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There’s ringing in Luigi’s ears, spots in his vision, and a boot on his pride. Sure, he tries to rationalize, being benched for fear of a concussion would be a blow to even the strongest person’s dignity, especially when it’s broadcasted for all to hear.
“Mushroom Dynamite?” Says the Toad that’s commentating, his voice echoing throughout the stadium. “More like dyna-light as a rock! ‘Cause that’s just what he fell like, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s check that instant replay!”
Luigi, for obvious reasons, does not watch his literal downfall on the jumbotron; jumping up to grab a rebound, taking Wario’s elbow to the chin. He’s still trying to pick his dignity up off the hard, unforgiving polished wood. The little bits of his self-respect down there too. Smack talk and getting clowned on is part of the game, but it’s usually from the opposing team. Not the announcer.
On the bench beside him, Daisy rolls her eyes, scoffs. “Don’t listen to ‘em, Weegee. You were great out there! Any ol’ chump can loud cap someone, it takes a real team player to play the way you did!”
“Yes,” Rosalina, on the other side of him, remarks. “I believe a more appropriate name would be Mushroom Dyna-light on your feet. That backdoor cut was very impressive, if I do say so myself.”
“Ooh, ooh!” Daisy waves a hand. “We can make a fight song! Mushroom Dynamite! He’s outta sight! Your turn, Rosa.”
“Hm. Dunking on opponents like it’s his Dyna-right.”
“Th-thank you! That’s enough!” Luigi says before either of them can add anything else that’ll undoubtedly have him more flustered and flushed than he already is. Granted, they are doing a good job of making him feel better. But there’s still the whole dilemma of not being able to play.
He opens his mouth to say such, but Daisy cuts him off, apparently anticipating his lamenting. “No way! You know how much I hate saying no to you, but there’s no way you’re going back out there, mister!”
Luigi swallows, glances over to where Wario’s getting rather aggressive with the refs who are deliberating on how the game will continue. Wario looks teed off enough to pass out a good wallop. Not that Daisy and Rosalina aren’t perfectly capable of defending themselves, but it just… doesn’t seem right to send them back out there to play with a guy who’s enraged because of him. To clean up his mess, so to speak.
A regal finger lightly pokes his jaw, then catches his chin to physically turn his head. Daisy’s eyes are fiery, so too is the infectious smile that’s fixed on her face.
And she says, “I’ll win this for you, Luigi! Don’t worry!”
“We’ll win,” Rosalina corrects. “Rest well.”
It’s quickly decided that the game will continue as a two-vs-two match, and the crowd roars as the players head back out onto the court; the princesses more akin to two warriors returning to battle. The noise makes Luigi’s head spin a little, but not more than the way his stomach turns.
Lakitu throws the ball into play, Daisy quickly springs up, nabs it from Waluigi. Her legs are strong, sturdy, bending as she touches the ground, absorbing the shock. She bounce passes to Rosalina, but Luigi doesn’t follow the ball. Instead, Daisy. As she sidesteps Fly Guy, takes off down the court, calls out for a pass. Her jersey clings to her thickset frame, the ball looks humongous in her tiny, capable hands. Hands that Luigi would very much like to hold. To kiss.
Daisy fakes Waluigi out, jumps for a dunk, and maybe it’s the sharp squeaking of sneakers against the court exacerbating his concussion, but bathed in the bright, blinding overhead lights, she looks just like the sun. Radiant and ebullient and inspiring.
She dangles from the rim, cheers, and it’s easy to see she is the MVP of Team Power Flower. The point gap closes in the time Wario sits out, and it’s obvious he’s the MVP of Team Bad Boys. So when his penalty is up, Fly Guy is swapped out for him. Luigi swears he sees Daisy’s face darken.
“Daisy,” He just barely hears Rosalina’s warning.
She says something he can’t place, then they’re all lining up at half court for the next play.
Waluigi just barely snags the ball from Rosalina, promptly passes to Wario, who tears down the court, takes a three-pointer and makes it. Eighty points.
In an instant, all of the wind has blown out of the princesses’ sails. They look overwhelmed. Tired. And all Luigi can think with his still wobbly vision is that he’d be able to help them if he were out there. Be a teammate.
But. Even though he’s stuck on the sidelines, that doesn’t mean he can’t still be one. He can. He will.
He stands on shaky legs, cries, “You can do it! Daisy! Rosalina! Show ‘em how Dyna-mighty you are!”
And downright mighty they are, steeling themselves, determination setting on their faces. Daisy glances over her shoulder, winks. Then digs her heels in. Mentally. Physically plants her feet in a way that says she doesn’t plan on losing. Not today.
And when it’s all over, when the clock has run down, when the stadium’s in such an uproar that Luigi can barely focus, Daisy crashes into him like a wave, hefty arms thrown around his neck like a boat returning to moor. He holds her that way too, fits his hands on her hips, fixed and immovable.
Rosalina’s in a similar state, Luigi notices upon glancing over, Pauline wrapping her fatigued body in a tight embrace. It’s seriously just now hitting him. The gravity of it all.
Daisy pulls away, tilts her head down the slightest bit to meet his gaze. Her eyes are bright, face sweaty, crown slightly askew in her kinky hair, and his heart sighs.
“Told ya we’d win, huh!” She says. “Didn’t doubt us for a minute! ‘Specially when I had the Mushroom Dyna-light of my life cheerin’ me on!”
Luigi thinks he might make a formal request to change his Baller Name. This one sounds miles better than his old one.
…
“Okay, so what if we cut everything but the fireworks? Would that keep everyone happy?”
Goombo, Daisy’s faithful assistant, glances up from a scroll, shakes his head, “Dragonzamasu specifically said no fireworks. Pollutes the waters of the Muda Kingdom.”
“No fireworks! What’s a welcome home party without fireworks, Goombo! That’s part of the welcome! We might as well not even call it that then; it’s just a regular ol’ party!”
“I am in firm accordance with you on the matter, Princess, but I also believe we should try to compromise! After all, the Muda Kingdom is…”
From his seat at the coffee table by the window, Luigi sips the sweet iced tea Daisy had brought up for them. He tries to pay attention to Goombo’s informative lesson on the deleterious effects pyrotechnics can have on the environment, but his mind very easily drifts; specifically, to the recipient of the aforementioned party. Daisy’s father.
Yes, the king of Sarasaland is making a rare sojourn home, and Daisy’s planning a grand celebration for his return. The entire empire is taking part in the festivities, each kingdom having sent a list of contributions and preferences. The very same list Goombo had been reading from while Luigi was slowly succumbing to his ever-present anxiety.
Anyone would be nervous to meet their partner’s parents, he tells himself, regardless of their rank or class; if they’re a regular commoner or the reigning monarch of a land. And even though Daisy’s assured Luigi he’s nothing to fret over, it’s a lot easier to find reasons to do just that than to put it out of his mind.
He sighs, a feeble attempt to calm his nerves. Ground himself. He tries to focus on the taste of the tea, but all he’s getting is notes of anxiety and worry. Bitter. Perhaps tea-drinking wasn’t his forte.
Behind her desk, Daisy runs a gloved hand down her face. “Okay, okay! No fireworks, I got it. At least we still have music. We’ll start with a big band for the ceremonial part, but I was able to book DJ Boom Boomin for the finale!”
“Negative,” Goombo says. “Heavy bass disturbs Biokinton.”
Sheer defeat. That is what’s most salient on his sunshiney princess’ face. A malefaction if Luigi has ever seen one.
So, he sets his glass down, says, “I’m-a sure he’ll love whatever you do for him, Daisy. Just because it’s you. He’ll think you hung the moon and stars in the sky. Like… like I do.”
Daisy snaps her head up from her hands. “Luigi. Say that again.”
“L-like I do!”
“Before that! ‘Hung the stars in the sky’, right?”
“The moon too…”
She stands abruptly, pushes her chair out so forcefully, it nearly topples over. Her eyes have grown two sizes. Luigi worries he’s offended her.
Then Daisy races over, lays a big smackeroo on his cheek. “Oh, what would I do without you, Weegee? Goombo, let’s go! Peach sent me a shipment of Super Stars that’ll be perfect in place of fireworks!”
And the two rush out of the study to get the ball rolling on Daisy’s ingenious solution. Luigi, left to sip his tea, revels in her charm. Smitten by her intellect. Thinking there’s something largely poetic about her actually hanging stars in the sky.
…
Festivities galore. After Daisy’s welcome home party for her father, they’re now attending the end-of-season party for the latest tourney. They finished third, after Team Superstar and Team Kong respectively. The highlight reel playing on a projector screen up on the stage has just finished too—Luigi was truly elated his brother took pity on him and did not include his tragic knockdown in the finals—so the party’s nearing its conclusion.
At their table, Daisy, in a sleeveless dress that shows off her décolletage, throws an arm around Rosalina and Luigi’s necks.
“I’m so proud of us, guys! We did great! And I know we’ll do even better next year! Rosa, you think Pauline’ll coach us if we ask?”
Pauline was a diehard basketball fan, and that was putting it lightly. Evident from her shouting, heckling the opposing teams. Pretty run-of-the-mill crowd behavior, though Luigi admitted it was rather unnerving when she’d direct it at them.
“Of course,” Rosalina says. “Though I’m sure she won’t settle for third. She’s competitive. I know she’ll want first.”
Luigi gulps. Daisy laughs.
The soft music overhead picks up, and a fond, though longing expression fixes on Rosalina’s face. “I think I’ll retire to my quarters. Pauline should be free now. Enjoy the rest of the evening, Daisy, Luigi.”
“Nighty night!” Daisy waves as she leaves the banquet room, heads into the lobby of the hotel. “Tell Pauline we said hello!”
Shortly after the finals, Pauline returned home to New Donk City and wasn’t able to make it back for the end-of-season party. That night had been her and Rosalina’s last time seeing one another in-person.
Luigi hums, knowing the feeling. Nibbles on his slice of cake, and Daisy scoots her chair closer to his. He turns. She’s staring at him, chin resting delicately on her palm.
And she says, “Just looking atcha. Don’t mind me!”
Luigi goes back to his cake, indeed trying to not mind Daisy. But with the way she’s gazing at him, like he’s some awe-inspiring work of art, he fears he’s failing greatly. He swallows, pulls at the collar of his dress shirt.
Daisy huffs. “Alright, alright! I’ll look away! You drive a hard bargain, Luigi.”
“I don’t try to!”
“I know. It’s— oh! Rosalina left her wand! She was in such a hurry to call her ladylove, hee hee! I’ve been trying to get my hands on this baby for a while now. Let’s see if it’ll work for me!”
Then it’s Luigi’s turn to watch. To admire. Daisy’s face lights up, brighter than the Star Wand she’s wielding, attempting to make various cups and plates float, but it simply doesn’t work. No amount of magic words—“Abracadabra! Presto! Hocus Float-us!”—or wand-waving wills the dishes to levitate. She’s not the Watcher of the cosmos like Rosalina. Instead, to Luigi at least, a star in her own right.
It’s not long after that Daisy notices him. Goes, “Hm? You want a turn?”
Luigi smiles, shakes his head. “Just looking at you.”
“You’re really cute, you know that?” She grins, and Luigi hardly has time to let that sink in before she adds, “C’mon, cutie pie, let’s bust a move!”
Out on the dance floor, Daisy leads him through song after song; spins, dips, shimmies, and ceaseless smiles. Her infectious spirit, energy. It would be impossible to not feel it, not when she’s who she is. Luigi lets it fill him to his very soul, an intimacy like no other. As she hums along with the ballad that’s playing, hunching a little to rest her head on his shoulder, then gently carding her gloved fingers through the curls at the base of his neck. He’s warm. Content. Basking in the light that is his fair princess.