Super Mario Sunshine

Chapter 33 - The Deep Sea of Mare

By the time that Mario had lined up shoulder-to-shoulder with Il Piantissimo, most of Pianta Village had been restored to its natural order. Some of the citizens returned immediately to their homes, while a few others volunteered to wait at the finish line to see the outcome of their little competition.

Mario didn't mind the attention that came with it, so long as he won — a shine sprite was at stake here, and so was his reputation, as Mayor Russo kept reminding him from where he stood in agitation by their chosen starting line.

"Who in the world is this 'Il Piantissimo'?" he kept asking. "A rogue, that's who!"

A man standing beside him, seemingly also watching for kicks, put in, "The pianta people are just NOT that thin! I mean, seriously!"

"Let it be said that the pianta people have no connection with him!" Mayor Russo declared, loud enough for them to hear. "That troublemaker is giving us a bad name!"

Mario, trying not to snort out loud at their brash comments, glanced over at his competitor for a reaction, but he got none. Whatever the outsider thought of the public opinion, he didn't make it apparent. He's kind of asking for it parading everywhere in that outfit, he thought, eyeing the man's purple pianta getup he'd sported yesterday. Maybe he's just bad at socializing!

"Are you at the ready?" the masked man asked now, turning to glance at his chosen opponent.

Mario returned it with a brief competitive glint in his eyes. "Are you?" he challenged.

Il Piantissimo took his attitude as a warrant to start. "Then get set! And GOOO!!" With this shriek of unsuppressed eagerness, the costumed man took off in the direction of the hot spring as if he'd been released from a trap.

   Grinning in spite of himself, Mario sprang after him, though not as quickly — instead, he held back a moment to trail behind, gauging where exactly he was going. He wasn't worried about losing in the slightest; after cleaning up the entire village (and the previous night as well), he would have bet he could traverse the streets with his eyes closed.

This race, unlike that they'd had in Gelato Beach the day before, was much less of a climb. After all, they were merely trying to get from one corner of the village to the other — although it still wasn't a clean foot race.

More like a giant obstacle course, Mario realized now, swerving around the corner of a fenced-off mushroom that was growing beside a cluster of houses near the central plaza. Not that he minded at all. In fact, as they quickly entered and began to pass through the heart of the small village, Mario felt a thrill of an old excitement. The joys of competition!

As the buildings and the giant tree began to tower overhead, Fludd soon called out from his shoulders. "Mario, the goal is there! On the trunk of that large tree!"

Breathing too hard to answer, his owner glanced ahead past the fruit tree they were approaching and for the first time eyed the finish line: it was a small, wooden observation deck or balcony of some sort, built about halfway up the slender trunk of a heavily-inclined tree. Growing at an angle by the hot spring in the very corner of the landmass, its leaves stretched out over the sinkhole beyond, as if to further tease the precariousness of the place.

And sure enough, there atop the same deck, a large red flag fluttered in the breeze, high over the village — and most of the rest of the island far below. He could already see a handful of piantas camped up there, seemingly unconcerned that there was no solid ground beneath them.

Talk about living on edge all the time, the boy thought to himself. Nevertheless, he didn't care at the moment. Just then he noticed Il Piantissimo veer into the path not a few feet away from him, close at his heels. The man had a determined energy in his gait, arms pumping and big, clumsy-looking costume feet somehow making excellent ground.