A/N: Ohhh it's the titular chapter! *roll credits* :D (jk)
This will feature excerpts of H's actual Reddit post about 5 underrated MCC players (https://www.reddit.com/r/MinecraftChampionship/comments/ibp39m/5_players_who_need_more_love_on_here/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf), please give it a read as it is incredible foreshadowing (and altogether a wholesome post).
This is also getting progressively more dramatic and exaggerated lmao. You can tell I'm very inspired by the "How The Blue Bats Won MCC 9" documentary.
Please listen/ loop this (https://youtu.be/a8FmE4tJMPs) and then this (https://youtu.be/pguae0Ql4v4) for the first part of this chapter :D It'll make it better, I promise! <3
-
This is an anthem for the homesick
For the beaten
The lost, the broke, the defeated
A song for the heartsick
For the standbys
Living life, in the shadow of the goodbye
-
Ren's house always had a distinct smell— it wasn't a bad smell, nor was it good, it was just a Rendog smell, and the hermits were pretty familiar with it.
Anyway.
False curled up in a corner on Ren's couch, her banana hoodie over her head, a spoon stuck in her mouth. Ren apparently had a huge tub of caramel ice cream, and he offered to split it with False since "desserts make everything better" (and he couldn't eat it on his own). Ren said he bought it on a grocery trip with Scar, Bdubs, and Grian, and they had a long argument about how "caramel" should be pronounced (mostly the British way versus the American way). False grinned. It was just like the hermits to bicker over stupid things.
"Sorry for crashing in again," False said absentmindedly, letting the caramel ice cream melt on her tongue.
Ren laughed lightly. "I'm just returning the favour when you let me crash at your place."
"Yeah, you forgot your keys like the derp you are. Maybe I should've locked you out and you would've gone to Iskall's to beg," False murmured.
"How's your arm? You need some ice?"
"That would be great, thanks."
As False held the ice pack against her bruise, she asked, "You didn't get too hurt, did you?"
"Only my dignity," Ren joked. "But seriously? I'm alright, just a little scratch here and there. But you guys were pretty beat up."
False gulped. "You were the only exception to the Pink Parrots' bloodlust."
"Just my luck, I suppose."
False glanced around her. Ren's house was geometric and mostly wooden, with occasional accents of black and orange. His walls were covered with photos of his family and friends, and his shelves were full of trinkets from his childhood (Ren had an oddly specific but funny story for each one). A half-finished Star Wars Lego set laid on a tabletop, while a guitar was propped in a corner.
"Sooo, what did you think about the Championship?" False asked, wanting to start the conversation. "Be honest."
"We did our best, it just wasn't enough," Ren bluntly replied. False nodded in agreement, then when she realised he couldn't see her, she replied with a half-hearted "yeah".
"Do you have the footage you captured on the drones? I wanna see it."
Ren showed the footage of their 8th Championship on the television. As they played through it, they occasionally paused to comment on what they could improve on (they both winced when they reached Battle Box, and skipped their battle with Pink Parrots).
It was False's way of dealing with her disappointment in herself. Failure was the mother of success, right? So she should analyze her mistakes.
But soon they both realized they were commenting on the same things, echoing each other's words. They were too slow, too inexperienced. They lacked communication and confidence. That was what they kept on saying.
"We really need to practice more," False muttered.
"But... we need more than that," Ren pointed out. "We need to learn how to do stuff... like that!" he gestured at the screen when someone did a flawless jump during Ace Race. "And no amount of practicing on our own can achieve that. We need teachers."
"So you're saying we need to find Fruitberries and have him coach us?"
"Yeah! But honestly," Ren peered at the television screen again. "We need a leader of some sorts in the game. Someone who's experienced in the Championship. Someone who knows the strategies. Someone who knows us well enough to assign roles for us. Cause no matter how good our individual performances are, we need to work as a team. You know what I'm saying?"
False hummed. "And we're not that person."
"No," Ren agreed. "Not yet."
False was still curled up the corner of Ren's couch, as if making herself as small as possible.
"... We'll get better if we practice hard, right?"
"You sound uncertain, False."
False could not meet Ren's eyes. "I mean, I don't want to be a pessimist, but Pearl... she practiced super hard. And she was disappointed by her performance."
"I get what you feel. It's like, no one wants to put in so much effort and time into something, only for it not to pay off. Especially for people like us whose passion is creating and designing stuff, not, let's say, parkour."
False let out a hollow laugh. "I feel terrible for saying this, but I don't want to waste my time even though I want to get better."
"Amen! And like Pearl said, we're builders. We're crafters. This isn't our area of expertise, and I think... it really shows. Sorry for being negative, by the way." Ren shot False a brief look.
"Nah dude, it's fine. In fact, I'll be surprised if you're still totally optimistic, kinda like you during the Championship."
It was a relief that Ren was admitting to the negative emotions he was feeling.
"... Do you think this is worth it?" Ren's voice was small.
False turned. "What's worth it?"
Ren shrugged. "Winning? Getting better? I mean, we have a lot of fun each Championship, and I know we've definitely improved, but is it really... worth investing more time?"
"It's worth investing if you like joining the Championships. It's as simple as that," was False's reply.
Ren frowned, but said, "I agree."
There was a pause, then Ren continued hesitatingly, "... We're joining the Championship to prove a point, yeah? That even the hermits can do good and maybe win? Like..." he twiddled with his thumbs. "You know we can get back to the main campus when— if we win. We're... not doing that, right?"
False could hear the anxiety in Ren's tone. She reached over and patted his shoulder. "If you're not leaving, I'm not leaving," she reassured him. But Ren's words caused her to think about her motivation for being in the Championship.
"I won't lie, at first I wanted to win so I could prove myself as worthy of rejoining the main campus," False confessed. "Like, you know I got to 3-H unfairly. If it wasn't for Stan Twitt, Iskall and I would be in 3-C. I only wanted to know if I was good enough to return. But I didn't really want to return, because how could I leave 3-Hermitcraft?"
"Then I realized how wide the gap was between the hermit teams and other teams, and sort of... resigned myself. I just enjoyed the Championships and spending time with my friends, but then..." False winced. "Remember how someone pushed Scar after the 5th Championship? And we got into a fight after the 6th? People were saying we didn't deserve to be even in the Championship. So I got mad."
False inhaled, the unpleasant memories filling her brain. Her blood still boiled months later. "I stopped caring about the main campus. I stopped caring about how I should be in the main campus. People were hurting me and my friends, and they kept on looking down on us. I just want to prove everyone wrong. Cause an upset. Heck, even get a 7th when they said we would get 9th." Her fists trembled, and she looked at Ren, fire in her eyes. "Because we don't deserve their mocking. And I'll do anything to stop people from hurting my friends."
"And I..." False laughed wryly, and looked away. She knew she was just venting now, but she needed to get it off her chest, and Ren was a good listener. "I thought I was capable. I thought I could bring everyone up. After all, every one of you guys see me as the PvP Queen. At the very least, I should be able to pop off individually if I can't bring my team to do that. But I..." she sighed, suddenly feeling stupid and small. "Couldn't."
"Just because I'm good at PvP among the hermits doesn't mean I'm good among the main campus students," False muttered. "A-and people had high expectations for me too. Fruit said I would do good, but I just—" She thought of Battle Box, and shivered. "I just hide behind everyone else, using my gun, but my aim isn't that accurate, and I feel horrible that I suck at something I'm supposedly good at."
"Listen False, when we say you're good at PvP, we don't just mean your skills." Of course Ren was quick to reply. "Like, you're brave, and you can be really calm even in dangerous situations, and man, you're always willing to lend a hand. Plus you're patient with us even if we're noobs."
False laughed nervously. "You flatter me."
Ren cleared his throat. "But... I am sorry if you feel... pressured, in a way, to "carry" us."
"It's fine. It honestly serves as motivation, because I know I can do better."
"Yeah... just don't overstress yourself!'"
That reminded False of something. "True, but don't be too... I dunno, be in denial?"
"Ahhh, this is about me, isn't it?" Ren chortled to show he didn't take any offence. "I was trying to cheer us up!" he whined.
"And you did. You did a pretty good job, I think." False smiled. "Thanks for boosting our morale. But..."
"Yeah, we sucked," Ren deadpanned, saying exactly what False was planning to say. They both laughed. "We're bad compared to everyone else."
"I— yeah. Can't argue with that."
And somehow, it didn't hurt when they both admitted they sucked. They turned their attention back to the TV and continued to rewatch their performance.
-
Somewhere along the way, they stopped focusing on the 8th Championship and started complaining about their school and its principal. Because it was much more fun and liberating being angry than sad.
"I mean, dude, how the heck are we supposed to get back?" Ren exclaimed, slapping his hand on the couch. "The school offers no support except for Mr. Major, and we can't rely on the main campus kids to train us because they've got their duties too. The school doesn't want us to get back, man."
"Exactly." False nodded sagely. "They're making it hard for us because in Stan's weird system, we're at the bottom."
"The cannon fodder isn't supposed to win," Ren commented darkly. "Although I suppose everyone else is just canon fodder in our eventual underdogs story."
"We're going to overthrow Stan Twitt!" False cheered. "Watch out, Stanley, we're coming for ya!"
"We're gonna kick your butts!" Ren declared, pumping his fists. "Prepare to get destroyed with the power of friendship and puppies!"
There was a pause.
"Sorry for being so weird, late night Rendog has no brain to mouth filter," Ren chuckled.
False yawned. "It is kinda late..." she checked her phone. "Oh goodness, it's almost 1am."
Ren bellowed, "WHAT? Oh no, Xisuma's gonna kill us."
"It's fineeee," False waved a hand. "I'm pretty sure Etho is still up."
But they couldn't deny that steam was running out, and their passionate rants about Stan came to a halt. The frustration and sadness began to settle in once again, and Ren just wanted to get it out.
Ren switched off the TV, and the room instantly became darker. The duo became silent. There wasn't more they could say after their impassioned Stan Twitt vent, but yet, the stubborn emotions remained. Ren had tried so hard to say positive, but all of his walls had been broken down that night. Ren glimpsed his guitar in his peripheral vision.
"Hope you don't mind if I play something," Ren said a little shyly. "I mean, I'm probably going to suck at it because I haven't practiced, but I just want... express myself."
"Sure. Pretend I'm not here or something."
"Just plug your ears!" Ren jokingly said. He fetched his guitar and his fingers fell into their familiar position. A song popped into his head, but it took him a few more moments to remember the chords.
Normally he would've felt really nervous and awkward, especially with someone in the room with him, but he was too tired to care, and False was probably too tired to notice his mistakes.
So he started strumming the guitar, finding the chords he needed. He inhaled, and began, his voice shaky.
"Drink up baby, stay up all night. With the things you could do— you won't but you might..."
Ren's voice cracked painfully, and he chuckled a little to ease his awkwardness. He ignored the little blunder and continued.
"The potential you'll be, that you'll never see...the promises you'll only make..."
Okay, now the lyrics were getting really personal, but that was the point, wasn't? Sing awfully just to get those damn emotions out of his system. With that thought in mind, Ren strummed a little more vigorously.
Ren's fingers slipped. "Whoops," he muttered. He took a deep breath to stabilize himself.
"Drink up with me now, and forget all about the pressure of days, do as I say..."
He played a bit more confidently now that he was reacquainted with the guitar chords. He still made mistakes, and sometimes there was a pause as he figured out what chords were next.
And so in the dead of the night, his voice echoed in the otherwise quiet room.
-
False opened her eyes. She could not sleep despite being exhausted. It was like she had drank coffee, except worse.
Every time she tried to clear her mind, memories of the Championship filled her head. She had that itch to win, that itch to succeed, but all that haunted her were their losses and failures. She knew they could do better, she wanted to do better, and suddenly she was so obsessed with "being better".
Chill, False, she sternly told herself. You need a break right now. And you WILL regret it if you stay up.
Ren was singing. Everybody liked hearing Ren sing. A lot of the hermits were surprisingly good singers (and rappers, as Hermitgang had proved).
Ren's voice was raw and sincere. False didn't know what he was singing, but it was nice and comforting. Occasionally she could hear a wrong chord. But it was still nice. Ren wasn't playing for anyone, he was playing for himself, and False just happened to be there.
"... Do what I say and I'll make you okay... and drive them away, the images stuck in your head..."
False shut her eyes, and told herself to relax. It was easy, because Ren's singing voice was relaxing. She breathed. In, out, in, out.
Ren continued to sing, his voice getting slightly louder. "People you've been before, that you don't want around anymore..."
"... that push, and shove, and won't bend to your will..." His voice became softer, until it was almost a whisper. "I'll keep them still..."
Ren started singing the next verse, and False could vaguely recognize the melody now. She subconsciously started swaying her body to the beat.
"Drink up... look at the stars... you again... between the bars..."
False had stopped focusing on the words. His voice was soothing, and she didn't need words to understand that.
"Separate from the rest... you the best... and keep the things you forgot..."
Ren was approaching the chorus, which False was quite familiar with now.
"People... before ... you don't want... anymore... that push, and shove, and won't bend to your will..."
An exhale.
"I'll keep them still."
There was peaceful silence for a while, then Ren started a new song. The lyrics floated into False's mind, then floated out.
"... it is freezing... we have to walk... turning their lights off..."
Funny... she wanted to stay awake... to actually understand what he was singing...
"-killed all the pain, but what was normal.... by the morning seems insane..."
... but she was drifting off.
"The reasons all have run away...
but the feeling never did."
She wanted to tell him she enjoyed hearing him sing, but she couldn't muster the energy to do so...
"'Cause what is simple in the moonlight by the morning never is... it was so simple in the moonlight, now it's so complicated..."
False shifted her body so she was more comfortable. Her head lolled and her mind drifted away...
"It was so simple in the moonlight, so simple in the moonlight,
so simple in the..."
-
This is a call to the soldiers
The fighters
The young, the innocent, and righteous
-
H was in Dodgebolt again. The crowd was just as loud as last time, and just as imposing. His stomach lurched.
He knew he was on a blue team. The shade of it... was it aqua? Sapphire? Blue-black? Teal? He didn't know, and he didn't care.
All he knew he was against Pink again. He was against Dream again.
H liked Dream; Dream was his friend, but a formidable Dodgebolt enemy. And H wanted to win.
He glanced at his blue teammates. He felt like he knew them so, so well, but their faces were blurred. With a jolt of horror, H realized he didn't remember who they were. His chest ached. He reached for them, but they just slipped away, murmuring excuses about preparing for Dodgebolt and washroom break and whatnot. H began to panic. Why wouldn't he remember his own friends who were very dear to him?
"H? H!"
H gasped. Finally, a voice he knew. He grabbed the familiar person in front of him— Fwhip. He clutched Fwhip's shoulders as if his life depended on it.
"Dude, you alright?" Fwhip asked, a concerned expression on his face. "We're facing Pink in Dodgebolt in a few minutes."
"I feel sick," H told him honestly.
A bell sounded, and H turned around. The two remaining Blue (?) members were coming back. "Who-who are they—" H attempted to ask, but when he turned again, Fwhip was gone.
H thought hard. His two teammates must be Quig and Joel. After all, they were in a team... they were in Aqua Axolotls. H knew that well. So why, why couldn't he see their faces?
His thoughts were interrupted by screaming from the crowd. H glanced at the Championship participants around the Dodgebolt arena, their faces blurry yet comfortingly familiar. But beyond that, the audience stands were once again flooded with pink.
Ah, that was right. Pink.
H stared at his opponents. Sometimes Techno was there, sometimes he wasn't, but Dream was always standing there, even more vivid and solid than H's friend Fwhip. The two other Pink members blurred in and out of view, but H somehow knew they were Dream (and Techno's?) friends. Maybe they were members of the student council?
Either way, Pink was highly favoured by the audience due to the presence of popular students. And H was once again with his friends (two of them were faceless, but H felt fiercely protective of them).
H wanted to win.
He wasn't sure if he even had a noble motive to winning, he just knew he wouldn't disappoint everyone if he won. And he would be happy.
Dodgebolt began, and H numbly yelled out others. He didn't know what he was saying, he was probably getting the names terribly wrong (since he didn't even know who were playing), but somehow, his Blue (Aqua?) team understood. Paintballs splattered players on both sides.
And then H's team lost the first round.
The audience roared, excited for Pink. H felt his heart sink. He had a terrible feeling.
"I feel sick," he said once again, but no one was there.
He desperately looked for his teammates, but they had once again faded into the crowd.
The second round began, and H was swiftly eliminated. He barely had time to breathe when two of his teammates were eliminated, leaving a faceless teammate in the arena. In a situation H was far too familiar with.
1v3.
Something stirred inside H— he'd seen 1v3s. Joel had won one against Dream. But he didn't know if the faceless teammate was Joel. Though it didn't matter, H had hope.
H was shouting his support, and the people around him were screaming "DO A SMALLISHBEANS!". H watched with bated breath as his teammate lifted their gun and shot—
Hit one.
The audience erupted. H grinned. He realized prior to that, he hadn't smiled once in this Dodgebolt.
Hit two.
Something swelled inside H— pride, hope, desperation? He wanted to scream his teammates' name, but realized he still didn't know who they were. (It was probably Joel, given the familiar situation, but H couldn't be too sure.)
And if Joel won, why couldn't this teammate?
But then—
Splat.
The teammate was gone. Pink had won their second round. H's heart dropped and shattered.
Back to the drawing board. Back to losing. Except this time it was more important than ever. If they lost the final round, it was all over.
H was enveloped by the familiar yet terrifying cheers from everybody. They meant well, they supported him, they were excited for him, and H truly, truly appreciated it—
It was just too much.
H felt suffocated, his chest constricting, his vision narrowing until he saw nothing but pink and pink and pink—
He blinked, and he was back. His fingers were sweaty, but he grabbed his gun firmly.
He had to do it. He had to win this. He had to win with a reverse sweep.
Except Dream and his friends were putting up a hard fight. Pink and blue paint flew, and soon, H's three teammates had fresh splats of pink paint on their clothes.
It was only H left.
Just like it had been.
He stared at his gun, but he suddenly couldn't move. The crowd's roars reached a crescendo, but H only felt horror. The walls were constricting, the ground shaking, and he felt so sick—
It was all on him.
Everyone's attention was on him.
And so he had to win.
He had to, didn't he? Or else his Blue/Aqua/whatever team would lose all three rounds. The first clean sweep. It would hell for his team, heaven for the other. He was from 3-A. He was capable.
So he had to win.
He shakily raised his gun and shot. He missed.
Dream was somehow there again, exactly like the last time. H jumped to avoid the shots, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead.
And then H saw it happen in slow motion.
A pink paintball bullet hurtling towards him.
And somehow H knew he could not avoid this shot even if he tried.
Pink blossomed from his heart, staining his clothes, staining his skin, staining his reputation.
Pink had won again.
More importantly, H had lost again.
He couldn't hear his teammates cry out for him. He could imagine the audience whispering about him, about how much he sucked, how he underperformed, how he was carried, how he was a disappointment, how he how he—
The walls closed in around H. People were swarming him, and H was certain they had good intentions. They were his friends— Fwhip, Pete, Quig, Joel, and so many more.
But H shut his eyes and willed them away.
There was an odd silence.
And then a kind voice, which H was sure he had heard before but could not put a name to it.
"You don't have to rely on yourself, you know."
"I don't want to let anyone down," H mumbled. "I don't like the pressure. And it sucks, because I love the Championships and all the participants and I want to have a good time."
"But you're not alone! You don't have to carry the team on your shoulders!"
H opened his eyes, but no one was with him. The pink paint on his clothes had disappeared, and H stared at his blue shirt.
He glanced around the empty Dodgebolt arena. There was a trophy innocently sitting on a podium, and H instinctively wanted it. He ran towards it, arm outstretched, but the world around him started to dissolve, fading into white, fading into light—
When H woke up, panting in his bed, he knew one thing.
He needed a break from the spotlight.
-
You're stuck, on the ground
Got lost, can't be found
Just remember that you're still alive
-
When False woke up, the first thing she noticed that she wasn't in her bed, so naturally she panicked. Her eyes opened and she rolled over—
Pain jolted from her left arm. False let out a small yelp.
The memories of last night slowly floated back to her, and she shifted her body. Ouch. Her neck hurt, probably from sleeping in a weird position. She pushed herself into a sitting position, and felt a blanket slide off her. Weird. She didn't remember the blanket. Wait, when did she fall asleep?
False massaged her forehead, which faintly throbbed. Oh great, a headache. She remembered Ren was singing... what was he singing again? She couldn't recall, she only knew his voice was nice and comforting, and then...
Oh. She fell asleep listening to him sing. False felt embarrassed. That was rude of her.
The living room was mostly dark, with sunlight shining in through a crack in the curtains. Still, False felt something was wrong. She reached for her phone and checked the time. 11:38am.
Well, that explained. False had never woken up this late. That was why she should never stay up.
She rubbed her eyes. While the 8th Championship still hurt, she was able to look at her pain from a distance now. She felt oddly tranquil after spilling out all her emotions last night.
Footsteps unexpectedly sounded, and False nearly rolled off the couch. Ren entered the room, yawning. "Sorry, did I surprise you? Good morning, by the way."
"Your hair looks stupid," was the first thing False said. Ren's brown hair, usually in a ponytail, was sticking up everywhere like a bird's nest. He self-consciously rummaged a hand through his hair.
"Good morning to you too. Sorry for crashing," False said apologetically.
"I would be scared if you didn't fall asleep," Ren replied. "We talked well past 1am. Man. Also, bold of you to talk about my hair when your hair looks like that."
Mirroring Ren's actions, False ran a hand through her hair, and winced when she felt the knots. She grabbed her phone and checked her reflection. "Wow, I look fantastic," she wryly commented. "When did you wake up?"
"Uhh, like thirty minutes ago? Didn't want to disturb you though."
False wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, good of you not to interrupt my beauty sleep. Guess I'll go now."
"Really? You're leaving without breakfast?"
False looked up, and saw the mountain of cereal boxes on Ren's table that she hadn't noticed last night. A memory floated to her and she groaned. "Ren, don't say it—"
"C'mon, have some Weetabix!" Ren's voice was pleading.
"Don't drag me into your Weetabix debate with Iskall—"
"But you like Weetabix, don't you?"
"After hearing Iskall complain about it, I'm not so sure!"
Ren and Iskall had an infamous cereal debate in their second year, and Weetabix was apparently Ren's favourite cereal brand. Iskall said Weetabix was dry and hard, and Ren compared Weetabix to a... log cabin in Canada? (Don't ask.)
"I'm sorry, but the only breakfast material I have in this house is Weetabix." Ren's tone was dramatically somber.
"I thought you would have like, Froot Loops considering your nickname for Fruit."
But False had Weetabix anyway (not that she had a choice), Ren gave her a painkiller for her headache, and off she went.
"See you soon!" Ren said. "And we're joining the 9th Championship, yeah?"
"For sure."
After freshening up a little, False packed some sandwiches and went for a walk with her dog Bear. It was a little cloudy, but not enough for it to feel gloomy. False actually preferred it that way when the sun wasn't blinding her.
False put the Championship behind her. Thinking about it too much would cause her to lose her mind, and besides, she'd talked a lot about it with Ren last night. Right now, she just wanted to return to her passion— creating. She contemplated bringing Bear to the 3-H campus, but decided against it. So she started the solo trek up the hill, her muscles still sore from yesterday.
Scott said the 3-H campus would always be open, even on weekends, with the condition that the hermits would take care of it. Of course they did, and they treated the 3-H like their second home. Today, False didn't have intentions to build anything, she just wanted to chill and relax.
She wasn't planning to talk to anyone, preferring to enjoy her time alone, but then she saw Xisuma tending to the flowers outside the classroom. It was a quiet afternoon, with bees softly buzzing and the butterflies dancing among the greenery. In fact, it was almost strangely quiet, considering how chaotic the 3-H territory usually was. Xisuma seemed to be the only person there.
"Afternoon, X," False greeted her friend.
X turned, a smile on his face. "Hello False!"
Together, they peered at the colourful flowers. The daffodils, orchids, alliums, all the flowers were in full bloom, no doubt due to X's care. Even though each type of flower had different requirements, X had carefully studied and memorized them all so his flowers could thrive. It was amazing how they could all coexist in such a small patch of land without competing with each other for nutrients and sunlight. X must have put in a lot of work.
"Even before your bee gimmick, I've always thought you'll make a great gardener," False mused. "You're nurturing and careful—even though you derp sometimes."
X laughed. "I'm just doing my best!"
"Yeah, your best includes working on Hermitcraft videos, commentary videos, working out, getting enough sleep, and doing a ton of productive stuff daily," False quipped. "You're a busy bee, X."
"But I enjoy being a busy bee!" X protested.
Although Scar and Bdubs were the official "leaders" of 3-H (since they were the class representatives), X was the true unofficial leader of the hermits. Everyone went to find X when they had any problems, and he was in charge of organizing meetings and such. Like Mumbo, False had known X before they entered the school. X was one of the founders of the "hermit" friend group (a handful of the original members were still here), then various members like Tango, Mumbo and False herself joined, and then of course there were the Kingdomcrafters and Grian. Besides, X had a calm demeanor, and always knew how to deal with disputes the hermits might have even though each hermit was different.
It was true the hermits didn't need much of a "leader" among themselves since they were all close to one another, but it was still nice to have someone to rely on in case, let's say, two hermits got into a fight.
False knew it was cheesy, but seeing X take care of the different flowers reminded her of how he took care of the different hermits. Their talents could all shine in 3-H, and they wouldn't overshadow one another, plus they helped each other grow too.
False chuckled. "Yep, X, you're a great gardener. Keep it up."
They chatted a bit more, then False decided to take a ride on the HRN. She was curious and wanted to see what her friends were up to.
False leisurely strolled through her friends' creations. They were a constant reminder that she wasn't alone, and she always had the Hermitcrafters. She always had a community to belong to, regardless of her Championship placement.
The Championship was loud and grand, and its audience occasionally unwelcoming (although most of the time they were supportive). False really liked being in competitive events, she really did.
But Hermitcraft was home. And she would always return to Hermitcraft.
And it was in Hermitcraft that she felt truly alive and happy.
-
Ren ended up joining Scar and Cub for brunch. Ren found the pair sitting in their treehouse, plates of food laid on top of a plaid picnic blanket. They eagerly gestured to Ren, telling him to come up.
"You can even try the elevator Cub made!" Scar yelled down at him.
"No thanks, I know how to climb trees!" Ren cried out. He lifted himself up with practiced and precise movements, and gracefully landed in the treehouse. "I mean, I cut trees for our class. I'm pretty good at maneuvering through them."
"Impressive, impressive."
Ren glanced at the plates of pancakes and waffles drizzled with golden honey plus the assortment of berries on the side. His stomach rumbled, and they all laughed.
"Hungry, aren't you?" Cub asked.
"Not really," Ren admitted. "I just had some Weetabix at home."
Scar nodded. "Ah yes, the infamous Weetabix."
"I should probably reduce my sugar intake," Ren said thoughtfully. "After all, I demolished half a carton of caramel ice cream last night. Hey, don't give me that look, Cubfan! Don't you eat cinnamon buns every day?"
The trio playfully nudged each other as they ate. The conversation flowed as freely as their drinks. It felt nice to enjoy these little moments with friends without caring about the main campus or the Championship. They were just three friends having a silly conversation about leaves in space.
... Ren knew he didn't like being alone (if, let's say, he lived on a tiny island with nobody around him, he would be so sad he would blow up his house just so he could live next to his friends. Not that that would happen). Just having friends near him made me happy, and that was why he decided to meet up with them after the Championship.
The Championship came up exactly one time in their conversation. "Hey, dude," Cub patted Ren's shoulder. "I won't be in the next Championship, but I'll be glad to help you and False in any way I can. I'm making some minigames right now and I think they can help you practice."
Ren beamed. "Thanks, Cub!"
After brunch with the bois, Ren met up with his best bro, the apple of his eye, the gas in his butt, Iskallman himself. They passionately discussed several random things (coconut oil, Pacific T-shirts, men in dresses just to name a few) before deciding to pay 3-H a visit.
"Oh right, Ren, you're working on a lighting system, right?" Iskall asked. "That's why you want to go to 3-H in the evening."
"Yup! I want my area, the Tatooren Valley, to look eerie and mysterious in the night. I've tried lava lamps, but the effects are not as..." Ren snapped his fingers. "Dramatic, you get me? So I want to try something new."
"Oh no," Iskall said automatically.
"Don't oh no me before you know what I'm planning to do!" Ren gasped indignantly. "So anyways, I'm going to use fire—"
"Oh no."
"Y-yeah, it's quite dangerous, so that's why I need you with me, Iskall!"
"Thanks, Rendog, but I don't want to die. I still need to get back on Mumbo. Then you can kill me."
"Aww come on, I wasn't planning to use you as a meat shield."
Iskall chuckled. "Meat shield. That sounds funny."
"Anyways," Ren said, eyes pleading. "Just help me with the redstone, okay?"
Iskall ruffled Ren's hair. "Alright, Ren. You're buying me dinner, though."
(The two did have a good time at 3-H. The redstone worked on the fourth try, Ren only got one burn scar, Iskall got exactly two embarrassing stories out of Ren, and Ren did buy Iskall dinner.)
-
You've had enough
But just don't give up
Stick to your guns
You are worth fighting for!
-
H couldn't stop thinking about the Championship.
Sure, he and Fruit had agreed to team up for the next one, but they both decided to put it aside for the moment. The excitement of the 8th Championship was still lingering, and it was probably too early to start hyping up the 9th Championship. Besides, H couldn't forget the nightmare from earlier. It was a horrible manifestation of his fears, and while now he could see the illogical parts in his dream, it felt so real back then. It was a sign he needed some time away, yet for some stupid reason, he couldn't stop thinking about his beloved Championship.
Sure, it did cause some pressure, but every Championship was so well-organized and pleasant. H had a great time even if he didn't win. And he wanted everyone else to have a great time too, especially the so-called "weaker" players.
At home, H sat in front of his laptop, scrolling through the school forum that was managed by Michael C Reddit (or MCC Reddit). Everyone was naturally congratulating Pink Parrots, although H did see a lot of posts about him and the Axolotls. Of course the top players, the 3-A PvPers like him and Technodream attracted more attention.
H thought about Burren popping off in Dodgebolt, and of course Joel's 1v3. It was a joy to see players suddenly performing out of expectations. Then he recalled what Fruit had said about him— something about "awakening others' potential".
The lesser known participants deserved love too. In fact, everyone deserved love and hype, not just the famous PvPers.
So H decided to make a post on the forum, and use what fame he had for good.
He swiftly typed "5 players who need more love on here!" as the post title, then thoughtfully tapped his chin.
"We give so much credit to the people who are at the top of the Championship, I want to see a list from everyone who reads this post of your top 5 most underrated participants who you think need more love/ respect from the community!" H continued, fingers flying over the keyboard. He smiled, satisfied by what he wrote. "Please take a look at all the players who are listed by me and the others! :)"
It was easy to think of the players. Krtzyy was consistent, perhaps so consistent that he flew under the radar. Fwhip was his friend and two-time-teammate, and was always eager to sacrifice his individual points for the team. Ryguyrocky carried him in the 2nd Championship. And Mefs, like Krtzyy, was a consistent Top 10 player without the attention he deserved.
That left one spot. And H knew exactly who to put down.
"I'm actually a little afraid of facing FalseSymmetry in PvP! She's nuts with a bow! I believe she'll be on a good team soon and she'll carry in Dodgebolt. Mark my words."
H was strangely confident in False even though he knew her team got ninth. The way she'd killed him in one blow was terrifying (in an awesome way).
But H didn't think much about his predictions. He just hoped his post could bring more attention to those who deserved it.
He ended his post by encouraging others to talk more about other players, not just the five he mentioned. H clicked the "post" button, and so his list of five underrated participants was sent to the internet and would forever remain there.
H didn't know his unassuming post would be the humble beginnings of a legacy.
With his prophecy in place, the road to victory was set in motion.
-
We've got a little room to grow
Better days are near
Hope, is so much stronger than fear
-
A/N: ... This entire build up is just so I could include Ren singing lol. His voice is really comforting to me, I don't know why but I feel like crying when he sings. I know this is parasocial but I actually listened to him sing Lua by Bright Eyes on repeat when I was studying late into the night... yeah he just has a nice voice lol.
Weetabix is a reference to Iskall and Ren's Hermitcast/ Renskall podcast series. I think it was episode... four? It should be in the title and you can find it on both their channels. Yes, they had an argument about cereal. Yes, Ren called it Renskall. It was hilarious and I wish they did some more lol.
I will never stop referencing Blue Black Cats, will I? :D
Thanks for reading! :D comments appreciated!