When the Cowardly Lion Roars

Rest and Reflection, Part 1

Adrenaline continued buzzing along my veins when I returned to Gadd's lab. I felt comfortably warm, infinitely energized. My mind was in constant motion. All I wanted was to keep looking for Mario, but the Professor wouldn't have it. He greeted me with a hug and showed me a device called the Ghost Portrificationizer, which would turn the ghosts I'd battled into paintings.

"How did they become paintings in the first place?" I asked as I emptied the Poltergust.

"That's a good question," replied the Professor, "and it's something I haven't figured out myself."

I didn't like his evasive answer, but I let the matter slide for now. There were more pressing matters to worry about.

The weight on my back dropped, and I couldn't help but release a deep sigh at the sensation. As the Ghost Portrificationizer worked its magic, the Professor looked me over.

"Criminy! Worse than I thought!" he exclaimed. "I'm getting some cold compresses ready. Would you like to take a shower in the meantime?"

I didn't realize how much I needed that shower until I'd stepped inside it, the water temperature as cold as I could tolerate, the soft soap suds cleansing everything away. My mind started to calm down, the neurons in my brain finally telling my adrenal glands to take a breather because there was no danger afoot. Rather than crashing from the adrenaline high, it was a gentle descent and a growing awareness of the bruises on my body.

And the realization that I just fought ghosts and didn't wet myself.

Progress.

Once I stepped out of the shower, I was still annoyed at the Professor, but I also had to acknowledge that he was correct. If I wanted to save Mario, I needed to rest from time to time, and how could I fight ghosts with my upper body starting to throb? Rest and ice started to look very attractive as I changed into fresh clothes and joined the Professor in the lab's lounge area.

"All righty, youngster. Let me take a look."

I unbuckled my overalls and pulled off my shirt, the Professor taking in the full extent of the damage before setting to work.

"How did you...? Wow..." he muttered. "These are the hugest bruises I've ever seen. Did you even feel them?"

"I am now," I replied, sucking in my breath.

"Luigi, I need you to promise me something. I get that saving your brother is important, but I want you to stop by the lab periodically and allow me to tend to your wounds. Could you do that for me?"

"All right, I'll take breaks," I reluctantly agreed.

"You can't put up a proper fight when you're exhausted and battered," the Professor went on, "and you definitely can't fight back when you're..." He didn't finish, but I got the point.

The Professor just didn't understand at the time—I'm a totally selfless person. I put others before myself—their health and well-being before my own. During the routine rescue missions, I'm more likely to take an attack in Mario's stead. In a Team Battle during the Super Smash Brothers tournaments I've attended, I'm in the thick of the fighting, drawing attention away from my teammate or teammates so they can safely land some blows. And when it comes to Mario, and all of my loved ones, for that matter, my personal problems are second to theirs. If they're in peril, then I'll fight through all nine circles of the Inferno for them. When the Professor and I first met, he just didn't get it, and twenty years later, I still don't think he does.

I willed myself to think positive thoughts as the Professor iced all of my bruises and bandaged any burns and lacerations he came across. Then, he set out a few bottles of sweet wine and some snacks, and the sight of food made me realize that I was getting hungry. When it came to dealing with ghosts, I could use all the fuel I could get.

"If Mario's indeed in that mansion," I spoke up after a while, "then what do they want with him?"

"I wish I knew," sighed the Professor, "but what I do know is that most of the portrait ghosts led peaceful lives. Someone far more sinister has to be pulling the strings here—which is why you need to rest. Whoever's responsible for this—isn't the type of villain you see in a movie."

"Well, that just makes me more desperate to get to my bro," I said. "I feel like I'm letting him down by sitting here, sipping wine and eating snacks."

"Did you feel better after taking that shower?" challenged the Professor.

"I did," I replied.

"Did that ice feel good on your bruises?"

"Yes?"

"And do you feel better with some food in your stomach?"

"Absolutely."

"Would Mario be happier if you came to his rescue well-rested and energized?"

"Of course."

"Then I rest my case," said the Professor, and our meal continued with me deep in thought.

Once I had my fill, I didn't protest when the Professor steered me to a guest bedroom of sorts.

"Just a short nap," he said. "You'll thank me later."

"Okeydokey," I conceded.

The Professor walked out of the room, and then I stripped off my clothes and climbed into the bed. It was very soft, and the pillow under my head was even softer. That softness helped me realize that I was both physically and emotionally drained, and I sank into the mattress, my eyes closing, slumber enfolding me in its tender embrace.

As I slept, all I dreamed about was my bro.