Chapter Text
I should have never come here.
Footsteps echoed in the vast, bleak landscape, a torn-up place of sadness and nostalgia warped into something sinister. Rain pelted the young teen, pushing down his hair and soaking his face as he ran. Lucas could still hear that awful laughter, chilling him more than the storm ever could. Lightning illuminated the scene in his mind once more - a stone-cold statue in the grips of a truly vile man.
He couldn't outrun those pitch-black arrows, and he certainly couldn't outrun his own cowardice.
And yet he ran.
I should have never come here!
Of course, he had never wanted to come in the first place.
Lucas hadn't wanted to do much of anything since all was said and done.
Tazmily was thriving, once again, restored by the Dark Dragon's touch. Lucas had felt the Dragon's every move - their heartbeats merged together as one, every breath in sync. Pulling that needle had freed it to the surface, bending to Lucas's will. It felt Lucas's pain and anguish, felt his bitterness towards the world, and his screams had intermingled with the Dragon's roars until neither could be told apart from the other. It felt his grief, felt his pain, felt the phantom weight of his brother in his arms.
But most of all, it felt love.
Love. Lucas's sole motivator in life. It was pure, unadulterated love that allowed him to bring the world to a halt and bear it anew. Love for his friends - strong, fiery Kumatora, cool, steady Duster, and his ever-faithful dog Boney. Love for his family as well, seeing each of their faces in his mind. But most of all, love for his screwed-up world, and it was love that bore his neverending hope it could be redeemed.
The world had been reset anew thanks to love, but love went hand in hand with grief. There was always a price to pay.
Lucas knew it was normal to grieve. He had spent many long days after Mother passed just sitting at her spinning wheel, softly whispering a prayer that he would open his eyes and see her there at the table. But when his eyes opened, he was always the only one in the room.
He had slowly gotten stronger. His heart still ached, but he no longer cried himself to sleep. He had begun going outside again and tending to the sheep, because goodness knew Father was never home. Up until the fateful day all was set in motion by the reappearance of Duster, he had started picking himself up and carrying on.
The journey had been a whirlwind of impossibilities. Developing his powers, hunting needles, fighting the mysterious other who shared his gift of PK Love - it all had melted together, day after day. But from the journey, Lucas found himself with a family. Bound not by blood but the experiences they shared, Kumatora and Duster were as older siblings to him.
And yet they couldn't console him after the ultimate loss, having the one hope he had clung to - Claus being alive - confirmed, just to be ripped away.
Lucas had tried to pretend he was fine. He had faked a smile and tried to stay positive, for everyone's sake. He fooled those who weren't close to him - but he couldn't fool his friends. He couldn't fool his father. And he was certain he couldn't fool the one who had watched his journey, always beside him though they couldn't be seen. He had been truthful when he had called out to the vast skies, pleading with the universe to let the one who influenced it all to have a good life. What was it he had said...?
"Hey, other world! Be good to _!"
It had been something like that. Funny - he could no longer recall their name. Despite all that happened, Lucas knew he would have never made it through his journey without them. His love extended to them too - but somehow, he doubted that they had believed he was truly alright.
Had it been their doing, sending the mysterious invitation...?
When Lucas had received the letter, he had instantly thrown it away.
It had been a warm afternoon, but Lucas hadn't been outside enjoying the sunlight. He had stayed inside, sitting again at Mother's wheel, spinning it slowly despite no wool being attached. It was a distraction - something he tried to deny needing. Sudden barking from outside had brought him out of the trancelike state he had been working himself into.
"What is it, Boney?" He had called tiredly, dully aware of how hoarse his voice was from disuse. He had received no answer. Sighing, he had slowly dragged himself up, and opened the door, the sunlight absolutely dazzling. Sitting on the step had been an envelope.
He had scooped it, tearing it open after finding no writing on the outside besides his name. The penmanship was not one he had recognized. The paper had been crisp and heavy - very expensive looking. His eyebrows had raised, reading the neat inscription.
To Mr. Lucas,
You are hereby formally invited to the third Super Smash Brothers tournament as a newcomer participant.
This tournament is among the largest fighting tournaments in the galaxy. Lodging and necessities will be provided at the Smash Mansion, where you will live alongside many others when you are not battling.
If you accept, return your reply to the man in black standing in the town square. He will remain there for three days.
Once accepted, you will have one month to prepare. Pack your belongings and be prepared to be transported to the meeting site at dawn a month from accepting. Be waiting in front of your house.
Sincerely,
Master Hand
Organizer and Head of the Super Smash Brothers Tournament.
Lucas had frowned, cyan eyes scanning each word. It was ridiculous. A fighting tournament? Who would want Lucas, of all people, for that?
He had promptly tossed it aside and had returned to spinning the wheel. He wasn't going. That was final.
Except, well, Kumatora had something to say about that.
She had barged into his house without knocking a few hours later. Kuma never knocked. Generally having a "I don't give a crap" attitude, she didn't appreciate nonsense like waiting for someone to answer the door.
Following behind her had been Duster, less aggressive. He had lightly rapped on the doorframe even though Kumatora had already let herself in.
"There's a man in the square askin' for you, Lucas." She had said, pacing the parameters of the room. "Dressed in black. No idea who he is, but says he's waitin' for an answer from you. What's he talkin' about?"
"Oh, uh, it's nothing." Lucas had shrugged, putting on a fake smile. "Just an answer to some letter. I'll tell him "no" when I next go out."
"Lucas, you haven't been out of the house in three days." Duster had piped up, gentle concern showing through. "Flint said you were still here every time he's come in -"
"Twice." Lucas had interrupted with a quiet mumble. "Father has only been here twice."
"Today?" Duster had asked softly, pulling up a chair from the table. Wood dragged along wood as Kumatora grabbed one too.
"No, in the past three." Lucas had answered him quietly, averting his gaze. He had kept spinning the wheel slowly, its movement almost hypnotic. It had given him somewhere to look besides his friends' eyes. He hadn't wanted to see their sympathy.
"Lucas..." Duster had begun, worry in his tone. "You can't keep locking yourself away."
"I'm not." Lucas's lie had been bitter in his mouth. It was obviously false. Claus had always told him what a terrible liar he was.
Just thinking of his twin had sent a sharp stab of grief through his heart and he had balled his fists, willing even the possibility of tears away. That was another thing that was so different in grieving for his brother - Lucas could not cry.
Even at the funeral, when all was said and done, he could not shed the tears that had gathered within him. It was as though he was paralyzed - he longed to let his pain out but his tears would not come. He could feel them gather, but they never showed.
And so Lucas turned to alternative measures of releasing his pain. His current favored method was isolation.
He couldn't bring his grief to light by crying, so he locked himself away from anyone else. When he sat in an empty room, accompanied only by the overbearing sound of his own breathing, he could feel his pain around him instead of trapped within. It was torture, and the only way he could truly feel his sadness. It being free to flow around him was better than the weight of it in his soul.
It was a form of self-harm, and deep inside, Lucas knew this, but he rejected that truth. It was much easier for him to deny it being denial.
He had suddenly come to the awareness that he had been ignoring Duster, who had been speaking. Lucas had given an apologetic sigh, and had asked him to repeat what he had said.
Duster had been frustrated, but tried to hide it. This had added to Lucas's guilt - although he knew Duster never wanted to make him feel bad. "Lucas," He had begun softly, the concern in his tone making Lucas flinch, "We're worried about you. This isn't healthy, shutting yourself away. You're not even dressed - when was the last time you changed your pajamas?"
"You're not eatin', you haven't come out in days - kiddo, you ain't okay." Kumatora had spoken roughly, likely to cover up the emotion in her voice.
"We want to help you." Duster had pleaded. "We're trying. We know it's hard, but Claus -"
"Don't say his name!" Lucas had wanted to scream that out, but with the suffocating feeling in his chest taking over, all he had been able to manage was a whisper. More than ever, Lucas had wished he could just let it out.
"He wouldn't want this, Lucas." Duster had finished quietly. "You were everything to him. You need to take care of yourself."
"I am taking care of myself." He had lied flatly. Duster had just sadly shook his head.
"Takin' care of yourself involves leavin' the house, kid." Kumatora had seemed slightly frustrated. "Bein' alone ain't helpin' you."
"It hurts, Kuma." Lucas had whispered, curling his knees up to his chest. "It hurts."
"I know, Lucas." Her normally rough voice had went uncharacteristically soft. Her arms had been around him before he had a chance to reply. That had been fine with him; Lucas had nothing to say.
Duster's sharp green eyes had drifted to the discarded letter on the floor. Picking it up before Lucas had the chance to stop him, he had started to read it. The thief had gone quiet, before finally raising his head. "You got invited to a tournament?"
"I'm not going." Lucas had quietly mumbled. Kumatora had reached over and plucked the letter from Duster's hands, mouthing the words as she had read. A look of inspiration had come over her face.
"Kid, this is exactly what you need!" She had declared, springing up from the chair. Her enthusiasm had almost sent it flying. "Bein' around Tazmily clearly ain't helping - what you need is a new place!"
Lucas had started to object, but Duster had held up a hand to stop him mid-thought. "Kuma is right, Lucas." He had spoken earnestly. "This would get you out of the house, get you to meet new people...get your mind off it all." He had almost whispered the last part. Reaching over, he placed his hand on Lucas's. "The sooner you begin life again, the sooner you can heal, Lucas. You've restored the world - now you need to restore yourself."
"We love you, kiddo." Kumatora had spoken with passion. "But I don't think we can mend you."
"I don't think anyone here can." Duster had shook his head. "Too many memories, and you don't have the strength to face them yet. A completely new place, a fresh start...if it gets you out of this house, I want you to go."
Lucas had gone quiet. He didn't want to leave, but the same instinct that told him isolation was wrong was peeking through again. Go. It had whispered to him. Go.
Kumatora had grabbed his other hand and pulled him up. "C'mon." She had declared, red eyes gleaming, "We're gonna go talk to the man in the square." She had started dragging him at once.
"Kuma, he's not even dressed!" Duster had laughed. "Let him get some clothes on!"
Begrudgingly, she had allowed it. After getting on clean clothes, he had been dragged off to the town square. As promised, a mysterious man had been waiting, his face not visible somehow despite the sunny day. It was as if he had generated his own shadows to hide in. He had taken Lucas's message of acceptance silently, handing him back a list of things he needed to do.
There had been a lot of work ahead of him, and his friends had been determined to see him through it. He had spent the next month training with Kumatora to develop new PSI abilities- something that positively drained him of his energy. He had ended up with an almost continuous fever as he had tried to master abilities that felt far beyond him.
"Remember how cold the mountains were?" Kumatora had prompted him one day as he had tried to produce PK Freeze. No matter what, nothing had come from his hands. The most he had gotten was a few stray sparks of PSI, drifting away into nothingness. Trying for hours to summon frozen shards had drained him, and he recalled feeling flushed from the fever as his PSI had boiled within him from his efforts.
"I remember." He had grunted, wiping sweat off his brow. The memory of cold had meant nothing to him while he was burning up in the day's sunlight, however.
"You've gotta take that memory and feel it, kiddo. Feel it in your soul and feel it in your PSI." Kumatora had circled like a restless tiger before its prey, red eyes trained on Lucas. "Feel that cold in yourself and let it out. I know you have it in you."
Lucas had shut his eyes and concentrated. He had blocked out everything around him, even Kumatora's steady voice. His breathing had slowed, and he had focused on that sixth sense just beneath his veins, trailing towards his mind. He had followed it, before bringing to light that memory...
Snow, drifting in waves, falling down. The complete absence of warmth - cold enough to see his breath, cold enough to cool his burning head. Suddenly he had been standing in the midst of winter, white down catching in his hair and his shoulders, eyes reflecting the faraway gray skies. He felt it pile up in his soul as well as the ground, heard bells on the howling wind, felt clear and clouded at once. The confusion of a blizzard, the clarity of ice...
Lucas had broken through at long last, his fever breaking as he opened his eyes and unleashed that winter in his soul to a summery sky. "PK Freeze!" He had cried as the hexagonal ice burst from his hands, exploding into snow as it reached a peak. Collapsing from the effort, he had blinked in exhausted wonder at the fact that he had succeeded.
"You did it, kid." Kumatora had grinned proudly. "You really did it."
The day he had to leave had dawned bright and cool. Standing in front of his house, Lucas had stroked Boney's ears. The old dog had whined quietly, and had put his head on Lucas's knee, staring up at him with sad eyes.
"I'm going to miss you, Lucas..." He had yipped softly. "But don't worry. I'll take care of Flint while you're gone. Will you remember to walk yourself?"
Lucas had cracked a weak smile. "Yes, Boney. I'll walk myself. Don't you worry."
"Oh, I'm worrying." Boney had growled lightly, but not in a malicious way. "I know you don't remember. At least find someone else to walk you if you don't do it yourself."
"So today's the day." Their conversation had been interrupted by Duster's voice as he and Kumatora had walked up the trail to Lucas's house, Kumatora yawning in the light of the dawn. "Are you excited?"
"...no." Lucas had quietly admitted, shuffling. "I wish I wasn't going."
"I did not bust my rear trainin' you so you could stay home, kid." Kumatora had frowned, eyes gleaming dangerously. "If you don't go, I'll drag you there myself and dump you on their front porch." Lucas had held up his hands appeasingly.
"Calm down, Kuma, I am going. I'm just not that excited." He had sighed, managing another small smile.
"Oh, Lucas..." Duster had reached into his pocket. "A certain someone wants to join you. For all his bluster about wanting to be a "plain old snake rope", someone wouldn't shut up about wanting to travel. So, have a traveling companion." With that, Duster had plopped Rope Snake into Lucas's arms.
"I won't be any trouble. And this time, my jaw really will be useful!" The small red snake had bragged. Lucas had merely sighed and had given him a tired smile before pocketing him. Rope Snake wasn't exactly much of a companion - he was usually dormant, and only seldom awoke to spout ridiculous nonsense and boastings. But perhaps he could be useful someday, Lucas had mused.
In the horizon, a strange black car had slowly started to appear. Lucas hadn't seen a car like it since New Pork City.
"Guess that's your ride." Duster had smiled. "I hope it goes well, Lucas. Maybe you'll make some friends."
Lucas hadn't gotten a chance to reply to that as his father appeared, shutting the door behind him quietly. Flint had walked over to Lucas and had studied him for a moment, just a moment, his green eyes shining sadly, but with a resignation in their depths. Lucas had looked away.
Giving him a hug, Flint had held him against his chest as though he had been afraid to let go. "Come back to me, Lucas." He had rasped, the emotion thick in his voice. "I can't lose you, too."
"I will, Father." Lucas had quietly replied, nearly tearing up. "I will."
Everything had been going smoothly until he arrived in the world the tournament was being hosted in. He should have been dropped off at the Smash Mansion.
Instead he had found himself alone in a desolate place, everything gone except what he was carrying with him. The car and driver had vanished, and had left him all alone.
So much for overcoming isolation.
He had been wandering for two entire days by the time the Statue had risen, straight from his nightmares. Weakened by loneliness, exhaustion and grief, he hadn't been able to do a thing besides run. The strange creatures that arose from the purple, snow-like substance didn't help, and he had been so distracted, his foot had gotten tangled in a branch.
It had taken the arrival of Ness to save him. He had recognized him - or at least, recognized his face. This was the boy who Porky had the movie about in the theater - the boy whose life the childish king had been obsessed with. When Porky himself had shown up from the rubble of the statue, Ness's bright violet eyes had widened in horror and recognition.
It hadn't really been Porky, of course. A strange recreation of him - something that haunted both boys' pasts. Lucas had wanted to know what Porky had done to Ness - but he had never gotten to ask the other psychic.
Now he never would.
The rain was starting to let up now as Lucas slowed his run, too exhausted to keep up his pace. Coward. Coward. Coward. The word rang in his ears mockingly. He had failed again, lost yet another person. Coward. COWARD. COWARD.
He wanted to cry. The rain on his face was the closest he got.
"I'm sorry." He whispered the words, finally stopping altogether. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. Staring up at the sky, he wanted to scream.
Well, that was something he could do.
"I'm sorry!" He screamed upwards, to nobody but at the same time, everybody. "I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I couldn't dodge!" Lucas was shaking now, balling his fists and the gray sky drizzled down. "I'm sorry I couldn't convince you not to go. I'm sorry I couldn't save her. I'm sorry for n-not...n-not saving you..." Lucas wasn't sure who he was even addressing. Ness, Claus... maybe both.
It's not like either one could hear him.
He waited underneath the rain for a few more moments until it began to fade altogether from the skies. The only sound was his breathing. Lucas was beginning to get really sick of it being quiet enough to hear that.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, before once again walking forward without a purpose. His footsteps echoed quietly across the wet, torn-up pavement.
Barely seeing anything, he wandered aimlessly across the blank landscape. He wasn't sure where to go or what to do - everything felt foggy. He wrung his hands as he walked, so overrun with anxiety that he couldn't feel anything. Lucas felt so numb - the rational part of his brain quietly commenting that he might be going into shock. He chose to ignore it.
So wrapped up in it all, he didn't notice the person right in front of his face as he walked straight into him.