Chapter Text
With new fighters arriving, the Smash home was a hive of activity. They had to be settled in and prepared for the tournament, so it was a good time for a ‘meet-and-greet’ between veterans and newcomers alike. Some were more open to the idea, such as the Princesses and the Ice Climbers, while others acted frosty or outright avoided the other fighters entirely. And one fighter had no choice but to be carried around and shown to whoever asked about them.
The egg had arrived with Mewtwo, who said little on it’s presence except to comment that it had nothing to do with him. It seemed the Master Hand had somehow ordered it from a breeder in the Pokemon World, when sending out invitations to the tournament. Naturally he didn’t take responsibility for the egg, so it ended up being passed around the fighters who would take it. Jigglypuff and Pikachu took the most notice of it, probably because of it’s origins, but it wasn’t unusual to see Dr. Mario checking up on it’s progress or for Peach to take care of it every now and then. Finally, a week before the tournament was due to begin, the egg hatched.
Pichu, more than any other fighter, loved Smash. Being born and bred quite literally for it, he didn’t need to unlearn the rules of Pokemon battling that Pikachu and Jigglypuff had initially struggled with when joining the melee. All he’d ever known was the tournament, the competition, the never-ending battle. He threw himself into every fight was reckless abandon, no matter who he faced. It was both endearing and a little worrying for some fighters who questioned whether a literal baby should be in the fight. Pichu however, always electrocuted anyone who tried to stop him from entering a battle (and electrocuted himself in the process) so even the most well-meaning spectator stopped trying to intervene. Despite being one of the weakest fighters, there was no questioning his heart and passion for the tournament.
-
Pichu blinked up at Pikachu, confused. “What do you mean, you’re going to leave?”
It was a beautiful day. The dawn had only just broken, but Pikachu had awoken early and nudged Pichu awake in their shared quarters, before taking him out to the training grounds. They were a small area with three floating platforms, kept private for the fighters to practice within rather than being publicly open for audiences. It was comforting to have a place they could practice in without worrying about being watched, and at this time of day most of their fellow fighters were still asleep. Which was lucky, as Pichu began to shout. “Why? Why would you want to leave? This is the best!”
Pikachu sighed, ears drooping. “I’m… I’m tired.”
“Then you can have a nap! Or a holiday! That’s what the others do, they go to other worlds for a bit and then come back.”
“Pichu, that won’t help-”
“Why not??”
“Because I’m tired of the Smash tournament!” Pichu stared at him like he’d grown an extra head, before squeaking rapidly.
“I don’t get it! The Smash tournament is the best. Everyone fights to have fun or to become even stronger! And even when you lose, it just means your opponent got stronger, so you gotta learn to fight even better and get tougher too! It’s the best and even when we’re not fighting, we’re all friends and we train and, and, and we all live together! Cos we’re a big family! And we look out for each other, and-!”
Pikachu waited, until Pichu tired himself out with his ranting and huffed, pouting and folding his arms stubbornly.
“I miss home. Where we’re from, Pokemon don’t fight people like this. We have a trainer who helps us, and who we travel around the world with. And I’m tired of fighting alone like this. I want to have a trainer, and to explore new regions and meet other Pokemon.” He drifted off slightly, turning from Pichu to look over the battlefield. He mulled over Pikachu's words but frowned, looking up at him.
“What… what is that world like?” Pikachu frowned, ears twitching upright as he looked at Pichu.
“Haven’t you ever gone back home?”
“This is my home! I hatched here.” Pichu puffed out his cheeks, still wound up.
Pikachu sighed heavily. Pichu looked over the training grounds, scowling stubbornly. There was a pause as they sat together. The sounds of the other residents awakening began to drift from the mansion, vague murmurs of activity. The wind brushed over the pair, giving them a slight chill. The sun wasn’t warm enough yet.
“...The place I came from was a forest. There were lots of berries, and other Pokemon – bug types, like Caterpie and Weedles, and some birds. And there were pokemon like Nidoran, and Rattata outside. And there were other Pikachu there too. People would walk through, to get to the cities on either side. Or to look for Pokemon and battle each other. I liked it there. There were lots of bushes and tall grass you could hide in, and you could play with the other Pokemon or fight with them whenever you wanted. But the fighting was different. You would take it in turns to attack.”
“That’s dumb.” Pichu interrupted flatly. “Taking turns to attack is dumb.” But he had unfolded his arms and looked over to Pikachu, albeit still pouting. “What’s a Rattata?”
“It’s another mouse-like Pokemon, but they're purple with big teeth, and they can’t use electricity like us.”
They fell into another silence, as Pichu fidgeted and Pikachu reminisced on his home. The little mouse began to sniff, eyes shining. Pikachu sighed, turning to face Pichu.
“Pichu… Not all of us are going to be in the next tournament. I know that Master Hand is thinking of bringing in new fighters and letting some of us go.”
“Is that why you’re doing this? Leaving before he can tell you to go?” Pichu squeaked spitefully. Pikachu couldn’t hold back a spark from his cheeks, glaring at the sulky Pokemon.
“No! I know he’s thinking of removing you! But since you really like it here, I want to help you evolve, so you can stay and battle here instead of me!”
Pichu stared at Pikachu, eyes darting over his face and looking for any sign of a joke or lie. Not finding one, he burst into tears. Pikachu’s ears drooped as Pichu breathlessly cried, gulping in air between wet sobs.
“They were- but I- I w-want- i-it’s not f-f-fair!” Pikachu scooted closer, patting Pichu’s back. He really could’ve broken the new better, but he didn’t know how. He waited for Pichu to wear himself out, unable to talk as he panted and wiped at his red eyes.
“Shhh… Listen. If we can get you to evolve into a Pikachu, I’m sure Master Hand will keep you as the tournament’s Pikachu fighter. And I’ll come and watch you battle from time to time too! This way, we’ll both be happy.”
Pichu leaned into Pikachu, still rubbing away his tears.
“Why do things have to change at all? We’re happy right now.” Pikachu smiled and patted the top of Pichu’s head gently.
“The fight is always changing Pichu. If you don’t face new challenges, in new places with new people, there’ll come a day where you won’t be able to push yourself any further. You’ll be here to face the newcomers in Smash. And I’ll be away to face new challenges of my own. But I’ll still come to visit and show you what I’ve learned.”
By now the rest of the fighters were awake and beginning to emerge from the house, stretching and getting ready for a day of training. Pichu gave Pikachu a squeeze, before standing up and twitching his ears upright. He sighed, shaking off the last of his tears, and gave Pikachu a look of pure determination.
“Okay. I’m ready.” At Pikachu’s questioning head tilt, he balled his paws up and let a spark fly from his cheek. “To train so I can evolve!” Pikachu laughed and stood with him, nodding.
“To be the very best!”
“Like no-one ever was!!”