Chapter Text
It had been a couple of months since the newest Super Smash Brothers tournament had officially begun to much fanfare. Many viewers cheered the arrival of long-awaited newcomers such as King K. Rool from Crocodile Isle, Isabelle from the Animal Forest, and the sensational Incineroar from the Alola region. Even the conference that announced a humble Piranha Plant would join the battle was enough to bring plenty of attention for how utterly unexpected it was. Thus, the kickoff was a success, much to the happiness of all the participants.
Yet amidst all the glitz and glamor, there was another group of characters that went relatively unnoticed by the coverage. In fact, even some of the newer Smashers wouldn't be able to find them unless given directions. These individuals were known as Assist Trophies, people that would pop out of a mysterious capsule and use their skills to aid the Smashers. Although they didn't get nearly as much attention as the Smashers, their appearance was still appreciated by all.
But for some Assist Trophies, the feeling was not mutual…
Beep! Beep! Beep!
"Ungh…"
With a pink, globular hand, Bomberman shut his alarm off and rubbed his eyes. It was only 7:30? He regretted setting his alarm this early. If only Dr. Wright didn't feel the need to hold those meetings every morning…
But griping wouldn't change the fact that he still had to get up, so get up he did, rolling out of bed and checking his internal components. All systems seemed to be running smoothly. With that in mind, he walked out of his bedroom and into the main lounge.
Two other Assist Trophies were already sitting there. One of them, a smartly-dressed pink rabbit, turned and waved to the robot. "Hey! Good morning, Bomberman!"
Bomberman waved sleepily to the rabbit. "Morning, Baito. You seem energetic today."
"Yeah, I am!" replied the rabbit. "I mean, it just sorta sunk in that wow, I'm actually here! Among all these heroes! They're all here! I'm here!"
"Now, now, not all the Smashers are heroes, per se," replied the other Assist Trophy, a blue vixen named Krystal wielding a staff. "Honestly, it's a wonder how they let that Ridley fellow in…"
"Oh, right..." replied Baito, rubbing the back of his head. "But still! I get to be alongside all these icons! It's amaaazing!"
Bomberman smiled, even if he technically didn't have a mouth. Both of them had been announced as Assist Trophies at the same time. While Bomberman had gotten an interview, and was subsequently offered an assist position, to his knowledge, Baito had never even sent in an application. It was only natural that he would still feel this excited, even a couple months after the tournament started.
The door burst open, interrupting the robot's train of thought. An orange creature with an apron and a toque stumbled in, looking very tired indeed. "Man, I'm beat..." he muttered to no one in particular.
"Good morning, Chef Kawasaki!" chirped Bomberman. "Uh… you okay? You look tired…"
"I've had to cook breakfast for all fifty-nine of you. And some of you don't even eat!" He slumped against the wall. "The food's ready in the kitchen. Man, I need a break…"
"Yes, thank you, Kawasaki, that will do," came another voice. A short man with tall green hair and a brown suit stepped into the room. "I suppose we must hold our morning meeting over breakfast today." He pushed a small button on the wall. "Good morning, assistants! Rise and shine! We've got another busy day ahead of us!"
One by one, the Assist Trophies filed into the main lounge, even those that didn't have bodies to speak of. Some of them looked more tired than others, with Riki still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Must Doctor wake up sidekicks so early?" asked the Nopon. "Riki was having wonderful dream about Wifeypon…"
"Now, Riki," said Dr. Wright, "we must get up bright and early if we are to assist the fighters."
"The fighters…" Chef Kawasaki's eyes widened. "Oh, no! I've gotta cook breakfast for the Smashers!" He scurried out of the main lounge, muttering something about needing plenty of butter.
"...Right, then. At any rate, today's morning meeting will come to order. We'll begin with our roll call." Dr. Wright took out a clipboard. "Akira?"
"Here," said the martial artist.
"Alucard?"
"I am present."
And so, Dr. Wright went down the list of names, from Ashley to Ghirahim, to Guile, to Krystal, all the way down to Zero. As the Assist Trophies started in on their food, Dr. Wright scanned his clipboard.
"Let's see, what else… Ah! Today's matches are few and far between, so I suppose it's an easy day." Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"However…!" continued the man. "There are still some minor situations that need to be dealt with. For starters… Jeff, some of the transporters are on the fritz. Might wanna fix that. And Phosphora, a certain… incident with Pichu has resulted in an outage in the East Wing. I trust you can handle that. And as you all know by now, you must be prepared in case you are summoned for a battle. And… that should be it for today! Very good. Meeting concluded!"
The Assist Trophies finished their breakfast and filed off in different directions. Bomberman had nowhere else to be, so he simply stayed in the lounge with some of the others. Baito got up to pour himself some coffee.
"Oh, man, I hope I get summoned today!" said Baito, mixing in the cream. "It sure beats standing around in the shop all day…"
"Ah, yes," replied Krystal, opening a newspaper to read. "You're still running the shop, aren't you?"
"Yeah!" affirmed Baito. "I'm in charge of the Trophy Shop! Kinda weird how they still call it that when they don't sell trophies anymore… But I still get plenty of business! Like, just a couple of days ago, Mario showed up! In my shop!"
Bomberman stared out the window, only partially paying attention to the rabbit's recollection of his brush with fame. He remembered when he had first heard of the Super Smash Brothers tournament. He'd sent in many applications, but only now could he score an interview. Even though he would have liked to be a real fighter, he still considered being here at all a huge honor.
"I mean, I got to meet Mario! The real Super Mario himself!" Baito continued. "Man, being an Assist Trophy is great!"
"Wah, you say that now, but give it a couple of years. You'll change your tune."
Everyone turned to the speaker, a tall, lanky, and unpleasant-looking man with a crooked mustache. The man scowled miserably into his omelette. "Believe me, the novelty wears off quickly."
"Oh, hi, Waluigi!" said Baito with a cheerful wave. "What makes you say that?"
"I'm-a saying this whole Assist Trophy racket is a sham!" declared Waluigi. "They invited almost everyone from my world, even Daisy and some random weed! And to make matters worse, now Luigi's gonna be with Daisy all the time! It's-a not fair!" Waluigi accentuated this with a pound of the table.
"Oh, stop griping already," said Gray Fox, a cyborg wielding a sword. "In a sense, aren't we all fighters, if only for a fleeting moment?"
"Easy for you to say, Robo Ninja," retorted Waluigi. "You've only been here twice! Once you've been here long enough, you'll see what a sham this whole thing is."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but the purple guy's right," said Samurai Goroh, a portly but muscular man with a katana of his own. "How come we're stuck in this dump while the fighters get all the spotlight?"
"D-dump?!" Baito looked thunderstruck. "W-whaddya mean? This place—" he gestured to the room they were in— "is amazing! Aren't you glad you're here at all?"
Waluigi and Samurai Goroh stared down at the little rabbit. "Say, uh, how many tournaments have you been in exactly?" asked Goroh.
"Oh, well, this is actually my first one!" replied Baito, innocent smile on his face.
Both men looked at Baito with a mixture of pity and superiority. "Yeah, that figures. You're new here, so everything seems all new and fresh," said Samurai Goroh. "But lemme tell you, the shine comes off the apple real quick." The samurai turned to go, muttering under his breath.
Waluigi also got up. "I'm outta here, too. I've gotta go plug up Luigi's door with syrup. Have fun languishing in obscurity for the rest of your lives, losers! Waaa ha ha ha!" And with those words, the purple-clad man stomped away.
Krystal huffed. "What's their problem? You'd think they'd be a little nicer to the novices…" Several other Assist Trophies grumbled their agreement. "Ignore them, Baito," she said kindly. "They're just envious that they're not important enough to be Smashers."
"It's—it's okay, you guys," said Baito. "I'm just glad to be here at all! I'm perfectly happy running the Trophy Shop, and—" The rabbit checked his watch— "The shop opens soon! I gotta go! See ya!" He dashed out the door, waving hurried goodbyes to everyone.
Bomberman glanced around the room. Krystal was busying herself with her paper, while Gray Fox was gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Neither of them seemed to be waiting for him to speak, so he figured he might as well take his leave. Without another word, he slipped out the door.
Bomberman meandered down the halls, not exactly sure of where he was going. To be honest, he didn't really mind. The Smash Mansion was big enough for an adventure, yet small enough that he'd always end up somewhere. Sort of like the mazes back home. It was comfortable like that.
The robot passed by the cafeteria, where several of the Smashers were wrapping up their breakfast. Chef Kawasaki stumbled out the door, looking even more exhausted than earlier.
"Ooogh…"
"Er, hey, Kawasaki," greeted Bomberman. "Everything all right?"
"All right?!" asked the cook. The bags under his eyes hung low. "I've just had to cook breakfast for over seventy Smashers! And two of them are Kirby and Dedede! I mean, seriously, who asks for eighteen helpings of pancakes?!" He slumped against the wall. "I really hope I don't get summoned today… After the morning I've had, if I go out there I'll be tenderized like Bowser's favorite steak!"
"Oh, geez, uh… that's rough," replied Bomberman. "What about lunch?"
"Please don't remind me," said Kawasaki. "I know this sounds weird coming from me, but right now the last thing I want to think about is food."
"Oh, sorry." Bomberman sat down against the wall next to him. The two sat against the wall in silence, watching the world go by.
By now, several of the Smashers were filing out of the cafeteria. As they passed, the two assistants could hear a voice (they guessed Pit's, based on the enthusiasm) chatting about the day's matches. "Oh, boy! I've got a match against Samus today!" said the angel. "This is gonna be great!"
Kawasaki huffed in thought. "That angel kid, I tell you… Don't get me wrong, he's a good kid, but he eats like a… thing that… eats a lot. You know, I thought I had a pretty metaphor in mind, but I lost it."
"Mmm." Bomberman nodded. He knew what that was like. "...Hey, Kawasaki, can I ask you a question?"
"Go for it."
"Do you like being an Assist Trophy?"
Kawasaki blinked. "Hunh?"
"I mean, do you like being on the sidelines?"
Kawasaki pondered on the robot's words. "Well, I can't really say I hate it," he said, closing his eyes. "At the very least, it's a break from cooking! Why do you ask?"
"Oh! Uh… I was just curious," said Bomberman quickly.
If the cook was suspicious of his answer, he didn't show it. "Suit yourself." There was a long silence.
Bomberman sat there as the last of the Smashers left the cafeteria. A thought occurred to him. "Hey, Chef, I—"
Kawasaki was fast asleep, the bustle of the morning clearly taking its toll on him. "Uh, okay," said the robot, getting up to go. "I'll just… leave you to it."
Chef Kawasaki said nothing, for he was still fast asleep.
"...Right. I'll… see you around, I guess." Bomberman slowly got up and walked off.
The moment Bomberman was out of earshot, Chef Kawasaki awoke with a start. "A horse! He eats like a horse!"
He looked around. No one was there.
"...I guess I should start on lunch."
Bomberman walked down a flight of stairs as he continued his journey. He wondered if the day's matches had started yet. Probably not, based on the silence coming from the stages. He wondered if he would be summoned today. If he was, he hoped he'd get to help someone heroic like Link or Kirby, or a fellow robot like R.O.B. or Mega Man. Or maybe Snake or Simon or Richter, some of his colleagues! He smiled as he remembered their first collaboration, a fighting game much like the one they were in. And then they'd all later appear in one of his own projects! Those were good times indeed.
But in this tournament, things were different. They were all in the same place, yes, but things weren't quite the same. With all the training Snake and Simon needed to get in, they barely had time to chat with him, only managing passing hellos at best. And while Snake's return was highly praised by all, and Simon's inclusion was met with plenty of fanfare, as an Assist Trophy, Bomberman didn't get that exposure.
Waluigi and Samurai Goroh's words crept back into his head. This whole Assist Trophy racket is a sham...
How come we're stuck in this dump while the fighters get all the spotlight...
The shine comes off the apple real quick…
Have fun languishing in obscurity for the rest of your lives, losers!
Bomberman shook his head. This was no time to get all mopey! He could be summoned at any moment! And anyways, it was just like Krystal said, those guys were just bitter about not becoming official fighters!
...But then again, they'd been Assist Trophies since the whole program was created. Didn't they have a right to be bitter?
"One! Two! That's it! Keep the onslaught going and don't let up!"
The sharp words snapped the robot out of his brooding. In his wandering, he had reached the training room, where his fellow assistants were wailing on a set of red punching bags.
Bomberman peeked inside. A tall, muscular man with a flattop haircut was instructing a small creature with pointy ears, a red echidna with dreadlocks, and another man with curly, light blue hair and incredibly long, spring-like arms. Together, they practiced their moves on the punching bags, sending them wobbling back and forth. Bomberman was in awe at the sight.
The spring-armed man caught notice of the robot watching them. He retracted his stretched-out arm to wave. "Oh, hey, Bombe—"
As he took his eyes off the punching bag, it swung back like a pendulum, cuffing the man in the side of his head and knocking him flat to the ground.
The pointy-eared fellow and the echidna paused to watch him fall as the flattop man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Spring Man, what have I told you time and time again? Distractions on the battlefield can mean death. A split-second is the difference between a win and a loss!"
"Come on, Guile," retorted Spring Man, peeling himself off the floor. "It's not even that serious. It's just a couple of friendly matches, right?"
"Maybe so," replied Guile, "but as an Assist Trophy, you're expected to give it your all to help the Smashers in battle. And in the training room, it's Coach Guile to you." His eyes fell on Bomberman. "Ah, Bomberman. You here for training?"
"Oh, no, don't mind me! I'm just here to watch! Besides," he said with a wink, "I much prefer a more explosive style of battle!" He took out one of his own bombs to accentuate his pun.
Nobody laughed.
"...Never mind." Bomberman embarrassedly put away his bomb.
"Now then, where were we? Knuckle Joe! Knuckles! Spring Man! Back to drills! One-two! Uppercut!"
The combatants went back to their drills as Bomberman leaned against the wall. Amidst the sounds of their fists pounding the punching bags, he could hear Knuckles say, "Y'know, they actually offered me a spot as a Smasher."
"Did they, now?" replied Knuckle Joe, hitting a punching bag square in the center.
"Oh, yeah," said Knuckles, clobbering his own bag. "Thing is, they had me down as an Echo of Sonic, and ya know, that just didn't fit me. So I turned 'em down, rather have the Assist Trophy title."
"Mm-hmm." From the sound of it, Knuckle Joe found the echidna's claims hard to believe.
As the two of them continued to chat, Bomberman watched them practice with dwindling interest. He was about to leave when he bumped into someone at the entrance. "Oh, pardon me, I… wait a minute, I think I know you!"
Staring down at Bomberman was a young boy, looking no older than 17, with messy blond hair, a red chest plate under a blue tunic, and a sword on his back. He looked confused at Bomberman's statement. "You… you do?"
"Yeah!" replied Bomberman excitedly. "You're Isaac from Vale! It's great to finally meet you!" He extended an arm in greeting.
Isaac's eyes went wide as he shook it. "Y-you actually recognize me? Gee, that's… that's rare," he said, rubbing the back of his head.
"Yeah, I know you!" said Bomberman. "A lot of people have been talking about you! Are you here for training?"
"Nah," said Isaac, leaning against the wall next to the robot. "I'm not one for hand-to-hand combat. Unless, of course, it's Psynergy." He conjured a large, magical green hand to accentuate his pun.
Bomberman laughed. "You know, I just said the same thing a couple minutes ago!"
Isaac's little pun led into a long conversation, the two of them comparing combat maneuvers and trading stories of their amazing adventures. Right around the same time, Guile's crew was on break, and Knuckles was wrapping up his somewhat-tall tale of how he had graciously accepted the role of Assist Trophy.
"At any rate," concluded Knuckles, "even if I am just an Assist Trophy, I could still take on half the clowns walkin' around here. Ah, to be a real Smasher…"
Bomberman and Isaac paused to listen to the echidna's bragging. The robot shook his head. "Get a load of this guy, saying he was almost a fighter. I betcha he didn't even send in an application…"
Isaac's expression grew dark. "Yeah, I bet," he mumbled.
The sudden change in mood was not lost on Bomberman. "Hey, uh, you okay?" he asked tentatively.
The Venus Adept turned away. "It's… it's fine."
"You don't sound fine."
The little robot was very perceptive, Isaac had to admit. "When they first announced this whole tournament, I sent in a bunch of applications, and I even got an interview. Do you remember the Fighter Ballot?"
"Yeah," Bomberman recalled. "If I remember correctly, you had a lot of support there, right?"
Isaac nodded. "I got a bunch of support in the media and from the fans. Anyways, they announced this tournament, I got the interview and a couple months passed with no word. At that point, I was so sure I was gonna get in. There was even a rumor that I was chosen. Me and a couple of other guys. But then…" The boy paused. Bomberman waited, saying nothing but knowing exactly what came next.
"Then they aired that conference, and guess who was one of the first Assist Trophies they showed?" As low as Isaac's voice was, the bitterness that flowed out was palpable.
Bomberman was silent for a while. "I'm… I'm sorry, Isaac. I know how much that must've—"
"No, no, it's okay. Really," he said, looking at the expression on Bomberman's face. "It's just… I was so close, you know?"
There was a long silence. Even Guile seemed to pity him. Then Bomberman spoke up. "Hey, I know that must really suck, but… look at it this way! From what I hear, not all the Assist Trophies from past tournaments made it back! The higher-ups must've seen something in you! A-and now that there's a lot of uproar over your status, you're pretty much a shoo-in for next time!"
Bomberman's words didn't completely raise the boy's spirits, but they definitely helped. Isaac managed a small smile. "...Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that."
"Alright, guys, break's over," said Guile, interrupting the moment. "Matches are starting soon. Back to your drills!"
"Yes, sir!" said Knuckle Joe, Spring Man, and Knuckles, the three of them jumping to their feet. Without delay, they were back in front of the punching bags, assaulting them with a barrage of punches.
"Oh, the matches are starting soon!" said Bomberman, jumping to his feet. "I'd better get ready just in case! I'll see you around!"
"Yeah, you, too," said Isaac, his smile just a little wider. The last thing Bomberman saw as he ran off was Isaac looking contemplatively at a spare punching bag.
Bomberman ran into the first room with a television he found, a billiard room, where several Smashers and Assist Trophies alike were gathered. He wedged himself into a seat, right between Bowser and the Wii Fit Trainer. The former stared down his snout at the robot and snorted. "Hey, uh, who let this reject in?"
Bomberman only rolled his eyes. He'd heard many things about the Koopa King, very few of them good. "Don't be so rude, Bowser," said Wii Fit Trainer. "Like it or not, he's still part of this tournament."
"A part of this?" Bowser looked falsely taken aback. "He's an Assist Trophy. They're the rejects, the side characters. He's about as much a part of this tournament as that chump Alfonzo." There was some scattered laughter at Bowser's response.
Bomberman felt his skin grow hot. How dare he claim he's not part of the tournament! And as if he wasn't standing right there! He was overcome with the temptation to pull out one of his strongest bombs and blow that creep away. But he was quickly reminded of the upcoming match. Now more than ever, he desperately hoped to be summoned. Keeping his voice calm, he asked, "So, who's today's match between?"
"It's a one-stock match. Marth vs. Duck Hunt on the Garden of Hope," said Wii Fit Trainer. Bomberman had heard of Marth. A warrior prince from the land of Altea, incredibly popular among fans for his skill with a sword. Meanwhile, the Duck Hunt team, consisting of a dog, a duck, and an unseen sharpshooter, was not known for their fighting prowess, but the dog's laughter and projectile explosives could really get under an opponent's skin. He didn't care which of them summoned him, as long as he could participate.
"Ooh, the match is starting!" came a voice in the crowd. Everyone stopped their conversations, their attention now directed towards the television. Sure enough, the fighters had warped onto the arena, the music swelling. From a commentator's box far away, Master Hand began the countdown. "3… 2… 1… Go!"
The room erupted into cheers as the Smashers charged at each other. The dog grinned as he threw a clay pigeon at Marth, who put up his shield as it dropped to the floor. The prince leapt up towards the animals, bringing his sword down on the duck, who flew out of the way just in time.
As the battle raged on, everyone in the room was glued to the screen, cheering whenever blows were exchanged. Only Bomberman remained silent, hoping and hoping that an Assist Trophy would spawn. Then he'd get his chance. He'd show them.
Just then, the room gasped, snapping Bomberman back to reality. Marth had launched Duck Hunt by throwing a Spiny Shell at him. Was the match over already? No, wait, Duck Hunt was already falling back down to the stage. Marth gripped his sword, preparing to launch the animals once and for all.
Then it happened.
An Assist Trophy, that wonderful, rainbow-colored capsule, appeared a couple feet away from Marth. Bomberman's breath hitched as Marth turned to notice it. This is it, he thought. Time to show 'em what I'm made of!
But just before Marth could pick it up, the dog kicked a tin can filled with gunpowder at the prince, detonating it on top of his head. Marth sailed away as the dog chased after him.
No, no, no! thought Bomberman. Don't knock him out yet!
The dog watched as Marth tried to recover, laughing at him the whole while. The duck pecked at the dog's head to get his attention. It pointed at the Assist Trophy. The dog grinned in response, bounding toward the colorful capsule.
Bomberman's breathing grew faster and faster. Come on, come on, come on…
The moment the dog's paw touched the item, Bomberman felt a strange feeling in his back. His hands started to glow, then his arms, spreading towards the rest of his body. Yes, yes, yes! This is my moment of glory!
The robot floated up in the air for a couple moments, then disappeared in a flash of light.
When Bomberman opened his eyes again, he found himself standing on what felt like… porcelain? He looked down. It really was porcelain after all.
"Woof!"
Bomberman got down from the large pot he was on. There was his summoner, wagging his tail and gazing at the robot expectantly. Bomberman reached out to pet the dog. He was rather cute when he wasn't laughing at someone.
The duck quacked sharply, getting both of their attention. Marth had already made his way back onto the stage and was charging towards them.
Quick as a whip, Bomberman pulled out a bomb, its fuse lit and ready to go. "Time to prove my worth! I'm gonna have a blast today!"
Nobody laughed.
Bomberman paid them no mind, as he was already placing down bombs and deftly dodging their explosions. But for every bomb that exploded on Marth, there was one that the prince dodged, slashing at the robot at every opportunity. It came to a head when Marth hit him with a wicked overhead slash, sending him sailing into a stick on the other side of the stage.
His head swimming, Bomberman peeled himself off the ground. He struggled to steady himself. He was fine, he was fine! He could still fight! Look, Marth was retreating! He could still win this!
...Duck Hunt was also retreating, the duck picking up the dog with his wings to fly away. Odd.
A bubble floated past his head. Bomberman looked at it curiously. Then another bubble came, and another, and another…
The ground began to shake. A thought occurred to Bomberman. What had they said about the Garden of Hope again?
A shadow fell over the robot. He slowly turned around…
A giant, sickly green crab was scuttling across the stage, staring down at Bomberman with blank yellow eyes. And it wasn't showing any signs of stopping as it charged towards him.
"Oh, good Lord!"
With a swipe of its claw, Bomberman went flying, and thought no more.
When Bomberman came to, he was back in the billiard room, lying face-up on the floor. He could feel the Wii Fit Trainer dabbing a wet towel on his forehead. Woozily, he sat up. "Di… did we win?"
"Of course you didn't!" laughed Bowser. "After you got knocked out, that Peckish Aristocrab ran right over Duck Hunt!"
Bomberman glanced over at the TV. Sure enough, Marth was posing for the cameras as the crowd cheered, while the dog was politely applauding in the corner, looking slightly beat up but otherwise none the worse for wear.
"What was that about being a part of the team?" asked Bowser, his voice dripping with derision. "Some team member he turned out to be!"
Bomberman glared at the Koopa King. He was not about to let that brute dampen his mood. "I sure gave Marth a run for his money," he growled.
"And what good did that do?" grinned Bowser. "In the end, he still beat Duck Hunt. If you're supposed to be the helper, then why aren'tcha good at helping? Maybe it's a good thing you're not a real Smasher. You don't have what it takes. Just like that chump Waluigi!"
The room erupted with laughter, mostly from the meaner Smashers. Once again, Bomberman felt the intense desire to pull out some bombs and watch the whole room explode. But his body, already sore from the match, said otherwise. Without another word, he limped out of the billiard room and into the hallway.
Far, far, away from all the action, a lone bus drove down an old beaten path. The chauffeur, an old salty kappa by the name of Kapp'n, drove his vehicle, paying close attention to the road and making sure his blinker was off. For he was not just an Assist Trophy, oh no! He was the official chauffeur for the Smashers, taking them to and from the grounds on request. So he faithfully carried out his duties, singing his classic sea shanties as he went along.
Today's passengers, however, were less than enthused.
"Please, for crying out loud, shut up," hissed Falco, rubbing his temples. "I shoulda taken my Arwing…"
"Your Arwing? For a quick trip to pick up some milk?" asked Ness, sitting opposite the bird. "That seems kinda overkill, don'tcha think?"
"Maybe, but here's the thing." Falco's voice became hushed. "I really don't wanna listen to this old geezer's lousy songs."
"Gar, I can hear that, ya scallywag!" barked Kapp'n. "You space folks don't know how to appreciate a proper sea shanty! Now where was I… ah!
Me boat's like a steed, a steed from a storybook.
Once you give her a look, you'll see what I mean…"
"This isn't even a boat," grouched Falco. Kapp'n paid him no mind.
"She's a proud girl, and she runs hard to get you on yer way.
She be humble, but she'll rumble.
Aye, a-storm she's a fearsome sight to be seen!"
The bus stopped, and fortunately for Falco, so did the kappa's singing. The doors opened and two children, one in blue and the other in pink, hopped on board. "Hi, Mr. Kapp'n!" they said in unison.
"Ahoy, Ice Climbers!" greeted the kappa as the two plopped down in their seats. "I was just in the middle of a merry sea shanty!"
"A sea shanty?" said Nana, eyes shining. "You know, I'm pretty good at singing myself."
"Yeah, but I'm a way better alto," added Popo.
"Oho, you two are classically trained, are ye? Well, perhaps you could join me as backup singers!" replied Kapp'n with a wink. And so, the three began to sing a new song:
"Stayin' young's about having a mischievous smile.
You won't grow old for a while, with a gleam in your eye…"
Falco buried his face in his feathered hands. "I knew I shoulda brought some earplugs…"
Back in the Smash Mansion, Bomberman continued down the hallway, grumbling to himself. He was still pretty sore (physically and emotionally) about being run over by that giant crab, and Bowser's subsequent put-downs. The Koopa king had a reputation for being a hostile, tyrannical bully, so his words shouldn't have hurt as much as they did. And yet, no matter how many times he tried to brush them off, Bowser's words still kept coming back. Maybe it's a good thing you're not a real Smasher. You don't have what it takes…
Bomberman was reminded of his talk with Isaac in the training room. He'd been trying to get in for years, even getting cut from the fourth tournament, and then to come back with no promotion? Suddenly, he was starting to see why they were so bitter. They'd been here for years, with nary a glance spared towards them. Maybe they were—
"Hey! Watch where you're going, Bomb Boy!"
Bomberman jolted out of his funk. He'd bumped into someone, a teenage girl with blonde crescent-shaped hair. She didn't seem too pleased to run into the robot.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss, uhhh…"
"Lightning Flash Phosphora," she finished airily. "But most people just call me Phosphora."
"Oh…" Bomberman remembered Dr. Wright mentioning her during the morning meeting. After the day he'd had, he really wanted to talk to someone. "So, um… did you finish up on the East Wing?"
"Finished up? Puh-lease. A simple power outage is child's play for someone like me," she said with a flip of her hair. "The nerve of those hands, honestly, treating me like their little repair girl. I'm telling you, Assist Trophies don't get an ounce of respect here!"
"...They don't?" Bomberman was intrigued; he'd never heard her thoughts on the matter.
"Of course not! We never get any of the attention, even though we're just as much a part of the battle as the fighters are! Imagine if I was a real Smasher… I'd wipe out some of these clowns before they knew what hit them!" She sighed. "But noooo, I'm stuck on the same level as a spiky rock with a face."
"Hey, I know how you feel," said Bomberman helpfully. "But think about it this way. The world needs sidekicks, too! Take the Duck Hunt duo! They—"
"Oh, easy for you to say," interrupted Phosphora. "This is your first time here. From what I've heard, most of us assistants end up stuck here like Dr. Wright, or get let go like Saki. And from the looks of things, I'm ending up like Wright."
"But—"
"Just forget it, all right?!" she huffed. "I don't need to be pitied, especially not by you." And with that, she floated away, grumbling about how life was so unfair.
Bomberman groaned. That conversation could've gone a lot better, he thought. That made three others who weren't too fond of their positions. He trudged down the hallway as he thought about what to do next. As he turned a corner, he failed to notice the string pulled taut across the first stair…
Down, down, down the robot tumbled, bumping his head and bending his antenna, before finally landing face first on the floor. Bomberman could hear an all-too-familiar voice, ringing above it all:
"Wahahaha! How's-a that floor taste, loser?!"
Even if Bomberman didn't know Wario, had never heard of Wario, the man's reputation would precede him. A wicked, crude scoundrel of a man, Wario often busied himself by going on treasure hunts or playing tricks on unsuspecting passersby. And unfortunately for Bomberman, Wario was feeling particularly wicked that day. He cackled at the robot's misfortune.
"Wahahaha! Look at you, flat on the ground! You're like a mop! Bomberman, more like Mop… der… man, I guess…"
Bomberman glared up at his assailant. Oh, how he longed to pull out a bomb and just shove it into Wario's big mouth! How he longed to send Wario flying into the sky like the world's ugliest firework! How he longed to set his mustache ablaze and blow his teeth clean out!
Wario wiped a tear from his eye. "Ohoho, man, that's-a rich. Never gets old." He paused as he glanced at the robot glaring daggers at him. "What's-a matter with you? Can't you take a joke?" He shrugged. "Eh, whatever. I'm-a getting bored of you anyways. Have fun spit-shining that floor, Bomb Boy! Wahahahaha!" He strolled off in search of new adventures.
Bomberman peeled himself off the floor, feeling as happy as a wet cat. As much as he would have liked to throw a bomb at Wario while his back was turned, he knew that Master Hand would surely be upon him if he caused a scene. Straightening out his antenna as best he could, he stomped off to the cafeteria for lunch.
"Come on, come on… where is it?!"
Chef Kawasaki frantically ran around as he searched the kitchen. He was almost done with lunch and was a few morsels away from his long-awaited break. Now if he could only find that Endura Carrot…
"Let's see here... Deep-fried Shwaffle… Chinese cabbage… where is it, where is it?!" He checked the freezer. Nothing. The prep table? Nope. The pantry? No sign. Where did he put it?!
At this point, the poor chef was in a panic. He needed that Endura Carrot to finish this salad! Without that salad, his buffet would never be finished! If he could just…
...Wait.
Slowly, he looked down at his apron. There was the Endura Carrot nestled in the pocket, its stem poking cheekily up at him.
Chef Kawasaki let out a nervous laugh. "Well, would you look at that? It was… it was right here the whole time. Ahahaha… All right! Time to finish that—"
His words were interrupted by a strange tugging feeling in his back. His eyes widened as his stubby arms began to glow. No, no, nonono, not now—
Chef Kawasaki disappeared in a flash of light, taking his Endura Carrot with him.
"Ughh… where am I…?"
"Chef Kawasaki? All right!"
The chef opened his eyes. He was sitting on some kind of cloud, with light pink scenery as far as the eye could see. Standing in front of him was the angel knight Pit, looking very gleeful indeed. "Okay, Kawasaki! Time to dish up Samus in a stir fry!" said Pit.
"Okey-dokey!" Chef Kawasaki adjusted his toque and took out his trusty ladle. He looked up at the higher platform where Samus was, her suit glowing like a rainbow.
"...Um, Pit? You know she's got a Final Smash ready?" asked Chef Kawasaki, backing away slowly.
"Exactly. Which is why I need you to help me knock it out of her!" replied Pit, mirroring Kawasaki's movements.
"B-b-but I won't be able to get close to her without getting zapped!" stammered the cook.
"Just throw your plates or—waugh!"
Samus had jumped down from her perch and landed right in front of her opponent, keeping her arm cannon trained on them the whole while. Pit stumbled backwards and fell over, right into a pitfall trap he had forgotten about. He was now stuck, his upper half sticking out of the ground like a panicked, winged plant.
Chef Kawasaki looked worriedly at Pit, then at Samus, then back at Pit, and back at Samus again. "I… I… I'll assist you the best way I can!" he shouted. In a burst of bravery, he threw a plate right at Samus' head. It bounced harmlessly off her head and shattered on the ground.
"...Uh."
Samus pulled the trigger.
Chef Kawasaki fell back in the kitchen, now resembling a burnt squash. He groaned as he rolled over on his back. "You know what," he said to no one in particular, "forget the salad. I think I'll just stay here and… tend to my injuries, I guess."
The Endura Carrot in his hand crumbled into ash.
Bomberman trudged into the cafeteria, his anger from Wario's prank subsiding. Now only a dull gloom was left. He picked up a pair of tongs and slowly took some sautéed asparagus, not even flinching when a hungry Yoshi licked it up before it even touched his plate. He would have to settle for a veggie wrap.
He scanned the cafeteria, searching for a place to sit. In the corner of his eye, he could see an empty seat. Sitting at this table was a green-haired woman with a sword and a star-like creature. "Is this seat taken?" he asked them both.
"No, go ahead! I'm Lyn," said the green-haired woman. As Bomberman sat down, the star chirped, "Hi, mister! I'm Starfy!"
"Oh, um… hi, Starfy. I'm Bomberman," said Bomberman awkwardly. He tried to take a bite of his veggie wrap, but couldn't help but feel unnerved by the way the way Starfy was staring at him. His eyes were sparkling, and his mouth was wide open in a smile. "Can… can I help you?"
"I know who you are! You're Mister Bomberman!" replied Starfy, jumping up and down in his seat. "You're really famous!"
"F-famous? Me?!" said a shocked Bomberman.
"Uh-huh! Everyone in Pufftop knows you! You're like one of those superstars!"
"Really?!" Bomberman felt his face grow hot. He never knew that his adventures were that well known.
Lyn nodded. "It's true. In this world, you're quite the popular character."
"Wow…" Bomberman breathed. He was popular? A superstar? Looking at Starfy gazing up at him made his heart swell with pride. But the events of the day took their toll on him as he sighed. "I sure wish it felt like that…" he mumbled.
Starfy looked confused. "What's wrong?" he asked, tilting his head to the side like a star-shaped puppy.
"It's just… do you ever feel like you got a raw deal?"
"Huh?" Starfy looked even more perplexed. Lyn did not say anything, but kept a thoughtful eye on the robot as he explained.
"It's like… there's this weird thing about being an Assist Trophy where everyone thinks it's the worst thing that can happen to you. And I know that's not the case, but everyone I've talked to feels like it is. Like it's just the dumping ground for the not good enough."
There was a long silence as Bomberman picked miserably at his veggie wrap. Then Lyn spoke up. "I know exactly how you feel."
Bomberman met her gaze. "You do?"
Lyn nodded solemnly "I've been an Assist Trophy since the beginning of the program. At first, it wasn't the ideal way to appear… But you know how I realized things weren't so bad?" She waited as Bomberman and Starfy hung on her words. "I have people worth fighting for."
"Really?" breathed the robot. "Who?"
"Oh, just some people. Both here and back home," she said with a smile. "As long as you have loved ones, wherever they are, know that they're thinking of you. And when you have that, then you can do anything."
"It's true!" chirped Starfy. "I was one of the first Assist Trophies, too! Back then, things were different. Assist Trophies were invincible. They couldn't get hurt… except for me. Everyone was able to beat me up… But I didn't care!" he said proudly. "I thought of Starly, and Moe, and all of my friends back in Pufftop, and I gave it my all! It's called being strong in the face of advicity!"
"Adversity, you mean," corrected Lyn.
Bomberman stared at his veggie wrap. He did have people back home. Knowing them, they'd be waiting on pins and needles to see him on the battlefield. And as aggravating as they could be, they were still his family. A fiery resolve filled his eyes. "I may not be a real Smasher, but I'll still fight as hard as I can!" he declared.
"See, that's the spirit!" said Lyn, taking a bite of her dish.
"In fact," he continued, "I won't lose! I'm not gonna blow it!"
Nobody laughed.
Bomberman quickly sat back down, face flushing. "Or, you know, maybe not…"
And so, the three of them enjoyed their lunch, content with their lot as long as they had each other.