Fighting Angry

It's not about winning.

It's about how well the battle was fought.

I didn't want to be congratulated for winning the last tournament, I want to be congratulated for being included in this one. There are few who receive the honor, if anything, I should be revered as a Smash Veteran.

I don't want to be introduced as "the fighter who won," I want to be introduced as Samus.

Zero Suit Samus is fine, but I'm still Samus. And yes, Samus is a woman… Misogynist idiots. I am the only woman to be included in all of the tournaments thus far.

I'm stomping around Smash Castle, trying to find my way to a training room so that I can clobber the shit out of a sandbag. I ignored whoever else was in the room when I arrived, my tunnel vision only allowing me to see the white sandbag in front of me. The sandbag wasn't standing for long, I punched and kicked and smashed and repeated until I was out of breath. The sandbag pushed itself upright again and again and looked at me, waiting for more. It's such a trooper, always happy to help, always getting beat up, but always getting back up. I struggle to catch my breath, giving the sandbag a light pat to tell it that I was finished. It was then when I realized I was being watched.

I turn around to see a familiar face, but not one that I'm used to seeing inside the training rooms. She was staring at with such scrutiny that I felt heat rise in my cheeks. I opened my mouth to question, or perhaps yell at her, but she began talking first.

"Anger doesn't suit you, Samus."

Her voice is sweet, and calm, which makes her words seem even more confusing. Why does she care if my mood "suits" me? What does that even mean, anyways?

As if sensing my growing frustration, she continues, "If you fight angry, you'll make more mistakes. A woman like you… a sharp fighter, one with precise words and actions, shouldn't make petty mistakes."

A woman like me? I'm irritated by the fact that she makes a good point. Getting angry doesn't solve anything. I take a breath and calm my thoughts. There's no point in being angry, but I also see no point in small talk. I take one good look at her and realize that she had been training diligently before I arrived. There is sweat dripping down her brow, her usually manicured hair has been tussled, and her white elbow-length gloves are discolored in places from hitting the sandbag repeatedly.

"Training hard?" I question, changing the subject.

"Yes," she says, smoothing the edges of her dress. I thought that would be the end of the painful small talk and we could both get back to hitting the sandbags. She dashes that thought by stating under her breath, "I won't lose to him."

She's peaked my interest now; determination is an appealing quality in a person. "Who?"

She looks back to her own sandbag and brings a hand up to examine it. I'm now concerned that she won't answer me and I'd have to find out who the long way, and that would take more time than it's worth.

She clenches her fist violently, sending waves of magic through her white knuckles. "Ganondorf."

I understand now. It's an old tale of good versus evil in Hylian realm, one I've been told much about by their very own green-clad Hero of Hyrule, Hero of Time, and whatever else he's the Hero of. Ganondorf came very close to winning the tournament last time. If Mario hadn't defeated him in the semifinals, I would have faced Ganondorf instead. Ganondorf's win would have been devastating to the Hylian pair, and they'd probably never live it down. He is a powerful opponent and Zelda has already lost her first match against Olimar. One more loss and she's out of the tournament. It's no wonder why Zelda has such determination this time around. Link should have as much resolve.

I say nothing as she turns around and violently slams her white knuckles against the sandbag. The bag flinches under her fist, but barely moves. She lays her other hand flat onto the sandbag, sighing deeply. I leave her to her training and follow up with my own sandbag, who stands ready where I left it. I focus on my form, making sure each muscle movement is in time.

I hit the sandbag hard a few times before the other woman's calm voice intrudes, "Why were you angry, Samus?"

I turn to face her without knowing that she had approached me and I'm startled by her sudden closeness. I wonder how in the world she got there without me hearing her.

She observes my startled jump and giggles sweetly, "My apologies, Samus."

I feel some heat rise in my cheeks and I turn my face away. No one startles a bounty hunter, it should be unheard of. I am desperate to change the subject, "Where is your dear Hero?" I look at her out of the corner of my eye to see that either the change of subject or the subject itself has her rather irritated. Perhaps both, I think.

"Link has been spending a lot of time with Fox recently," she huffs and crosses her arms.

"Does the little princess feel left out?" I tease, hoping to see her cheeks turn pink, revenge for startling me.

"Yes, because I'm a spoiled little queen-to-be who is defenseless without her Hero of Legend. That's what all of you think of me, isn't it?" I don't see pinkness in her cheek, rather fire in her eyes.

Shit, I think, I've struck a nerve. I stare at the fired-up woman with wide eyes, I'm not sure how to fix this. Or even if it can be fixed. Fuck. But now, it gives me an idea. If a woman like me shouldn't fight angry, maybe it would help a woman like her to do so.

I'm not sure if I am prepared for the consequences of what I say next, "…Link has won a tournament."

I watch her huff again and her arms come uncrossed. She is about to smack me when I move the sandbag in front of me and hide behind it. She hits the sandbag out of my grip with a large amount of power and magic that I haven't seen from her in a long time. I've missed it.

"I think you're far from defenseless."

She looks at me with slight surprise before looking down at her hand. I don't want her to get all mushy with me, so I start to walk out of the room. I'm rather proud of my achievement. And rather proud of the power behind her attack that was initially aimed towards me.

She stops me with a light touch on my arm. When I turn, she pulls her hand back like she has touched a hot stove. "Thank you, Samus," she stares at me, "You're the first here to show me that I'm more than a princess who belongs back in her castle."

I nod, taking her gratefulness to heart. But all the same, I left the training room without a word.