Tiers and Hopes, Book 2

You Haven't Changed

Patronize (vb): 1) To be a customer of; 2) to treat condescendingly, haughtily or coolly

-from the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, 11th ed. (2004)

Somehow, Kirby managed to endure his first day as a bottom-tier fighter, knowing that at least some of the fighters, especially Luigi, hadn't jumped on the bandwagon of mocking him. In his young mind, he wanted to believe that this was only temporary. Of course, Luigi knew better, but he was also holding out for everyone to remember what happened in 1999 and snap out of it. He made sure to show up at all of Kirby's matches, just as Kirby had shown up for all of his matches two years earlier, sending out as much encouragement and optimism as he could for the puffball to absorb. It did little to help; Kirby still lost badly. He only won one of his scheduled matches, and that one was against Pichu. But the Star Warrior was grateful for Luigi's presence, as his words and soft embraces eased the pain somewhat. He only wished Pikachu would forget about his Skull Bash's similarities to Luigi's Green Missile for one second and give him some much-needed comfort.

Mercifully, the day came to an end. Kirby ate his dinner, tended to his toilette and went to bed, praying that this pointless hatred would have run its course tomorrow.

His prayer wasn't answered.

Kirby awoke in good spirits, only to have those spirits dashed the moment he entered the cafeteria. Snickers greeted him, and Fox and Falco looked at him in disdain. Pikachu grinned at him as if nothing was wrong, and some Wireframes gave him pitying looks. Scowling, Kirby snatched up a tray and served himself, piling up a plate of fluffy blueberry pancakes and drenching them in butter and syrup. After getting some napkins and utensils, he puffed over in search of someplace to sit.

Pausing at Fox's table, he cheerfully asked, "Poyo?"

Fox wrinkled his nose at Kirby. "Get away from me, you low-tier j—off," he spat.

"Yeah," Marth suddenly chimed in. "This table's reserved for real Smashers."

Kirby's eyes stung. "Poyo..." he whimpered.

"Hey, buddy, take your blubbering somewhere else," sneered Falco. "It's not helping us, and it's not gonna help you."

Hurriedly, Kirby puffed away, soft laughter following him.

"Filthy casual," Fox scoffed after him.

Sitting across from them, Luigi grew hot with anger. This was the same Fox who, two years ago, stood in this cafeteria and told everyone he was sorry and had learned his lesson. Evidently, he hadn't. He clenched his fist so tightly that the utensil he was holding—a metal utensil, to boot—was squeezed out of shape.

"Luigi..." Mario cautioned next to him, sensing his brother's heat and seeing his face redden.

Luigi whipped his head around and harpooned Fox with a stare powerful enough to fry him where he sat. Unfortunately, the vulpine didn't notice, as he was laughing with his friends instead. Then, Luigi's eyes went to Kirby, a despaired look on his face as he puffed aimlessly about the room. He knew he had to take action.

"Kirby?" the plumber called. "Wanna sit over here?"

Kirby's face lit up. "Poyo!" he cried, puffing over to Luigi's table.

Dutifully, the occupants made room for the little fluffball, who plunked himself down beside the man in green.

"Poyo," he said in thanks.