pitskeyblade
Smash Lord
Creative title, huh? I'll come up with a new one eventually. Ok, so this is something I've been working on for a little while. I'm kinda hesitant to show it, because I just know there's someone who's gonna troll and share his Pit-hating opinions with us. If you don't like Pit, or my fanfic, you don't have to read it. It's as simple as that. Constructive criticism would be appreciated. It may be a while before I submit more of this story. Writer's block and all that. Oh, and the high school name is something I totally just came up with. If it's the name of a real high school, it was a complete accident, promise. Please keep in mind that it's a work in progress. Well, here goes........
The alarm sounded, rudely jarring a teenager from his slumber. Pit groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head in an attempt to drown out the sound of his alarm. He stayed like this for several minutes, in a vain attempt to get little bit more sleep. Realizing it was futile, he pushed back the covers, sat up and rubbed his eyes. Ugh. It was Monday. Time for school. Standing up, he stretched, allowing his wings to unfold in order to relieve the stiffness from his muscles. Pit’s mother had already gone to work; her day started a lot earlier than his. Pit trudged downstairs to the kitchen with breakfast on his mind. His gray tabby, Pudgy, purred and rubbed her flanks against his shins, hoping for handouts. Pit smiled and opened her a can of cat food. Choosing a glass of orange juice, Pit popped a piece of bread into the toaster.
Today was just any ordinary day. He would go to school then come home and wait for his mom so they could sit down to dinner together. He tried to recall what they were covering in his English class. As he struggled to remember, his dark blue eyes wandered aimlessly around the kitchen. English was Pit’s worst subject. He spoke the language, wasn’t that enough? Apparently not. Maybe he could bribe Link, the class brain, into helping him out. It wasn’t that Pit didn’t like reading. On the contrary, he loved to read and had a cluttered bookshelf in his room to prove it. Pit just didn’t like the material they were required to read for English. The sound of someone pounding on his front door jolted him out of his daydream. Was he here already? Was it already that late? Stuffing the toast in his mouth, Pit took a swig of orange juice and rushed to answer the door.
Pit’s best friend Ike stood on the doorstep, grinning from under his thatch of dark blue hair. “Surely you’re not going to school like that?” he laughed. Seeing Pit’s confused look, he laughed even harder. “Look at yourself,” Ike said. Pit glanced down and immediately saw what Ike found so funny. In his haste, he had neglected to get dressed and now stood in the doorway wearing only his socks and boxers. “Oops,” Pit mumbled sheepishly, and raced upstairs to get his school uniform on. Ike lounged in the living room, stroking Pudgy and waiting for his friend. “You might wanna hurry! We’re gonna be late!” he called up the stairs. Pit dashed around his room in a panic, trying to remember where he put his uniform. How could he have misplaced it over the span of one weekend? Diving under his bed (which he found difficult because of his wings), he scrabbled around in the mess of video game cartridges, Ghost Patrol comics, dirty laundry, and white feathers until he found what he was looking for. He knew after years of experience that anything lost eventually found its way under his bed. He struggled into his uniform (which again was difficult due to his wings), and dashed to his mirror to attempt to untangle the mess that was his hair. He groaned. Usually his shaggy brown mop was untidy at the best, but this morning he knew it would be impossible to wrestle with it and still be on time to school. Grabbing his tie, he darted downstairs. Ike joined him at the door, and together they bolted down his front stairs and down the road. If they sprinted far enough, they wouldn’t have to worry about being late for class.
As they pounded towards Willow Creek High School, Ike glanced at his companion and gasped, “Prepare yourself. We’re studying Shakespeare today.” Pit groaned. Wasn’t English boring enough without having to read Shakespeare? He made even bloody tragedies dull! For several minutes, they ran in dogged silence, hearing only their ragged breathing and pounding feet. After a while, they slowed to a walk. As they neared their high school, Ike called greetings out to the other students who were just arriving.
“Hey, Link! How’d you do on that test last Thursday? Yo, Marth! Who dressed you this morning, your mother?”
“Very funny, Ike!” Marth called back. “You know we all wear the same thing!”
“Yeah, but I pull it off better!” Ike retorted.
Pit and Ike slid into the seats of their English class with two minutes to spare. Being in the desk in front of Pit, Ike turned around and said, “You know, you wouldn’t have to worry about being late if you flew to school.”
“Maybe,” replied Pit, “but then I wouldn’t have morning adventures with you. Like me almost running out the door naked.” They both chuckled, remembering Pit’s forgetfulness. Pit knew how much Ike appreciated their friendship, though he would never say it out loud. Pit arrived at the school shortly after Ike’s friend, Roy, had to move away. At first Ike was bitter and mocked Pit for having wings. Pit just shrugged it off, knowing that Ike missed his friend. Eventually they became friends when Pit helped comfort Ike after Ike’s grandfather died. Further conversation was cut short when their English teacher, Mr. Reed walked into the room. “Okay, class. Open your text books to page 64 so we can discuss Shakespeare’s Hamlet,” he said in a monotone voice. Pit groaned inwardly. English class was bad enough without this old relic making it even duller. Feigning taking notes, Pit pulled out a piece of paper and began doodling on it. Mr. Reed’s voice droned on and on. To Pit it was just white noise as he concentrated on drawing his favorite character from the comics he read. Stopping momentarily, Pit raised his eyes from the paper and gazed around the classroom. There was Zelda in the front row, winking at Link and making him blush and drop his notes. The Mario brothers were on opposite ends of the classroom, throwing paper balls at each other. Marth had propped his textbook on the desk in front of himself to hide the Gameboy he was playing. Pit dropped his gaze back to his doodle to put the finishing touches on it.
“Pit! What is the famous line that Hamlet spoke when he was contemplating suicide?” Mr. Reed asked suddenly. The unexpected question took Pit by surprise. His first reaction was one of annoyance. How was it that the old man was able to overlook the paper war and flirting going on in the classroom and single him out? Then he realized that Mr. Reed was expecting an answer and the whole class was staring at him. Ike grinned and twisted around in his seat to see what Pit would do. Blood suffused Pit’s face as he wracked his brain to come up with an answer.
“Er… The fight is on?” Pit ventured.
The class burst into laughter. Ike did a facepalm. Mr. Reed blinked owlishly.
“It seems that Pit was not paying any attention to my lecture. Again. Link, would be so kind as to tell the class what Hamlet’s famous line is?”
Link quickly regained his composure and promptly said, “To be, or not to be- that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows…” As Link quoted the entire soliloquy word for word, Pit lowered his head until it was almost touching the desk to hide his burning face. Mr. Reed’s voice startled Pit again.
“Correct, Link. Perhaps you and Pit could get together sometime and discuss Shakespeare’s great works of literature more in depth. That’s all for today, class. For your homework, I want you to read pages 70 through 82 and write a paragraph to summarize it.”
As the class filed out of the room, Ike caught up with Pit and said with a grin, “Nice, dude. ‘The fight is on?’ How do you come up with that stuff?” Seeing the look on Pit’s face, he quickly hid his grin and said, “Don’t worry too much about it. Mr. Reed’s just an old geezer that misses his gall bladder or something. Besides, if I had written that story, I would’ve put that line in it. Or something cool, like ‘You’ll get no sympathy from me.’”
Pit smiled. “That’s probably why you’re not a famous writer.”
“Nope,” Ike scoffed. “I’m just an undiscovered talent, that’s all.”
Pit laughed. “So, how about you come over later so we can play some video games and not read Shakespeare?”
“Okay, Pit. But you know we still have Gym, Precalculus, and World History to survive before we can goof off.”
Pit groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
They walked into the locker room to dress out for Gym. Pit didn’t mind this class so much. He had a wiry frame, so activities such as running weren’t a big problem for him. Gym class was the same every day. First Coach Throttle would have them run four laps on the track outside. Then, the students would come back into the gym where they could play basketball or just sit around if they so chose. If the coach was feeling particularly ambitious, he would organize them into playing kickball or the dreaded dodge ball. Pit hated that game. It seemed like everyone saw his wings as a target to lob dodge balls at. Fortunately today the coach felt lazy, so he stuck with the usual routine.
After the four laps, Pit went into the gym and sat with his back against the bleachers, watching Ike play basketball with some of the other guys. Ike was a lot more athletic than Pit, so naturally he was picked out to be on someone’s basketball team. Pit didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to relax and read or draw if he felt like it. Pulling out a sketch book, Pit started drawing his favorite video game character. He was just finishing the first sketch and starting on the finer details when he noticed someone staring over his shoulder at the drawing.
It was a girl that Pit had never seen before, probably new to Willow Creek High School. She was slender and fair-skinned, with long dark hair and startling green almond-shaped eyes. She smiled shyly, displaying two rows of straight milk-white teeth. “I like that game, too,” she said softly. Pit was at a loss of what to say. As he stared at her, a sudden indescribable impulse that he had never felt before coursed through him. The girl tilted her head to one side, considering him. “Don’t you speak?” she asked. Pit suddenly realized that he would have to say something, or risk looking like an idiot in front of her.
“Er… you new here?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yeah, just moved in a few days ago. My name’s Laurel. What’s yours?”
Pit was saved from answering by Ike, who bounded up after a successful basketball game. “Hey, Pit, did you catch that last shot? Crazy, huh?” He glanced at Laurel, and turned back to Pit to go into more detail about the game. Ike did a comic double take. Deftly nudging Pit to one side, Ike smiled his brightest at Laurel.
“Hello, I’m Ike. You must be new around here otherwise I would’ve noticed you walking around here beforehand. If you need somebody to show you around, don’t hesitate to ask me.”
Laurel smiled sweetly. “Thanks, but Pit already offered to be my guide. Didn’t you, Pit?” She winked at Pit from behind Ike’s back. Pit caught the hint, and clapping a crestfallen Ike on the back, Pit grinned at her and said, “Sure thing. During lunch I’ll give you a tour of the school. See you later.” He steered Ike out of the gym.
To Pit’s delight, Laurel was in his Precalculus class. Math was something he could really understand, as there was absolutely no room for debate. Either the answer was correct, or it wasn’t. Simple. Under the envious eyes of Ike, Pit found Laurel already sitting at a desk in the classroom when they parted ways (Ike had a Statistics class at this time instead). Glancing in Laurel’s direction, Pit mentally debated with himself whether or not he dared to sit next to her. She was friendly enough in gym class; why was he being so shy? It should’ve been so easy. Just walk across the room and sit in the desk next to her. Yet his feet didn’t seem to want to function. The short distance suddenly seemed like several miles. Pit envied Ike, who seemed so relaxed around girls. Someone jostled him from behind. Pit suddenly realized that in his moment of hesitation, he was blocking the doorway to the classroom, and the other students were becoming impatient. Nerving himself, Pit unstuck his feet and walked over to where Laurel sat.
The alarm sounded, rudely jarring a teenager from his slumber. Pit groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head in an attempt to drown out the sound of his alarm. He stayed like this for several minutes, in a vain attempt to get little bit more sleep. Realizing it was futile, he pushed back the covers, sat up and rubbed his eyes. Ugh. It was Monday. Time for school. Standing up, he stretched, allowing his wings to unfold in order to relieve the stiffness from his muscles. Pit’s mother had already gone to work; her day started a lot earlier than his. Pit trudged downstairs to the kitchen with breakfast on his mind. His gray tabby, Pudgy, purred and rubbed her flanks against his shins, hoping for handouts. Pit smiled and opened her a can of cat food. Choosing a glass of orange juice, Pit popped a piece of bread into the toaster.
Today was just any ordinary day. He would go to school then come home and wait for his mom so they could sit down to dinner together. He tried to recall what they were covering in his English class. As he struggled to remember, his dark blue eyes wandered aimlessly around the kitchen. English was Pit’s worst subject. He spoke the language, wasn’t that enough? Apparently not. Maybe he could bribe Link, the class brain, into helping him out. It wasn’t that Pit didn’t like reading. On the contrary, he loved to read and had a cluttered bookshelf in his room to prove it. Pit just didn’t like the material they were required to read for English. The sound of someone pounding on his front door jolted him out of his daydream. Was he here already? Was it already that late? Stuffing the toast in his mouth, Pit took a swig of orange juice and rushed to answer the door.
Pit’s best friend Ike stood on the doorstep, grinning from under his thatch of dark blue hair. “Surely you’re not going to school like that?” he laughed. Seeing Pit’s confused look, he laughed even harder. “Look at yourself,” Ike said. Pit glanced down and immediately saw what Ike found so funny. In his haste, he had neglected to get dressed and now stood in the doorway wearing only his socks and boxers. “Oops,” Pit mumbled sheepishly, and raced upstairs to get his school uniform on. Ike lounged in the living room, stroking Pudgy and waiting for his friend. “You might wanna hurry! We’re gonna be late!” he called up the stairs. Pit dashed around his room in a panic, trying to remember where he put his uniform. How could he have misplaced it over the span of one weekend? Diving under his bed (which he found difficult because of his wings), he scrabbled around in the mess of video game cartridges, Ghost Patrol comics, dirty laundry, and white feathers until he found what he was looking for. He knew after years of experience that anything lost eventually found its way under his bed. He struggled into his uniform (which again was difficult due to his wings), and dashed to his mirror to attempt to untangle the mess that was his hair. He groaned. Usually his shaggy brown mop was untidy at the best, but this morning he knew it would be impossible to wrestle with it and still be on time to school. Grabbing his tie, he darted downstairs. Ike joined him at the door, and together they bolted down his front stairs and down the road. If they sprinted far enough, they wouldn’t have to worry about being late for class.
As they pounded towards Willow Creek High School, Ike glanced at his companion and gasped, “Prepare yourself. We’re studying Shakespeare today.” Pit groaned. Wasn’t English boring enough without having to read Shakespeare? He made even bloody tragedies dull! For several minutes, they ran in dogged silence, hearing only their ragged breathing and pounding feet. After a while, they slowed to a walk. As they neared their high school, Ike called greetings out to the other students who were just arriving.
“Hey, Link! How’d you do on that test last Thursday? Yo, Marth! Who dressed you this morning, your mother?”
“Very funny, Ike!” Marth called back. “You know we all wear the same thing!”
“Yeah, but I pull it off better!” Ike retorted.
Pit and Ike slid into the seats of their English class with two minutes to spare. Being in the desk in front of Pit, Ike turned around and said, “You know, you wouldn’t have to worry about being late if you flew to school.”
“Maybe,” replied Pit, “but then I wouldn’t have morning adventures with you. Like me almost running out the door naked.” They both chuckled, remembering Pit’s forgetfulness. Pit knew how much Ike appreciated their friendship, though he would never say it out loud. Pit arrived at the school shortly after Ike’s friend, Roy, had to move away. At first Ike was bitter and mocked Pit for having wings. Pit just shrugged it off, knowing that Ike missed his friend. Eventually they became friends when Pit helped comfort Ike after Ike’s grandfather died. Further conversation was cut short when their English teacher, Mr. Reed walked into the room. “Okay, class. Open your text books to page 64 so we can discuss Shakespeare’s Hamlet,” he said in a monotone voice. Pit groaned inwardly. English class was bad enough without this old relic making it even duller. Feigning taking notes, Pit pulled out a piece of paper and began doodling on it. Mr. Reed’s voice droned on and on. To Pit it was just white noise as he concentrated on drawing his favorite character from the comics he read. Stopping momentarily, Pit raised his eyes from the paper and gazed around the classroom. There was Zelda in the front row, winking at Link and making him blush and drop his notes. The Mario brothers were on opposite ends of the classroom, throwing paper balls at each other. Marth had propped his textbook on the desk in front of himself to hide the Gameboy he was playing. Pit dropped his gaze back to his doodle to put the finishing touches on it.
“Pit! What is the famous line that Hamlet spoke when he was contemplating suicide?” Mr. Reed asked suddenly. The unexpected question took Pit by surprise. His first reaction was one of annoyance. How was it that the old man was able to overlook the paper war and flirting going on in the classroom and single him out? Then he realized that Mr. Reed was expecting an answer and the whole class was staring at him. Ike grinned and twisted around in his seat to see what Pit would do. Blood suffused Pit’s face as he wracked his brain to come up with an answer.
“Er… The fight is on?” Pit ventured.
The class burst into laughter. Ike did a facepalm. Mr. Reed blinked owlishly.
“It seems that Pit was not paying any attention to my lecture. Again. Link, would be so kind as to tell the class what Hamlet’s famous line is?”
Link quickly regained his composure and promptly said, “To be, or not to be- that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows…” As Link quoted the entire soliloquy word for word, Pit lowered his head until it was almost touching the desk to hide his burning face. Mr. Reed’s voice startled Pit again.
“Correct, Link. Perhaps you and Pit could get together sometime and discuss Shakespeare’s great works of literature more in depth. That’s all for today, class. For your homework, I want you to read pages 70 through 82 and write a paragraph to summarize it.”
As the class filed out of the room, Ike caught up with Pit and said with a grin, “Nice, dude. ‘The fight is on?’ How do you come up with that stuff?” Seeing the look on Pit’s face, he quickly hid his grin and said, “Don’t worry too much about it. Mr. Reed’s just an old geezer that misses his gall bladder or something. Besides, if I had written that story, I would’ve put that line in it. Or something cool, like ‘You’ll get no sympathy from me.’”
Pit smiled. “That’s probably why you’re not a famous writer.”
“Nope,” Ike scoffed. “I’m just an undiscovered talent, that’s all.”
Pit laughed. “So, how about you come over later so we can play some video games and not read Shakespeare?”
“Okay, Pit. But you know we still have Gym, Precalculus, and World History to survive before we can goof off.”
Pit groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
They walked into the locker room to dress out for Gym. Pit didn’t mind this class so much. He had a wiry frame, so activities such as running weren’t a big problem for him. Gym class was the same every day. First Coach Throttle would have them run four laps on the track outside. Then, the students would come back into the gym where they could play basketball or just sit around if they so chose. If the coach was feeling particularly ambitious, he would organize them into playing kickball or the dreaded dodge ball. Pit hated that game. It seemed like everyone saw his wings as a target to lob dodge balls at. Fortunately today the coach felt lazy, so he stuck with the usual routine.
After the four laps, Pit went into the gym and sat with his back against the bleachers, watching Ike play basketball with some of the other guys. Ike was a lot more athletic than Pit, so naturally he was picked out to be on someone’s basketball team. Pit didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to relax and read or draw if he felt like it. Pulling out a sketch book, Pit started drawing his favorite video game character. He was just finishing the first sketch and starting on the finer details when he noticed someone staring over his shoulder at the drawing.
It was a girl that Pit had never seen before, probably new to Willow Creek High School. She was slender and fair-skinned, with long dark hair and startling green almond-shaped eyes. She smiled shyly, displaying two rows of straight milk-white teeth. “I like that game, too,” she said softly. Pit was at a loss of what to say. As he stared at her, a sudden indescribable impulse that he had never felt before coursed through him. The girl tilted her head to one side, considering him. “Don’t you speak?” she asked. Pit suddenly realized that he would have to say something, or risk looking like an idiot in front of her.
“Er… you new here?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yeah, just moved in a few days ago. My name’s Laurel. What’s yours?”
Pit was saved from answering by Ike, who bounded up after a successful basketball game. “Hey, Pit, did you catch that last shot? Crazy, huh?” He glanced at Laurel, and turned back to Pit to go into more detail about the game. Ike did a comic double take. Deftly nudging Pit to one side, Ike smiled his brightest at Laurel.
“Hello, I’m Ike. You must be new around here otherwise I would’ve noticed you walking around here beforehand. If you need somebody to show you around, don’t hesitate to ask me.”
Laurel smiled sweetly. “Thanks, but Pit already offered to be my guide. Didn’t you, Pit?” She winked at Pit from behind Ike’s back. Pit caught the hint, and clapping a crestfallen Ike on the back, Pit grinned at her and said, “Sure thing. During lunch I’ll give you a tour of the school. See you later.” He steered Ike out of the gym.
To Pit’s delight, Laurel was in his Precalculus class. Math was something he could really understand, as there was absolutely no room for debate. Either the answer was correct, or it wasn’t. Simple. Under the envious eyes of Ike, Pit found Laurel already sitting at a desk in the classroom when they parted ways (Ike had a Statistics class at this time instead). Glancing in Laurel’s direction, Pit mentally debated with himself whether or not he dared to sit next to her. She was friendly enough in gym class; why was he being so shy? It should’ve been so easy. Just walk across the room and sit in the desk next to her. Yet his feet didn’t seem to want to function. The short distance suddenly seemed like several miles. Pit envied Ike, who seemed so relaxed around girls. Someone jostled him from behind. Pit suddenly realized that in his moment of hesitation, he was blocking the doorway to the classroom, and the other students were becoming impatient. Nerving himself, Pit unstuck his feet and walked over to where Laurel sat.