Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Red sits on the shimmering beach on the outskirts of Pallet Town. His tense, cross-legged posture is inert save for his deep and intermittent breathing. The radiant sun, breaching the edge of the horizon, illuminates his stationary figure as well as the serene blue ocean that stretches out into the distance. The unobstructed evening sky reveals schools of luminescent fish dancing through the water. The town’s rural landscape and its minimal human presence epitomizes the sublime tranquility of nature.

He takes an exceptionally large breath of the brisk, salty air, closing his eyes as he does so. He intends to relish in this quiet moment as much as he possibly can. After traversing dangerous wild Pokémon areas, encountering and battling legendary foes, obtaining the title of Kanto Champion, and dismantling an entire criminal organization, a period of respite is exactly the kind of reward he deserves.

That reward may or may not be completely disconnected from the fact that he has nothing else to do.

He’s triumphed over every challenge presented to him. He’s filled out every entry in the Pokédex, even the playful and elusive Mew’s. As soon as Red completed all of his most substantial tasks, he felt like all of his motivation and productivity had turned invisible, much like the Psychic Pokémon that had interminably evaded his capture. His amount of free time at the moment is so unprecedented that there aren’t any other activities that could possibly engross him.

Red opens his eyes and observes the sun descending in the sky. He’s never had the opportunity to appreciate the scenery like this in a while, and especially not from his hometown’s beach. If he sits here long enough, he might be able to see the stars and the moon, glimmering against their dark, mystical backdrop. He leans forward and absentmindedly stirs the water with his hand, creating a whirlpool.

Red fondly remembers when he and his best friend Green would sneak out after dark to swim here. The breathtaking sky cast just the right amount of light onto them and the water, and they’d never have to worry about getting sunburnt. Green would babble about stuff, they’d splash each other, watch the fish dart between their legs…for eight-year-old Red, it was paradise.

Their midnight swims would always end prematurely, however, because either Red’s mom or Green’s sister Daisy would signal their respective arrivals by indignantly stomping out towards their floating forms. They would promptly drag them out by their soaking hair and force them to go to bed, showing no sympathy despite the indescribable pain the ordeal caused them.

As much as they despised being ordered around like Pokémon, Green in particular, they somewhat appreciated that they had people in their lives who actually looked out for them. Additionally, the creature-infested waters likely beheld the risk of being attacked by a ravenous Gyarados, which attributed even more responsibility to their guardians even though they didn’t have the hindsight to realize it.

Red suddenly freezes when he realizes how he spontaneously started reminiscing about Green, the one person who detests him with every fiber of his being. Red believes his thirst for relaxation originates from the falling out with his best friend and their tumultuous and emotionally draining rivalry.

Red was a habitually silent person who was also incapable of feeling resentful. His mother always enforced values of forgiveness and empathy, which he continues to exhibit despite his lack of speaking. As such, when he and Green started their Pokémon adventures, he was mortified to witness Green’s unfiltered arrogance, his relentless teasing, and his proclivity to injure and humiliate Red whenever he saw the opportunity. The worst part about the torment was how Red saw no clear justification to deserve any of it.

Their shared stubbornness and ambition brought them together as a result of their circumstances; Red realizes that he would have never forged such a deep connection with Green if he wasn’t the only other boy his age in Pallet Town. Yet Green was the most interesting person he’s ever had the fortune of spending his childhood with. His sharp, cunning face, striking golden gaze, and well-kempt hair were the physical manifestations of his keen wit and humor that kept Red yearning for his company. He can acknowledge the various areas in which Green excels without betraying too much of his aversion.

The moments he believed that Green returned his extensive admiration…he would snap like a frail oak branch, lashing out in an attempt to gain some twisted form of consolation. The volatility of his best friend terrified him. When things happen suddenly, chaos brews. Chaos hurt him repeatedly back then just as much as it hurts him now.

He’s been so cruel to me. I shouldn’t think about him at all. But…he has a reason to be so angry, doesn’t he? Right when he became Champion, I stole the title away from him. That wasn’t even half an hour after he got it. Maybe he always knew I was going to do something like that. I bet he only ever saw me as a threat. If I knew that I was going to break the friendship we had…maybe I should have never become a Pokémon Trainer at all.

The silence around Red is palpable and crushing. He no longer wants equanimity and introspection. The sand burns beneath his feet. The ground beneath him seems to sink, ready to engulf him and his regrets in one swift gulp. He recoils from his sitting position and stumbles to his feet. Once his heart no longer hammers in his chest, he curiously reaches down and runs the silky sand through its fingers.

It’s frigid. It could very well be mistaken for snow if it wasn’t so easily identifiable.

Red tilts his head at the discovery. Did he really have that vivid of an overreaction to misinterpret the temperature of the sand? He feels dazed until a familiar voice catches his attention.

“Yo, Red! What are you doing? Building a sandcastle?”

Derisive laughter rings in Red’s head. He draws in a hasty breath and frantically looks around, but there’s no one in the vicinity. Much to his dismay, the voice continues taunting him.

“Come on, chill out. Don’t be a little bitch like you usually are. If you actually grew up, then people might actually start believing that I lost to you.”

Green’s flippant remarks pervade his mind. He knows he’s not the strongest or smartest or most talkative person in the world, but his inherent respect, perseverance, and morality allowed him to form unbreakable bonds with his Pokémon that helped him transcend every obstacle he came across. Before he can make a proper rebuttal to his rival, a cacophony of different voices surprises him and forces him to fretfully clutch his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut.

The foreign, unwanted voices puncture Red’s ears like a series of stab wounds. The reporters begin their onslaught in his mind, adding insult to his already scathing injuries.

“Champion Red, how do you feel about becoming– ”

“What will be your first edict as— ”

“Do you have any relation to that incorrigible boy who was just— ”

“You’re so young. How will you deal with the responsibilities of— ”

“Will you ever address the remainder of Team Rocket’s— ”

“Champion Red, are you alright? Why aren’t you responding? Are you currently suffering from any form of mental health— ”

"You’re not really resigning, are—”

Red’s eyes spring open with fright. He feels a moistness coalescing within them, threatening to spill down his face. The mobs of swarming fans and paparazzi confront him next. His astute ear even catches a few disparaging comments.

“Ohmigosh! Hiii, Red! I love you! Will you please go out—”

“Don’t look so miserable, Champion. Smile for the camera—”

“Who the hell’s this? This pipsqueak’s not representing my region—”

“You’re cool! You should be the Champion forever and ever—”

“Champion, my company’s starting a new advertising campaign—”

“That other guy? Haha…he barely lasted five minutes—”

“Oh, fuck you, Red! Fuck you to hell and back! You’re such a—”

Red screams in a futile attempt to suppress the persistent assailants. He screams and starts sprinting back into the town, having no specific destination in mind other than away. He pants erratically as he kicks up the coarse dirt of the path. He collapses in front of his house, tears streaming down his crestfallen face.

He fumbles with his belt to retrieve Charizard’s Poké Ball, struggling due to the tears impairing his vision. With a trembling hand, he releases his loyal Pokémon. The majestic dragon immediately tries to console his Trainer, clawing at his hat and shielding his body with his wings. He senses Red’s overbearing distress and nuzzles at his face, transferring some warmth to him from his scales. The gestures almost improve Red’s mood, but he’s more focused on his strong internal compulsion to feel any better.

I have to get away. I have to go somewhere—anywhere where no one will find me. I can’t handle all this pressure. They’re going to keep on finding me, asking me questions, calling me names…I just can’t.

Despite Red thinking about all of his crippling doubts and fears, Charizard seems to understand. He hugs Red briefly with his diminutive arms before pulling away, preparing to be ridden.

I think I know just the place.

As soon as Red mounts Charizard and proclaims his intended location, he can hear someone darting toward him, kicking up even more of the earth than Red previously did, bellowing at him to wait. He doesn’t need to second guess himself this time when he identifies the pompous figure of his rival sauntering into view.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Green asks, affronted. His demanding tone catches Red by surprise.

Red utters a sheepish response. “Green! Uh…it’s…none of your business…”

“Oh, now you decide you want to start talking to me? Well, if that isn’t salt in the goddamn wound,” Green snaps.

Red freezes. He never gave the reason for learning to speak more frequently too much insight, but he figured it would be much easier for other people to understand him. Red thought that he’d reconcile with Green more easily if he could speak with him. Clearly, his expectation was misguided.

Green scoffs. “Whatever. I don’t care. Looks like you’re going somewhere, huh? I’m going to have to stop you right there. You wanna know why?”

Red, intrigued, leans in closer to indicate to Green that he’s listening intently. He clings on to Charizard’s neck for leverage.

“Check out what I got.”

His rival smirks and throws out his signature salute. Red rolls his eyes until he spots Green holding a white letter between his two outstretched fingers. He deftly maneuvers the letter between his fingers until Red can see it in its entirety. His jaw nearly drops to the ground when he recognizes the insignia branded on the seal.

It’s a Super Smash Bros. invitation. His annoying rival actually managed to get invited to Smash despite being the obsolete ‘phantom Champion’ who only provoked passing glances from the Kanto region’s denizens. Red, tightening his fists and murmuring under his breath, finds this display unbelievable.

“Yeah, you know exactly what this is. That’s ‘cause you gave me the whole spiel two years ago when you first got one,” Green says, waving the letter back and forth. “And then you wouldn’t shut up about it when they forgot to invite you last year.”

Red frowns. He doesn’t remember mentioning the letter to anyone, but maybe Green noticed his disappearance and interrogated his mother, the only person who would know of his whereabouts. Green is also deceptively clever at reading his body language and gestures; perhaps he drew some sort of a conclusion from him looking crestfallen at the mailbox on occasion.

“Who knows? Maybe they forgot you again. I wouldn’t blame them, considering how pathetic of a Trainer you are,” Green cackles.

Red and Charizard shriek when the former gets pounced on and forcibly torn off of the creature’s back. The physique of the attacker must be more extraordinary than Red could give it credit for…until his vision clears and he sees his belligerent rival.

He gets grabbed by the collar and thrown against the wall of his house. Charizard protests, but refuses to hurt Green due to its merciful nature. One of the latter’s hands clenches around Red’s neck, causing him to cough and gasp for air.

“You’d better listen to me. I’ll never forgive you for stepping down from being Champion right after you beat me. I worked my ass off to get where I was, and for you to just take my effort and throw it away—!”

Green cuts himself off, snarling. His face contorts with broiling anger. “They’d better not give you another damn invitation. You don’t deserve to be celebrated, to see all your old friends again, to be in the same league as me…you don’t deserve anything. Got it?”

Red merely wheezes with a wide-eyed expression. Green’s confrontation is incredibly unexpected. He narrows his eyes at his helpless state, not appreciating Red’s insufficient answer. Regardless, he rolls his eyes and lets Red go, hastily ushering him over to the mailbox nearby.

“Look, since you’re always so slow, there’s no way you’ve looked in this today,” Green drawls, smacking the mailbox. “Go ahead, open it. If I see one of those letters in there, I’m ripping it to shreds.”

Red scowls at his rival, one of the only acts of resistance against him he has ever exhibited. Red can tolerate his rival reasonably well, but there’s only so much taunting and physical abuse he can endure until he begins to falter. He neglects to return a glance back at his rival when he grips the small handle and wrenches the door open.

As expected, a pile of miscellaneous mail awaits Red inside the box. He gingerly encircles the pile with his hands and pulls it out. Even though his surroundings are dark, the legibility of the writing allows him to read and leaf through them with relative ease. Even so, it’s rather difficult to locate the invitation among the plethora of seemingly identical white letters and obnoxious fan mail.

When he’s on the brink of giving up, the letter of his desire reveals itself. His eyes light up as radiantly as the red seal that adorns it. He smirks and brandishes the letter to his rival, much to the latter’s chagrin.

“I wouldn’t tear up such a pretty letter,” Red muses, roving over it. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to make a bad impression before the tournament starts, do you?”

Green grits his teeth. He figures the outcome for following through with his scheme would be much worse than the brief satisfaction that would come as a result, even though his anger and indiscretion convince him otherwise.

“Oh, please. All I’m doing is getting rid of someone from the roster who doesn’t deserve to be there. Give me that!”

Green suddenly lunges at Red to snatch the letter, but he anticipates and dodges.

“At least let me read it first!” Red protests. Green silently relents, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

The seal vanishes when Red prods it with his finger, allowing him to easily open the letter and take the neatly folded message out of it. He unfolds it and reads it to himself, his eyes darting across the page. The formal and organized print distinguishes itself to him as he reads.

~

Ultimate Tournament - Everyone is Here!

Dear Pokémon Trainer Red,

Congratulations! You are officially and cordially invited to the fifth annual Super Smash Brothers tournament—also known as the Ultimate Tournament! We apologize for your being excluded from the previous tournament. Your subpar performance and implementation constraints were factors that led to your omission.

Super Smash Bros. tournaments are incredible experiences that enrich your character and skills. As a fighter, you will have the opportunity to battle and befriend participants, ascend the ranks, hone your capabilities, and enjoy a period of relaxation and indulgence in our resplendent Smash Mansion.

Characters from all sorts of different worlds have all been invited to gather at this unified tournament! Since you are a returning fighter, you might recognize some of the others. But we are also pleased to inform you that we have many new fighters joining the roster this year. We would greatly appreciate it if you greeted them and helped them get accustomed to the new environment.

Red’s eyes drift upward from the letter and look at Green. He’s looking off into the distance and tapping his foot impatiently. Red scoffs, half expecting a jab about him being a slow reader.

“Green wouldn’t want any help with being shown around, and especially not from me,” Red thinks before continuing to read the letter.

Your Pokémon will fight on your behalf. You will be utilizing Squirtle, Ivysaur, and Charizard, much like you did in the tournament you last participated in. We recommend taking advantage of the diversity that your team offers.

For a first place and runner-up finish in the tournament, we will be offering ₽10,000,000 and  ₽1,000,000 respectively as well as special trophies.

If you decide to attend, please bring this letter with you to the receptionist for certification. If this document gets lost or damaged, we will send another at a moment’s notice. Sabotage from others is strictly prohibited and will be punished accordingly.

The portal of entry will appear next to your hometown’s sign tomorrow morning; it will only be visible to you.

As stated in the words of your local Pokémon Center…we hope to see you again! Good luck and happy travels.

Sincerely, with best wishes,

Isabelle Forester

Executive Secretary

Super Smash Brothers Invitational Committee

~

Red’s vision darts between the various parts of the message. Green, deducing that Red has finished reading it, trots closer and tugs at the paper.

“Alright. Since you’ve kept me waiting way too long, I’ll go ahead and finish the job,” Green interjects, a statement that startles Red enough for him to lose his composure and release the message. Green retrieves it with enthusiasm.

“Ah, ah, ah…” Red taunts, waving his finger back and forth. “You didn’t even bother reading what yours said, did you? You’ll get in trouble if you tear this up. That’s the thing with you, isn’t it? You want to get things done so quickly that you run right past the details that’ll screw you over!”

Green pauses. “I never get into trouble, Red. I’m always a few steps ahead. Besides, how’s anyone going to know about it? As long as you’re not a little snitch, nobody will care,” Green says sarcastically. “And it’s still in one piece. Can’t punish me for something I never did, huh, dumbass?”

Green laughs at Red’s expense, lazily placing both of his hands behind his head. Red’s hands tighten into fists as he glares, but he restrains himself. Red despises that Green is not even remotely grateful for his warning. Green’s negligent behavior could have cost him his spot in the tournament.

“Look, it’s getting late. I’ve already wasted enough of my time on you. Take your stupid letter and go home,” Green says dismissively. He throws the paper to Red, who swiftly catches it. “Make sure to get some beauty sleep, Red. You really need it.”

As the silhouette of his rival hunched over his letter fades into the distance, he feels excitement and dread intermingling in his chest. Green absolutely opposes Red’s internal obligation to rekindle their connection. After having an incredible friendship with Green when he was younger, he refuses to be dissuaded in his goal. Red thinks that he’ll have many opportunities to track him down due to their shared destination, even though his rival’s tendencies may prove enigmatic.

Red knows one thing for certain, though—he has a magnificent, didactic, and appropriately smashing adventure ahead of him.

Chapter Text

A warm and pleasant light envelops Red when he blinks his eyes open. It flickers in and out of visibility until the whirling blades of the ceiling fan materialize above him.

The flickering serves as enough of a distraction for Red to turn over in his sleep, grumbling incoherently into the plush mattress. He dreams of frolicking in a placid, verdant meadow; flowers blossom around him in roseate and chartreuse clusters. The wind picks up some of the frail petals and carries them away.

Red’s Pokémon are there, also. Pikachu bounds off of his shoulder to roll around in the fluffy grass. Venusaur trills at the pretty petal storm and basks in the sunlight, regenerating its energy. Charizard soars above him, performing adventurous tricks like a picturesque daredevil. Blastoise absentmindedly trickles water onto the flowers with its cannons, wishing there was a refreshing pond nearby. Espeon practices using its psychic powers by manipulating the petals around it in stunning patterns. He lets out a distorted noise of awe that rumbles in his ears. Snorlax is…sleeping. Red doesn’t blame it.

A particularly loud snore disrupts the others and makes Red chuckle, but a gentle hand on his shoulder frees him from his stupor.

“Red, sweetie,” his mother says gently, fluffing up his hair, “It’s time to wake up. Today’s a big day for you.”

“Mmrgh…” Red groans eloquently as he properly rolls over to face his mother. He feels more lethargic than usual. He vaguely remembers having a conversation with Green late into the night and determines that to be the cause. Red yawns and sits up.

“I know, honey,” his mother whispers. “It’s not easy to get out of bed. But I made you some breakfast.”

Once Red catches the fragrant aroma of the aforementioned meal, he rolls out of bed. His mother smiles and goes back downstairs to plate the food.

Red takes his cap from the nightstand and places it atop his messy head. His adventuring clothes are all wrinkled and disheveled from going to sleep in them last night. He should have heeded his own words last night about making a good impression.

He wipes his eyes drearily and pads down the stairs to encounter a sizable pile of airy pancakes at his seat. A carafe of homemade syrup and a small plate of butter sit adjacent to the pancakes. Red hesitates at the base of the stairs. His mother, evidently having heard his timid footsteps, turns around, her face wrinkling with delight.

“Yes, that’s for you,” Red’s mother says due to his shocked expression. “You need lots of energy today. Your Pokémon won’t fight well for you when you’re hungry and tired.”

Red nods and sits at the table. His mother places a glass of milk in front of him and takes the seat across from him.

When Red digs into his condiment-covered pancakes with gusto, his mother clasps her hands together and watches him with an earnest smile. She has always admired her son’s insatiable appetite. Red makes a motion to speak while chewing, but she calmly reminds him to finish his food beforehand.

After only a few minutes, Red finishes all of the pancakes and sits back in his chair. His mother briefly compliments him before taking his plate, glass, and silverware and putting them in the sink. She strolls back over to her seat and resumes the same position.

“So, Red…who are you most excited to see?” Red’s mother asks curiously. She has extensive knowledge about the tournaments, as Red has regaled her with stories about his friends, winning grueling battles, and coming into close contact with some of the most iconic gaming characters in existence.

His mother was initially perplexed due to the surreal occurrence of multiple different universes, but Red informed her that the whole matter was much less complicated than it sounded.

She was most excited to hear that Red had finally emerged from his shell at the tournament and made friends. After Green had unceremoniously abandoned him, Red was reluctant to ever try again with anyone else. However, nothing restored both of their prides more than Red finally connecting with another person.

Red replies to his mother noncommittally. “I don’t know. Probably my friends…if they even got invited this year.”

“I’m sure they were,” his mother reassures. “You’re bound to find someone that you recognize. Don’t worry about that.”

Red slowly inhales and exhales to calm himself down. His mother deduces that something is bothering him. She signals to him with a tilt of her head.

“Mom, they…they told me I did badly in the tournament last time, and that’s why they didn’t invite me again,” Red sniffles. “They thought I looked dumb and weak against all the pros.”

She clicks her tongue. “Oh, honey…I know how disappointed you were when you found out that you weren’t invited last year. But I’m sure that’s not true. Why else would they want you to go back now?”

Red sighs dejectedly and hands his mother the letter. She takes it and skims over the contents, memorizing a few key areas with the precision of a hawk. She wraps a tender arm around her son’s shoulders.

“I know you might doubt yourself,” she starts, “and that’s okay. We all have our flaws, and we all have room to grow. Here, Red…look at this. They apologized to you. They said that they couldn’t fit you in the roster. See?”

She gestures to the first paragraph’s conciliatory language. Red focuses on it. Sure enough, he sees their apology and defense laid out on the page. His mother lightly chuckles at his gawking before speaking again.

“It’s not your fault. They feel just as bad about it as you do. Red, they admire your strength and want to see how far you’ve come. You have so much more experience now. You’re unforgettable, sweetie. I know they want you to go back more than anything else in the world. I do, too. You deserve to.”

Red’s mother tears up, and, unable to contain her elation, crushes him in a bear hug, which he reciprocates.

“Thank you so, so much, Mom,” Red cries. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you. I can’t believe I didn’t see—”

“Shh, shh, hey, hey, hey…” his mother interrupts before he panics. “Once again, that isn’t your fault. Details like that are easy to miss. And you never know when someone who writes like this is actually being honest with you.”

She recoils at the pretentious letter, which makes Red giggle. The writing style does indeed seem anachronistic, or, at the very least, incongruous. Fighters in the Smash Bros. tournaments are often the protagonists of their series, who generally have average intellectual merits. Red had to read over the sentences several times to fully understand their structure. He clears his throat.

“Mom, there’s one more thing that I want to talk to you about before I go.”

“What is it, honey?”

“It’s about Green. He got invited, too.”

She tenses and gasps when the nuisance’s name leaves Red’s lips. She’s held a chronic grudge against Green ever since he stopped treating Red as an equal. It broke her heart at the time, witnessing just how much turmoil he was in due to the absence of his best friend. She thinks that Green is disrespectful in the very sense of the word, but she understands the tempest of emotions that he must be experiencing during his adolescence.

She’d just prefer it if he dealt with his problems like an adult.

She breathes. “Red, you’re going to encounter many intolerable people in your life. People that’ll frustrate you to no end. People that’ll quickly resort to fighting and hope that you’ll sink down to their level.

“But you can’t let them get to you. You can’t let them have any satisfaction. They want to make you as miserable as them. My sweet boy…I can’t stand it when you’re upset.”

“I know, Mom,” Red murmurs. “But I don’t cry that much anymore. It’s been years since Green left me in the dust. Maybe I can still—”

“No,” she retorts. “Don’t you dare suggest reasoning with that scoundrel. He took away your confidence, Red. He made you feel miserable for succeeding. Associating with such a rash and senseless boy…you have nothing to gain from it.”

“I can’t be enemies with him forever,” Red laments. “I keep focusing on how much we’re supposed to hate each other, and I want it to stop.”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” his mom acknowledges. “We can’t always get everything we want, though, sweetie. You can’t force him to like you. That’ll only strain the connection you already have, which, frankly, isn’t much.”

“He has to like me more now than he did back then,” Red insists, despite being a victim of Green’s harassment the previous night.

“Oh, Red. So naïve, as always. I’m nowhere close to a pessimist, but…love is fleeting and hatred is endless. You’ll learn that the hard way,” she scoffs.

“I’ll see if you’re right,” Red challenges, “at the end of the tournament.”

Her eyes widen, not expecting him to contest her statement. She strokes her chin in silence, intrigued as to what her son will do to prove his point. She’s never experienced such flagrant stubbornness from him before.

“Well,” his mother says thoughtfully, much of the irritability having left her voice, “far be it from me to stop you, honey, but I think you’ll regret trying to reconcile with him like that. Not everyone deserves a second chance.”

Red turns silent now, looking suspiciously at his mother. He understands her assessment, and concurs with it in a certain sense, but he feels like the burden of repairing his relationship with Green rests squarely on his shoulders, as his ambitious aspirations were what set Green off on the warpath.

He knows Green’s upbringing, his fractured family life, his penchant for freedom and control. Broken bonds can be healed with enough understanding and initiative, he presumes.

“I trust you,” she capitulates. “Just promise me that you won’t get hurt.”

“I won’t, Mom. You know me. I’m strong,” he replies. “When I win, I’m going to share half of the prize money with you.”

“That’s the spirit, honey. And that’s very kind of you. Could I see Pikachu one last time? I need to squish his little cheeks.”

Red nods. He promptly releases Pikachu from its Poké Ball. The fuzzy mouse squeals and settles comfortably in his denim lap. His mother coos to the adorable Pikachu, reaching an inviting hand out to pet it. Red picks up Pikachu and sets it on the table, right near her spot. Pikachu sniffs the foreign fingers warily before relaxing into their strokes.

Once the fingers prod the creature’s crimson cheeks, they suffer a sudden shock. Red’s mother yelps and recoils from Pikachu. Red both gasps and chuckles at her expense, deducing that she isn’t very experienced in dealing with Electric-type Pokémon.

“Mom, Pikachu stores its electricity in its cheeks. I know you don’t spend much time with Pikachu, so you probably didn’t know that, but…” Red trails off, pulling out his Pokédex and searching for Pikachu’s entry.

“Oh? What’s this?” she wonders, taking it and skimming through the words on the small screen. “Interesting. You kids and your technology—I never would have known that Pikachu roast berries with their cheeks! And they can also…cause lightning storms?”

“Not really, Mom. I don’t think Pikachu have ever done that, even in a big group,” Red informs her, somewhat flustered.

“Then this piece of scrap metal is lying to me, and to you , too! It’s brainwashing—”

Red shrieks and steals the Pokédex back before she can slam it on the table. He often forgets how prone his mother is to dramatic episodes of protectiveness for his sake. He prefers her erratic yet unconditional love as opposed to negligence, as anyone would, but some serenity and fulfillment in her life could substantially quell her temper. Red knows that the loss of his father caused pain for the both of them, even though they’ve mostly recovered from it by now.

“I’m sorry, Mom, but I should probably go,” he says, looking at the front door.

“That’s right, sweetie,” she realizes, “I almost forgot. We were having such a nice conversation. I put your backpack on the coat rack, in case you were wondering.”

Red identifies it there immediately and springs up from his chair to retrieve it. Pikachu leaps onto his shoulder from the table. Once he puts his arms through the straps, he feels primed for adventure, but not before he feels insistent scratching under his arms.

Red devolves into laughter. He doesn’t fully appreciate the onslaught, but it does awaken him the slightest bit more, and he attempts to fend off the perpetrator with newfound alacrity.

“Mom!” he whines in jest. “Stop, that tickles! You’re embarrassing me!”

“In front of who, hm?” she asks smugly. “I can embarrass you all I want!”

She continues her antics for a little while until Red pleads for her to stop. Once she does, she bends over so that she’s at her son’s level. She also rests her hand on his shoulder.

“Listen to me,” she says warmly, tearing up. “You’re going to blow away the competition this year. You’re such a young, capable, and talented Pokémon Trainer. You’ve won the Champion title here before, so I know you can win at this, too. Don’t let anyone or anything get you down, okay? The most important part is having fun.”

She embraces him, her dainty arms wrapping around her grateful son. She fluffs up his hair again and whispers in his ear.

“I love you, honey. Say hi to your friends for me. Take good care of your Pokémon. And don’t get in Green’s way,” she asserts, her teeth subtly gritting when she mentions his name.

“I will, Mom. I love you too. I’ll update you on how things are going while I’m there,” he responds, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Great! I’d love to hear from you,” she exclaims. She kisses his forehead before breaking the hug. She takes Red’s hand, leading him to the front door and opening it. “You have everything, right? Hat, backpack, whatever else?”

Red nods, even though he looks everything but presentable in his shrunken getup. She smiles. The sight of her son, courageous and independent, going off on another adventure, Pikachu perched faithfully on his shoulder inspires her.

“Bye, sweetie. I’ll miss you,” she says wistfully. “Don’t be late, now!”

“Bye, Mom! See you later! Don’t get too lonely without me!” he calls, dashing off into the center of the town. Pikachu crawls across his shoulder to his backpack and unzips the largest pocket with its little paws. It settles inside and falls asleep. Red giggles and zips the pocket again.

Pallet Town’s remarkably small size means that Red finds his rival almost immediately. His ginger hair and stationary figure illuminated under the golden sun. Green is facing away from him, mumbling to himself while sitting in one of the flower patches.

“Stupid Red…always holding me up…”

Green tears an iridescent red flower out of the rich soil and tears the petals off of it, one by one. He drops the stem and tears up some of the grass, decimating the small area in front of him.

Red’s face twists. He assumes that Green’s been here for a little while, finding some cathartic value in ruining the beautiful arrangement of the flowers. Green has always been a vain and envious person, after all.

Green whirls his head around to look at Red after he loudly clears his throat. He rises to his feet with the scorn of a raging Tauros. He throws his hands up in frustration.

“What the hell, Red? I’ve been waiting here an hour for you to show up!” Green spits.

“I was just having breakfast and saying bye to my mom,” Red explains. “Was I being too slow for you?”

“Yes, you were! You’re always too fucking slow! Standing me up like this…it’s like you barely even care!”

“Well, didn’t you have anything better to do? How was I supposed to know that you were going to just sit here and wait for me the whole time? Your life doesn’t revolve around me, Green, and mine doesn’t revolve around you, either!”

“Wow,” Green says, unfazed, “That might be the most you’ve ever said to me in one sitting. Glad that I can tire your little voice out like that.”

Red grunts. How could his rival transition so smoothly from dissatisfaction to ridicule? Is he even still mad at him? Red’s argument is probably so foolproof to the point that Green won’t even try to address it.

“Anyways, Red,” Green continues, “there’s something you’ve got to understand. I was being such a gentleman by waiting here for you. So it really bothers me that you’d waste this much of my time. And I thought you were really excited to go to this. You want to talk about bad impressions? That’s the way to do it.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Red says, shaking his head. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

Red walks ahead, searching for the entry portal that the Smash Bros. invitation mentioned. He looks around for any anomalies in the air. Green disapproves of Red avoiding conflict and continues talking. He thinks that this instance is a microcosm of Red's general behavior.

“It’s not just about right now. I could care less about that now that you’ve shown up. It’s about showing up late to plans, to matches…to dates, even. Anything you can think of. You’re going to piss a lot of people off by thinking of yourself first.”

Do I really do that? Red questions himself. I mean, I’m not used to spending a lot of time with other people. But that’s just the way I am. I’ve only had to depend on myself during my Pokémon adventure, not anybody else. I’ll admit that there’s a ton of things I still don’t know. He doesn’t need to lecture me about anything when he’s got his own problems to worry about.

“Take your own advice,” Red snarls. “Get off my back.”

Green’s stunned for a second, but he quickly recovers. “Feisty. By the way, it’s over here.”

He goes over to stand by the town sign and points to a small concentration of energy hovering near it. It looks like a crackling mass of plasma that’s caustic to the touch. Once Green presses his palm to it, it expands and forms a complete, swirling portal. He makes a satisfied noise.

“Well, there we go,” Green says matter-of-factly, putting his hands on his hips. “Hey, last one there’s a rotten egg! Smell ya later!”

“Seriously? Not everything has to be a comp—”

Before Red can even finish his sentence, Green has already gotten a considerable running start, and he acrobatically flips into the portal with a jubilant yell.

Red facepalms. “Unbelievable.”

He runs after his rival with determination. Even though he may be unable to get ahead of Green in most cases, this tournament will give him a multitude of chances to do so. His prior experience will soon be invaluable.

You’d better watch yourself, Green. I’m coming for you.

Chapter Text

Flicker…gleam—whoosh!

Tumbling into the ground leaves Red disoriented. The long grass serves to cushion his fall, at least, even though he nearly swallowed a lump of coarse dirt by the end of it.

He sputters and spits, wiping his tongue clean of the earthy substance. Laughter echoes above him at his clumsy finish.

“At least I stuck the landing!” Green proclaims, pulling one of his eyelids down and sticking his tongue out.

Red turns his head to stare reproachfully at his rival. Red hates his propensity to transform every menial event between them into a contest; he was too overstimulated by the bright colors in the portal to focus on where he would end up.

Green casually reaches his arm out to help Red up. “Don’t give me that look. It’s not a big deal. You know that. Besides…”

After Red begrudgingly takes Green’s hand and stands up, the latter finishes his sentence with a hint of incredulity.

“…if you can’t handle that, there’s no way that you can handle a loss from another fighter. You should get used to losing. I did.”

Red scoffs. He thinks that he has a skin as thick and as impenetrable as a Nidoking despite his youthful and unassuming appearance. He wouldn’t dare reveal any of his pressure points to gratify his opponents.

Everyone who has gathered here are foes—importunate obstacles whose friendly faces and vivacity nearly disrupt Red’s focus.

Losing will hardly be a possibility for him. A stain on a clean record remains there forever.

During the course of Red’s ruminations, Green had turned on his heel to enter the grandiose structure sprawling out in front of the both of them. The vivid ornamentation and architecture of the Smash Mansion captures Red’s undivided attention. Gilded doorways, windows, and balconies all shimmer with a rainbow sheen, concentrating the sun rays and regaling the open air. Turquoise blades of grass, unfolding before him like river rapids, leave a dull chartreuse glow wherever he steps. Butterflies and fairies flutter from flower to flower, dashing erratically across the opulent variety of flowers and settling in their beds.

This is not the Smash Mansion he stayed in several years ago. Even so, he feels his heart racing much faster now as opposed to last time. The allure of the new setting fills him with determination.

Once Red’s feet thud on the stone walkway leading to the entrance, he notices two glistening marble fountains on either side of him. Statuesque and outstretched hands act as the sole centerpieces, spouting water back into the pools through their fingertips. Red steps toward the one on his right, mouth agape with admiration.

As he grips the pure white edge of the fountain, he ascertains that the material feels less durable than it appears. How can a pristine piece of art like this be so fragile? He traces his fingers over the surface, fascinated by the properties of this marble-like material.

Cracks appear wherever his fingers touch. Red steps away.

He feels a pit in his stomach. He probably cursed the fountain by touching it so much. He braces himself for the consequences, his body frozen with fear. 

Ugh! Why do I have to interact with everything I see? Now I’m going to—

He hears a loud noise and shrieks, imagining the amount of property damage that he’ll soon be liable for. He can’t look away from his own handiwork for a second.

Red expects to see the mystical water bursting from the fountain, drenching his clothes and waterlogging his shoes, subsequently freezing him in a prison of ice and making him suffer eternally for his mistake.

But nothing happens.

The fountain miraculously repairs itself with a burst of color. The cracks fill with a golden liquid and disappear. Relief replaces Red’s prior fears. He takes a few hesitant steps back to the fountain’s edge. Gathering the strength to circle around it, he experimentally touches the fountain’s edge, seeing the cracks appear at his touch and vanish right after.

On the other side of the fountain, he sees a silver sign engraved with small gold letters.

Fountain of Crazy Hand

To Honor the Defeat of the Subspace Army

~

In treacherous times

No fighter is left behind

Together, divine

~

This Fountain is Indestructible 

Red snorts at the poem. The words are clunky to read, but they’re heartfelt and represent the struggle that the fighters went through to combat the Subspace Army.

Oh, yeah…the Subspace Army. How could I forget? They were a huge threat to us at the Brawl Tournament a few years ago, Red remembers. I was with that kid with psychic powers most of the time…Lucas, right? Yeah. He was pretty quiet. Then again, I was pretty quiet, too. There was way more time for fighting than there was for talking, that’s for sure.

I wonder how he’s doing. He might even be here for the tournament, so maybe we’ll actually get to talk to…uh, see each other again.

“Wait. I’d better get inside,” Red tells himself out loud after a few moments. He can’t afford to waste any more time sightseeing. He knows that everything is on a schedule.

Red begins to walk away, but not before flicking a spare coin from his pocket into the fountain and making a wish. Once the coin submerges with a plop and a silver flicker, he turns around and frowns at the other fountain across from him.

Sorry, fountain…fountains? I wish I could look at you more, but I’ve got places to be. Maybe I’ll see you again later.

Red waves goodbye to the inanimate objects. He may not have gained much from getting in their good faith, but he still feels the sun shining and the breeze blowing in his favor.

He quickly makes it to the Smash Mansion’s double doors and stops to take a deep breath, pushing down his anxiety as much as possible.

Red thinks about how much he wants to prove his own worth to himself, that he can win without feeling guilty about hurting anyone’s feelings. He knows how friendly and constructive the Smash Bros. competition is from prior experience.

So why is he so nervous about coming back? 

Red was callow all those years ago. He sprung at the idea of being invited to an important gathering and fighting among the most legendary gaming personalities. He thrived on no expectations, but he fought the best that he could with his Pokémon team.

He was eliminated in the second round almost immediately, and the only reason he even ended up advancing was because his opponent couldn’t recover back to the stage properly. His overall ranking was barely equivalent to a participation award, and his very first time experiencing a loss in battle shattered his carefree and scatterbrained approach.

Even though he had the time of his life, the loss embarrassed him to his core. He never felt like he was less capable compared to other people, but the results of the Brawl Tournament changed everything.

Red could turn back right now and never show his face here again. He can turn on his heel and leap back into his own comfortable world, calming his mind and doing things at his own discretion.

There’s nothing keeping him here, and this is the last opportunity to bail before he registers. His mother would respect his decision no matter what, his friends probably wouldn’t notice him being gone, and he knows for sure that Green wouldn’t care. It would also be less competition for everyone else—if they would even manage to have trouble defeating him.

Red looks over his shoulder and stares at the portal for an uncomfortably long time. Frozen in a moment of deliberation, he closes his eyes and focuses on thinking rationally.

Snap out of it, Red , his mother’s voice admonishes. You’re much stronger than you think. You need to show yourself and everyone else how far you’ve come. In order to solve your problems…you face them head-on. Don’t be shy! The worst thing that you can do is lose and learn from it. Good luck! I’m counting on you!

Red lets the words of his mother register in his mind before firmly turning away from the portal. The motivational words ignite a spark in Red’s soul. He finally grasps the magnitude of the decision he was about to make.

I can redeem myself here, he thinks. This isn’t a Pokémon battle. I can’t just run away. Just do your best. That’s all you can do.

With conviction in his countenance and a sternness in his step, his hand grasps onto one of the door handles. He only manages to open it a crack when—

“Excuse me! Pardon me! Coming through!”

A girl in a bright orange dress shoves him out of the way and yanks the door open, skipping past him and inside without another word.

Red has a delayed reaction to the situation, merely gasping in a startled fashion at the idea of being in somebody’s way. He cloaks half of his face with a disgruntled hand before entering the building himself.

The lobby beyond the glass doors scintillates even more brightly than the terrain outside. Unfolding before Red is an immense sanctuary of priceless golden walls, chic silken furniture, and wooden accents that offer a modern flourish. Geometric decorations are inextricably scattered on the floor and walls to fill the empty space. A convoluted crystal chandelier hovers above him on high, and Red almost feels overwhelmed by the amount of light he’s been exposed to in the past hour. He also sees a bar and dining area, the latter of which wafts a savory barbecue scent in his direction. The setup is complete with pitch black tables, booths, stools, and a long, weaving bar counter. Looking back and forth, Red can observe the dichotomy between the light living room on the left and the dark dining room on the right.

The Super Smash Bros. logo is patterned on the floor and in several crevices, a subtle reminder that the Smash Mansion is not merely an idealized hotel like Red would imagine being in Saffron City. After being accustomed to the rustic setting of Pallet Town and Kanto’s various routes, staying in a luxurious place such as this feels ineffably satisfying.

Music from various franchises echoes around Red, some of which he recognizes from playing on his home console. He finds himself humming some of the tunes with a nostalgic gusto. The floor whimsically clinks beneath Red as he walks. He identifies the registration desk across from him due to the small line of fighters behind it.

Before Red enters the line, he tries to see how many fighters he recognizes from last time. He squints and inspects the area.

Okay…there’s Link and Zelda on that couch over there. Took me a second, since they look a little different now. Marth’s over there, too. And Peach. Yoshi, Jigglypuff…oh, there’s Pikachu! There’s also the Ice Climbers, Diddy Kong, R.O.B., Lucario…this isn’t a bad turnout at all, Red notes. And there are even more fighters than that. It’s packed.

Many of the fighters happen to be clustered around the bar, carousing and engaging with each other in lively conversation.

Geez. They sure love their drinks. There’s the Mario brothers, Ike, Snake, Samus, Meta Knight, Fox, Falco, and Wolf, Mr. Game and Watch, Captain Falcon, Olimar, Bowser, and Wario. Maybe I’ll understand the appeal when I get older, Red surmises.

He almost feels thirsty looking at them, but even if he was allowed to consume alcohol, it would be just as much an impediment to his focus as his nerves. Decisively shaking his head, he wrests his attention back to his own endeavors.

Red finally enters the line for the registration desk. He inconveniently ends up behind the girl who shoved him earlier. She bounces back and forth on her heels as if she’s in a hurry. 

He finally looks up at her, ascertaining that she’s roughly a head taller than him. Shiny locks of chestnut hair fall behind her shoulders in loose, yet perfectly symmetrical curls. A golden crown, decorated with white flower-shaped gems, sits atop her head. The puffy sleeves of her dress and her white lace gloves accentuate her arm movements as she fidgets with her hair, earrings, and nails. 

Her satin dress is a warm combination of amber and tangerine embroidered with white lace and petal designs. The hem lies just short of her feet and reveals a set of orange heels that compliment her dress. Her appearance and ensemble leaves nothing to be desired.

Red deduces that she must be a princess. 

He first learned about princesses through fairy tales his mother read to him when he was six years old. Apparently, they existed in distant regions of the world and resided in grand structures called castles alongside kings, queens, and princes. That was the first time Red had heard about other regions.

Kanto, his home region, has never had any princesses or royalty of any kind. It has always been governed by a small group of elected officials who work closely with the Pokémon League and its Champion. Red was privy to this information when he was the Champion, but he mostly just stood to the side while the adults made all of the decisions.

Red wondered if different regions had a more efficient and inclusive way of doing things. It intrigued him knowing that there were so many other places in the world that were different from his own; sadly, he didn’t think that he’d ever find the means or the motivation to explore them all and answer his questions.

When the tournament ends, though, he’s going to chart every inch of the world, just like he did with Kanto. He’ll get to witness firsthand the complexity of other regions.

The line for the desk grew exponentially smaller while Red was thinking, causing him to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The girl reaches the front of the line and strikes up a short but amiable exchange with the receptionist as she checks in. Red tilts his head, wondering why she would behave so courteously towards this receptionist but so aggressively towards him.

Red watches her process intently to ensure that he won’t make any blunders himself. He takes his backpack off and rummages through his belongings to try and find his letter. Even though his drowsy, rotund Pikachu is in the way, the letter is nowhere to be found. He searches, pleads for a cut or crumple, but the absence of any semblance of paper dawns on him like a crushing weight.

He forgot to put the letter back in his bag. It’s probably sitting on the table or couch back home.

As Red sees the girl finish and skip away from the scene with a royal wave, leaving him at the front, he freezes up like a deer in headlights. His fear of impending rejection compounds on itself over and over again. He makes no effort to wipe away the beads of sweat trickling down his face.

“Next!”

The receptionist stares at him with dark, narrowed eyes after she calls out her command. Red slowly steps closer to her, arm still fully buried in his backpack. She clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

“I’m not even going to ask whether or not you have your letter, because it’s pretty clear you don’t .”

Red just nods slowly.

“I mean, I know people don’t even read stuff anymore, but you can’t just get an invite to the biggest crossover event ever and literally leave it on the table,” she jeers.

Red gulps and laughs, not knowing how else to respond without provoking more noxious words out of her.

“Relax. I’m only kidding. Kind of. Things happen. I’ve got tons of backup letters in the back, so I’ll be nice and get one for you,” she reveals with her deadpan voice. “I’ll save you from violating your backpack any more.”

Before Red can tell her his name, she’s already gone into the back room to get another letter, snickering all the while. He zips his backpack up and slings it back over his shoulders. He’s not terribly fond of the hospitality here so far. Maybe everyone else is taking time off for themselves. It’s a good time of the year for vacations.

The receptionist returns with the letter and opens the wax seal in order to authenticate the data and officially register him for the tournament.

“I recognize you. I recognize everyone. Red the Pokémon Trainer. A little overrated, if you ask me. You know, I just saw your rival here. I’m surprised they invited him. I’d say he’s better than you, though. Not just because he actually brought his letter with him.

“Heh…you’re lucky that ‘Belle prints, like, a billion of everyone’s letters in case you forget it like an idiot. Had it happen to a few people today, and I made sure to laugh right in their faces. They gave me such ridiculous reasons that I just couldn’t help myself,” she laughs.

Red clenches his fists at the receptionist’s derision towards the fighters that couldn’t manage to procure their letters for her. He doesn’t condone physical violence at all, but he feels an urge to knock some proper sense into her.

“HEY!” a voice bellows.

A small dog with blonde fur walks into view from another room, an offended expression on her snout. Red can barely see her over the counter, but he catches sight of a green plaid shirt and a red hair tie adorned with bells.

“That’s no way to talk to anyone! This is an esteemed fighter! What are you thinking?” she reprimands the receptionist.

The latter turns around in her chair and rolls her eyes at her superior. The dog huffs and fluffs up her curly ears.

“This is the third time I’ve had to talk to you about your manners today! And I think this time will be the last…you’re dismissed!”

The receptionist rises to her feet languidly and stretches, gallivanting to the door conceitedly.

“Finally!” the receptionist calls behind her. “I get all of the money and barely any of the work. Have fun with nothing, bitch!”

She slams the door as soon as she finishes speaking, disappearing into thin air.

Red furrows his brow at the confrontation, but he isn’t as fazed as he expects. After all, he’s witnessed both condescending people and anthropomorphic animals enough in his home world. He turns his attention back to the dog, whose cheeks are puffing up with anger.

“Ugh! Good riddance! I knew I shouldn’t have offered that much money!”

“Are…are you okay?” Red asks, concerned for the dog’s wellbeing.

“Yes…hah…hah...I’m fine. Hah…sorry about that,” she breathes. “It takes a lot of energy to yell at people. I hate doing it. It’s not the kind of dog I am at all.”

She clears her throat before speaking again.

“I had no idea she was going to act so cruel to everyone. Her resume seemed great. She was also the only one who applied, so we had no choice but to hire her. We offered 50,000 Bells to whoever wanted to be the receptionist this year, but even then, nobody else ended up applying,” the dog explains.

“Bells? What are those?” Red inquires.

“They’re the currency where I come from,” she clarifies. “50,000 Bells is a lot of money, so we thought that would make people really want to work here. We probably should have thought harder…”

Red furrows his brow at the confrontation, but he isn’t as fazed as he expects. After all, he’s witnessed both condescending people and anthropomorphic animals enough in his home world. He turns his attention back to the dog, whose cheeks are puffing up with anger.

“I’m sorry,” he responds. “That really sucks. But I’m glad she’s gone. It looks like most of the other fighters are already checked in, anyway.”

“Yes!” she chirps. “That’s a very, very good thing. Oh, by the way, my name’s Isabelle! I come from the Animal Crossing franchise! Maybe you’ve heard of it? I’m the mayor’s assistant.”

“Isabelle, huh…nice to meet you. I haven’t heard of it, but it sounds really cool,” Red hums. “Hold on…you’re from the letter, right? The executive secretary of the invitational committee?”

“Wow, you have a good memory!” Isabelle compliments. “Yes, that’s me! They sent me an invitation last year for the Quaternary Tournament, but…I had never fought anyone before, and I didn’t really want to, either. But I ended up finding out that they had an opening in their invitational committee, so I took that opportunity instead.”

“Nice,” Red says, impressed. “How’s that going for you?”

“Excellent!” she exclaims. “I do a lot of paperwork and scheduling in my day job, so it’s the perfect fit for me. Everyone seems to love my personality and what I have to offer. I think I made the right choice. Writing and organizing is way more fun than fighting!”

“I guess we can agree to disagree there,” he replies cheekily.

She giggles. “I guess we can. I know for a fact you really like fighting…Pokémon Trainer Red. You’re a legendary presence! It’s hard not to notice you.”

Red puts his hand on his cheeks out of embarrassment. Even when he has all of the eyes of the world upon him, singing endless praises, he still feels insecure.

“Aww. You should feel confident with your own achievements! You’ve earned them through your hard work,” Isabelle chirps.

Red nods, considering her words and removing his hands from his face.

“I don’t want to keep you busy, so let’s see…” Isabelle says, looking down at the computer monitor. “Looks like our ‘friend’ got everything set up. I just need to scan it and…done! You’re all registered. We’re glad to have you here! Just so you know, I’ll be giving everyone an orientation in about 30 minutes so that you can all get acquainted with staying here and competing in the tournament. In the meantime, you can relax and chat with other fighters. Does that sound good to you?”

“Sounds great.”

“Good! Well, that’s it from me for right now. If you ever have any questions and concerns, you can come and see me. I’ll be staying right over here.”

“Thank you so much,” he says, bowing thankfully. “See you in a few!”

“Sure thing!”

Red walks away from the counter, seeing Isabelle wave at him through his peripheral vision. The words of the rude receptionist still eat away at him, but at least Isabelle was there to dispel some of the tension.

She’s nice . She seems a little bit stressed because she can’t find any good workers, but I can see that she works hard. It’s good that people can still be nice to each other in this world .

He meant to ask her about why he was excluded from the tournament last year since the reasons that he read in the invitation were vague. However, he decides that it’s not worth the effort and that it matters more that they wanted him to return for this tournament.

While looking around at the commemorative portraits on the walls, Red collides with something, bouncing back with a grunt. He sees that it’s the princess again.

“Oof! Hey, kid! Watch where you’re—oh!”

She locks eyes with Red and stops smoothing out her dress. She kneels down to Red’s level and takes one of his hands, patting it remorsefully.

“It’s you! Sorry! We really keep bumping into each other today, huh? I probably should have been standing somewhere else!”

“You…pushed me out of the way earlier…” Red murmurs, pulling the brim of his cap down.

“Oh, yeah…right! I was so scared I was gonna be late that I sprinted the whole way here! I didn’t want to slam into the door with how fast I was going, so I just barreled right through you!” she blurts.

After Red’s frazzled lack of a response, the princess continues blabbing elatedly.

“Hi! I’m Daisy! The peppy and preppy ruler of Sarasaland! You know why I was running a million miles an hour? I slept through my Toads alarm this morning. Apparently they were so scared of my snoring that they didn’t even want to wake me up! It’s not like I would have hit them or anything, you know?”

Red snickers, looking up at and making prolonged eye contact with her. Her eyes are cerulean, like glowing pools of crystal clear water. She smiles contagiously at the subtle sound of his laugh.

“Well, I think I’ve hit my mom once or twice,” Red says slowly. “If someone like me does that, then you probably do, too.”

“Ouch! That’s harsh! I wasn’t ready to get any jabs at me before the tournament! You seem pretty quiet and gentle. That must be your strategy, right? Catching everyone by surprise?

“No, I’m just…observant,” Red replies noncommittally.

“Aww, what a letdown! I was so convinced that you were hiding something. Like my friend Luigi! He’s super strong, but he’s so scared to embrace it to the point where I think he’s playing all of us. But who knows? I hope we get matched against each other so I can beat all of the answers out of him!” Daisy says energetically.

Red gets immediate confirmation as to why Daisy’s Toad servants were mortified of closely approaching her. She must prefer to deal with matters in a physical fashion, much to the dismay of everyone around her.

Luckily, however, Red understands. Sometimes, that’s the only way to get through to someone.

“I want to do the same to my rival,” he agrees. “By the way, I’m Red. Nice to meet you.”

“Red, huh? That’s kind of a weird name…but not at all surprising! You’re red all over! Honestly, if that wasn’t your name, I think that’d be even weirder!”

Red squints at Daisy and lets out a half-hearted chuckle, tacitly imploring her to read the room. Her forthright manner of speaking may be her typical approach, but he would rather not be overwhelmed about menial circumstances such as his namesake.

Daisy coughs. “Uh…it’s nice to meet you too! Sorry. I ramble.”

“It’s…okay. Don’t worry,” Red says.

“Cool! Anyways, what brings you here? Are you a newcomer like me? I’ve heard about these tournaments from Mario, Peach, and Luigi loads of times, but I haven’t been invited to one until this year,” she reveals.

“Oh,” he utters, eyes widening with realization. “No, I’ve competed before. In the Brawl Tournament two years ago. I didn’t make much of an impression, so I don’t think too many people remember me being there.

“Things have changed a lot since then. I think this tournament has the most fighters out of all of them. There are so many of them that I don’t recognize now. Not only that, but the Smash Mansion is completely different. It’s just…a lot. Too much change too quickly.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s not so bad,” Daisy placates him. “I love it when things change all the time. When there are new surprises every day, nothing ever gets boring! It might seem bad and strange at first, but you’ll get used to it. Trust me!”

Red hesitates. “I’m mostly worried about how I’m going to show the newcomers around when I don’t know who they are or where anything is.”

“Oh, that part? Yeah, I remember reading that. Personally, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I don’t think I’ll need any help getting around. When you’ve got eyes, a brain, and two feet to walk on, you can find your way around anywhere!” she cheers, pumping a fist in the air.

“I guess that makes sense. I just…want to be useful,” he says, smiling and holding his arm. “I want people to remember me for the good things I do because I don’t have much else to offer.”

“Whaaat? Come on! Don’t say that! You’re way better than you think. I can tell! You just need to loosen up a bit!” she graciously advises. “Tell you what, once Isabelle’s done with the orientation, we can explore the place together!”

Red looks pleasantly surprised at the suggestion. Partly because he hadn’t considered that Isabelle would be responsible for guiding people around instead of him, but mostly because he can’t fathom that a princess whom he just met would intend on spending more time with him.

Daisy blinks for a moment and then squeals. “I’m gonna take that as a yes! I saw how huge this place is, too. We’ll do better if we divide and conquer!”

Red reaches out to give Daisy a handshake in confirmation of the plan, which she immediately returns.

“Nice meeting you, Red! I was gonna do something before…hm…oh, told Luigi I would meet him here! But I can’t seem to find… Yoo-hoo ! Luigi! Where aaare yooou?” she calls, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“He’s at the bar,” Red says simply, pointing in the direction of it.

“Thanks a bundle! See you, Red!”

Daisy skips away from Red, her skirt billowing and tangling behind her. He wonders how she doesn’t trip over it all the time or how she’ll even manage fighting with it.

Her demeanor certainly awakened Red due to her roughhousing and hyperactive chatter, but he also felt his apprehension subtly depart his mind as he continued listening to her. Relaxation flows across his body in waves. This tournament may prove easier to overcome with good company.

Straightening up his backpack and exhaling due to handling a quaint conversation for that long, Red walks forward until he hears his name among a flurry of jubilant calls.

“Hey, Red! RED! Over here!”

Red looks in the direction of the noise sighs, dreading the turmoil of another interaction. He tries relentlessly not to draw too much attention to himself, but he still receives an intolerable amount of it.

I stick out like a shiny Gyarados, Red thinks ruefully. Maybe I should ditch these bright, tacky colors. I could just wear black or something instead. Wait…no, I can’t. First of all, my clothes match my name. Second, these are the only clothes I brought and the only ones I ever wear. And since I’m such a legendary Trainer, I can’t just cha—

“Red? You doing okay?”

He jumps. A boy with fluffy brown hair and celestial white wings is instantly standing in front of him, lightly gripping his wrist to bring him back to reality. He recognizes who it is through his bleary-eyed daze, but his mind moves much quicker than his words.

“Yeah,” Red manages. “Hey, Pit. I just zoned out for a little bit, uh—”

“No, it’s okay,” Pit says. “I just got worried because you froze when you saw me calling out to you.”

“I’m fine, really,” Red reassures him. “Just tired from all the noise and attention.”

“You’re probably at the wrong place, then, buddy,” the angel chuckles. “When you’re at Smash, that’s all there is. And I’m living for it!”

“Well, we’re different people, that’s for sure. How’s your world doing? Is your…goddess in good health?” Red asks, smiling.

Red doesn’t deal much with gods and goddesses in his home world, either. Technically, there are Pokémon who people credit as progenitors of species, creators of worlds, and rulers of domains, but many of them are so detached from human resemblance and experience that they’re barely comparable to the gods that Pit deals with.

Red was astounded when Pit talked about serving a goddess and fighting other ones. According to the latter, gods are expected to be benevolent and protective, but a myriad of them have such an egotistical sense of entitlement that the consequences of their actions elude them.

Pit’s goddess, Palutena, seems to be the exception to the rule, presiding over light and ruling an advanced civilization floating in the sky.

If Red ever visited a place like that, he would feel like the luckiest guy ever.

Pit answers Red's prior question with a burst of enthusiasm.

“Yeah, for sure! We’re doing great! We haven’t been at war for a while, so we’re just focusing on training, relaxing, and living our best lives. Funny story…not long after the Brawl Tournament, there was, like, this huge war. I think there were four whole armies in it. Lady Palutena’s was one of them, of course. It was long, hard, and tiring. But there hasn’t been another. Crazy, right? I’m surprised the Forces of Nature stopped attacking us all of a sudden. We’ve been at odds for a long time. I think Lady Palutena called it a…ceasefire? I don’t really know. I’m not complaining at all, though! I love peace!”

When Pit holds up two fingers in the universal peace sign, Red laughs under his breath. He doesn’t have to feel guilty about being a dork because the rest of his friends are.

“Who wouldn’t? But I know how much you like being in the action,” Red says.

“Yeah! These tournaments really come at the perfect time! There’s enough time for me to relax after big battles and wars, but not too much of it that I get bored. Plus, I’ve gotten really fed up with all the arguing back home. I need a break from those guys at some point, you know?” 

“Tell me about it. I think I need a break too. I thought I’d be getting a break until I found out the guy I’m the most fed up with got invited here,” Red growls.

“No way! The exact same thing happened to me, too! Actually, hold on…let’s go back over to the guys so we can talk about it more. The table’s right over here!”

Pit starts strolling nonchalantly into the dining area, Red following right behind. There’s a palpable spring in the angel’s step, and Red thinks he hears him humming an innocent tune.

Red and Pit both made their Super Smash Brothers debut in the same tournament. They bonded seamlessly due to them being around the same age and height. They adapted to the scene and competition and made fast friends with several other fighters. Although Red refrained from talking the majority of the time, the thrill and adrenaline of battle contributed to him finding his voice.

He was glad that Pit gave him a push in the right direction by being so voluble. Pit always seemed to know so much information about the tournament and how to battle, and when Red asked about it, he eagerly informed him that Palutena taught him everything he knew.

Pit having such an extensive source of knowledge at his disposal helped both him and Red immensely. He had never met Palutena, but he couldn’t help but feel indebted to her.

Red thought Pit was some kind of indentured servant at first, but it turned out that he was just a persistent sycophant. Red never understood how Pit could be so content with being attached to someone else. Perhaps he’s so used to traveling by his lonesome that having a companion would be bothersome.

If Pit didn’t approach him on the first day, then he wouldn’t have anyone to turn to.

Despite the many idiosyncrasies of his friends, he’s very appreciative of their kindness. After all, everyone has them, including himself.

He knows that very well.

“So, I never asked,” Pit says sheepishly, “But you’re doing good, too, right? That might be a stupid question…”

“No, no, it’s not stupid,” Red replies calmly. “I’m pretty much fine. Hanging in there, trying to figure out how to tackle this tournament, for the most part. My mom’s fine, too. I just have to contact her every once in a while to let her know I’m not hospitalized or dead. Even though my Pokémon will be fighting, I still have to be careful. One missed fireball and I’m toast.”

“Oh, believe me, Lady Palutena’s the same way. The only difference now is that she’s actually here, so she can check on me whenever,” Pit says, eliciting a gasp out of Red.

If goddesses are allowed to attend these tournaments, then how would anyone else be able to stand a chance? An immortal being with innumerable powers would easily triumph over a kid and his pets. Even Charizard’s potent flames wouldn’t leave a scratch.

I came in here expecting to be an underdog, Red reasons. Maybe an extra push like that will help. I didn’t come here expecting this to be a cakewalk.

Pit’s laurel crown suddenly glows, and Red can see his figure flinch and his face contort in different ways. He’s astounded at how Pit’s thoughts shifted from him to something else so seamlessly. From the faint outline of his lips twitching, Red can sense that his companion is deep in thought.

Deciding not to interrupt Pit’s pensive state, Red shoves his hands in his pockets and looks out the dining area’s ostentatious, gargantuan windows as they pass by in a blur.

I know this place is big, but it doesn’t feel like we’re going anywhere , Red observes. Either that or Pit forgot where the table was. It’s fine. I won’t bother asking him about it. He’s not paying attention.

As Pit’s attention drifts elsewhere, so does Red’s. He didn’t see his rival at all after he entered the mansion. Green must have been sprinting to make new friends. It would surely be advantageous for him to form connections because he would gain valuable insight about the tournament. Still, Red can’t think of anyone who would be receptive to his attitude.

Green is still a newcomer. The other fighters may have been advised to guide him to the best of their ability and give him the benefit of the doubt, but his arrogance won’t do him any favors. 

Once everyone gets acclimated to the tournament, they’ll find out who Green truly is, and Red doesn’t believe that other fighters will have his own level of forbearance.

Maybe he’ll learn his lesson, then, if the complaints come from someone he would actually listen to.

“Oh, look! We’re almost there!” Pit declares, pointing ahead. “Lady Palutena was just checking on me. Sorry if I got distracted. We use telepathy to talk to each other through our minds. It was kinda hard to understand her. It doesn’t work that well if there are too many people around.”

Telepathy? I’ve heard that word before. Wait…that’s just like—

“Yo, Red!”

They come up on a rectangular high table with several chairs around it—three chairs on both long sides and a single chair on both short sides. Six fighters are currently sitting around the table, leaving two empty seats. Red wonders how such a coincidence could be possible.

Red briefly scouts out each of the fighters. He sees Ness, Lucas, Toon Link, a slightly older, realistic looking Link, Sonic, and a boy in thick blue armor whom he doesn’t recognize. Pit whistles like a warbling bird to draw everyone’s attention to him.

The boys’ chatter gradually ceases as they all turn their heads to stare at Red and Pit. Their faces light up one after another, except for the two fighters Red hasn’t been acquainted with. Instead, they look perplexed; the Link gives him a fierce, unyielding look, while the boy in blue armor just blinks at him curiously.

“Guys!” Pit calls. “Red’s finally here! The seat across from me’s open, Red.”

Pit merrily sits down in the middle chair on the left side. He clasps his huge hands together and lays them on the surface in front of him. Red sits down in the seat across from Pit, which is between Lucas and the boy with blue armor. He takes his backpack off and places it under his chair.

The conversations begin again after everyone settles in. Their words weave around Red and are solely directed to others. It doesn’t bother him. Red doesn’t want to shoot the breeze with his friends to the same extent as someone like Pit. His throat gets dry. He stumbles over his words. His tone of voice sounds disinterested.

Yet, he can’t subdue the jealousy beating in his heart when his friends flaunt their stunning performances in past tournaments, especially Sonic. To think that Sonic almost won last year’s tournament infuriates him due to them both debuting at the same time.

Feeling a light tap on his shoulder, he turns to his left to see Lucas looking up at him with wide, gentle eyes.

“Hi, Red. Been a while.”

“Sure has. I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.”

They share an awkward period of silence. They each want to inquire more about the other’s state of affairs, but they cannot properly verbalize their thoughts. The Subspace War allowed them to bond as soldiers rather than close friends; the time to discuss their personal lives was nothing short of slim.

Lucas whispers to Red earnestly.

“I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

“What? I wouldn’t miss this chance for anything . I just like to take things at my own pace. I mean, I had to stop and stare at everything for a good while. It’s so nice here...”

Lucas nods. “I’m happy that you’re back. Last year, you didn’t come, so I thought…”

“They didn’t invite me last year,” Red retorts. 

“Oh no,” Lucas says sorrowfully. “You, too? A couple of the guys were just talking about how that happened to them. I was actually in a similar situation. They sent me my invitation three months late! The tournament was over by that point, so when I got there, the remainder of the fights were just glorified sparring. It was like they forgot about me. After that, I didn’t want to come back to one of these ever again. But—”

“—you’re here now,” Red finishes warmly, “you’re on time, and everyone you know and love is here. What do you have to worry about? Everything that happened back then…it’s all in the past. Don’t dwell on it, or it’ll be the only thing on your mind.”

“Ah…you’re right, Red. I should know better, considering how my whole life has gone. My feelings won’t change anything…”

Seeing Lucas’ crestfallen mood, Red rubs circles on his friend’s back, a worried expression on his face.

”I always knew I could look up to you ever since you protected me from the Subspace Army, but I never knew you had such a way with words. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I truly appreciate it.” Lucas whispers.

Red bites his lip to restrain himself from laughing, feeling guilty at the same time due to the sentimentality of the subject matter.

All I’m saying is what I’ve learned , Red admits to himself glumly. My words aren’t mine. I don’t speak as well as everyone else. I just steal the way I talk from others. But at least what I’m saying is helping Lucas feel better.

“No problem, buddy. We’ll talk more later. I think that guy over there wants to say something,” Red answers, pointing to the head of the table.

Lucas nods again and falls silent.

“So…we’re all here,” the Link at the head of the table says loudly. “There’s too many of us now. Not enough to kick anyone out, though. A lot of guys means a lot of chitchat. So even though you’re probably so happy to see your best buddies again, I’m gonna ask everyone to shut up and listen to what I have to say. Got it?”

His smirking face whirls around the table, overtly demanding approval from the others. All he receives is silence and a few dirty looks from some of the other fighters, including Red.

The Link grins. “I’ll take that as a yes. Next up…names. You’re all newbies compared to me, so I don’t know who any of you are. Let’s all introduce ourselves. Say your name, where you come from, your first tournament, and…what your favorite animal is. Short and sweet, alright? We’ve got no time to waste!”

The fighters exchange looks as well as a few noises of assent; greeting one another after a long time seems like the necessary course of action.

Muttering then ensues around the table, deliberating about who should start everything off and what direction they should go in. Pit and Sonic both insist on going first, their voices progressively getting louder as they have a duel of inflammatory words. Ness and the blue-armored boy attempt to pacify them before the trifling issue turns violent with little success. Red and Lucas fail to understand a reasonable cause for the fighting.

A loud slamming comes from the head of the table, causing everyone to whirl around. The perpetrator gnashes his teeth with discontent.

“ Enough ! Shut up! I’ll go first if you’re all too stupid to decide for yourselves!”

Flipping his hat around dismissively, the Link addresses the others emotionlessly, almost as if he reviles doing the introductions that he himself proposed.

“I’m Young Link. The Legend of Zelda franchise, obviously. I’m from Hyrule. My first tournament was the Melee Tournament. I’ve got way more experience than all of you put together. And—”

“Actually,” Ness cuts in, “you weren’t here for the last two tournaments. I think I have the most experience out of all of us, since I was in the first—”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to butt in! Didn’t your mom teach you to be quiet and listen when someone’s talking? Rude! Wait your turn! I was gonna say that I like horses!”

“Geez, man,” Ness says, itching his neck, “Just wanted to get that out there.”

Once Young Link finishes his spiel, he glares unflinchingly at Lucas, commanding him to go next. Lucas meets eyes with him and sputters out his greeting.

“Lucas. Mother franchise. Tazmily Village in the Nowhere Islands. Brawl Tournament. Um…dogs.”

All of the fighters go around the table and introduce themselves with varying levels of interest and expression. Red knows it’s a lot of pressure to have everyone boring their eyes into each other when they speak.

“My name’s Red. I’m from the Pokémon franchise. I live in Pallet Town in the Kanto region. I started in the Brawl Tournament. Uh, mice, I guess. I mean, Pokémon are my world’s animals, and Pikachu has been with me forever, so…”

Red reaches down to his backpack, unzips it, and extracts Pikachu from it, placing the yellow furball on the table. Pikachu crawls over to everyone, greeting them with a few sniffs. After everyone finishes petting Pikachu, it returns back to Red’s spot, twiddling its ears. Red lowers Pilachu back under his chair.

“Cool, whatever. Next,” Young Link groans.

The blue-armored boy is next to speak, and he does so in somewhat of a robotic manner. He holds up fingers corresponding with his answers.

“I am Mega Man. Rock is my nickname. My franchise matches my name. I travel around the Earth to vanquish evil forces. The Quaternary Tournament was my first. I know Lucas has already shown a preference for dogs, but they are my favorite as well.”

“Cool,” Lucas comments. “It might be a common opinion, but dogs are a guy’s best friend. My dog, Boney, stood up to foes way stronger than him to protect me. He’s the bravest dog ever.”

“You are lucky to have such a loyal companion. Rush is the canine that accompanies me on my missions. He is the pinnacle of my creator’s ingenuity and selflessness. His devotion to his work manifested in Rush’s versatility and supportive capabilities,” Rock says, placing a hand over his heart.

That’s why I’ve never seen him before, Red realizes. I wasn’t there for his tournament. Everyone’s being normal about him being created because they heard about it last year. I guess I’ve witnessed worse creations. He seems to be happy with himself. And way too formal for us idiots.

Sonic decides to go next, being right across from Mega Man. Toon Link sits between them at the other head of the table, waiting patiently to make a ravishing finale.

“Hey, Sonic’s my name, and speed’s my game! I come from Christmas Island on Earth, but I never stay in one place for too long! You all remember me from Brawl. This might make me sound full of myself, but I’d have to say hedgehogs! Nothing beats curling up into a ball!”

“Except chili dogs, riiight, Sonic?” Ness asks smugly.

“Aw, yeah! Can’t forget those! There are a lot of great things where I’m from!”

Pit follows right after, flaring his wings with excitement. 

“I’m Pit, servant of the Goddess of Light! My franchise is Kid Icarus! I live in a place called Skyworld. I was first invited here for the Brawl Tournament! Uh, let’s see…I like most animals, but I’ll go with eagles. I’m jealous that they can fly and I can’t, but they’re really majestic.”

Young Link snorts. “Oh, we’re doing titles now, too? Spare me. We’re all special heroes in our own dumb ways.”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say,” Lucas says, slightly agitated, “don’t say anything. We’re supposed to learn more about each other by doing this. Even if most of us know each other’s origins already, it’s still helpful for those who haven’t been here in a while. Like you.”

Young Link crosses his arms and turns away but says nothing more. It wouldn’t be prudent to make enemies so carelessly.

“Okay, I guess it’s my turn, then. I’m Ness. I’m from the Mother franchise, the same as Lucas. But we don’t know each other outside of the tournaments. My hometown is Onett. I get homesick a lot. I have a dog named King…he’s a good dog, but a real scaredy-cat. So I’ll say dogs, too.”

Red can feel the pressure around the table dissipate as they conclude the icebreakers. He anticipated the experience being more intolerable than it was, but like Lucas said, it was a beneficial exercise to refresh his memory.

Before the boys can do anything else, Toon Link lets out an ear-splitting roar, clumsily communicating his emotions and intent. He animates his speech with extravagant hand motions.

“Hyaaah! Hah…hup! Heyaaa…hyah! Hiyah. Ha! Hyah! Ehhh…”

Toon Link slams his face on the table, fatigued. He must have been storing all of that information and energy inside his tiny body for an interminable amount of time. 

“Whoa, dude, are you okay?” Sonic asks, concerned.

“That was a pretty hard hit…” Red says sorrowfully.

“Allow me to assist,” Rock volunteers, propping up Toon Link’s drowsy head. “Hm…no substantial injuries detected. I would recommend rest and hydration to prevent future exhaustion.”

“Ugh…”

“He doesn’t look so good. Should we get help?” Pit suggests.

“Pffft. Nah, he’ll live. He’s the hero of Hyrule, after all,” Young Link says.

“What is wrong with you?” Pit gasps.

“Nothing! It’s just no use crying over spilt milk,” he argues.

“Hey, guys, don’t fight over this, okay? We’ll get him the help he needs,” Red mediates.

“Right. I’ll go get him some water,” Lucas states.

He absconds his chair and walks all the way over to the bar, understanding the situation and Rock’s recommendation. Red can see his form fading into the distance.

Good thing there’s someone responsible at this table, Red beams. All these guys know how to do is yell at each other. I don’t ever remember it being this bad, but maybe that’s Young Link’s fault. Who does he think he is?

The vibration of clacking heels precedes another elegant and regal figure whom Red has seen before. The awe on his friends’ faces indicate that they share the same recollection. 

Giggling with every step, the princess’ white and magenta dress along with her blonde, heavenly hair blows behind her as if she is summoning a perpetual spring breeze. Her dress is embellished with golden ornaments, and her head sports a bejeweled diadem. Her smile could enchant gods and subjugate evil.

“Zelda?!” they all shout in unison.

“That’s me,” she laughs. “I was wondering where this little one went, but now, I no longer have to.”

“Hyah?” Toon Link croaks, craning his head to look at her.

“I am glad that I found you. You are my responsibility, after all. I should not have let you wander away from my sight. I fear that you may find it difficult to adapt to this setting. Would you rather play with the Pokémon instead?” she proposes.

Toon Link fervently shakes his head.

“I see. What about the other swordfighters? They are all stellar role models who are skilled and courteous. I reckon you could learn how to fight better with their guidance. I am not implying that you are incapable already, of course.”

Toon Link considers the option drearily, letting out an affirmative call before nearly fainting once again.

“Oh, no! You poor thing!” Zelda screams. “I’ll heal you!”

She places her hand on his forehead and sends a shining green aura through him. He perks up as a result of the impromptu treatment, springing out of his seat and into her arms. Zelda walks away with Toon Link nestled in her embrace, cooing gentle words and promises to him.

“Well, that takes care of that,” Young Link comments. “I had a feeling he was gonna be really obnoxious.”

“Look who’s talking,” Red hisses. “That’s our friend. As far as I know, you waltzed up to our table just today and are acting like you’re our friend. You’re not.”

He sees a few other heads nodding around the table.

Red has no tolerance for defaming people without merit anymore. He cannot allow the conduct he witnessed in Green to persist in anybody else.

“Red’s assessment is correct. All of us can identify the cruelty in Young Link’s behavior. This is a trait unbefitting of a friend. Additionally, Toon Link is merely a child, just like the rest of us. He has a different way of expressing himself that is incongruous with ours, and we must respect that,” Rock reasons.

“What he said,” Sonic agrees.

“Ditto,” Ness says.

“Ugh! Why do you guys always disagree with me? I’m sure you all would have gotten tired of that little brat grunting and yelling like some sort of psychopath! I mean, have some self-control!”

“It seems like you’re trying to disagree with us !”

“Yeah, man, that’s total contrarian behavior.”

“I’m back, guys. Where…? Oh, looks like he’s gone. I’ll just go ahead and drink this, then…”

“Go find some cooler people to hang out with if you hate us so much!”

Young Link lets all of the criticism sink in with a grimace before snapping, standing up on his chair and stomping on it.

“Fine! I will! I just wanted to make some friends! Is that really so bad?” he bellows tearfully. “I’ve been so alone for years! The only thing I’ve have to do now is cut the castle lawn like a peasant! This was my chance to get back on my feet…but! You guys! You—”

“Looks like you’re handling things the wrong way, pal. You’re good at pretending to be a jackass, I’ll give you that.”

No. Not again. Not here. No, no, no…

“Huh? Who are you supposed to be?” Young Link sobs accusingly. 

“Your worst nightmare,” the stranger inaudibly snaps. “Fuck off and don’t come back. Try making yourself a hero that your world will actually be proud of.”

Young Link, overwhelmed to his limit, bawls and sprints away from the table, knocking over chairs in his frenzy. The stranger grins at his expense before turning back to the other fighters with a triumphant pose.

“Whoa, dude, that was cool,” Sonic extols him. “How did you do that?”

“He talked to him, that’s what,” Ness answers. “We all saw it.”

“I suspect that we all are celebrating his retreat,” Rock says. “None of us were fond of his temperament. When we expressed our displeasure earlier, he ignored us.”

“Hm…I think that was unnecessary, even for someone like him,” Lucas says pensively.

“Wrong. He’ll learn from this if he knows what’s good for him,” the stranger asserts. “I heard all of the crap coming out of his mouth, and there’s no way I was gonna let him leave here without taking a beating.”

“I’m trying to be merciful. He’s clearly going through something…” he murmurs.

The stranger’s ostentatious demeanor captivates most everyone at the table, attracting their focus like a magnet. He’s nothing extraordinary, of course, but his hair and pleasing travel wear help him, at the very least, stand out.

“You’re really awesome!” Pit chirps. “Uh, you never told us your name…”

“Right, right. The name’s Green! The one and only rival of that guy over there.”

Green winks and points directly at Red, whose body stiffens. His eyes are affixed to Green, while everyone else’s become affixed to him.

“Um. Do I know you?” Red utters innocuously.

Green chortles. “Oi, Red, don’t play dumb with me. It’s rude, don’t you think? You’d never be where you are now without me. How come I seem to know that and you don’t? It’d pay you to be a little grateful.”

Red can almost feel the vomit swirling around in his mouth.

“Nothing? Eh, I’m used to it. You’ll come around. Yo, wings!”

“Huh? Me? Is he talking about me?” Pit squeaks.

“Who else, knucklehead?” Sonic jeers.

“Yeah, you. Mind switching seats? The head of the table’s not bad, but I’m all about the middle. I need to catch up with my buddy Red!” Green declares.

No, Pit, please don’t. I can’t deal with him. I won’t—I don’t want to be near him at all.

“Sure! I don’t see why not. You guys seem like better friends than Pittoo and I are,” Pit says happily.

Pit prances to the head of the table. When Green replaces him, a devious, smug look on his face, Red has a raging desire to punch him in the face.

Thanks, Pit. You’re such a good friend. I thought we were in the same boat earlier. Is…Pittoo the person who he’s most fed up with?

“It looks like there’s seven of us now. We’ll keep it this way. No more people in or out,” Ness announces. 

“Except for Toon Link, correct?” Rock reminds him.

“Yeah. We’ll deal with him later. Okay…Green, we’ll recruit you because you helped scare Young Link away when none of us could. Mind telling us a little more about yourself?”

Green considers this. “Fine. I’m from Pokémon, just like Red is. We were best friends when we were little. Not sure if he feels the same way about me now, but…”

Red receives a look from him that makes him squirm in his chair. Does he really reflect back on those times, wishing that things were the same right now, or is this just part of his performance to endear himself to the other fighters?

Regardless, Red feels a conglomerate of sympathy and regret. If they both wanted to, they could repair those broken bonds.

At the moment, however, Red’s too terrified and wary of Green to contemplate that option; Green, in equal parts, is too prideful and impulsive. The common denominator is fighting with both words and actions, in which a happy medium is unattainable.

“We’re both Pokémon Trainers. Former Champions, in fact. And we’ve got a lot more in common than that. We’re the same age, we’re from the same town, we cross paths all the time…I’ve had people call us a package deal, but they’re really pushing it. Uh…yeah. That’s about it. Unless you guys want to see Eevee. I brought her along.”

Green retrieves a Poké Ball from the bag on his waist and releases his partner Eevee, a sleeping lump. Her ears extend and pan around, sensing open air rather than the enclosed Poké Ball. Instead of waking up and exuberantly bounding across the table, Eevee shifts onto her back and snores, her chest rising and falling in short bursts.

“Looks like she’s tired,” Green sighs. “We train a lot, you know. Always trying to be the very best!”

Even with Eevee’s lackluster demonstration, the other fighters seem fascinated by her glossy fur and studded pink collar. Red never remembered her looking so pampered and relaxed before.

Maybe he took his grandpa’s lecture to heart.

Green returns Eevee with a concentrated flash of red light and stuffs the ball back in his bag. If Eevee made enough noise, maybe Pikachu would have climbed up to see her. Their Trainers may be at odds, but their friendship has persisted in spite of that fact.

With the members of the table realizing how close the orientation is to starting, the group fits in their last few opening conversations before the tour. 

Red doesn’t have much more to say. Green repeatedly tries to engage with him by barking his name, making provocative noises at him, and yanking on his wrist. Red repels all of the advances as efficiently as the item itself. He doesn’t show any distress or weakness. He just squeezes his eyes shut and ignores him.

After a sufficient amount of shenanigans, a voice sounds above them as the roof glows golden. Red knows Isabelle’s jovial voice when he hears it.

“Attention! May I have your attention, please? Thank you all for your patience. At this time, I ask that all fighters report to the grand lobby for the orientation. I repeat, all fighters—please report to the grand lobby for the orientation. Thank you!”