Chapter Text
It had been quite a long time since the ARMS Universe was last touched by its makers.
At least, that was until Mr. Yabuki decided it was finally time to check in on the fighters.
For a while, the man wandered through the halls of Nintendo’s headquarters, searching, and eventually, he found it; the Hall of all of Nintendo’s Universes, new and old, dormant and active.
To say it would be a long walk to ARMS was an understatement, considering how long it had been since their last acknowledgment toward the game and all the games released since then, but in Yabuki’s mind, it would be worth it to see what he had a hand in making once again.
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Once he reached the double doors with ARMS’ logo above it, Yabuki took in the state of the entrance alone.
The paint of the doors was chipped; the logo hardly glowed anymore; there was silence behind the doors where there should have been the sound of the Grand Prix theme or fighting or anything that proved the fighters were still active.
But that was the thing their creator didn’t pick up on until he stepped foot into the world of ARMS; Nintendo had made everyone dormant.
“It’s very quiet in here…granted, it is nighttime, so it’s possible they’re all home sleeping,” Mr. Yabuki tried to stay hopeful as he put the bright yellow key to the universe back into his pocket.
The man headed toward Spring Stadium first, and that was when he figured it out.
There stood Spring Man, who seemed to have been celebrating a victory of some kind, but he didn’t blink, breathe, or move an inch.
The Bouncer was frozen in time.
“Spring Man? What are you doing? It’s late, you should really go back to your apartment,” Yabuki softly spoke as he put a hand on the fictional man’s shoulder.
Of course, Spring didn’t even flinch at the touch.
“Maybe it’s just technical difficulties,” Mr. Yabuki thought aloud, “I’m sure that everyone else is functioning fine, though!”
How wrong he was.
He checked almost every stage, from Ribbon Ring to Snake Park to [NAME REDACTED], and found that all the other fighters were stopped suddenly in their tracks.
Without the fighters active, the world felt empty and cold.
A world made to be colorful and fun and strange and new, reduced to silence.
It broke the producer’s heart to see what the universe had become at Nintendo’s hands.
“What have they done to my fighters…?” Yabuki heard the despair in his voice as he talked to himself, “…what have they done to ARMS…?”
Thankfully, he remembered the one place he had intentionally skipped over, as he had wanted to save seeing his favorite character for last.
Without another moment to lose, Mr. Yabuki ran in the direction of the Ramen Bowl. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, Min Min didn’t have her life sucked away like the others.