Chapter Text
A/N - Bowser and Luigi have a very close platonic friendship in this fic. I plan on making Luigi/Donkey a tag, with the two having an enemies to lovers type relationship. I am not sure yet! However, I am leaning heavily towards that direction :)
They had been here for a long time, in Master Hand’s realm.
The fights had become a routine chore among the roster. Friendships and bonds were formed between those of different universes, as well as many healthy rivalries. As terrible as it was to be trapped here, to be used as pawns for Hand’s entertainment, many of the fighters had carved out a sense of normalcy (and even comfort) in this strange life.
Everyday, several fighters were chosen and sent into a tournament, to battle on various stages under their ominous god. Mario had been chosen to be on the roster that day. So had Peach and Bowser, leaving Luigi alone in their empty castle.
Luigi didn’t fight anymore. Not by his own choice. He had been phased out of the tournaments over time. Master Hand only cared for the fierce, powerful warriors and heroes. Luigi’s name hadn’t been called to fight in… well, he imagined it was years, but time seemed to flow strangely here.
Master Hand just kind of forgot about him. Pichu too. The tiny pokemon hated fighting as much as Luigi, and was usually found napping among the other pokemon or caring for them after their fights.
Luigi normally wandered around the island-sized realms - copies of all the fighters’ old homeworlds - and visited the others. If anything came out of being kidnapped by an egotistical, floating appendage, it was that Luigi had formed friendships that he’d value as long as he lived, even if they one day managed to escape. He especially enjoyed the company of the pokemon, who were comfortingly similar to the colorful creatures of the Mushroom Kingdom.
But today, Luigi just felt like lounging in the fake grass, under the fake sun, reading a fake book. Normally the pages were blank, but fighters (mainly Zelda, Falco and Marth) had taken to filling empty books with stories of their home - legends and fairytales and feats of their own. Mario had penned quite a lot himself - his most popular being his adventures in space.
“Hey, Greenie!”
Luigi popped his head up, surprised to see the huge koopa king - Bowser - waving at him, lumbering over. Luigi sat up, waving to him, confused why he wasn’t in his tournament right now. Not that he wasn’t happy to see the koopa. After living in close quarters with him for so long, Luigi and the others learned that he wasn’t really a monstrous beast bent on destruction.
He may be arrogant and insecure and overconfident all the same, but Bowser had lived his life forced to follow in his family's evil footsteps and live up to his father’s name. Here, without a kingdom to rule, without Kamek to remind him of his place, Bowser turned out to be a really kind guy.
He had a big heart, was very loyal, and (after a lot of confusing talks and DIY therapy with Luigi) it turns out he didn’t love Peach - he just wanted to impress another ruler and have a friend. He looked up to Peach without realizing it, drawn to how her people looked up to her despite her lack of cruelty.
Turns out, Kamek had done a lot of damage to Bowser, having practically raised the koopa, and manipulated his emotions and pure-child love, in order to rule the kingdom his way.
The more Luigi, Peach and Mario unearthed, the more stricken they were by the abuse and scheming of Kamek. By how Bowser actually cried at the thought that his father-figure hurt him, that to him, such abuse was normal. But it wasn’t, and the trio taught Bowser that he could think for himself. Kamek wasn’t here to control him.
Change did not happen overnight.
There were lots of ups and downs. A lot of fights and cruel words flung back and forth. But Luigi had always been there for Bowser, and now, a lifetime later, the two were best friends. Bowser and Mario still bickered and fought, but it felt more like a sibling rivalry than anything mean-spirited.
Peach had kept her distance from Bowser for a long time. Luigi didn’t blame her, but now the two enjoyed quiet talks with tea. Bowser went to Peach for advice and trusted her, admitting that he sees her as what a true leader should be.
Bowser had one wish now - to return home, to his kingdom, to treat his people as well as the toads, to tell Kamek to get lost, and to bring a newfound friendship between koopas and the Mushroom Kingdom.
“Hey, Bowser,” Luigi set his book down and stood to greet his friend. He was enveloped in large warm arms, the hug tight but brief. Bowser was very much a hug-giver to anyone who’d let him. “Aren’t you in a tournament today?”
“We were. Don’t know what happened,” Bowser said. “Mario and Peach are still with Marth talking about it.”
“What, what do you mean?”
“Hand stopped everything mid-fight and sent us back. Not sure why, but he seemed bored, then got all annoyed before telling us to leave,” the koopa gave a heavy shrug. “No scales off my tail. Just means I get to spend the rest of the day with you!”
Luigi didn’t think anything of it. Afterall, Master Hand - as terrifying a god as he was - was also temperamental and had the whim of a child. Anything could be bothering him. Luigi learned a long time ago not to dwell on what Hand was up to. Mario on the other hand….
“Is Mario okay?” he asked.
“Oh, Greenie, he’s fine! You know how your brother gets. That hand could sneeze the wrong way and Mario would think he’s scheming something. Everything’s fine. Mario didn’t even have to fight today, lucky shrimp.”
“Hehe, okay, yeah,” Luigi smiled. He always worried about Mario. His brother could work himself up over their captor sometimes, and Luigi hated to see how stressed and anxious he’d get. But sometimes, Bowser was right, and it was best to let Mario investigate, rather than try and comfort him. “You want to read with me?”
“Only if you’re the one talking,” Bowser said, falling to his side in the grass. The ground shook as he lay in a comfy position, and Luigi laughed, dropping to his butt.
“Okay, just don’t fall asleep this time,” Luigi teased, thumbing open the pages.
“I won’t,” Bowser promised, but his eyes were already closed, face probably warming nicely in the sun - an added bonus of fake light being no risk of sun burn.
Luigi lifted his own face to the sky, took a breath, and then started to read.
“No. No, no, no - NO!”
Master Hand raged, the giant figure angrily curling his fingers over the fighting forms of his clones. The mindless variations of his Fox and Bowser halted, disappearing in a blur of pixels at Master Hand’s whim. He curled himself into a fist, pacing around the empty void of Final Destination. He was alone, frustrated from his own inability to know what could cure his boredom.
The fights, the heroes, his current trophies… it was all starting to feel monotonous. Master Hand had been feeling this way for a while. When he first started his collection, discovering bold heroes and villains and pitting them against each other, he had grown drunk on the euphoria of being their god. Now, though…
Master Hand snarled in frustration. He had worked so hard on these realms, had put so much time into conditioning his fighters to obey and follow the rules. It would seem like a waste to re-start on a new project.
But even if the fighting was growing old, he was also possessive and selfish and didn’t want to let go of his trophies. There were his, so he’d spent the last few days in isolation, trying to find the spark of interest he’d lost.
He summoned two clones of his strongest warriors - Ganondorf and Mario - and let them attack each other at the highest skill level he could create. The clones clashed, quick and powerful and dizziness in their reflexes. Master Hand watched the fight for a few seconds, then slammed a fist over the clones, making themes shatter into millions of pixels.
“No! It’s not right! I don’t know what I want”
He snarled, throwing himself into the ground as if having a tantrum, the very void itself shaking as Master Hand vented. That euphoric thrill of watching his trophies fight for his entertainment - it was gone, and like a drug, Hand was starving to reignite that feeling.
He summoned several more clones, smashing them, just to try and feel something. But even the nonsensical violence did nothing to comfort him as it usually did. Clone after clone, he summoned all his fighters, destroying them, tearing apart his own hand-crafted roster.
And then he paused, fist lifted over a newly formed clone - one he didn’t recognize. The clone had the same identical expression of cold indifference on its face that all clones did. Plus a green hat, and Master Hand realized he didn’t even know the name of this fighter.
Like that tiny, pathetic rat - the yellow one that electrocuted itself - Hand had pulled them from the fights a long time ago. He had mistaken them for fighters, but due to his own refusal to admit his mistakes, kept them around, basically forgetting their existence.
This green clone looked wrong though. Master Hand wasn’t sure what it was. It bothered him, and he hovered around the mindless thing, trying to figure it out. He couldn’t even recall why he took the green one in the first place - Oh, that’s right, the god remembered, he was Mario’s brother. It was why he took him, thinking perhaps he’d share his blood’s skill. No. He was a coward and weak.
And that’s what it was. Master Hand snapped in realization. The clone was wearing too determined an expression. It wasn’t cowering like that easily frightened fool. Master Hand was about to smash it, to wave off the passing curiosity that would no doubt be forgotten in the next few minutes. But as he raised a fist to smash the clone, he paused.
It stared back at him, completely unphased by its imminent doom. The clone wore no fear, and for a moment, Master Hand was bothered. He unfurled himself, hovering again.
Hand suddenly flicked the clone across the platform like a curious cat. The clone went flying, bounced off the ground, and rolled back to its feet, unbothered and ready to serve. Hand almost sighed in exasperation, then paused in consideration.
His clones couldn’t express emotions. They were programmed for simple tasks and commands. It was why Master Hand stole his fighters in the first place - no clones could compare to the power over living, sentient beings. But he liked to play with heroes, not cowards… So why was he wishing this clone would act more like the green man? Master Hand had no such time for weak, pathetic things… yet he hovered around the clone, despite his own mental objects.
And then he smashed the clone abruptly. It didn’t even react. No shout or cry for help. No cowering. It just let itself be destroyed. Master Hand stared at the shards, unsatisfied.
He summoned another clone of the green man - he couldn’t recall the name and that too bothered him - and batted at it as well. He destroyed several of them, growing more erratic in his destruction, angry that he was growing more frustrated, finding no peace in senseless violence as he usually did. Then he stopped, willing the last clone away with a decisive wave.
I need to test something.
And as the impatient, impulsive god that he was, Master Hand wanted to test it now. He needed to see the real thing. He could have transported the man here himself, but a part of Master Hand felt that this would be resolved with a quick reintroduction.
No need to draw it out. This really was beneath him, and simply another stepping stone towards finding his lost joy. The green man would most likely be at the pink castle. Master Hand had thought it amusing to force Mario, his princess and their enemy to house together, but they all got along well. It was boring. But predictable.
He snapped, and with a flourish he did not need, teleported to the castle grounds.
The castle was as pale and boring as when he last remembered it. Master Hand teleported to the edge of the green courtyard. He thought he might have to pop inside the walls - bothersome - but he was pleased to see his target already outside. It appeared he was rather cozy with Bowser.
The green man was sleeping against the also snoozing giant’s side, book on his chest and cap titled over his eyes. Master Hand hovered towards them, silent, observing as he did his clones.
This time, he felt an unusual wave of patience as he watched. He told himself it was only because he’d been staring at clones for so long, that it felt satisfying to finally see some emotion on this face - one faded by memory. Hand wondered why something so worthless had his attention.
Even in sleep, the green man has a very… nervous quality about him. Master Hand should have woken him by now, maybe beaten the man up just to see how he felt… but Hand was okay with watching. For now.
He wondered what would happen if the green man opened his eyes of his own accord, waking to find a silent god over him, and, for the first time in a long time, there was that cold excitement rushing through his fingers - anticipation. For as impatient as Hand was, he knew how to savor this feeling.
And then Bowser had to spoil the moment. Large eyes blinked up at him. He was alarmed at first, before sleep drained from the turtle's face and he jumped upright. The green man squeaked in surprise, still in Bowser's arms as he too looked up, blue eyes growing as wide as the moon when he saw who their guest was.
Master Hand didn’t even realize he was fixated on the green man’s face - on how he stared at Hand with a mixture of awe and dread that the other fighters had long since lost. Master Hand nearly snarled in anger when Bowser shoved that look behind him, hiding it from him.
And then he regained his composure. This was nothing to get worked up over, he repeated to himself.
“What do you want?” Bowser asked, brazen and disrespectful.
Master Hand rose higher. He wanted to flick him across the grass for that. Most of the fighters were mouthy and defiant with him now, one of the reasons the fights were no longer fun. But Hand saw wide blue eyes peek around the spiked shell - terrified Another pulse of something ran through Master Hand. He calmed again, lowering, letting his finger hover threateningly over the pair just to see the human tremble harder.
“The fights have been dull, Bowser. Dull and uneventful. I was especially bored during your match-up today,” he began.
Bowser growled, offended. “I fought, Hand. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Just cause you're bored, that isn’t my problem.”
Then an idea popped into his head. He didn’t think anything would come of it - Bowser probably wouldn’t follow the order… but he wanted to try anyway.
“Actually, it is. Your life is dictated by me. Your life is owned by me. I want to be entertained, turtle. I want another fight and I want it now.”
“What are you going on about?” Bowser snarled.
“There’s two fighters here, aren't there?” Hand questioned. He heard a squeak of fear and that pulse grew hotter. Hand’s finger nearly clenched at the sound. “So fight. You and the plumber.”
Bowser pushed the man farther back. “No way! I’m not fighting Luigi, we aren’t even in a match right now,” he argued.
Luigi. Master Hand paused to roll the name in his mind. That’s right, he had forgotten it completely.
“You refuse to fight Luigi, then?” He asked, savoring the name out loud.
Luigi practically jumped when he heard it - like it was startling to have a god address him, like he knew he was beneath it. The pulse was growing hotter the longer he was here. Bowser had flames licking in his throat now.
“I’ll fight you instead,” Bowser threatened - bold and rebellious and defiant.
Hand wasn’t as upset by the statement as he should have been. The other fighters must know he’s weak. Hand thought, watching how Bowser shielded the other. They protect him from me. For some reason, it was an enticing thought.
He needed to think about this. He was getting too… overwhelmed at the moment. A part of himself thought this beneath him, but the other part - greedy and hungry and selfish - would chase this feeling no matter where it went.
So without giving either the dignity of an answer, Hand snapped, and he was gone, leaving two very confused fighters in the shadow of the castle.