The clock struck four in the World of Trophies. The scent of freshly-cut grass sailed on the wind. The sun was beginning to gently tip towards the west, but for the participants in the Smash tournament, the day was still in full swing. And nobody knew that better than Chef Kawasaki, the most esteemed chef in all of Dream Land, who was preparing to cook up a storm for the upcoming dinner rush.

"Okay, first, let's do an inventory check," declared Kawasaki out loud to an almost empty kitchen. "We'll start with the dry goods." He marched over to a set of doors and swung them open. Inside was a variety of crates, sacks, and large cans, stacked neatly, marked clearly, and organized by size and product. Kawasaki produced a clipboard and pen from his apron, and began to walk down the aisles as he marked the paper.

"Hmmm… brown rice, forty-three bags… white rice, thirty-six bags… jasmine rice… yikes, only eight bags left! Better order some more…"

And so this routine continued through the dry goods storeroom, from baking powder to biscuit mix, and from cornmeal to oatmeal. It was a rather large storeroom, but Chef Kawasaki knew it like the back of his hand. Before he knew it, all of the dry goods had been accounted for.

"Phew! Okay, now that that's done, let's check on the meat freezer." With great effort, he pulled open the mighty steel door, braving the rush of bitter cold air that flowed forth from within.

"Oh, boy… flank of a Hylian woodland boar… frozen chicken… frozen beef… frozen—whoops!" Kawasaki's foot slipped on a patch of ice, but he managed to catch himself just in the nick of time before he hit the ground. "Geez… last thing I'd wanna do is slip and fall in here, of all places…"

This routine continued with no further incident as he counted everything in the freezer, from birds of different sizes, to beasts of different worlds. For some reason, Kawasaki couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved by all the meat sitting lifelessly on the shelves. He quickly put it out of his mind. After all, the Smashers would be hungry after all that fighting!

"Where to next…?" Kawasaki glanced down at his clipboard. "Oh-ho, my favorite! The produce section!" He skipped merrily over to a fridge, pulled open the heavy steel door, and strolled right in. And as he began to count the variety of fruits at his disposal, he began to sing a jolly tune based on a song he'd heard in a movie once, with lyrics he made up as he counted each item:

"Apples and mangoes and plenty of cherries!

Grapes, figs, and pears with a box of strawberries!

Bunches of plantains all tied up with strings!

These are a few of my favorite things!"

The chef picked up a box of strawberries and began to waltz across the floor with it. He continued on:

"Carrots and garlic, with sacks of potatoes!

Mushrooms and Chillshrooms and ripe red tomatoes!

Onions and spinach that's fresh picked in spring,

These are a few of my favorite things!"

Kawasaki gently tapped each vegetable as he named them. To an outside viewer, he looked like a fool, completely lost in the music. But as anyone that knew the chef would say, he was completely in his element.

"Peppers and lettuce and fresh pods of snow peas!

Eggplants and plums (which go quite well with blue cheese)!

Walnuts and seeds, those will all boost your moods,

These are a few of my favorite foods!"

Chef Kawasaki paused in the middle of his song. "Hmmm… I forgot the rest of the words. Oh, well."

Once the produce was accounted for, he was able to move on to the dairy fridge. Somehow, he felt a bit more comfortable here than he had in the meat fridge.

"Okay, eggs…? Check. Milk… eight crates full. Butter… sheesh, how many types of butter do we have here…?"

As he pondered the amounts of butter one needed, Kawasaki felt a familiar tugging in his back. His body began to glow a faint whitish-blue that grew more intense with every passing moment. He felt his posture go stiff. I guess inventory will have to wait for a while, he thought to himself. Please don't be Ridley, please don't be Ridley, please don't be Ridley—

There was a flash of light, and the chef was gone, as though he'd never been there.

When summoned, an Assist Trophy would often land squarely on their feet ready to take on whatever opponent they faced. Chef Kawasaki, however, being thrown off his groove by his sudden appearance, landed flat on his face, his toque nearly falling off his head.

"Come on!"

Chef Kawasaki peeled his face off the ground. He was in a large coliseum in the desert, with torches and time-worn statues of dragons in the background. A small platform rose from the ground, propelled by a complex series of gears.

"Bwuh-huh?" The chef blearily looked around and found himself meeting the piercing red eyes of a large Koopa with the horns of an ox and a shock of flaming red hair.

"Yipe! B-B-Bowser!" Kawasaki leapt nearly two feet in the air in surprise and tried to scramble away from him. Light laughter sounded from an unseen audience.

Bowser rolled his eyes. "Uggh, relax, you wimp. I'm the guy that summoned you. Now get over there and roast those fools!"

There on the other side of the coliseum was Wario, Captain Falcon, and a man wearing a trucker hat with his long blond hair tied in a ponytail that Kawasaki identified as Terry Bogard, one of the more recent additions to the tournament. The latter two looked poised and ready to rumble, while Wario simply stared hungrily at the chef, scratching his rear end.

Kawasaki swallowed. "I guess it could be worse," he muttered to himself. "Well, here goes nothing!"

He hopped back and forth, throwing plates at whoever dared come close. But as loud as they were when they shattered, they didn't really do much to stop them. Captain Falcon leapt over the barrage of porcelain and unleashed a flurry of punches into his middle. The chef stumbled and fell backwards.

Before he could get back up again, a hand grabbed the back of his apron and brusquely yanked him to his feet. Kawasaki was suddenly aware of the smell of garlic.

"Oh, no."

Wario pounced on him, grabbing at his toque. "Hey! Where's the grub?!" he asked, eyes glinting with greed. "I know you have some on you!"

"I don't—I don't have any!" gasped Kawasaki as he tried to scurry out of his grasp. "Get off me!"

"No food?!" Wario's face contorted into a scowl. With a big, meaty fist, he swatted the unfortunate chef clean in the face, sending him flying.

"Bwaaaaagh!" Chef Kawasaki scrambled to his feet to try to regain his bearings. As he was about to throw another plate, he felt a faint dry heat on his back. Briefly forgetting that he was in the middle of a frenetic battle, he turned around and found himself staring down the barrel of a bright blue, almost toy-like blaster.

Mega Man winced apologetically, and pulled the trigger.

Chef Kawasaki went flying and bouncing along the ground, much like a potato, if potatoes could feel pain. "F-five?" he asked no one in particular. "There's five fighters here?"

"Try six," a voice hissed in his ear.

A shadow fell over the chef. Its owner, a huge, emaciated dragon-like creature with glowing yellow eyes and a tail that ended in a vicious-looking spike, peered at him with an unreadable expression.

Kawasaki felt a sudden cold in his core. Of course it was him. Of course.

Ridley grinned, letting his teeth glimmer in the light. Before Kawasaki could react, the dragon lanced his tail towards him at record speed. Only a frantic last-minute lurch to the right saved him from being impaled, the tail just barely nicking the hem of his apron. Anticipating this, Ridley seized the chef and slammed him to the ground. He dragged him across the cold stone ground for a distance, forcing the other fighters to move out of his way, before throwing him up into the air.

Kawasaki winced and braced himself as Ridley flew after him. But no follow-up attack came. He tentatively opened one eye to see Bowser struggling with the space dragon, neither of them willing to give up. As Kawasaki landed (on his back), Bowser spat a deluge of fire at Ridley, forcing him to retreat.

Kawasaki took this moment to take a short, desperate breather. His head was pounding, his vision was swirling, and his middle felt like breakfast porridge. He barely even registered a Beam Sword fly over his head. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, he thought he saw smoke coming off his own body. He couldn't wait to get back to his kitchen. Just a little more of this and he'd—

A hand clamped firmly onto the back of Kawasaki's apron and forcibly turned him around. He yelped in surprise and flailed his stubby arms as he beheld his newest assailant. Terry Bogard stared at the chef and grinned brazenly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No!" cried Chef Kawasaki. "I'm not okay!"

"Buster Wolf!"

For the fourth time over the course of thirty seconds, Chef Kawasaki soared through the air. This time, he finally managed to land on his feet, wobbling a bit as he did so. Now he was right in the middle of the battlefield. Just one more attack… he thought to himself. He readied his ladle to catch anyone that might come close.

At that moment, there was a blinding flash of light, and two items appeared on the scene in quick succession. The first was a large, heavy wooden crate with an obvious danger label printed on. The second, the cause of the flash of light, was a Smash Ball, dropping heavily to the ground and rolling up to Kawasaki's feet.

All the fighters present turned their eyes on the Blast Box, then on Chef Kawasaki, and finally on the glittering, colorful Smash Ball.

"…Oh."

Ridley's mouth began to glow with fire, as did Bowser's, both of them tempted by the Smash Ball but unwilling to get too close to the Blast Box. Mega Man wisely chose to hang back, instead charging energy in his blaster. Wario, Captain Falcon, and Terry, however, threw caution to the wind, each of them lunging forth to break the glowing item.

"Waaa ha ha ha ha…!"

"Power…!"

"Falcon…"

Chef Kawasaki's arms went limp. He didn't have the energy to run, to dodge, or even to scream. All he could do was crouch down low and brace for impact.

Now I know, he thought to himself, how Dark Matter probably felt.

There was a burst of color, a blast of searing heat and splintered wood, a deafening roar, and the acrid stench of burning flesh and clothes.

And then, Chef Kawasaki saw and heard nothing.

Miles away, in the peace and clinical, sterile silence of the Smash infirmary, a certain doctor with a mustache sat watching the six-man brawl in his office. He set down his cup of coffee (Blue Mountain, black, and with a single lump of sugar), on his desk, having nearly spilled it after watching the massive explosion on the screen. Wario, Captain Falcon, Terry, and Ridley had been sent sailing into the distance, leaving only Bowser and Mega Man ("the only one with some sense," thought the doctor) remaining. But what disturbed him the most was that Chef Kawasaki, who had been right at the center of the collision, was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't even seen the telltale explosion of light and color that normally signified an Assist Trophy's exit by knockout. He lightly sighed as he pressed a button on his desk.

"Nurse?" he asked, trying to keep the tiredness out of his voice. "Prepare a bed. It's about to be a very long couple of days for us…"

"Aw, jeez… the poor guy…"

"Lucky Riki found him when he did…"

"Is Mister Kawasaki going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine. Dr. Mario has worked more than his fair share of medical miracles…"

"If nothing else, Terry was very apologetic about it…"

Chef Kawasaki lay in his bed, completely still. His eyes were closed, and he felt so tired—no, exhausted. He felt as if he'd been sleeping for days, and yet he still needed more.

"My question is, why didn't he just get out of the way?"

"Yeah, like he could get out of that huge explosion in time."

"If I was in his place, I would simply teleport away…"

He felt as though there was a huge weight on his chest, and his limbs felt like tree trunks. All he wanted to do was just go back to sleep, just for a moment…

"Yo, Kawasaki? If you can hear me, say something."

"Dude, lay off him! He's in really bad shape!"

"Yeah, but the doctor said he'd be okay, right?"

"As Dr. Mario said, Kawasaki should be fully healed in a couple of weeks. However, I do not think it sensible to wake him up in such a manner."

That voice. He recognized that voice. Slowly, Kawasaki stirred in his bed.

"Meta Knight…?"

There were some small gasps of surprise. He felt something tugging at the sheets. "Chef? Chef! Are you actually awake?!"

Wearily, arduously, Chef Kawasaki opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, and the bright lights of the clinic made his eyes sting. But through it all, he could vaguely make out a variety of shapes in front of him against the smudges of color, including some that he recognized very well.

"Kawasaki! Kawasaki!" chirped a familiar round pink shape that bounced around. "You're okay!"

Now that was a sound for sore ears. Kawasaki smiled tiredly as he moved his head on the pillow. "Hey, Kirby," he croaked.

Chef Kawasaki couldn't quite see it, but he could definitely feel the warm, radiant smile that beamed off the puffball. "You're okay!" he repeated. "I was hoping you would wake up soon!" He started to clamber onto the hospital bed for a hug, but Meta Knight stopped him.

"Not yet. He hasn't fully recovered yet," whispered the knight. From what little he could see of him, especially with that mask on, Kawasaki could tell that Meta Knight, too, was quite relieved to see him awake. He turned back to the chef. "It is good to see you well, Kawasaki," he nodded, eyes crinkled in a smile.

Another voice, one that would be very difficult to mishear even without his injuries, made itself heard. "Boy, Kawasaki, you had us all worried!" piped the unmistakable voice of King Dedede. He was coming into clarity now, his trademark hammer and red royal robes taking shape. "When Kirby and Meta Knight came running in the middle of my royal snacktime, I knew it was serious!" He chortled loudly. "But at any rate, good to see you're still breathing!"

Chef Kawasaki's vision slowly came back into focus. Besides his allies from Dream Land, several other assistants had come to visit him. Now he could clearly see Starfy, Baito, Midna, Tiki, Bomberman, Spring Man, and Knuckles standing around his hospital bed, all wearing expressions of fatigue and relief.

"You… you all came to visit me…" Kawasaki felt as though he might cry. To his side, there was a table stacked with gift baskets and flowers he didn't recognize. He smiled weakly as he spotted one of the notes attached, a crayon drawing of himself next to a pink, smiling circle.

"Ah, he's awake, is he?" In strode Dr. Mario, dark circles under his otherwise youthful blue eyes. Dr. Wright trailed after him, looking like he hadn't slept in days. "You gave us quite a scare, you know."

"We were very concerned when you didn't turn up after that battle," said Dr. Wright. He ran a hand distractedly through his tall green hair. "I was about to send a search party when Riki showed up and dragged your burnt, lifeless—" He paused and composed himself, clearing his throat. "Regardless," he continued, keeping his voice calm, "I'm very grateful that you're alright."

"What… what time is it?" he asked his visitors. His eyes widened as he remembered a crucial detail. "Dinner! I gotta cook dinner for—"

"It's eleven at night," interrupted Dr. Mario, "and it's-a been taken care of. Luckily, Master Hand was able to take-a some time out of his day to throw something together last-minute." He sighed as his smile turned mischievous. "Incredible, universal power, and yet he can't make a decent plate of spaghetti…"

Chef Kawasaki thought for a moment. "Well, what about breakfast? I need to start on breakfast at—Hnnnn—!" His move to get out of his bed was stopped suddenly, a wince coming over his face.

At once, Dr. Wright moved to push him back into bed. "Oh, no, no, no, absolutely out of the question," he tutted. "You won't be cooking for quite a while, I'm afraid."

King Dedede looked more worried than he had been. "Now hold on a minute, there. You're saying he won't cook? For how long?"

"It could be days," answered Dr. Mario, his face grim. "Weeks, even. His biology is-a very… unusual." Some of the people present swore they saw the doctor shudder.

"But if he doesn't cook," asked Tiki, "who will?"

The manakete's question hung in the air. Chef Kawasaki was the only one capable of cooking so much food for so many people in such a short time. Would anyone be able to fill his shoes?

"I'll do it!" cried Kirby, waving a stubby arm in the air. "I'm a great cook!"

Dr. Wright gazed doubtfully down at the puffball. "Can we really trust you to cook so much food without eating any of it?" he asked.

Kirby shifted around uncomfortably. "It was one time…" he mumbled.

"Better idea," said King Dedede, stepping in front of Kirby. "How about I be the chef? I can easily cook up something!"

Meta Knight gave the king a deadpan look. "And how would you fare, being around food without eating any? I would sooner trust Kirby in the kitchen," he said pointedly.

"Yeah, well, I don't see you coming up with any bright ideas," countered Dedede. "Do you even know how to fry an egg?"

"Alrighty, that's enough, both of you," said Dr. Mario. "We'll-a figure something out. For now, I think we should leave Chef Kawasaki to rest for the night, while I make sure his recovery goes as smoothly as-a possible." He nodded curtly at the door and everyone present bid Kawasaki their farewells as they filed out of the infirmary.

Midna hovered lazily alongside Dr. Wright, who was deep in thought. "Okay, doc, what's the plan?" she asked.

"I'm still thinking of that part," muttered Dr. Wright, his mustache twitching. "First matter of order… call an emergency meeting. Things are going to get very difficult, very quickly."

Dr. Wright's emergency meeting was not very appreciated among the Assist Trophies. They dragged themselves out of their beds, grouching and griping about how late it was.

"Seriously?" grumbled Ashley, rubbing at her eyes. "I have to get up at this hour? What gives?"

"Dr. Wright clearly stated it was an emergency," said Shovel Knight. "In all likelihood, I'd say we're in for bad news."

"Bad news, eh?" murmured Red. "I'm missing out on my beauty sleep for this."

"Beauty sleep? You?!" said an incredulous Hammer Brother. "Since when do you need beauty sleep?"

"Oh, what, like you thought this—" Red gestured to his face— "came naturally? No, sir, this needs ten straight hours of uninterrupted rest, thank you very much! It's a huge thing in the demon realm these days!"

"…Huh," muttered the Hammer Brother, scratching the side of his helmet. "Didn't think demons were into beauty sleep. Or, like, sleep at all."

"Oh, yeah, it's huge right now!" nodded Red. "Just like those singing fish you mount on your wall."

Eventually, the main lounge was filled with every Assist Trophy available, save for some that were either outside dozing in thePokémon Day Care or locked away for being too dangerous. Some of them looked more annoyed than others.

"I suppose you're all wondering why I called you here at this hour," said Dr. Wright once everyone had settled in. He was standing in front of a whiteboard, looking nonchalantly at the group before him.

"Yeah, we are," said Marie, who ignored Callie as she dozed off and flopped over in her seat. "What gives?"

"As you know," began Dr. Wright, "Chef Kawasaki was gravely injured in an accident earlier today."

"We know that," stated Rodin. "Word spreads pretty quick around here."

Dr. Wright went on. "So naturally, he is unable to cook for the residents. Master Hand was able to fill in for him today, but he made it very clear this was a lucky break. We currently have no other chefs available."

A murmur spread through the room. They genuinely hadn't considered that Kawasaki was the only one among them with any sort of culinary prowess. If he wasn't able to cook, then…

"Who's gonna cook for us?" asked the Hammer Brother, voicing everyone's concerns.

Dr. Wright gave him an odd smile. "I'm glad you asked that. For, you see…"

With a flourish, he flipped over the whiteboard. The other side had a schedule scribbled onto it, with names written next to certain mealtimes.

"All of you will be filling in for Kawasaki while he recovers."

There were immediate cries of protest among the assistants. "Are you kidding me?!" shouted the Hammer Brother. "I'm already busting my shell being an Assist Trophy and carrying out orders for Lord Bowser, and now you want me to cook on top of all that?!"

"This is ridiculous!" argued Dr. Wily. "A genius like me needs to keep his brain in gear, and I can't waste that precious time by cooking!"

"I have a rigorous training program I need to keep up with!" protested Guile. "I don't have the time!"

"This is beneath me—"

"Can't we just order takeout—"

"I don't wanna—"

"That's enough," said Dr. Wright's voice above the din. All complaints stopped almost instantly. "We're clearly in a crisis. Chef Kawasaki isn't able to make food for us. I'm sure some of you have prior engagements to attend to, and that's fine. But if nobody eats, then nobody eats. And some of us…" He flipped over the whiteboard to its blank side and hastily drew a picture of Kirby, his mouth wide open and sucking in air.

"…Will be very upset indeed." He turned to the assembly. "Are any of you willing to explain to Kirby that we won't be eating for a while?"

There was dead silence.

"Precisely," smirked Dr. Wright. He flipped the whiteboard back to its schedule. "Now, then, Shadow, Lyndis, Guile, and Samurai Goroh, you'll be on breakfast duty. After that, Dr. Wily, Starfy, Knuckles, and Ghirahim will be in charge of lunch. And finally, Sablé Prince, Alucard, Riki, and Yuri will be on dinner duty. Are there any questions?"

The room was silent, save for a few stray coughs.

"Very good! Meeting concluded! Now, everyone, get a good night's sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow!

One by one, the assistants trudged back to their rooms to rest up. Samurai Goroh crossed his arms grumpily. "Oh, great," he grouched. "Now I've gotta get up early."

"Then I suggest you head off to bed," mused Alucard as he passed by. "You'll need the energy for the morning."

"Oh, you're one to talk," shot back Goroh. "You're not a morning person, either! You're part vampire, right? Can you even be in sunlight?"

Alucard's face stilled. "The sunlight doesn't bother me," he said coolly. "Just make sure to get up on time." He bowed and left for his own quarters with a swish of his cape.

Sukapon and Bomberman, meanwhile, had stayed behind to study the schedule some more. "…Can you cook?" asked the white robot.

The pink robot waved his hand in an 'ehhh' gesture. "I can make a pretty decent souffle," he said. "What about you?"

Bomberman shrugged. "I can make soup and that's about it." His countenance brightened a bit. "Gosh," he said, building up to something great. "It looks like we've got a lot on our plates all of a sudden!"

Sukapon was caught off guard, but quickly recovered. "Aaaaaaah…! Oh, that was good!" The two robots doubled up into raucous peals of laughter.

"Give it a rest, would ya?!" roared someone from their bedroom.

Bomberman and Sukapon stopped laughing. "Good night," said Bomberman quickly.

"Night."

And they shuffled off to bed without another word. Tomorrow was a very busy day.

Author's Notes: Aww, poor Kawasaki. He's gonna be out of commission for a while. But don't worry! The other assistants will fill in for him! It'll be like nothing was wrong, right? Right?!

...Prob—probably.

The next part will come...sooner rather than later.