed his arms and huffed. "Hmmph. Ain't even a real fighter, huh…"

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" asked Wily testily.

"You're an Assist Trophy," repeated Roy, as though he was talking to a four-year-old. "You're one of the big bad guys of that robot kid's world, and here you are on the same level as Starfy. You're on the same level as Waluigi!"

"E-excuse me!" Normally, the Koopa's words wouldn't have gotten under his skin, but for some reason, they really seemed to strike a nerve. "Do you know who I am?! I am Doctor Albert Wily, the single greatest genius in all the—"

"Bahahaha!" cawed Iggy, interrupting the mad doctor's ranting. "If you're such a genius, how come all your fancy robots are weak to some of your other robots?"

"I… I…" Wily paused and composed himself. "Oh, please," he said coolly. "I doubt either of you imbeciles would be able to comprehend my genius."

Roy's fist clenched, and for a brief moment, Wily thought he was going to pummel him. He instinctively shielded himself, covering his head with his arms.

But no strike came. Clearly, Roy had decided that Wily wasn't worth the trouble for whatever reason. "Whatever," said the Koopa, crossing his long arms again. "You do you, reject. C'mon, Iggy, let's get outta here." The two Koopas departed the scene, Iggy quietly cackling to himself all the while.

Dr. Wily released the breath he was holding. He suddenly felt very foolish, lying on the ground and being afraid of two teenage Koopas. He calmly stood up and dusted himself off, then, making sure both of them were out of sight, slunk away down the hallway.

As he walked, his thoughts turned to the previous meeting he'd had with Mother Brain and her cohorts. He shuddered to himself as he remembered Ghirahim and Devil's not-so-subtle threats against him. But at the same time, he felt a certain fervent indignation towards his treatment. How dare those two children mock him?! Him! Wily scoffed to himself. They serve a monster who insists on the same strategy over and over again, he thought to himself. No matter. Once I gain control over the world, I'll be able to spread my genius to other worlds as well! And I'll start with that… what did they call it? That Mushroom Kingdom. Then, they'll see. They'll all see!

After a few minutes of wandering and plotting, Dr. Wily at last reached Master Hand's office. He gazed at the door, with a fresh coat of white paint and Master Hand's name engraved on it with gold trim. Even here, the mad doctor could sense a great power coming from the other side.

He automatically reached for the handle, but stopped just as his fingers grazed it. Surely it couldn't be that easy, right? There had to be some way to make sure it wasn't a trap. If only he'd brought some of his tools with him! What to do, what to do…

Slowly, tentatively, he sidled up to the door and knocked with a tap-tap-tap. Nobody answered.

Wily hesitated. That was the only gauge he had to tell if it was a trap. Deciding to take a chance, he approached the door and sloooowly pushed on the handle…

"And just what do you think you're doing, Wily?"

Dr. Wily nearly leapt out of his skin. Zero was standing there, Z-Saber at the ready, staring down at him with a stern expression.

"Meeep! Oh, er, Zero! What a, uh, surprise to see you here!" stammered Wily.

"I should say the same thing," replied Zero, not taking his eyes off Wily for a moment. He stepped forward, and Wily stiffened. "Why were you trying to enter Master Hand's office?"

"Hmm? D—oh! Me? Trying to enter Master Hand's office? Ahahaha! Don't be silly! I was doing no such thing!" As he laughed off Zero's accusations, Wily noticed that his hand was still gripping the handle to the office in question. He quickly yanked his hand away, as though the handle might burn him.

Zero remained unconvinced. Seeing his eyes narrow, Wily nervously adjusted his tie. "There's… there's a street market outside," he began, trying to change the subject. "Why don't you go and spend some time there? You know, treat yourself! Here, if you need money, I'll—"

"Actually… that's not a bad idea," responded Zero. His words were slow and deliberate. "In fact… why don't we go together? After all, you could use the fresh air, out of this stuffy old mansion."

Wily swallowed. "M-me? Ohoho, no, no, no, I…" He hesitated, searching for a decent excuse. "Ye—About that, I—the thing is—you know, I just remembered, I have some extremely important work to do. I need to do some… maintenance on the Wily Capsule! Yes! So surely, you'll understand if I decline your invitation. So sorry. Well, bye for now!" And before Zero could say anything more, Wily fled as fast as his legs could carry him and disappeared around the corner.

Zero frowned. Dr. Wily's actions had only raised, if not confirmed, his suspicions. He stared at the door to Master Hand's office and sighed.

Why didn't you just ask Wily about that night? said a voice in his head, one that sounded remarkably like X. You could've gotten answers!

Oh, come on, said another voice. You saw how he ran! You've heard the stories about him! He wouldn't have said anything anyways. Then we'd have to resort to violence, and who knows where that could've gone? Just hunt him down another time.

Zero pressed his lips together. He put away his Z-Saber and walked away. Whatever Wily was up to, he at least knew that everything was safe.

For now.

"Oh. My God."

Spring Man gaped at the sight of the food court. All the stalls were arranged in a horseshoe shape, spread out across a wide area. There was a small, spritely-looking older man standing at an ice cream stand, a fork-shaped being wearing a chef's hat, a tall bird woman with burgundy colored feathers, another man in a chef's apron wearing a yellow kerchief, and a large tiger prawn wearing a white snapback. Spring Man wiped at some drool forming at the corner of his mouth as he took in the sights and smells.

"Oh my God, Oh, my God," repeated the spring-armed man. He was quite overwhelmed by the selection spread before him. His gaze shot from stall to stall, unsure of where to begin.

Isaac whistled appreciatively. "Lotta stuff's happened since I was gone, huh?"

"Oh, you don't even know," said Phosphora. "They didn't have half of this in the last one."

The blond boy nodded in thought. "Yeah, well, it's nice to see that it actually has decent stuff instead of—"

He stopped short as something caught his eye. "Wait. Oh, oh man. Guys…" He pulled his companions a little closer, as if to share something with them in private. "Guys. Look over there."

"What? What is it?" asked Spring Man and Phosphora in unison.

"There. He's right there!" whispered Isaac, discreetly pointing at a figure in the distance.

"…I don't say anything," admitted Spring Man after a few moments of staring where Isaac had indicated.

"You're gonna have to be more specific," said Phosphora, "'cause there's a bunch of people here, and any—" She, too, stopped short as she spied who Isaac was talking about. "Oh. Oh, gods, no."

"I still don't see 'em," said Spring Man. "What am I lookin' for?"

"He's right there! What, you can't see him? Right there! Next to those guys!" said Isaac. Spring Man followed the boy's gaze, searching for anyone that seemed like they would stand out, until at last, his eyes fell upon who Isaac was excitable referring to.

Standing some distance away were two figures, one with long dark hair wearing red with padding on his forearms and shins, the other blond and clad in a blue tunic with a sword sheathed on his back. But they were not who Isaac was pointing at. Standing next to them was a portly, grinning skeleton wearing a blue hoodie and pink slippers.

"It's him," whispered an awestruck Isaac. "It's Sans."

Phosphora groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Spring Man, meanwhile, only blinked in confusion for a few moments before his eyes widened in recognition. "Oh! That's Sans? Like, the guy everyone was excited about?"

Isaac nodded so hard, his face became a blur. "Yeah, that's him! People were so psyched to see him! His theme music is so cool!"

"I cannot believe you're getting so excited over meeting a skeleton," muttered Phosphora.

"He's not just any skeleton!" protested Isaac. "His adventure was super popular! A lot of people wanted him to join the tournament! And now he's here! He's actually here! Okay, you guys come with me." The Venus Adept produced a small notebook and pencil from his pockets. "I'm gonna go ask for his autograph!"

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Phosphora. But Isaac had already gone ahead, taking small, furtive steps to meet his skeletal idol. She sighed exaggeratedly as she exchanged a glance with Spring Man. "Alright, come on. Let's rip this bandage off."

"So… Sans, huh?" aske Spring Man, hoping to spawn some conversation. "Phosphora, you seem familiar with him."

"Don't even get me started," groaned Phosphora. "Pit found out about his game when it came out, and he never shut up. 'Oh, you gotta play it, you guys, I've heard it's so cool, blah, blah, blah!' Never ending. Then he figured out Sans tells a bunch of puns. Lemme tell you, ever since that day, I have never known peace."

"Aw, come on, Phosphora," said Isaac, "once you meet him, you'll find out that he's cool. You'll love him, I promise."

Phosphora rolled her eyes in response. "This guy outshone Banjo and Terry with how popular he was. Jeez."

"I dunno, this Sans guy sounds pretty cool," said Spring Man. "I mean, who doesn't love puns? I know I do!"

"See, Spring Man, you get me!" Isaac cheered. "You'll love him, too!"

Phosphora could only throw up her hands in defeat. "You guys are both dorks," she muttered.

"Gee, Phosphora," said Isaac in a slower pace that Phosphora quickly picked up on. "It sounds to me like you've got quite a bone to pick."

Phosphora flinched, fully expecting the pun but still being taken aback. "Oh my gods, please, no. That was the same exact corny line that Pit used when he tried to get me to play it."

"I dunno," said Spring Man, rubbing his chin in thought. "That one was pretty humerus if you ask me."

The girl was horrified. "Don't you start!" she demanded.

"Why, Phosphora!" continued Isaac in feigned surprise. "I never knew you could be so marrow-minded!"

"Rrrrrrrgh!" Phosphora pulled at her crescent-shaped hair, fraying it at the ends.

"It must be pretty bonely," returned Spring Man, "being the only one here that's not into this." He stretched out his arm to give Isaac a high-five.

"Yeah, we've got a skele-ton more where these came from!" said Isaac.

"Shut up," growled Phosphora. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shutupshutupshutup—"

"Say, look," noted Spring Man. "It seems these jokes aren't reaching her funny bone!"

"That's not even a pun, that's just a thing people say!"

"You may be right," said Isaac with utmost seriousness. "Tibia honest, Spring Man, that particular joke wasn't very skullful at all…"

"I will kill you. I will kill you in your sleep."

"Okay, okay, that's enough," said Spring Man, at last freeing Phosphora from her forty-five seconds of torment. "Are we gonna meet Sans or not?"

"Oh, yeah!" said Isaac, suddenly realizing the three of them were only a few paces away. He shuffled up to the skeleton, who was still talking to the other two. "Uh, excuse me? Sans?"

Sans turned to face Isaac, who noticed that he had a bizarre-looking skull with glowing blue eyes that looked like it belonged to some kind of ancient monster attached to his arm. Behind him, the two individuals shared an amused look.

"Um, uh… first of all, hi," said Isaac. "I-I'm Isaac. Huge fan. I've… I've heard of you. I mean, we all… we've all heard of you. Huge inspiration, honestly. Like, for real. Anyways, I… um… I was wondering if I… that is, only if you want to, I'm not… I…"

Spring Man looked at Isaac sympathetically, while Phosphora looked away, not wanting to see him embarrass himself. The lad in the red shirt covered his mouth with his arm, disguising a laugh as a cough. Sans stared at the stammering, starstruck boy, his gaze vacant and his trademark grin empty.

"So… that is… um…" Isaac's face was quite flushed. "Could… could I…"

"I'm not Sans."

Isaac felt something deep within him fall. "…What?"

"I said, I'm not actually Sans."

Isaac, who had up until now been avoiding eye contact, gape at the false Sans. "Wh—huh?"

Not-Sans sighed as the red-shirted youth collapsed into guffaws. "It's—it's a costume. Here, lemme show you." Not-Sans grasped at the skeletal head and lifted it off, clearly showing it to be some kind of mask.

A girl stood before them, with hazel eyes and straight brown hair that Isaac initially thought was compacted from wearing the Sans mask. But as she shook her head, he realized that no, it was just how it normally looked. She stared at the mask with a look that was both resentful and despondent. "Sorry to disappoint you," she mumbled. "Everyone always wants to meet Sans…"

"Wait a minute," said Spring Man, who was at last recognizing the three. "You guys are those Mii Fighters! Brawler, Swordfighter and Gunner, right?"

The girl, who seemed to be the gunner based on the attachment on her arm, applauded sarcastically. "Congratulations. You're the first person to actually notice us in half a year."

"Come on, give 'em a break," said the blond boy, who was evidently the Swordfighter. "At least they actually knew who you were this time."

"Yeah, and they actually cared to notice you at all," said the last boy, who the assistants identified as the Brawler by process of elimination.

"Whatever," said the Mii Gunner, tossing the Sans mask over her shoulder. "I'd rather wallow in obscurity forever than have to put up with this stupid costume of someone that's not even here."

"Speak for yourself," replied the Brawler. "If I could be popular by wearing a costume of Scorpion or Phoenix Wright or whatever, then send me off to law school and call me Nicky! Am I right?" He held up his hand for a high-five, which nobody delivered on.

The Mii Gunner scoffed. "Oh, puh-leeze. You and I both know that you'd get tired of it in a week, two weeks tops." She turned to scowl at the assistants in front of her. "It's always Sans or Cuphead, or Altair or Nakoruru or Ryo, or even that Vault Guy or whatever he's called. It's never been about who we are, never about our own merits."

The Swordfighter stepped forward. "They just got here, please—"

But the Gunner was on a roll now. "I'm not asking for like, Mario- or Sonic-level attention. Hell, I'd even be okay with Falco or Robin or even Lucario." She glared at her hands, which still wore the white gloves of the costume. She ripped them off and shoved them into her pockets.

"It doesn't matter how many fights you win, or how many buffs you get. No matter how hard you try, nobody ever likes you for you. It's always, 'haha, Sans! Megalovania! Hardy-har-har!' But it's never about who's under the mask. It's never about who you are. It's always about who you pretend to be. I used to be the freakin' Mii Gunner! Now…" She sighed a deep, bitter sigh. "Now I'm just Sans. Or Cuphead. Whichever one they wanna see." There was a long, awkward silence.

Mii Gunner shrugged. "Eh. I guess it could be worse. I could be stuck as an Assist Trophy." She stopped as she suddenly looked at who was standing in front of her, as though she'd just noticed they were there. "Oh. Oh jeez, I'm sorry, you… you were right there…"

"Don't worry about it," said Spring Man cheerfully. "Happens all the time!"

"I guess it could be worse," said the Mii Swordfighter. "We could be stuck dealing with Waluigi all the time."

"Hey! I heard that!" said a passing Waluigi, his arms carrying sacks full of eggplants.

"Whatever," said the Mii Brawler. "Don't you have a tennis racket to mourn? What was its name again? Christine or somethin'?"

"Her name was Charlotte, and her funeral was last week! Not that it matters, since none of you were invited!" He stomped off, muttering under his breath.

"Anyways," said Isaac. "I'm sorry the way things turned out for you. I know Assist Trophies kinda got a raw deal, but I never knew about the Mii Fighters."

The Mii Gunner sighed. "It's… it's fine. I'm just so sick of having to be someone else to get more than an ounce of attention!" A watch beeped from under her arm cannon. "Ah, jeez, that time already? Listen, we gotta go. We've got training to do. See ya around." Together, the Mii Fighters walked off, with the Mii Gunner scooping up the Sans mask and tucking it under her arm.

"…Well, that was rough," said Phosphora after the Miis were out of earshot.

"Kinda feel bad for her now," agreed Isaac. "I hope she'll be okay."

"Hey, you know what'll cheer us up?" said Spring Man in an effort to lighten the mood. "Some refreshments! Follow me!" He marched towards the arrangement of eateries, with his two companions following close behind.

"Do you have something in mind?" asked Isaac.

"Sure do!" nodded the spring-armed man. "Got in on good authority that this is the best pizza place in Diamond City!" He walked up to a wide and dignified-looking tent, with an image of a girl in familiar clothing hanging above the entrance. The smell of hot cheese wafted from within. Next to the opening, there was a small sign that read "Mona Pizza" in gold trim.

As they entered the tent, they were greeted by a stout-looking dog wearing a pink with a red tie. "Hello, and welcome to the Smash branch of Mona Pizza! I'm Joe, and I'll be your waiter today! How many?"

"Ah, just three today," replied Spring Man.

Joe nodded and led them to a table in a booth. As they walked, some of the other patrons pointed at the trio and whispered excitedly amongst themselves. Isaac pretended not to notice, while Phosphora straightened out her hair and looked loftily ahead.

Once they reached their table and sat down, Joe handed them their menus and left to take care of the other customers. "So, what're you guys having?" asked Spring Man.

"Hmmm… The Mona Special seems nice," said Isaac. "Whoa, are those garlic butter breadsticks?"

Phosphora read over her own menu. "Yeah, they also have chicken alfredo, pasta marinara, chicken Caesar salad—oooh, they have Greek chicken gyros!"

Spring Man nodded. "Toldja it was gonna be good. And check out what they have at the bottom of the pizza menu," he added, wiggling his eyebrows.

Both Phosphora and Isaac turned to that section of the menu. "…'Wario's Favorite'?" said Phosphora hesitantly.

"Below that."

"Well, there's nothing else but the—" Both of them stopped short as they read what was printed just below Wario's Favorite.

"Oh, dear lord. Celery pizza is real."

"And it's the cheapest thing on the menu!" said Spring Man, looking between them expectantly.

"We are not ordering that," said Isaac sternly.

The spring-armed man simply shrugged. "You do you. Me, I'm gonna get me one of those celery pizzas. Maybe throw in one with pineapple to wash it down."

Phosphora and Isaac stared at Spring Man as though he'd slapped his own aunt on her wedding day. "Oh, gods," breathed Phosphora. "He's a savage."

"Hey, it's good!" countered Spring Man. "It takes the sweetness of fruit and the savory meaty toppings! Once you put those together…" He kissed his fingers like a chef. "It is, as they say in France, bellissimo."

Phosphora rolled her eyes. "That's Italian."

Spring Man faltered. "Ah—well, the point still stands!"

As they laughed over Spring Man's confusion of Romance languages, Isaac spared a glance out the window. Something in the distance caught his eye. "Hey, hey, guys. Look over here."

"What is it?" asked Spring Man.

"It's not Sans again, is it?" said a worried Phosphora.

Isaac shook his head. "Check out who's right next to us," he said, pointing a finger.

It was a tall and imposing-looking tent, but plenty of people seemed to be going inside. There were plenty of customers, including short figures wearing robes of many colors, all wearing the same white mask, an assortment of talking animals, a tall fish-like creature, and even a few ghostly hat-like beings. There was also a small handful of ordinary looking humans, appearing radically different from each other, but all wearing the same orange shirt and beanie with a blond wig. They all seemed to be congregating towards one figure, one that each of the assistants recognized instantly, wearing the same beanie.

"That's Min Min's noodle shop, isn't it?" asked Isaac. "What was it called, the…" He snapped his fingers trying to remember. "The…"

"Mintendo Noodle House," finished Spring Man.

"Yeah, that. I've overheard Falcon say that their ramen is to die for."

"Sure is!" chirped the spring-armed man. "Their shoyu ramen is heavenly."

Isaac raised a brow. "Really? Remind me to stop by one of these days."

There was another silence among the trio. If one were to ask Spring Man, he didn't really mind it at all. It was a nice, comfy silence, a beautiful thing that he'd rarely get to experience back at home when the ARMS league was in full swing. To say nothing of Ninjara, who had—

"So, Spring Man…" started Phosphora. "Does that bother you at all?"

Spring Man snapped out of his thoughts. Across from him, Isaac shut his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he was bracing for something. "…Does what bother me?" he asked.

"You know," said Phosphora, gesturing in the direction of the noodle shop outside. "That."

Spring Man looked even more confused. "…I'm not, like, allergic to anything there, if that's what you mean."

"Phosphora, no," begged Isaac. "We're not going down this route."

But the Lightning Flash waved off his concerns. "Aw, come on, I'm just curious. It's not gonna hurt him or anything." She turned back to Spring Man. "So, does that like, bother you at all that Min Min got picked over you?"

Isaac winced as Spring Man blinked. "Oh," said the spring-armed man. "Oh," he said again, now fully grasping why Isaac seemed so hesitant. "No, it's fine! It's fine! We're fine! Min Min's cool!"

"See, Isaac?" grinned Phosphora as she nudged the boy. "You had nothing to worry about!"

"I mean, Min Min is cool! I can definitely get why they chose her! I mean, look at her! She's got a dragon arm, and she can kick things… she's cool! We're cool!"

Isaac still remained doubtful. "…Fine. Whatever you say."

At that moment, Joe returned. "Have you all decided on what you'll have?"

The three of them nodded and gave the dog their orders. After he left, they sat and waited for their order.

"…Are you sure you're okay?" asked Isaac.

"I'm fine," insisted Spring Man. "Look, Min Min's cool. She's got noodle arms! Who doesn't love noodles?"

Isaac crossed his arms and huffed. "Dude, just let it go," drawled Phosphora.

The trio continued to wait for their food in thoughtful silence. Spring Man took out his phone and tapped away at the screen, while Phosphora busied herself with people-watching. Seeing nothing else to do, Isaac turned his gaze back out the window. The way the sun shone, he could see Min Min much clearer now smiling as she served another bowl of piping hot ramen to a hungry-looking girl, flanked by Yoshi on her left and Captain Falcon on her right. Air puffed out of his nose in a laugh as he watched Yoshi swallow his meal, bowl and all. Images of Min Min's reveal video came from his memory, the sound of Captain Falcon noisily slurping noodles filling his ears.

Always such a ham, Isaac thought to himself. I'd probably do the same thing if it were me there.

All of a sudden, Isaac began to sorely wish he were there.

A tapping on the back of his head beckoned for his attention. When he turned back inside the tent, Phosphora shushed him immediately, pointing at Spring Man. He, too, was staring out at the Mintendo Noodle House, longing etched deep into his face.

Isaac shot her an I-knew-it look. He cleared his throat. "Spring Man."

The spring-armed man blinked as he returned to focus. "Huh? Oh, um. Is the food here yet?"

Isaac simply sat there, staring at him with a concerned expression. "Are you okay?" he asked again.

For a moment, Spring Man was silent. His gaze flicked between his two companions. At last, he relented. "Okay, you got me," he sighed. "I'm… a little bummed out about it."

"Yeah, I figured," said Isaac, leaning back in his seat. Joe returned with their food, placing a large pineapple-topped pizza in front of Spring Man.

Phosphora sighed. "Okay, Spring. Start from the beginning."

"Okay, so…" Spring Man tapped his fingers on the table. "They had that conference a while ago, the one that said that a fighter from the ARMS League was gonna be added. And they showed everyone there, like, everyone. They showed Ribbon Girl, Master Mummy, Ninjara, Mechanica, Min Min, even the commish. They even showed me! And a lot of people thought that was weird.

"So they say, 'Oh, the new fighter will be revealed in June,' and I'm thinking, 'Hey, if they showed me off as a candidate, then maybe… maybe I got a shot, right?' And a lot of other people were thinking that, too. So then all my fans back home that gave up on my chances, they start coming back out to support me. It's… It was a nice feeling." He gazed wistfully at the ground, taking a bite of pineapple pizza. "Of course, there were a lot of other folks that were saying, 'Oh, Spring Man can't get in! He's an Assist Trophy!'"

"And they were right," said Phosphora. Isaac shot her a disapproving glare.

"No, no, Phosphora's right," said Spring Man, shaking his head. "A lot of people wrote me off 'cause of my current position. But I still had a lot of supporters, saying I was the face of the league. Anyways, the next conference comes, it's the big reveal and…" Isaac and Phosphora waited, knowing exactly what happened next.

"…Well, they showed me, alright," mumbled Spring Man. His eyes were downcast. "I got decked clean in the face. But it wasn't that bad!" he quickly added, seeing the gloom on their faces. "I've taken harder hits before. Here and back at the league.

"So, they went with Min Min, which is kinda what I and a bunch of other people were expecting. And y'know what? That's fair. Totally fair. And y'know what else? I know a lot of those supporters were only rooting for me so one of the other assistants that they really want could have a shot." He glanced pointedly at Isaac, who looked down, unable to meet his spiraled eyes.

"But you know what gets me the most?" Spring Man stared detachedly at the tent walls. "The minute Min Min got in, everyone started saying, 'Oh, of course Spring Man wouldn't get in!' 'He's not interesting, blah, blah, blah.' 'Why would they choose the obvious, boring choice?' It's always that I'm not… that I'm not good enough." He stared down at his pizza, his face uncharacteristically grim. "And you know what the worst part is? …I let everyone back home down."

Isaac and Phosphora were silent. It was the most candid they'd seen him over the course of the tournament. "…Jeez," said Phosphora at last. Her voice was quiet. "I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't know it hit you that hard."

Spring Man sighed, and he looked much more tired as he did so. "I know I don't get it the worst around here. Far from it. But I've been training all my life to be the best I can be, and seeing all of that get reduced to a joke because I got shafted is just…" The unsaid words hung in the air.

At last, Phosphora spoke up. "Look, Spring Man. I know how bad it must've felt to lose out like that. But you know, you know, the absolute worst thing you can do… is give up."

Spring Man looked at her as she went on. "Like, look at Pit. I wasn't there for that, but I heard the stories. When Medusa took over, and Pit was the only angel left, trapped down there in the Underworld, did he give up? No, of course not. I wouldn't be here if he did. I know you're new here, so this is the first time you've struck out. But… I know this sounds cheesy as hell, but when I first got here, Dr. Wright told me that we've made it too far to throw in the towel now. Isaac, back me up here."

The boy nodded. "Like, you said that you've been training all your life, right? So, like, why stop now? You've got your foot in the door. And all your fans are waiting for you! So you can't give up!"

Spring Man pondered their words. He managed a small smile. "…You're right. Thanks, you guys. From now on, I'm gonna give it a hundred and twenty percent out there!"

"Yeah, you better," nodded Phosphora, "or we won't let you forget it."

Spring Man nodded in return. "Mm-hmm. They don't call me the Comeback King of Spring for nothing!"

"But, seriously, though, you can't give up," stressed Isaac. "You genuinely can't give up."

"Noted," replied Spring Man, tapping the side of his head. "Never gonna let it get to me."

"You can't give up," repeated Phosphora, leaning out of her seat towards Spring Man. "It's okay to feel bad about losing, but it's not okay to give up."

"It's true," added Isaac, mirroring Phosphora's movement. "You can't give up. I won't let you."

"…Okey-doke. Message received," said Spring Man, feeling a bit unnerved. "Won't… I won't give up."

"You better not," said Phosphora. "Or else."

"You can't give up, or else I'll call Ribbon Girl, and she'll probably cry," said Isaac, his face deadly serious.

Spring Man could only nod again.

"You can't give up!"said Isaac, a bit more aggressively.

"You can't give up!" said Phosphora, a lot more aggressively.

"You can't give up!"

"You can't give up!"

"You can't!"

"You can't!"

"Alright, alright, I get it!" shouted Spring Man at last. He was breathing hard, and Isaac and Phosphora were mere inches from his face. "You've made your point. No giving up for me. I get it."

And with that small agreement on morality, Phosphora and Isaac returned to their seats, smiles on their faces. "Great," they said in unison.

"So…" said Spring Man after some seconds of silence. "Anyone up for some celery pizza?"

"Oh, gods, no," winced Phosphora.

"Suit yourself," shrugged the spring-armed man as he pulled the food in question closer. "Bon appetit!" He took a slice, held it up to the light, and took a single, deciding bite.

…

…

…

Spring Man swallowed, an arduous effort. "Oh, man," he gagged. "This was a mistake."

"Told you."

Author's Notes: For the record, I wanted Lola Pop.