Chapter Text
Of all the crazy, completely random things to ever occur to you, waking up in entirely-actually-sorta-familiar worlds was never on the good ol’ bucket list. Not to say you ever really had one of those, but that’s besides the point. The point being you had a sort of working knowledge to how these things usually went: become self-insert, join the heroes in their quest, save the world, live happily ever after. Or something.
As it were, you already achieved the first and most common step of the entire procedure: wake up in some seemingly foreign world. And, as with most others who miraculously or, perhaps, fictitiously ended up in a different world, you recognized said world. It was, in your humble opinion, quite obvious considering Goombas were predominantly present in one specific franchise.
Sure, you hadn’t really stuck around after waking up in the middle of some grassy plains to see whether or not the stompable bipeds could be a threat, but still. The damage was done and you were somehow in the midst of the Mushroom Kingdom, if the quaint-yet-fancy town you currently resided in was any indication.
Luckily for you, some random Toad guarding the path into the town had watched the spectacle of you being chased by a few Goombas. Taking pity, he hoisted his spear up and, while you were busy catching your breath, mentioned, “If you’re in need of a hand, why not rest at the Inn? I’m sure they can help.”
It came as a welcome surprise to learn the Toad’s voices weren’t...grating on the ears; honestly, his voice was just higher-pitched. Futilely trying to rub away the familiar ache in your knee, you simply nod and watch the gaggle of Goombas disperse back into the paths from whence they came, grumbling all the while about losing some ‘quick coins’.
The other Toad guarding the entryway speaks up. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around these parts. You new here or something?”
“Yeah,” you lie, but in the end it’s not really a lie. “Thinking about staying here for a bit.” Not like you could do anything else.
“Well, if that’s the case, why not seek out ol’ Shroomby,” the first Toad interjects. “He’s the guy who runs the local Inn, if you’re wonderin’. Nice old man; he’ll help you out, guaranteed!”
You thank the two guardsmen feverishly until they basically tell you to scram; well, in a nice manner, but still. Once you set foot - limp, really - into the town does an inkling of recognition squirm into the forefront of your thoughts. Sure, you were familiar with a good chunk of knowledge pertaining to Mario, but the rustic cobbled pathways spread amongst the gothic buildings screamed Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars. And while you were glad to have been fortuitous enough to be sucked into a rather benign series, the possibility of living weapons invading makes it seem...maybe not too lucky.
Unperturbed - because you were going to be a useless NPC, dammit - you hobble your way down the streets. It’s relatively easy to ignore the curious glances of the townsfolk, all of whom are of the same, small stature that most Toads have. Still, it’s a bit unnerving considering you probably stand out like a sore thumb in your human-ness compared to these mushroom-based folk.
The town is a lot bigger than what it was in-game, which makes logical sense but dang it your knee is killing you; running only aggravated it and now you can practically feel it swelling. Trying to not make your limp so obvious, you search for the building with the spinning star sign outside—there.
Breathing a sigh of relief, you walk in. A small bell chimes overhead, and an elderly Toad with a cap speckled with gray dots turns away from his shelves to greet you. “Why, I’ll be with you in a bit—oh my, I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before!”
An awkward greeting and introduction later, you finger the hem of your striped shirt and weigh your case on your tongue before speaking it. “Mr. Shroomby, I, uh, currently don’t have a place to stay—”
The elderly Toad waves a hand. “Not to worry, it’ll only cost you just 10 coins fer a night.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek and ignore the blazing heat radiating off your cheeks. “Um, I-I don’t—” You choke on your words and stumble to pick them up to avail. Mr. Shroomby raises a furry brow as his gratuitous mustache and beard twitch in what you think might be displeasure. “...I don’t have any money,” you finish lamely.
Before he can order you to leave, you hastily amend your statement. “B-but I’m more than willing to work for you if, if I can stay! I promise! Just—” You wince and pathetically admit, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Hmm…” The Toad stares at you for a good moment. Just about when you’re ready to apologize and leave the humble business, he says, “If you ain’t got nowhere to go, then I ‘spose I gotta take you up on your word, young’un.”
You peeter off into another speal of how grateful you are and how you won’t let him down before he, too, tells you to stop as those two guardsmen had. “Now, now, there’s no need fer that; it’d be wrong o’ me to turn away someone in need. Come on, lemme show you how I run things around here…”
Least to say, settling into your new arrangement fit quite nicely with your expectations which, to be fair, were pretty low. Unlike in the game, the Inn was more like...well, an actual Inn with long hallways filled with a scattering of individual rooms.
When you finally unlocked your room - Mushroom Suite #3, to be precise - you’re entirely surprised at all the humble accommodations. While a bit small, it’s still a single room filled with a bed, desk and a dresser. Peeking into the second door shows a quaint bathroom complete with a bathtub and shower. Very homey, all in all.
Placing your key on the nightstand besides your bed, you sit back on your bed. To think you’d find someone so genuinely nice and for him to cut you some slack was unthinkable; thank goodness the Mushroom Kingdom was so hospitable! With that thought, the adrenaline seeps away into a calm and before you realize it, the pillow entices you into sleep.
* * * * * * *
You try your hardest to adhere to your new routine of waking up in the morning, helping clean up any rooms, and organizing any mail the Inn receives. If necessary, you also run some errands for the neighboring item shop since the owner and Mr. Shroomby get along like age-old pals. Thankfully, adapting to an entirely new world isn’t all that hard when said world is pretty similar to your own. All in all, it only takes a week or so to fall into your new normal.
Strangely, and perhaps luckily, you have yet to see either a short man in overalls or a woman in a pink poofy dress. Which is perfectly fine for you, considering your desire to remain as some benign NPC; it’d be difficult to be a hero considering the nearly perpetual limp you had. Not to mention how bravery is basically an antonym in terms of personal descriptors, but eh. You were also pretty sure heroes didn’t actively try and avoid the inevitable.
So you stick to your humble routine, fully intending to enjoy the world Super Mario RPG has to offer.
A bell chimes overhead as you step into the item shop, a parcel cradled in your arms. Apparently, it was something or other Mr. Shroomby wanted delivered and who were you to disagree? So you ignore the curious gazes some of the other patrons shoot you - especially since humans were rare around these parts - and scoot behind an apron-clad mother of two children, who were likewise staring up at you.
You return their inquisitive gazes with a patient smile as their mother barters for a couple bottles of milk. After she pays for her groceries, she turns to leave but not before tugging her two little ones along, both of which were still looking at you like you were some sort of alien. Well, it’s not like the comparison is wrong.
“Well, if it isn’t ol’ Mr. Shroomby’s help!” Mr. Mycil, the item shop owner, calls. “Is there something you need, lil’ Urchin?”
Right; you developed a bit of a nickname in town due to running around errands to pay off your debt. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the fact you shared your interest in marine life when eating alongside Mr. Shroomby? Either way, it was more affectionate than scornful, so you don’t bother correcting others.
You can’t stop the bashful blush crawling up your cheeks, but you manage to stutter out, “I just—Mr. Shroomby wanted me to deliver this to you…” After a few moments of hesitation, you awkwardly set the wrapped parcel on the counter and Mr. Mycil takes it.
Placing it behind him on a mostly empty shelf, he nods appreciatively before returning his attention to you. “You’ve been a great help to both Shroomby and I. You have this ol’ man’s thanks.”
Before you can deny his kind words - you just play messenger, really - Mr. Mycil idly brushes his mustache. “This is a mighty selfish request of me, but I have something in need of deliverin’ myself.” You wait for him to go on, and taking your silence as an agreeance, he does. “It shouldn’t take too long, but the place is a bit o’ ways away.”
You feel your eyes widen. The prospect seems promising; after all, he always tipped you handsomely for helping him when you were supposed to be primarily working for Mr. Shroomby. It’d sure be nice to pick up some more clothes...But you’re supposed to pay back Mr. Shroomby eventually...Then again, you weren’t sure if you were really up for leaving the town where other monsters likely roamed, not to mention your bad knee...
“Besides,” the shop keeper goes on, completely unaware of your internal musing, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you leave our humble town yet. And here I was thinkin’ you young ones are always keening for adventure, har har har!”
The Toad releases a bout of laughter in sharp contrast to the growing panic you feel. Oh no, this is starting to sound suspiciously like—
Mr. Mycil continues unperturbed. “One of my customers ordered something, and I’m afraid if it’s not delivered soon it’ll go bad.” Thumbing his lower lip, he goes on to explain, “The one who usually picks up the order isn’t feelin’ up to snuff, so I was wonderin’ if you’d be able to go in ‘is place.”
—a forced side-quest. Dang it.
You resist the urge to heave a sigh in front of the shorter toad. Instead, you find yourself shifting your weight from leg to leg, unconsciously checking to see if your knee could possibly handle the walk. Figuring there was no immediate pain or soreness, and the fact it was still midday, you return Mr. Mycil’s inquiry.
“I’ve never, um, left the town,” you begin, but before his face can fall you quickly say, “but if you provided some sort of map or something, I could go. If—if it’s not too much trouble, of course.”
The Toad gives you an appraising look before guffawing some more. “Of course, of course; what kinda man would I be if I didn’t tell you what’s what?”
It takes Mr. Mycil a few minutes to deposit a cake box on the counter alongside a rolled-up map of the neighboring lands. Since no one else enters the shop, he takes the time to mark down your destination on the map and tell you about the general path, including ways to avoid potential unsavories. This is in spite of one road being literally called ‘Bandit’s Way.’
Taking one last glance at the map, you notice the final destination is, of course, the Tadpole Pond. Of course.
Rerolling the aged parchment and sticking it beneath the twine wrapped around the cake box, you thank the kindly shop owner. He returns the thanks as you make your way out of the shop. “Thank you much, lil’ Urchin; your work around here is always appreciated.”
You simply beam at him as you step out into the warm afternoon sun, ignoring the unsettling feeling swelling in your gut. Unfortunately, it only intensifies when you hear the reedy noise of multiple Toads. Peeking around the storefront, you spot an array of them running around the town’s cobbled pathways.
Wondering about the small commotion, you continue staring—oh. You’d recognize that poofy pink dress anywhere.
Sure enough, closer inspection reveals a small squadron of Toads toting around spears surrounding the princess of Mushroom Kingdom herself. She’s pretty happy, nearly skipping around despite her frilly skirt and smiling at any passing civilians, who wave back with equal joy.
That’s all you see before you quickly turn around and scamper away, hopefully unseen. Clutching the parcel - likely a cricket pie, if memory serves - you hurry down the street toward the southern exit of town. Mentally going over the path Mr. Mycil pointed out to you, you step off the stones and into the beaten dirt path just outside the town walls.
With the sun hanging almost directly overhead, you make your way to Frogfucius.
* * * * * * *
You decide to opt out of going through the primary path recommended to you, that being through the Kero Sewers. Really, it wasn’t that hard of a decision since you’d otherwise be required to travel through sewers and then get booted all the way through the Midas River. Then there’s the prospect of swimming, which was...extremely less than appealing. Also, Belome was a thing.
Supposedly, there was a quick way to get to the pond via some hidden pipeway located somewhere in Bandit’s Way. ‘A merchant’s trade secret,’ is what Mr. Mycil said with a wink. Then again, you were walking into a path littered with, y’know, bandits. Besides that, you were carrying something which probably wouldn’t interest anyone who isn’t a frog or insectivore. Not like you had a rare frog coin like some other, distinctly puffy people.
Hobbling on the worn dirt path laid out before you with the sun hanging overhead, you think back to earlier.
Considering you’ve been stuck in the Mushroom Kingdom for a bit, you kinda have a sense of what’s a normal occurrence and what isn’t. Apparently, seeing the princess herself being escorted to Mario’s Pad - if you had to guess - was something which fell into the latter category. And if your guess proved true, then…
Well. Seems like the actual plot might be happening soon.
More determined than ever to remain a humble resident of the Mushroom Kingdom under Mr. Shroomby’s roof, you nod resolutely to yourself. And the best way to do that would be to feigh complete innocence and pretend you don’t know basically every important event which will likely occur. And the best way to do that would to blend in as another innocuous resident, just enjoying day to day happenings.
...sure, there’s the thing of you being one of, what, four humans living amongst dozens of Toads? Maybe innocuous isn’t...exactly something you can be at the moment. Hmm, but what else to do but ignore all the awful things to eventually befall the world? Eh, you’ll figure it out in time.
So you do just that: taking the time to enjoy the balmy weather - even if you were always kinda chilly - and explore the seemingly untamed wilds of Bandit’s Way. Everything seemed just a tad bit too bright and colorful, all things considered. Not that you were complaining; it was actually kinda cute and took away from the fact you were trapped in a different world.
You hear some rustling. Curious but also suspicious, you don’t stop walking and instead glance toward the spot where you heard the sounds. Sure enough, you catch a quick peek at a face steeped in shadows beneath some sort of white carapace. Ohhh, wait a sec...that’s—
“Ack!” You nearly trip over yourself when something distinctly hard and heavy slams into the back of your skull.
Sure enough, when you gather your bearings, there’s a...Spikey? Is it called a Spikey? Well, one’s now staring up at you and those yellow spikes adorning its red shell don’t look appealing in the least bit. Carefully, you look up and sure enough, there’s the douche Lakitu who probably threw the thing at you.
Its eyes are narrowed behind the thick lenses of the goggles wrapped around its head. “‘Ey!” It shouts down at you. It reaches into its cloud - which you note is also narrowing its eyes at you - and pulls out another Spikey, which is curled into a ball. Palming it threateningly, the Lakitu yells at you, “I haven’t seen the likes of you around here—”
“I’m, uh, actually kinda lost—” you manage before it cuts you off.
“Doesn’t matter to me!” The Lakitu quips, tossing the Spikey once. “All that matters is that you get outta our turf!”
Huffing once and not wanting to cause any more trouble, you simply nod once and make to leave. Apparently, turning your back on the Lakitu wasn’t the correct thing to do. As soon as you take a single step to avoid the Spikey at your feet, a faint whoosh sounds above you.
Because you’re a slow dolt, the second Spikey hits you smack in the middle of your back. A gasp bordering between surprise and pain comes out and you turn around to probably yell profanities at the meddling creature. Instead, any bitter words are lost when you find yourself standing before two Spikeys and the Lakitu, who’s threatening to throw yet another Spikey down at you. Was this some sort of battle sequence or something?
“Hey hey hey,” the Lakitu calls down. With an impressive scowl on its face, it glares down at you before saying, “Don’t you dare turn your back on me, runt!”
Wow, rude. Sure you’re pretty goddang short, but was that really necessary? You’re still taller than the Lakitu and it’s cohorts, maybe even combined!
The Lakitu ignores your silent fuming to instead continue telling you to scram. “When I told ya to get, I meant it!”
You don’t even hesitate to yell back, “And I told you I’m lost—”
“—and I don’t care!” The Lakitu hollers back, palming the Spikey in its hand.
You can only offer it an incredulous expression bordering anger and extreme bafflement. Honestly, you’re surprised you haven’t booked it with how much you dislike confrontation, but you were pretty pissed at the moment. And with great frustration comes...absolutely no common sense.
“How am I supposed to leave if I don’t even know where I am?” You shrug helplessly, hugging the cake box to your chest. The stupefied look on the Lakitu’s face is all you need to continue your short-sighted rant. “I’m just trying to deliver some pie! Is it too much to ask for you to leave me alone for one dang second?”
When the Lakitu’s look of shock quickly morphs back into a scowl, you figure that maybe you shouldn’t have antagonized these guys. Sure enough, no sooner than you realize does it yell, “Get ‘em!”
Suffice to say, you don’t even hesitate to book it as fast as you dumb knee can carry you.
As soon as you turn your back on the wannabe-thugs, a blur of red and white whizzes past your feet. You yelp as you nearly trip over yourself, but manage to vault over the Spikey before landing and continuing your run. Another blur appears in your peripheral and you quickly turn onto a different path, successfully doging the Lakitu’s barrage. A muted curse above you proves that your stunt angered the floating bully further.
Zipping through the maze-like roads was a lot harder said than done. It was tiring just making sure you weren’t about to be bowled over by curled-up Spikeys, but also difficult to see any incoming projectiles from the Lakitu overhead; the stupid overgrown leaves of nearby bushes kept slapping you in the face.
While succeeding in obscuring your vision, they also hid your retreat well enough to the point they had to stop and ask nearby Paratroopas where you’d gone. As much as you’d love to stop - both for the sake of your knee and to possibly hide - you reckon it’d be smarter to just try and find the hidden pipe outta here. The faster you leave, the better.
Shifting your weight so most of it was on your good knee, you dash down another dirt-laden path before nearly bowling over some unseen rocks sticking out of the ground. Struggling to catch your breath and the cake box, you’re forced to some close to a stop. No sooner than gathering your bearings do you hear the Lakitu’s voice, thankfully far away.
Not so luckily, it seems it’s spotted you. “There they are; go go go!”
Holding the cardboard parcel firmly, you quickly take off again. You’re forced to dodge more Spikeys aiming to plow your feet down, but you manage to stay upright. You haven’t been keeping track of how many of the damned things the Lakitu keeps pulling out of its cloud, but you do know it’s a lot more than just three.
Another rushes past your ankles and, too slow in dodging, it’s spiked shell cuts into your exposed calf. The sharp sting followed by a warmth creeping down is all you need to know you’re bleeding. And to think your socks are white…
What isn’t helpful is the fact the Lakitu’s mount is really fast, easily beginning to gain on you, if it’s telltale voice getting louder is any indication. Ignoring the thing’s cries for you to, of course, “get back here,” you rush past a couple of bushes. Blinking as you run past the huge leaves, you nearly trip when you reopen your eyes only to see a small clearing with a single green pipe.
As soon as you can, you hurriedly climb onto the thing. No sooner than your feet leaving the ground do three separate Spikeys simultaneously ram into its base. The pipe easily withstands the onslaught, not even quivering from the harsh impact; must’ve hurt the Spikeys quite a bit. Sure enough, a cursory glance down shows the trio of them stumbling about the clearing in a dizzy stupor.
“A-ha!” Oh no. Looking up shows—yup. Captain of the butthole brigade, right there. “There’s nowhere for you to run to now, loser!” ‘Loser?’ Really? You’re on a pipe, for crying out loud!
Mostly ignoring the Lakitu, you focus on the fact you’re already sitting on your getaway from this whole mess. Unfortunately and perhaps predictably, you have zero idea on how to use a Mario pipe. You figure you just have to...jump down into the inky black abyss greeting your curious stare. Yup. Totally sounds safe and sane.
You’re forced to dodge yet another Spikey when the Lakitu hurls it down at you. Also unfortunate is that the thing sails behind you and not into the pipe like you’d kinda hoped it would. Maybe if it had you could’ve heard an end or something?
The Lakitu growls before retrieving yet another Spikey from its cloud. Deciding you have no more time to think about this, you dangle your feet down into the hole and scoot off the pipe’s edge. Nothing happens, save for the fact your feet meet some invisible forcefield; certainly feels like it.
Ducking further into the pipe, yet another Spikey whizzes past where your face previously was. Hoping all your clutching wouldn’t destroy the cake box and ruin the cricket pie, you do what you do best when met with an impossible situation: panic.
Stomping your feet against the invisible floor of the pipe, you grit your teeth as you keep peeking your head out to glance at what the Lakitu’s gonna do next. Knowing your luck, it’ll thrown yet another stupid Spikey at your face while you’re busy trying to activate a stupid warp pipe.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon; work you stupid thing!” You try your hardest to ignore the crude snickering coming from the Lakitu hovering above you, but the hot tears begin to prick your eyes regardless. The embarrassment only adds to the panic and suddenly it feels like you’re—
A shrill screech is pried from your throat. This must surprise the Lakitu because it stops its mocking, but you don’t care enough to see the look on its face. Instead, you continue to - futilely - stomp your feet against the unseen barrier; you just need to get away.
As if answering your unspoken plea, the force preventing you from using the warp pipe vanishes. No sooner than your insides shift in accordance with the abrupt leave of gravity do you begin your plummet into the darkness, yelling all the while.
Your cries echo off the walls and rebound until you can hear nothing but a layered cacophony of your screams. Wind rushes past you, rustling your clothes and nearly prying the cake box from your grasp. Still, it manages to dry the tears before they have the opportunity to fall and you can do nothing as the pipe continues to pull you toward your destination.
You may be a clumsy oaf, but even with your eyes shut you can sense the change in orientation. It’s the barest hint of a warning before you’re shunted out of the other end of the warp pipe, voice hoarse from yelling because you were wholly unprepared for that.
Luckily for you and the cricket pie, you land on your butt, still clutching onto the cardboard parcel like it’s a lifeline. Stupefied but getting there, you hesitantly open your eyes and are greeted with the sight of...more worn dirt paths and more overgrown bushes. Great.
Surprisingly, the map Mr. Mycil is of little use because you have zero ideo where you are. Even more surprising is the fact your knee isn’t too bent outta shape, but it still smarts something fierce when you clamor back onto your feet. The most surprising is the sound of flowing water nearby.
Making a mental note of this pipe, you begin trekking along the winding path. Thankfully, none of the Lakitu’s lackeys followed you; guess there’s some form of RPG logic present.
Aside from the generous ponds scattered about the landscape, the area is much of the same as Bandit’s Way. It doesn’t take long for you to stumble upon a small hill and see the horizon. Although the weather is amiable if on the warmer side, the afternoon sun’s rays reflect almost obstructively back from the massive lake off in the distance.
You’re willing to bet that’s Frogfucius’ abode.
Thankfully, the land is relatively flat and easy on your swollen knee, but you can’t afford to be too slow. The sun’s already begun it’s slow descent to the west, so you probably have a couple more hours left of daylight. Not wanting to be caught in the wilds at night with no supplies, you grit through the pain and continue.
You encounter a few monsters across the path, but they make no move toward you. A few starfish hop out of their shallow ponds and curiously stare at you, and a couple of Shy Guys are too busy messing around with floating tiles to notice you, but you pass by without incident. Given the enemies, you’re also willing to bet this is Rose Way, or somewhere very close to it.
Heaving a tired sigh and clutching the pie box, you limp onto a path lined by palm trees. The end of the trail is distinctive, with the same three notable paths as in the game; the tadpole emporium to your left and Toadofsky’s lemotif pool to the right, and the namesake of the place directly ahead. You approach the open pool of water, unsure of how to continue with your delivery when dozens of murky silhouettes appears beneath the water’s surface.
Sure enough, the beady black heads of tadpoles breach to opening gawk at you.
“Woah, a human!”
“I’ve never seen a human before!”
“Are they gonna eat us…?”
You ignore that last comment, parcing together that either these guys don’t know much of the world outside their pond, or that humans really are that rare. Sincerely hoping it’s the former - because it’d be difficult to be an NPC then - you offer the tadpoles a weary grin.
“Hi there,” you begin, trying to sound as nice as possible, “is this Tadpole Pond, by any chance?”
You’re 99% certain it is, but it serves as a nice leeway into potential conversation. Sure enough, a few of the braver tadpoles bob their heads, undulating enough so small waves crest over the others. A larger one approaches the shore where you stand, confirming, “Yup! You here to see Grandpa?”
You shrug helplessly and shift the cardboard box in your grip. “I was—er, I have a delivery for him...I think?”
“Oh, okay then!” The same tadpole chirps. “I’ll go let him know!” And with that the critter retreats into the water.
Your eyes follow the tiny wakes as they approach the small isle in the center of the immense pond. Unlike the barren place it is in the game, Frogfucius’ home is actually a humble little cottage made of warm wood. A tiny chimney coming from the roof is billowing out small puffs of smoke, so someone’s obviously home. Idly, you hope Mallow’s okay, since he apparently wasn’t feeling well enough to get the cricket pie in the first place.
A couple of, frankly, awkward minutes pass between you and the slew of tadpoles still watching you. Some ask you a few benign questions, and you answer them to the best of your knowledge. The metaphorical dam breaks, and soon enough most of them are clamoring to ask you something or other.
A lull falls over the tiny crowd when a Lakitu hovers overhead, peering down at you through its thick glasses. Ignoring the shivers dancing up your spine - can’t forget how another one bullied you on the way here - you meet its neutral stare.
“Hi there,” you repeat, internally wincing at your poor conversational skills. Shifting on your aching feet, you explain, “Mr. Mycil—I mean, the item shop owner asked me to deliver this—” you motion to the brown box in your hands, “—to, uh, the Tadpole Pond.”
“A new errand guy, huh?” The Lakitu quips, but its voice is cheery unlike the other’s hostile tone. “Frogfucius is a bit busy right now, so I’ll take that off your hands.”
From the smiling cloud, the Lakitu pulls a fishing pole and a hooked line comes down in front of you. Bemused, you pluck the hook and secure it under the twine wrapped around the cake box. Soon enough, the Lakitu reels it in and pries the box open, checking the contents. Oh crap—
Quickly, you try to explain, “I, uh—I ran into a bit of trouble on the way here, so I’m sorry if it’s damaged!”
It merely nods once and smiles down at you. “It’s alright; sorry about the trouble, though. Here’s your payment.”
It’s a welcome surprise when the Lakitu reaches into its cloud and plucks not one, but two emerald coins from it. With practiced ease, it tosses the frog coins - actual, stinkin’ rare frog coins - down and you stumble to catch them. They’re tiny, about a fifth the size of your small palm, and oh so shiny.
“I—thank you,” you breath, eyes still glued to the sparkling green coins in your hand.
The Lakitu grins again before taking off with the box, flying toward the homely cottage on the central isle. With muted awe, you shove your - your - frog coins into your non-blood stained sock, wishing your shorts had pockets. A hasty farewell to the slew of tadpoles later, you make to leave Tadpole Pond, giddy that you now have money to call your own. There’s also the fact you dodged a bullet; meeting a main character is definitely something you need to avoid.
The sun’s managed to crawl further across the sky, dipping the weather into something chillier. Considering you only had a striped tee and shorts, you figure it’s best to scurry back to your hotel room; you deserve a piping hot shower after today.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for you to retrace your steps and soon enough, you’re back atop that hill overlooking everything. You can see everything you can recall from the game; Bowser’s Keep off in the distance to the distinct cluster of opaque clouds, hoveringing beyond the skyline, to the dense forest where Geno will make his epic debut.
You wonder if he’ll be as cool as you remember. Then again, you want nothing to do with the adventure he’ll be at the center of.
Reaching down and rubbing your knee, you take in the views for another few minutes. A breeze comes and goes, shuffling the large bushes and their waxy leaves near you. Another whoosh sounds nearby, but it takes you a moment to realize there’s no unseen force ruffling your loose shirt or shorts.
Something hard whacks into the side of your head with a muted thump.
“Ack!” A series of other undignified sounds comes out of your mouth, but you ignore them in favor of looking around. You don’t see anyone nearby, and a scan above shows no Lakitu threatening you with endless Spikeys.
It’s then you notice something lying at your feet. Idly rubbing your temple - the literal worst place to be hit - and hissing in pain, you reach down and pluck the offending thing. Turns out the thing that nearled cleaned your clock is a slingshot; carved from wood and sorta crudely made. Huh.
“H-hey!”
You pause and turn around to where the cry came from. A few neighboring bushes begin to rustle erratically before a Shy Guy pops out, brushing its cloak of any leaflitter. It wastes no time in leveling you with...some kind of look, judging by the hands crossed across its chest. Hard to tell, given the mask and all.
Honestly, you’re torn. For one, Shy Guys are adorable. For another, this one nailed you in the head with a slingshot.
You grip the object tighter and settle for glowering down at the fella. It barely comes up to your upper thighs, which is something considering how short you are.
“That’s my slingshot,” the Shy Guy states in that...watery sounding voice indicative to its species. It’s pretty cute, but still doesn’t change the roaring headache pounding between your ears. Uncrossing its arms, it approaches you and extends its hand...arm; whatever. “Give it back.”
“Not if you’re gonna throw it at me again,” you seethe, wincing when it huffs in response.
“Look, I didn’t mean to,” it explains in a detached tone bordering on frustration. “I was just practicing with it; how was I supposed to know you’d be here?”
You sniff. Smartass. Still, you’re sore from your long day and your patience is dead in the water. You know all the Shy Guys around Rose Way utilized slingshots as their primary form of attack, so its story makes sense. Then again, you also know they can cast a couple of spells—uh, inflict status effects. Not that they’ll affect you, but...better safe than sorry. Still…
Trying to stop the cruel smirk that wants to come out, you stare down at the emotionless white mask. “Apologize, and I’ll think about it.”
“What?” the Shy Guy growls. “No! Give it back!”
It wastes no time in getting in your face - well, as close as it can, anyway - and reaching up as far as its stubby arms can go. You eye it before holding the slingshot above your head. The Shy Guy responds by trying to jump for it, growling all the while, with hilarious results. You try and eventually fail to hide a crude snicker.
A small white-shoed foot slams into your shin.
A gasping yelp escapes and you glare down at the Shy Guy. Without pause, you bring the slingshot down and slam it on top of its hooded head. Another yelp echoes in the open air.
This goes on for a bit, interjected with insults and the like.
“Ouch! You little—argh!” You swat the Shy Guy again, nearly stumbling after the third kick.
“You’re the one who started—stop it!” It changes tactics and slams its weight down on your toes.
“Fu—! I’m the one who started it?! You threw your slingshot at me!”
“Gah! I already said it was an accident, you idiot—oof!”
“Don’t be rude!” You swallow the urge to hop on your uninjured foot. “And you should at least apologize!”
The Shy Guy rubs its head. “I don’t have a reason to anymore—ow!”
A lull presents itself, and you back away as does the Shy Guy. You huff, ignoring the sure-to-be bruise on your shin and your aching foot; the small guy likewise stops and continues massaging its head. You’d like to do the same, but you’re still too busy holding your swollen knee and keeping the slingshot above your head.
Unable to help yourself, you quip, “Sure must suck having your head bashed in, huh?”
“I must’ve given you brain damage,” the Shy Guy hisses, “because you still don’t get it was an accident!” After a moment it huffs, an aggravated sound. “That or you just enjoy being a pain in the ass.”
A bewildered laugh bubbles up; hearing a Shy Guy cuss was an experience. Despite how indignant the fella is getting, judging from its posture, you try to explain, “I’ve never met a Shy Guy with an attitude before.”
It does nothing, but you equate the pause for something akin to rolling its eyes; if Shy Guys even have eyes. Wasn’t it a rumor that they don’t have faces…? Eh, doesn’t really matter.
“Whatever.” Well, seems like it agrees with your unspoken train of thought. Its mask rakes up and down your frame, and you struggle to not shift so most of your weight is off your bad knee. It seems to notice and asks, “What’s your deal anyway? Never seen you around before.” It goes on to distastefully mutter “which is why I didn’t know you were there,” but you let it slide; confrontation like the Lakitu’s is still not ideal.
You pause, holding the slingshot to your chest. “I, uh. I’m new. Yeah.” That sounded completely natural. You openly wince before trying to remedy your statement; “Made a delivery to Tadpole Pond, and now I’m headed back to the Mushroom Kingdom.”
The Shy Guy gives you what you think is an appraising look. “So you have a couple of frog coins on you.” You can’t help but wince again and it goes on to blithely announce, “You’re an idiot.”
“...maybe.” Biting your chapped lip, you try to defend yourself. “I prefer to think of it as being naive.”
“Ugh.” The Shy Guy groans, muttering to itself in what you assume to be its born language. Sounds cute. It continues for a few seconds before taking a calming breath and returning its attention to you.
“I’m going to be real with you,” it begins, exasperated. “You look awful. So how about we strike a deal: you give me back my slingshot and I don’t take your frog coins.”
You feel your face fall into what you think is also exasperation. “I really hope this isn’t your way of apologizing.”
“Don’t make me rob you blind.”
You want this day to be over, preferably by yesterday. Of all the demure, happy-go-lucky Shy Guys you saw on your way through Rose Way, why did you get to deal with the snarky one? Not to mention your knee feels just about ready to give out on you. Then there’s the fact your sock is still crusty with dried blood...
“Fine,” you grit out. You’re way too tired for any more fighting, physical or otherwise. All you need is to somehow find your way back to Bandit’s Way, sneak past that damn Lakitu and its hoard of Spikeys, and collapse into your bed once you’re back in the Mushroom Kingdom.
It’s then when a sudden hush falls over the valley.
The skies above darken considerably and your attention is brought to the distant horizon. Turning around, you barely register the tiny thump of the slingshot falling from your lax grasp onto the ground. You also ignore how the Shy Guy scrambles to your feet to retrieve it before it, too, stops to stare.
From what looks like an aurora dyed the colors of midnight, an impossibly large sword descends only to impale Bowser’s Keep.
A few moments of silence pass until small tremors wrack the ground you’re standing on, but it barely registers over the panic seeping into your chest. Even from where you stand, miles upon miles away, you can see the face embedded as a part of the sword’s hilt. Exor’s eyes are unfeeling as they look straight ahead, focusing on nothing.
You look higher and—how did you miss it? A massive gathering of stormy clouds - which you swear wasn’t there earlier - hangs almost ominously above Bowser’s Keep. Faintly, you catch trails of multicolored light being flung away from it, blazing across the dark skies like brilliant shooting stars. Belatedly, you realize they are shooting stars; well, the broken pieces of Star Road, but they’re stars in the game.
Your eyes watch as the streak of green, so obvious against the backdrop of abyssal blues, begins to dip into a curve. Your neck follows as it falls into the massive forest on the other side of Tadpole Pond, triggering another minute tremor. A faint trail of glitter is left in its wake before it disappears like snow. Looking up shows the cluster of storm clouds has also vanished from your sight.
Quietly, you utter a heartfelt, “Shit.”
A small snort beneath you breaks you out of your trance. Huh; nearly forgot about the Shy Guy. Even so, it doesn’t really make another comment as its mask is still looking up at what you were. You decide to return your attention and you both watch as the dark aurora wavers and dissipates, leaving the sky as bright as you remember it.
“That was weird,” the Shy Guy states. You want to agree with its flippant tone, but the icy dread in your chest stops any reassuring giggles before they can come to fruition.
Swallowing, you try to nod your head but instead hiss a breath between your teeth. Anxiety ripples through you and you obey it by turning away from Exor skewering Bowser’s Keep. You nearly trip over the Shy Guy still at your feet, but you ignore it to stumble to the edge of the clearing.
It cries out again, sharply demanding, “Wait!” But its words are muddled under the newest wave of fear surging through your vessels; Exor is here and you’re no longer safe. You have no idea if the physics of this world are as forgiving as those found in its game counterpart, but you know no good can come of living weapons invading. Geno is chock full of guns, but at least he’s on your side; er, the good guys side.
You stumble past the same bushes the Shy Guy came from. The path back to the pipe is no different than it was an hour or so earlier, but the shadows stretch in unfamiliar directions due to the sun arcing overhead. More chilly breezes brush past your exposed skin, but the goosebumps on your arms aren’t from the cold. If anything, the chill of oncoming dusk is a welcome distraction from the pain ebbing away in your knee and shin, since the stinging sensation of your cut has long since faded.
It thankfully doesn’t take too long to reach the same clearing as the hidden warp pipe, but your fatigue is starting to get in your way. Without even thinking about it, you clumsily climb atop the pipe and push yourself into its mouth.
Unlike last time, you’re immediately shunted back to the other end. Like last time, you’re unprepared so you land in a crumpled heap.
Dusting yourself off, you ignore the incessant dread that the same Lakitu will come looking for you. Honestly, it was always a sort of nagging thought hiding behind the abrupt stress of seeing Exor show up, but you’re somewhat glad there’s no sign of the bully, nor any of its lackeys. At least something seems to be going alright.
You’re too tired to care when you pry the crumpled map from the waistband of your shorts; unsightly, but it works. A few moments later you’re trekking back on the familiar but stupid maze of dirt-laden pathways. The sun overhead was already beginning to descend over the nearby hills, so you knew which direction you are relative to it.
Judging by your abysmal sense of time, it’s about fifteen minutes until the familiar and welcome sight of cobbled walls greets your gaze. Your limp is pretty pronounced, given everything, but the Toads guarding the entrance don’t give you pitying looks as you pass; just amiable smiles. The warmth stirred by the action quells a small bit of the anxiety. You offer a tired smile back.
You pass by a trio of Toads as you wobble your way back to the Inn, trying to hide your bloody leg from the two children circling their worn mother. She offers you a timid smile and you return it before scampering down the road, shrill laughter following you all the while.
Hugging your arms to your side, you sluggishly approach the doorstep of the Inn. You watch the star sign spin for a bit before it reminds you too much of the Star Road. A bell chimes overhead and a wave of warmth rushes over you as soon as you enter the lobby. A gray-speckled head is kneeling beneath the counter.
As soon as Mr. Shroomby gets up, his fuzzy brows rise. “Well, look who it is! Haven’t seen you all day, lil’ Urchin!”
“Sorry.” You plaster on another tired smile. “I delivered something for Mr. Mycil...I thought, since I was done with my daily chores, it’d be okay...I’m really sorry if I missed you.”
Mr. Shroomby just hums thoughtfully. “Nonsense; I’m glad you’re finally gettin’ outta this musty town. You young’uns need to get out into the world.”
“I like it here, though,” you murmur, to which Mr. Shroomby heaves a rattling laugh.
It’s then when you realize the worn map is still clutched in your vice-like grip. You stare down at the piece of parchment like you’ve never seen it before. “...oh. I should go return this—”
“No you don’t.” You startle when the worn inn-keeper appears in front of you. Gently, he pries the paper from your shivering hold and tucks it into his vest. He looks up at you and you return the unseen stare. Finding what he was looking for, he states, “You need rest; I’ll take care of this in the mornin’.”
You sputter, trying to tell him it’s okay but he just stares at you like a grandpa disciplining his misbehaving grandchild. Fondness swells behind your sternum before reality sweeps it away beneath the fear still clawing at your insides. So you meekly agree and scoot up the stairs, barely hearing Mr. Shroomby offering to bring dinner up in a bit. You remember your manners enough to thank him before disappearing from his view.
A piping hot shower later, you throw yourself onto your bed. An old clock ticks faithfully, filling the silence and sort of calming your frayed nerves. The anxiety never went away.
Exor and, consequently, the Smithy Gang is here. You aren’t safe, but...no one else is, either.
Mushroom Kingdom is the first to be invaded by Mack and his army of Shysters. Again, you have zero idea how violent things will get, but things will get violent. Mr. Shroomby and Mr. Mycil aren’t safe; that mother and her two children aren’t safe; no one in the whole town is safe. They don’t even realize their princess is long gone, and if Princess Peach is as kind and cheerful as you think, then her leave will be extremely demoralizing.
You barely register the feeling of your eyelids drooping until it’s too late. You’ll think over things in the morning.