family ties

by shishirona

Summary:

Kirby defeated Nightmare—the war is over! But for some reason, Meta Knight still insists on keeping up his patrols, and wearing his armor everywhere he goes! Surely, the warrior can afford a day or two of leisure, can't he?

(Even if he can't, Kirby won't take no for an answer.)

Notes:

first animeverse fic! Based on the Japanese dub rather than the English, and Meta generally seems to have a distaste for the Cappies (except prof. Curio). Fairly headcanon-heavy in regards to Meta's past; i.e. the ties to Nightmare, the part about his appetite, so if you have any questions about it, please feel free to ask! I'd love to answer them.

he's also horrifically socially awkward, but it's pretty safe to say his poor social skills are very canonical, lmao.

Chapter 1

The door to Sir Meta Knight’s shared quarters with his subordinates bursts open with a flash of pink. 

Startled from his tea-drinking activities, Meta Knight quickly rights his mask and draws Galaxia from her sheath out of reflex.

“...Poyo?” Kirby blinks up at him, tilting his head. 

“Kirby!” Meta exclaims, quickly sheathing his sword when the identity of the intruder is revealed. “Careful, I had almost skewered you alive.” He means for it to be an admonishment, but Kirby doesn't seem fazed in the slightest.

Of course he wouldn't be.

He defeated Nightmare barely a month ago.

Kirby had nothing left to fear. Yet… this life of leisure he and the villagers were content to live now didn't sit right with Meta Knight at all. He couldn't shake the feeling that something would happen, forcing him back to arms.

Days of anticipation turned into weeks—he kept up his patrols, insisting on it to his subordinates, as well. Though they frowned at him, they never questioned Meta’s intentions outright.

He sighs, wrapping his cape around himself. He had thrown his morning cup of tea on the floor when retrieving Galaxia, and he quickly ushers Kirby away from the shards of glass. As tough a warrior he may be, Kirby still cries at rather… trivial pain. Meta isn't at all equipped to deal with that, so he prefers to avoid it. “What?”

“Meya… Meta”—Kirby struggles to correct himself. Meta smiles under his mask—“Free? No… pa–papoyo?” He gives up at the end. Patrol is a little too complicated, even with Fumu’s harsher lessons. With Nightmare gone, Kirby has time to focus on other things than fighting—such as language. Meta understands Kirby regardless, but the pink puff still insists on at least trying.

Meta doesn't stop him.

Still, he wonders what Kirby is getting at. “I am free. Why do you ask?”

Meta regrets his honesty when Kirby suddenly reaches for his cape and latches on. He insistently drags the knight out of his quarters, humming a repetitive tune until Meta puts his foot down and forces them to a stop. Kirby is pulled back against Meta, colliding with the larger puff. He bounces off Meta’s mask, landing on the floor. 

Kirby looks up at him with an expression of hurt. Meta averts his gaze as a wave of guilt washes over him. The knight awkwardly clears his throat, unused to such feelings, let alone trying to amend. “Forgive me, Kirby… but what are you planning? Though I have cleared these halls today, it does not mean I can afford to loiter too much.”

Kirby’s face falls further. Crocodile tears or not, they're damn well effective, and Kirby knows this. “Kirby… Meta, come, come!” the child insists with a fierce pout.

“Kirby, I have told you—I do not have time to indulge in pleasantries! We could all still well be in danger, we—?!”

Kirby jumps up, grabbing Meta Knight’s mask. Bewildered, Meta tries to take a few steps back.

“Kirby… what?”

“No,” Kirby says. He doesn't let go of Meta’s mask, staring the knight dead in the eyes. “Over! Meta, comepoyo!”

Over? Surely, Kirby does not mean… “Nightmare might be gone, but the battle is not over. It is not until every last Demon Beast is purged from this universe, never to lay a claim on the lives of the innocent again!” 

“Whose battle? Yours, Sir Meta Knight?” 

Meta Knight turns his head in the direction of the familiar voice. Ah. Fumu and Bun. Kirby finally releases him, but refuses to leave his side even when Meta tries to usher him away to his friends.

“It is rude to eavesdrop,” Meta says in a strained tone.

“Sounds rich, coming from you,” Bun mutters, rightfully calling him out. Meta doesn't acknowledge it.

“Kirby just wants to take you to town,” Fumu explains, hands on her hips. “I think you should let him. It’d be a nice change of pace.”

True, Meta has been isolating himself from the townsfolk even more recently, but he’s never been one to indulge in their frivolities unless it involved one of Dedede’s schemes. With no more Demon Beasts for the king to order, Meta’s duty in town is strictly limited to his midnight shopping runs.

He wraps his cape a little tighter around himself. All their eyes are on him, awaiting his reply, and sure to unleash another verbal barrage on him if he declines Kirby’s offer. 

That’s another headache Meta can already feel coming. He puts a hand on the side of his mask and sighs, casting his gaze down. “Have I a choice in the matter?”

Fumu and Bun smirk. “Nope!” they say in unison, ushering him and Kirby to the castle gates.

“Have fun!” Fumu calls as Kirby grabs one of Meta’s gloved hands, dragging his mentor along.

“Yeah, at least try to, if you know what it is!” Bun adds. Fumu gives him a nasty side-eye, so he quickly scrambles to add, “Not because of your personality, but the war, all that, sir!”

Fumu lowers her face into her hands with a groan. “Bun! You made it worse.”

Bun shrugs. “What? I just wonder if he really knows how to have fun. Have you ever seen him do something fun, sis?”

Fumu lifts her head with a thoughtful expression. “Now that you mention it…”

Bun’s grin is full of mischief. “You think Kirby will keep him long enough to have a peek in his room?”

---

Kirby appears to have planned out a route beforehand. Upon arriving in town he makes a beeline for his favorite place to be, still dragging Meta along by holding his hand. 

“Welcome to Kawasaki's restaurant! What can I get ya today?” The chef in question cheerily greets his two new patrons, offering a big smile to the ever-punctual Kirby. 

Kirby excitedly waves at him. “Kawa-poyo!” 

Kawasaki’s face brightens. “Oh, Kirby! Are you learning my name? After all I’ve done for you… I’m so happy!”

Meta Knight sighs, shaking his head. This is pointless. Why is he here? The lack of guests is an attest to Kawasaki’s awful cooking, but Kirby still insisted on taking Meta here especially. “What a waste…”

Kawasaki’s attention is suddenly drawn to the knight, whose presence he’d been completely oblivious to. Meta watches the chef’s expression change from enthusiasm to one full of nerves, and he can practically see the beads of sweat forming on Kawasaki’s face. “S-sir Meta Knight! I, uh, didn’t expect ya along! Here with Kirby?”

Meta nods once. “I assume he does not carry his own change. Or do you let him eat here for free?”

“N-not at all! That’d be bad for business, a-ahaha…” Kawasaki bends down to Kirby’s height, leaning in to whisper in the pink puff’s ear. He’s no expert at covertness, so Meta overhears everything he says.

“Kirby, not to judge your taste in, uh, friends, but are you sure it’s a good idea to bring him here? If my food’s not up to his standard…” 

Right. Meta hadn’t exactly painted the best picture of himself in regards to the villagers, save Professor Curio. He never cared to, and still holds that sentiment, but to hear them talking about him as if he isn’t in earshot… it sure gives credibility to his claims about their intelligence, or lack thereof.

Despite this, Meta doesn’t interrupt Kawasaki’s clear anxiety-induced rambles even once, simply because he believes doing so would be impolite. He only clears his throat when the chef finishes speaking, drawing both his and Kirby’s attention back to him. 

He refutes one of Kawasaki’s claims first. “I am not here in the employ of his majesty, Kawasaki. I am here because—” Meta pauses abruptly. Saying that he is here because Kirby willed it… what sort of picture would that paint of him?

Kirby puts his newfound linguistic skills to use by answering for his mentor. “With me!”

“Oh. Ohhhh. Ooohhhh.” Kawasaki takes a deep breath, clearly relieved. He bursts into a fit of awkward laughter, guiding Kirby and Meta to a table. “You should’ve just said that! That makes you both esteemed customers! Just wait here, I’ll whip up my best dish yet!” and off he goes, vanishing into the kitchen.

One awkward silence and a serving of Kawasaki’s self-proclaimed best dish later, Meta has yet to touch his food when Kirby finishes his first plate.

Meta catches him staring at the knight’s full plate with sparkles in his eyes and almost eagerly tries to shove it over to Kirby’s side of the table. “If this is what you want, you may have it.”

Kirby looks all too happy to accept, so it comes as quite a surprise to Meta when he suddenly shakes his head and pushes the plate back to Meta. Kirby closes his eyes, as the visual temptation is probably far too much for the puffball to resist. “No! Meta eat-poyo. Good!”

“Kirby—” Meta stops himself while watching Kirby’s face contort further in his struggle against eating the contents on Meta’s plate. There’s something admirable about this, enough so that Meta recognises it and smiles under his mask. “All right.” Meta lifts his mask up the smallest amount but enough for him to eat, fairly quick about finishing his meal. He still holds no candle to Kirby.

Slotting his mask back in place, Meta looks over to see Kirby staring at him with his mouth opened in the shape of an ‘o’, expressing his curiosity.

“My verdict?” Meta asks. Kirby nods, eagerly inching closer until his pink body is squished against the table. He’s just able to reach his hands over it, making for a slightly comedic sight. 

“Not… bad. I have never had the luxury to be a picky eater. It seems my taste buds are more than a little affected by a life of war,” Meta admits with a soft sigh, immediately regretting his honesty when he sees the look of sheer sadness on Kirby’s face. Of course, to Kirby, the idea of not being able to taste your food would be the end of the world. Meta quickly adds, “but that does not mean I cannot taste anything at all. For what I did taste… I did not mind it.”

Kirby’s face brightens again. He throws his hands in the air and emits a victorious “poyo!” before hopping off his far too high seat and dashing over to Meta’s. Meta appeases the overly enthusiastic toddler with a pat to the head, sliding out of his own seat and leaving a generous tip on the table. It isn’t often he goes out to eat, and he’s certainly not going back anytime soon. Kawasaki is busy with a couple of conveniently timed new guests, letting Kirby and Meta leave unnoticed save for a shouted word of thanks from the chef when he catches them by the exit. Kirby waves, and Meta only inclines his head in a nod. 

“What now?” Meta asks when they’re outside. Kirby thinks, his gaze wandering the plaza until his eyes fall on Mabel’s tent. 

Meta Knight is just as clairvoyant as she is; which is to say not at all, but even he can predict that this isn’t going to be enjoyable at all.

Why he even allows Kirby to drag him to the fortune-teller is beyond him, but he’s there, making awkward eye-contact with the Cappy herself. Mabel isn’t intimidated by him like the other villagers are, which Meta can appreciate, but her occupation brings this dangerously close to a… a therapist… ugh. 

He’s getting a little lightheaded.

“Forgive me, I—” he’s just about to excuse himself when Kirby gives his back a push, forcing Meta into the chair opposite Mabel. 

“Poyo!” says Kirby.

Mabel laughs. Meta frowns behind his mask. 

There is no way out of this, so he hopes that the glare he gives Mabel is indicative of how he just wants to get this over with, now.

She insists on doing her whole schtick. By the time she’s done consulting her crystal ball, Meta’s usually infinite patience has long since run dry. He's got one hand on the side of his mask to support his head and the other on the chair’s armrest, tapping at it in a rhythmic tune to pass time. 

“I see… I see…” Mabel begins, raising her arms in a theatrical gesture. She quickly yet unsubtly exchanges a look with Kirby, and settles on, “a fun day ahead!” Kirby gestures behind his back. Meta feels it, and Mabel adds, “a visit to Gangu’s Store, a lollipop big enough to share…”

“On my cost, I presume?” Meta quips dryly. Mabel fails to stifle a laugh and Kirby excitedly jumps up and down, giving his schemes away, see-through as they were.

“Come now, little details! Get going, you two!” Mabel ushers them outside again, where the sun very slowly has started its descent to welcome night. 

Meta looks down at a very expectant Kirby, and gives in. They make for Gangu’s store and Meta buys Kirby the lollipop he eyes, which is gone the second they step outside.

Meta chuckles, shaking his head. “She proves incorrect yet again.” Not that he would ask Kirby to share his treats: while he’s got a sweet tooth, it's not for the reason one would assume. 

With that finished, Meta turns to Kirby, fully expecting the pink puff to call it a day. “Time to depart?”

“Poyo!”

Kirby takes him by the hand again, but rather than running off in a mad dash, they stroll through the town together, with Kirby insisting on holding Meta’s gloved hand even while the villagers look at them. Meta feels seen, and it’s just as unpleasant as he remembers, regardless of Kirby’s intent. 

Kirby… clearly, he’s wanted a different sort of relationship with his mentor. One that isn’t just… that. Perhaps he wishes Meta to be friendlier, to be more like…

A parent.

The thought catches Meta unaware when they walk past Mayor Len and Hana’s house, the two in question watching their kids frolic through the fields full of sheep. 

It hits him. He’s the only one Kirby has to look to. They share their origins, and with that, their species, even though Meta has never shown just what is behind his mask to Kirby. 

As much as he wants to dismiss the thought… if Kirby were like him, all he would have to look for regarding a parent would be Nightmare, a thought that still makes Meta bitter even thousands of years after the fact. 

If nothing else, Meta is better than Nightmare.

To prevent Kirby from asking the same questions he did, the answers having shook his world to the very core. He would not wish the same fate on especially Kirby, not when Meta is right here with him.

Meta grabs Kirby’s nub a little tighter. Kirby notices, looking up at him with concern on his features.

“It is nothing,” Meta assures him. Then, much softer, “thank you, Kirby. For today. I… enjoyed our time together.”

But Kirby clearly isn’t having that just yet. He stops in his tracks, forcing Meta to a halt as well. He quickly jumps in front of the knight and gestures to the way leading to Kirby’s own house and Meta recognizes the determination on Kirby’s face from the fights he’s been in—whatever the pink puffball has planned, he won’t give up on it.

“Sleepover!” Kirby says. “Meta… sleepover-poyo! To’kri no home!”

“Kirby, I should not, it would worry Sw—“ he’s just making excuses and Kirby knows it—tears well up in Kirby’s eyes and his face falls so far that denying Kirby is the furthest thing from Meta’s mind.

“Fine. Just tonight.” 

Kirby’s tears fade far too quickly for them to ever have been real. He dashes ahead of Meta, looking over his shoulder every now and then to make sure the knight still follows, letting out a happy chorus of “poyo!”’s.

Chapter 2

Notes:

More MK being a Demon Beast headcanons! Kirb is here to comfort his metadad

Enjoy!

Kirby slows down to let Meta catch up. He insists on holding the knight’s hand while they make for Kirby’s house, humming happily to himself. While Meta hopes no one sees them like this, he’s smiling under his mask, fondly looking down at the pink puff. He just barely resists the urge to give him a pat on the head and thank him for pulling Meta out of his routine, if just for today. The day isn’t over yet.

Anything could still happen. Even though the skies over Dreamland are a peaceful orange and the sun dips below the horizon with no clouds to obscure its descent, Meta still feels uneasy. It’s too peaceful. Something will surely happen…

They arrive at Kirby’s house without incident. Unlike Kirby, Meta didn’t take the time to appreciate the setting sun and take it all in without worry. Before it sets completely, Kirby tugs on his cape, drawing Meta out of his spiraling thoughts.

“What is it, Kirby?” 

“Look!” Kirby says, pointing at the horizon. Meta follows his gaze, the tension in his body easing up a little when he and Kirby watch the last minutes of the sunset in relative silence. The pleasant breeze and the cloudless sky… Meta’s wings itch. How he wishes to take off and fly a few rounds, just stretch his wings for a little… but out of fear of being seen like that, he refrains from indulging his desires, drawing his cape a little tighter around himself. He gazes wistfully off into the distance and closes his eyes behind his mask, hoping to let his worries drift away with the breeze.

They stand like that for a little while longer. Meta opens an eye and sneaks a glance at Kirby, whose eyes are big and bright with childlike wonder. The little puffball beams when the first stars appear in the sky. 

Meta lets out a pleased sigh. Kirby’s gaze turns to him then, and as if remembering their plans for the night, Kirby grabs Meta’s hand again, opening the door to his house and dragging the knight inside with him. Kirby stands on the tips of his toes to reach the light switch, flicking on the lights. True to Kirby’s words, Tokkori isn’t here; which is for the best. Meta doesn’t particularly enjoy his loud presence.

Kirby’s house isn’t all that big, about as spacious as Meta’s own quarters. Kirby’s bed is to the side, under his window, and there’s a television that only plays one channel smack-dab in the middle of the room, on top of a round carpet which also acts as a comfortable seating area for when Kirby wants to watch TV, several pillows scattered around the space. Kirby tugs on Meta’s cape again, gesturing to one of the pillows.

“You want me to sit down?” Meta asks. Kirby nods. “Do you want to watch the television together?” Another nod. 

Bad as the content may be, Channel D.D.D. still holds some entertainment value, so Meta sits down on his appointed pillow, letting the edge of his cape go so that it pools around him. Kirby doesn’t sit down yet. Curious, Meta observes as Kirby grabs something from a drawer, the weight of the pile he manages to get nearly causing him to topple over backward. He puts on a determined face though, slowly making his way over to Meta. Kirby drops the pile of what Meta can now identify as snacks between them, and sits down next to his mentor. 

While Meta grabs the remote, Kirby fusses with the snacks, namely the bags of chips and opening them. “Here.” Meta offers Kirby the remote instead, trading for the bag of chips the pink puff struggles to open. He opens them for Kirby as Kirby turns on the TV, earning him a bright-eyed smile from Kirby. Under his mask, Meta reciprocates.

Speaking of… tempting as these snacks are, Meta’s mask is in the way of eating them, and Kirby notices. He tilts his head while looking at Meta, and asks, “Mask? Off?” 

Meta tenses. Showing his face to Kirby, is that truly okay? He fidgets with the end of his cape while he thinks it through, fighting his own pride and insecurities about the face that hides under his mask. He looks over at Kirby, who is all smiles, even patting Meta on the arm as if telling him it’s okay.

Taking a deep breath, Meta makes a choice. He reaches for the straps of his mask and carefully pulls it off, putting it down by his side. “Kirby,” he begins, his tone as serious as it gets, “Please lock your door and close the curtains. I… prefer not to be seen like this.” 

He’s still hiding his face a little, having lifted up his cape to cover everything up to his eyes. Kirby gives him a nod and jumps up to quickly do as Meta asked, making sure his windows are closed, too, before he shuts the curtains. Once all that has been done and Kirby is sitting back down by his side, Meta lowers his cape, turning to look at Kirby. 

Kirby stares right into his eyes. Meta feels a little uncomfortable at the look of sheer wonder written all over the child’s face, his eyes wide and his mouth open in the shape of an ‘o’ as he takes in Meta’s maskless face. Before Meta can say anything, Kirby exclaims, “Just like me! Meya just like me-poyo!” he’s cheering, putting his hands up in the air, and enthusiastically wiggles them around. 

Of course he’d be happy. Kirby hasn’t ever seen someone who looks even remotely like him. Meta indulges his desire to pat the puff on the head this time, offering Kirby a genuine but slightly awkward smile. “Keep this between us. Can you do that?” 

Kirby looks up at Meta and nods. “Poyo!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Meta laughs, the sound soft and bubbly, but most of all, genuine. “Thank you, Kirby.”

Kirby giggles. He picks up a cookie from the snacks he got them while Meta indulges in a wrapped sweet, and the two of them watch the ridiculousness that is Channel D.D.D. late into the night. At least until the snacks are consumed and Kirby starts nodding off, leaning heavily against Meta’s side. 

Meta turns the volume of the TV down a little further but keeps it on as background noise while he opens his cape for Kirby to wrap around himself, with the pink puff happily accepting it as a blanket and snuggling close to Meta. He’s asleep within no time at all, snoring quietly. 

“Kirby… how easy-going,” Meta smiles, fully turning off the TV now. He gently gathers Kirby up in his arms and walks Kirby over to his bed, making sure to tuck him in properly. 

Meta himself stays awake a little longer to clean up empty snack packets and bags of chips. When that’s finished, he flicks off the lights before also climbing into Kirby’s spacious bed, positioning himself on the other end of it and wrapping himself in his cape. Once settled, he leans against the wall and stares outside through the small crack in the curtains. 

Even though the nights where Nightmare himself would personally appear to degrade Meta in his dreams are long behind him, the knight is still hesitant to go to sleep all the same. Dreams of times long gone by, friends who’ve been slain by his own hand, comrades who died before his very eyes, Nightmare’s echoing laughter… he’s long lost count of how often he’d woken screaming in terror, or more recently, quietly shaking as he recounts everything in great detail and biting the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from waking Sword and Blade. 

Watching Kirby so carefree, being able to sleep with a smile on his face… Meta wishes that could be him, too. For as long as he can remember, Meta’s never slept well, not even when he was about Kirby’s age: Nightmare was adamant about instilling fear and terror into his creation from the second he was made, his treatment of Meta as ruthless as imaginable. All to make him a stronger beast… oh, how that backfired. Meta’s lips curl up in a bitter smile. 

As is common when he experiences emotional distress, Meta’s wings unfurl of their own accord, and he wraps them around his shaking form, inhaling sharply. Sure, he’s tired… but all these thoughts racing inside his head will no doubt…

…

Monster.

Disgusted faces surround him, new and old friends alike.

Monster.

Demon.

Beast.

Murderer.

Look at you.

You should be—

“NO!” Meta wakes with a scream, sitting up and grasping his head. He feels sick to his stomach, all those faces vividly burned into his retina. “I–I’m not—” 

A gentle hand touches his head. Warm, Meta thinks. So warm, so kind, so…

“Poyo?” asks Kirby when Meta finally lowers his wings down from his face, worry written all over Kirby’s expression. “Meta… okay?” 

“I—” Meta chokes on his own words. He shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “No, Kirby, I—”

Wait. His wings. Meta panics, and his wings flap in unsynchronized patterns, unresponsive to his attempts to turn them back into his cape. Now that Kirby has seen them, he’s sure to think of Meta as a Demon, a–a—

But Kirby’s worried face doesn’t change. Only for a second, where it brightens as it usually does when Kirby gets an idea. He hops off the bed and digs around in a bedside drawer, grabbing some items Meta can’t quite make out through his blurry, tear-stained vision. 

First, Kirby puts something on Meta’s head—a bandage, by how it feels. Then, he hands Meta a lollipop and a star-shaped pillow, his smile meant to be encouraging. “Feel better!” Kirby says, pushing the items a little more insistently to Meta’s hands. At least until Meta lowers his hands from his face, furiously wipes away his tears, and takes them. He stares at Kirby with his own eyes wide, taken aback by the child’s kindness.

Wondering whether he deserves it.

Then again, Kirby and Meta… they’re cut from the same cloth, aren’t they? 

Meta musters up a smile. He pops the lollipop into his mouth and holds the pillow to his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles, his voice muffled somewhat by the candy in his mouth. “Thank you, Kirby…”

Kirby nods, his smile growing wider. He crawls back over to his end of the bed and lifts up the blankets, patting the spot next to him. “Here!” 

With no energy left to argue anything, Meta nods, making his way over to Kirby’s side. He takes up the spot next to the pink puffball and shifts to lay under the cozy blanket, angling his wings so that they’re not prodding Kirby.

Speaking of which… Kirby eyes them with wonder. “Cool!” he exclaims, much to Meta’s surprise.

“What did you…?” 

“Cool!” Kirby repeats, gesturing to Meta’s wings. Meta sits back up and averts his gaze from Kirby’s prying eyes, feeling exposed. He’s finished the lollipop by now. Kirby shuffles closer to Meta, clearly trying to contain himself. Until he gathers up the courage to ask, “Can I… touch?” 

Meta looks down in wide-eyed surprise. “Just now… what did you say?” His hearing must be betraying him—that sounded much like a coherent sentence coming from Kirby. 

“Can I touch?” Kirby repeats, and Meta’s heart fills up with pride. “Cool! Touch!” 

He gently takes hold of one of Kirby’s hands, guiding it to his wing. “Careful,” he warns. Kirby beams, gently patting Meta’s wings with the utmost caution. As content as Kirby is doing this for a while, the motions make Meta rather sleepy, and the knight fails to stifle a yawn, drawing Kirby’s attention away from Meta’s wings and back to the knight’s wellbeing. 

“Meya, sleep-poyo,” Kirby suggests, removing his hands from Meta’s wings to pat his bed again. “I, here!” he adopts a fighting stance, making the knight chuckle. “No dream! No bad!” 

“Understood, Kirby. Thank you,” Meta says with a smile, laying back down. To properly accommodate for his wings now that he’s not too bothered having them out, he rolls over onto his front, fanning them out across his back and blanketing Kirby like that as well. Kirby, as transfixed on them as he is, returns to gently mapping out Meta’s wings as he’d done earlier, very curious about the odd texture. The motion soothes Meta right back to sleep, and for once, just as Kirby had promised, Meta’s dreams are unusually pleasant.

---

Meta wakes up when sunlight shines through the cracks in the curtains. He wearily blinks his eyes open and pushes himself up, needing a moment to adjust to his unusual surroundings.

Right. He is at Kirby’s place. Next to him, the pink puffball sleeps soundly, making Meta chuckle. Kirby hadn’t been able to stay up after all; Meta doesn’t doubt that Kirby tried, but he surely must’ve fallen asleep right after Meta did.

Hopping out of the bed, Meta stretches his body and wings. As nice as it is to have them out and stretch them like so, he quickly changes them back into his cape and grabs his mask from the ground where he’d left it the night prior, putting it back in place.

Hearing Meta shuffling about, Kirby slowly rouses. Meta is quick to his side, putting a gloved hand on Kirby’s head. “It is alright Kirby. I am going to do my rounds, but, thank you. I had a good time. I…” he hesitates to continue but forges on. “I would not be averse to doing this again.” 

Kirby smiles wearily. “Poyo…” he mumbles, giving Meta’s retreating form a sleepy wave before he rolls over again and falls right back asleep.

---

When Meta returns to the castle, he finds his stuff in odd places. Questioning Sword and Blade, they take him to the culprits, and Meta stands atop the fountain in the castle’s garden with his arms crossed, looking down at them from above as he awaits an answer.

“We just wanted to know what you do for fun!” Bun says, shifting awkwardly.

“We’re really sorry, Sir Meta Knight…” Fumu apologizes. 

To their surprise, Meta just laughs. “You wished to see what I do in my free time?” 

The two children nod. Meta’s eyes shine pink with amusement. “And rather than asking me… you took to looking through my stuff?” Another nod. They’re both red with embarrassment, steadily looking down. 

Meta hums. “As a fitting punishment, I will keep you two guessing.” He gets off the fountain and gestures for Sword and Blade to follow him back into the castle, in an unusually good mood.

“What’s with him, all of a sudden? He even laughed!” Bun asks.

Fumu looks after them with a smile. “He must’ve had a good time with Kirby.”

“Right, that’s it! Sis, let’s head over to Kirby, and ask him what Meta Knight does for fun!” 

“It can’t be helped… Bun, wait for me!” 

And off they go, making for Kirby’s house, but little do they know that Kirby had promised Sir Meta Knight he wouldn’t tell any of his secrets. The pink puffball will stay quiet, honoring his promise to his mentor and friend.

Notes:

Kirby made my beta reader cry, they told me. Emotions accomplished!

Notes:

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving kudos and maybe a comment! It helps me out a lot and makes my day. Thank you!

I am on twitter and tumblr both @shishirona

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 10 of shishirona's kirby collection