Pit lay on his bed with a book borrowed from the Smash House library resting on his chest. He wasn't really reading anymore—just staring at the page while his thoughts drifted.
Ren sat at the small desk nearby, arms folded, watching him over the rim of his glasses.
"Samus seems a lot calmer around you," Ren said casually.
Pit blinked and looked up from the book. "Really? I thought she was always like that."
From the other side of the room, Snake let out a quiet chuckle while cleaning a weapon that absolutely did not need cleaning.
"No," Snake said. "She's usually… sharper."
Pit frowned. "Sharper how?"
Ren shrugged. "Less patient. Less talkative. She doesn't sit still with people."
Pit thought back to the couch. The controller. Her steady voice guiding his hands.
"…Huh."
Snake glanced at him. "You don't treat her like a weapon or a legend. You just treat her like a person."
Pit scratched the back of his head. "Isn't that normal?"
Ren smiled faintly. "Not here."
Pit went quiet at that.
He flipped a page, actually reading this time. "She helped me today. With games. Didn't make fun of me or anything."
Snake snorted. "That alone is a miracle."
Pit laughed softly, then paused. "Do you think I'm… weird here?"
Ren shook his head. "No. You're different. That's not the same thing."
Snake stood up and stretched. "And for the record? Half the house already considers you harmless."
Pit brightened. "Really?"
Snake smirked. "The other half is terrified."
Pit groaned and fell back onto the bed. "Why does that keep happening?"
Ren stood and headed for the door. "Get some sleep, Pit. Tomorrow's going to be loud."
As the lights dimmed, Pit stared at the ceiling, wings twitching slightly.
"…I just wanted to learn how to play a game," he muttered.
Pit opened the book again, the pages softly rustling in the quiet room.
'Is it because of my angel aura?' he thought.
He glanced down at his hands, turning them over like he expected something to glow. Nothing. Just his usual gloves, a little worn at the edges.
'Palutena always said it makes people feel… safe. Calm. Protected.'
He frowned slightly.
'But that doesn't explain Snake. Or Ren. Or Samus.'
Pit let out a slow breath and stared at the ceiling again.
'Maybe it's not the aura,' he thought. 'Maybe it's just… me?'
The idea made his chest feel oddly warm.
He closed the book and set it aside, rolling onto his back. His wings shifted to get comfortable, feathers brushing the pillow.
'If it really was just the aura,' he reasoned, 'then they'd calm down the moment I left.'
A pause.
'…But Samus didn't.'
Pit blinked.
His face slowly heated up as the realization hit him, and he immediately pulled the blanket up to his chin like it could hide his thoughts.
"Nope," he muttered to the empty room. "Not thinking about that."
From somewhere in the Smash House, a distant crash echoed, followed by someone yelling about Sephiroth again.
Pit sighed, relaxed, and finally let his eyes close.
Tomorrow would probably be another mess.
And somehow… he was starting to enjoy that.
Meanwhile, in Samus's dorm.
"My, my… you're getting along quite well with the new fighter."
The voice was smooth, amused, and far too knowing.
Samus turned her head. Sitting casually on the bed was her roommate—a tall, elegant woman with long black hair, green eyes behind stylish glasses, and that unmistakable confident smile.
Bayonetta.
Samus raised an eyebrow. "I was just being helpful."
Bayonetta chuckled softly, crossing her legs. "Oh, I'm not saying you weren't. I'm simply observing."
Samus crossed her arms. "Observing what, exactly?"
"That you didn't threaten him," Bayonetta replied sweetly. "Didn't intimidate him. Didn't scare him off in the first five minutes."
Samus frowned. "I don't scare people."
Bayonetta gave her a long look.
"…Intentionally," Samus added.
Bayonetta laughed outright this time, leaning back on her hands. "See? Growth. Truly inspiring."
Samus shook her head and turned back to cleaning a piece of her gear. "He's different. That's all."
"Oh?" Bayonetta hummed. "Different how?"
Samus paused for half a second too long.
"He doesn't look at me like I'm a weapon," she said finally. "Or a threat. Or a walking bomb waiting to go off."
Bayonetta's smile softened, just a little. "He looks at you like a person."
Samus didn't answer, but her grip on the cloth tightened.
"And," Bayonetta continued lightly, "you held his arm while gaming. Voluntarily."
Samus shot her a glare. "He'd never played a game before."
"Mhm. Of course."
Samus exhaled slowly. "He's… calm. Too calm. Like the universe forgot to warn him who he's dealing with."
Bayonetta stood and walked past her, stopping at the door. "Or maybe," she said gently, "he knows exactly who you are—and decided he likes that."
Samus looked away.
Bayonetta smirked, satisfied. "Just don't break him, darling. He seems… fragile in that heroic way."
Samus snorted. "Trust me. He's anything but fragile."
Bayonetta paused at that, intrigued.
"Oh?" she said. "Now that I'd like to see."
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Samus alone with her thoughts—and an unfamiliar, irritating warmth in her chest.
"…Patience," Samus muttered to herself.
Samus sat on the edge of her bed, elbows resting on her knees, staring at the floor.
'It's not like he's the first person who doesn't see me as a weapon,' she thought. 'So why does he stand out?'
She leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling.
'Is it because he looked… utterly helpless?'
The image came back to her uninvited—Pit fumbling with the controller, apologizing to the air, genuinely trying his best while clearly having no idea what he was doing.
Her brow furrowed.
'…And why did that bother me?'
She clicked her tongue softly.
'I've protected planets. I've survived worse than hell. I don't get attached just because someone needs help.'
A pause.
'But he didn't need help. Not really.'
That was the problem.
He could lift absurd weights. His bow could flatten seasoned fighters. He'd stepped down from a match against something that could level gods—not out of fear, but restraint.
Helpless wasn't the word.
Samus exhaled slowly.
'So why did I want to help him anyway?'
Her fingers curled slightly against the mattress.
'What does that say about me?'
The room stayed quiet, offering no answers.
Samus lay back, staring at the ceiling again, one arm thrown over her eyes.
"…Trouble," she muttered.
And for the first time in a long while, the word didn't feel like a warning—it felt like curiosity.
Later that night, Pit woke with a soft jolt, like someone had nudged his soul instead of his body.
He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dark. The room was quiet—too quiet. Snake was snoring lightly. Ren was turned toward the wall. Ridley… thankfully… wasn't awake and breaking furniture.
Good.
Pit slipped out of bed, wings tucking in tight as he eased toward the door. He opened it just enough to slide through, careful not to make a sound.
That was when he saw it.
A small, glowing thing floated down the hallway—star-shaped, softly luminous, with a tiny face.
Pit blinked. "…Huh?"
The little star froze midair.
They stared at each other.
Then the thing squeaked and zipped away.
"Hey—wait!" Pit whispered, immediately giving chase.
He darted after it, barely missing a vase as he skidded around a corner. A picture frame wobbled—Pit caught it with one hand and set it back before it could clatter. A lamp tilted—he nudged it upright with his foot without slowing down.
The glowing star shot through an open door.
Pit followed—and nearly ran straight into the night air.
He stopped short.
The garden stretched out before him, bathed in moonlight.
And there, standing at its center, was Rosalina.
She stood barefoot on the grass, eyes closed, calm and distant in a way that made the world feel quieter just by looking at her. Around her floated dozens of the little star creatures—Lumas—each one glowing a different color, drifting in lazy circles.
They chirped softly, their voices overlapping like gentle bells, all talking at once.
Pit froze, suddenly very aware that he was witnessing something he probably wasn't meant to interrupt.
Rosalina lifted one hand.
The Lumas responded instantly, rising higher, higher, swirling upward like a living constellation. As they reached the sky above the Smash House, they spread out—and the darkness bloomed with light.
Stars appeared where there had been none, soft and radiant, painting the night with quiet wonder.
Pit's mouth fell open.
"…Whoa," he breathed.
Rosalina slowly opened her eyes.
She turned her head just enough to see him standing there, wings half-unfurled, completely awestruck.
Her expression softened.
"I hope we didn't wake you," she said gently.
Pit snapped out of it, waving his hands a little too fast. "N-no! I mean—yes—well—kind of? I was awake already. I think. Also I thought one of your stars was lost."
One of the Lumas zipped down and hovered near Pit's face, chirping happily.
Rosalina smiled. "They like to wander."
Pit glanced up at the glowing sky, then back at her. "…You do this every night?"
"Not every night," she replied. "Only when they miss home."
The Luma near Pit nuzzled his cheek.
He laughed quietly. "Yeah… I get that."
They stood there for a moment, the garden wrapped in soft starlight, the Smash House silent behind them.
Pit rubbed the back of his head. "Uh, sorry for chasing your friend and almost redecorating the hallway."
Rosalina's smile turned amused. "I noticed."
Pit winced. "I fixed everything, I swear."
"I believe you," she said. "You're very careful—for someone so strong."
Pit blinked at that, then looked away, suddenly shy. "…Thanks."
The Lumas drifted back down, settling around Rosalina once more.
As Pit turned to head back inside, he glanced over his shoulder one last time at the stars overhead.
For the first time since arriving in this strange world, the night felt… familiar.
Comforting.
And somehow, he felt like he belonged just a little more than he had before.
The door to the Smash House creaked open again.
Then another.
Footsteps—soft, careful—followed.
Pit turned just in time to see Lucina step out onto the grass, her cloak pulled loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes lifted to the sky, widening as the stars shimmered overhead.
"…So it wasn't just us," she said quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I thought I was imagining things."
Behind her came an entirely different presence.
Tiny footsteps. A happy little hum.
A bright yellow Shih Tzu padded outside, tail wagging, floppy ears bouncing with each step. Her bell-shaped head tilted up, the ribbon in her ponytail jingling softly as she gasped.
[Insert image of Isabella]
"Oh my gosh…!" Isabella clasped her paws together, eyes sparkling. "It's like a festival in the sky!"
One of the Lumas drifted down toward her, circling curiously.
Isabella squeaked. "Ah—hello there! You're very glowy!"
The Luma chirped in response and booped her nose.
Isabella froze… then giggled. "Hehe, okay, you can stay."
Lucina glanced between Pit and Rosalina, putting the pieces together with practiced ease. "So this is the cause."
Rosalina inclined her head politely. "I hope the light isn't a disturbance."
Lucina shook her head. "Not at all. It's… peaceful."
Pit rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh… sorry if this woke anyone. I was just chasing a star and things sort of escalated."
Isabella blinked. "You chased a star?"
Pit nodded. "Long story."
"I'd love to hear it!" Isabella said instantly, then gasped again as more stars twinkled into view. "Oh! Oh! We should get blankets! This would be perfect for stargazing!"
Lucina chuckled softly. "You adapt quickly."
Isabella beamed. "That's my job!"
The garden filled with quiet laughter and gentle light, more doors cracking open in the distance as other fighters stirred, drawn by the stars.
Above them all, the Lumas drifted higher once more, painting the sky brighter—while below, an unlikely group stood together, sleepless but content, sharing a moment that didn't belong to battles or tournaments.
Just a night.
Just stars.
Isabella then looked at them. "Now, I gotta go back to my room, before Villager released I am missing".
Then it came from left window, a voice that sounded like a cowboy and worried.
"Isabella! Isabella!".
Isabella froze mid-step.
Her ears shot straight up.
"…Oh no."
From a nearby open window came a familiar, panicked voice—drawling, frantic, and absolutely not subtle.
"Isabella! Isabella! Where'd you go?! It's dark out there! You could trip! Or get kidnapped! Or—!"
Isabella visibly wilted. She turned back to the group with a sheepish smile, paws clasped behind her back.
"He gets… very anxious," she whispered.
Lucina raised an eyebrow. "That is an understatement."
Pit tried not to laugh. He failed. "Is that Villager?"
"Yup!" Isabella nodded quickly. "And if I don't answer soon, he's going to start checking closets. Again."
Right on cue, the window slid open further.
Villager leaned out, wearing a cowboy hat that definitely wasn't there before. His eyes scanned the garden like he was searching for a lost calf.
"Isabella?! I heard bells! Was that bells?!"
Isabella waved both arms. "I'm right here! I'm okay! No stars kidnapped me!"
Villager's shoulders sagged in relief. "Oh thank Nook."
He squinted. "…Why are there stars?"
Rosalina gave a gentle nod in greeting. "Good evening."
Villager stared at her. Then at the Lumas. Then at the glowing sky.
"…I leave you alone for five minutes."
Isabella laughed nervously. "I was just stargazing! I'll come back now, promise."
Villager pointed sternly. "Two minutes. Then bedtime. You have morning announcements."
"Yes, yes, Mayor Villager," she said, saluting.
She turned back to Pit and the others, smiling warmly. "Good night, everyone. Thanks for the stars."
One of the Lumas zipped down and gave her a cheerful spin before floating back up.
Isabella's smile softened. "Good night, little star."
She hurried back toward the house, bells jingling softly as Villager ushered her inside, still muttering about safety and curfews.
The garden grew quiet again.
Pit looked around at the remaining group, the stars still glowing above.
"…This place is really something," he said.
To be continued
Hope people like this Ch and Give me power stones and enjoy
Rosalina smiled.