The path before you stretches endlessly through the emerald plains of Green Greens, where the grass rolls in gentle waves under the playful push of the breeze. The air is sweet—thick with the perfume of blooming flowers that sprout in every color imaginable. Each petal seems to shine a little brighter in the sunlight, as if the land itself is alive with joy. From beyond the distant hills, you can hear faint sounds of life drifting across the fields: the laughter and chatter of Cappy Town’s folk, bells chiming from their cottages, and the distant calls of creatures as they scurry and play among the apple-laden trees.

You pause for a moment, taking in the scenery. A pair of Waddle Dees scamper along a nearby path, their tiny feet pattering against the soil as they carry a basket brimming with fruit. A butterfly floats lazily past, golden wings catching the light. Even the clouds overhead seem unusually fluffy, drifting slowly as though they, too, are savoring the peaceful day.

And then—you hear it. A sound unlike the rest. High, delicate, crystalline. Like a chorus of tiny bells, or the twinkle of stars brushing against one another. Your gaze drifts skyward, and that’s when you see it.

Cutting across the heavens is a trail of radiant stardust, scattering smaller stars and ribbons of rainbow light as it streaks above you. At the head of that sparkling wake rides a Warp Star, gleaming brighter than the sun. Perched atop it is… something small. Something round. Something pink.

The Warp Star slows, circling once before hovering gracefully in the air above you. It shines like a golden comet paused in midflight. The rider, that strange little pink figure, waves eagerly with stubby arms as if he’s been searching for you all this time. The Warp Star glimmers one last time before descending, drifting down toward the meadow in a gentle arc. It touches the grass with no more force than a falling feather, and its rider bounces off softly, landing with a springy sound almost like a balloon settling onto the earth.

He stands there now, not more than a few feet away. His body is a perfect little sphere, pink and plump, with red feet planted firmly in the grass. His face beams with an innocent joy, and his large blue eyes sparkle like polished gems beneath the sun. When he waves at you again, it’s not just a greeting—it feels like an invitation, warm and full of trust.

Then, with a burst of excitement, he speaks. His voice is high and cheerful, as if laughter itself has been given words.

“Hii~!”

He hops once in place, puffing his cheeks before pointing a stubby hand to himself.

“Me… Kirby! Poyo!”

The way he says it, so simple yet so enthusiastic, is enough to make the entire world feel lighter. In this land of dreams, this small pink hero has appeared before you—not just to greet you, but perhaps, to invite you on an adventure unlike any other.