[OOC: I’ve been an awful OGer for a few years now, but of all the OGs I neglect these days, this is the one I regret the most. It deserves an ending, and hopefully I’m giving it one that it deserves. If not, well, there’s always epilogues and sequels.]


“We’re doomed
We’re doomed
The Hive will kill us all
The Olimar is gone for good
We’re doomed
We’re doomed, we’re doomed, we’re doomed.”

“To be fair,” said Gobmin, “Mamumin is still alive.”

“Doomed, I say!” shouted Prophmin.

“He better be alive,” said Sumin. “We need a few more purples if we plan on carrying him much longer. And I don’t plan on popping a petal over a corpse, Mamuta or not.”

“We need to catch up with Boxmin before he gets to the Hive,” said Wulfmin. “I’m afraid that…”

“He’ll doom us all!”

“Arr, the poor fool be right. Betrayin’ a Mamuta like that…”

“I don’t know,” said Wulfmin. “I can understand why Boxmin doesn’t want to rest his fate of a Mamumin’s life. I mean, yeah, they’re gods, but…”

“Must be a red thing.”

“Anyway, Mamumin was part of the group. We can’t just aba—“

A stench filled the air as the Hive came into view. All of the Garden, except some of the whites, were too shocked to move. In front of them lay a dead body in the peak of decay, equal parts flesh and dirt.

It was the largest creature any of them had ever seen. Its skin, what was left of it, was a dark brown, devoid of hair, or flowers, or chitin. Its arms and legs, two of each, were longer that the entire Garden stretched out in single file. Parts of it were coated in woven cotton, reminiscent of the Olimar’s coverings.

And it was covered in Pikmin unlike any the Garden had seen before. They were brown, like the creature’s skin, and their arms ended in spades rather than hands.

Their flowers had teeth.

They coated the dead creature, inside and out. Pikmin poked their heads out of holes in the body, emerging to toss out remnants of flesh and diving back in.

Wulfmin couldn’t understand what he was seeing, but Prophmin knew immediately.

“The Great Mamuta!” he whispered, and tears welled up in his eyes. “Look, his symbols are nearby. The wonders that tame the earth: the spade and the bucket. But how could he be dead?”

Wulfmin answered, “Even the gods must depart.”

One of the brown Pikmin spotted them and climbed down the body of the Great Mamuta. Wulfmin stepped forward to meet him.

“Welcome, travelers,” said the Pikmin, “to the Hive.”

“Doom!” shouted Prophmin. “We’ll be eaten!”

“No, you are quite safe here. I am Digmin, and I expect that you have surmised the nature of the Hive.”

“Is it truly a Great Mamuta?” asked Wulfmin.

“Of course. But they call themselves by a different name, few as they are now. We call them Hives. According to legend, they once ruled this planet, and bent the earth to their will. They mostly died off, but every now and then, we find a fresh one.”

“Why be ye digging it up?” asked Arrmin.

“Sacrilige!”

“Because,” said Digmin, “They provide ample food, shelter, and more seeds than any Onion. And most importantly, according to legends, Hives contain the most precious substance of all.”

“Alpha Nectar,” said Wulfmin. He didn’t know how the thought had come to him.

“Yes. Buried deep within. If we but dig it out and drink it, we become stronger and more powerful than any Pikmin. We become…”

Mamumin stirred. “No,” he said. “Don’t tell him. He can’t find out. Bring me a drink. Please.”

“Don’t tell us?” asked Wulfmin.

Prophmin laughed. “Don’t you understand? If you drink the blood of a god, you become one! It all makes sense now! You become a Mamuta!”

Wulfmin sat down. A Mamuta? But what about Alpha Pikmin? Did they not exist? Was he already all that he could become without losing himself entirely? “No. No, I can’t accept that. We can take care of ourselves. Pikmin! We can be our own leaders!”

“No,” said Digmin. “We are weak. We are prey. Only by becoming Mamutas do we become anything more than drones.”

“But I got us this far. After the Olimar left, I gathered the Garden. I set out to prove that we could lead ourselves. And now you tell me that the only way to lead ourselves is to become something else? Why?”

“I’m sorry, Wulfmin,” said Mamumin. “I tried to protect you.”

“It was all a waste,” said Wulfmin.

“Ye were a good leader, lad,” said Arrmin. “I’d follow ye anywhere. Ye don't need Nectar to be more than a Pikmin. Ye've proven yerself.”

Wulfmin thought about that. He had lead them all the way here. He had been chasing the Alpha Nectar, but did he need it? Perhaps he already was an Alpha. Maybe Boxmin was, too. Maybe being just a regular Pikmin was good enough.

“I can give you the nectar, and you can become what you dream of.”

“No. I’m a Pikmin. That is all I want to be." Wulfmin stood up again, and turned to the Garden. "We're moving on. Our new goal is to find a new Onion. We'll carve out our own piece of the world, and we'll do it as Pikmin."

The Garden cheered and huddled around Wulfmin, and Mamumin smiled through his pain.

Just then, thunder rolled overhead, and the skit lit up.

Prophmin looked upward. “Look! A star is falling from the sky. The Olimar has returned!”

All the Garden looked up with joy at the falling star. “Olimar! Olimar!” they chanted. Suddenly, they all forgot about the quest to find the Alpha nectar. They had found a true leader again.

“We have to get to him!” shouted Brymin. “I think he’s headed for the Valley of Repose. He might need us!” Some of them were breaking off to chase the comet.

"Heathens, all of you!" yelled Prophmin. "And you, Wulfmin! Pretender! Fool! I hope the Digmin eat you." He scampered off toward the dweevil grounds. "And may the Great Mamuta poison those who defile him!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Soon, only Wulfmin, Arrmin, and Mamumin were left.

“That’s it, isn’t it, Arrmin? We aren’t meant to lead ourselves. We’re meant to be servants. We’re just drones. Olimars only come from the sky.”

“I suppose I’d like t’have the Olimar around again. Things were simpler back then,” said Arrmin. “But we don't need him, lad. You were every bit as good, and you were one of us."

"They don't need me anymore." Wulfmin stood straight, and put his hands at his sides. “Mamumin, I know you’re injured…but please, I need to forget all this.”

“Of course, my child,” said Mamumin. Slowly, he hobbled over to Wulfmin. He cringed, and growled, and raised his arm. They fell on Wulfmin’s flower.

When he raised them again, Wulfmin was gone. Mamumin gave a sigh, and breathed his last.

Arrmin looked around him. Even Digmin was gone, having returned to his labor on the Hive. "I'd have followed ye to the last, my friend. But I suppose there's nothin' for it now." He, too, followed the star.

In the Valley of Repose, the Olimar tumbled out of his spaceship.

THE END