Tale of a heartbroken friend

The grand foyer of SMG4’s castle was uncharacteristically peaceful. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful geometric patterns across the plush carpet. On the oversized communal sofa, the crew was enjoying a rare moment of domestic tranquility. SMG4 was hunched over his laptop, likely editing a meme that involved far too many explosions, while Meggy polished her Splatshot with meticulous care. Bob and Boopkins were arguing over which anime had the best filler episodes, and Tari was focused on her handheld console, her metallic arm whirring softly.

Mario was gone for the day. He had claimed he was going on a "top-secret mission" that involved a high-stakes investigation into a new pizzeria across town. For the rest of the gang, it was a much-needed reprieve from the screaming, the spaghetti-related property damage, and the general aura of chaotic stupidity that followed the red plumber like a loyal shadow.

"You know," SMG4 remarked, stretching his arms until his joints popped, "it’s actually kind of nice to be able to hear myself think for once."

"Tell me about it," Meggy sighed, though a small, fond smile tugged at her lips. "I love the guy, but I think my eardrums needed a vacation."

Luigi sat on the edge of the sofa, wringing his gloved hands. He looked nervous, but then again, Luigi always looked nervous. However, there was a specific shadow in his eyes today, a lingering tension that he couldn't quite shake. He kept glancing at the massive wall-mounted television, his throat dry.

Without warning, the TV flickered to life. The screen didn't show the usual static or the colorful logo of a video game. Instead, it hummed with a low, distorted frequency that made the hair on the back of Tari’s neck stand up.

"Uh, four? Did you turn that on?" Tari asked, leaning away from the screen.

"No, I didn't touch the remote," SMG4 replied, frowning. He reached for the controller on the coffee table, clicking the power button repeatedly. "It’s not responding. Must be a glitch."

The screen cleared, revealing a grainy, sepia-toned video feed. It showed a small, cramped room with peeling wallpaper. In the center of the frame sat a tiny child wearing an oversized red hat that flopped over his eyes. It was a toddler-aged Mario. He was sitting on the floor, playing quietly with a wooden block.

Luigi’s face went pale. He stood up abruptly, his knees shaking. "No... no, not this. Not this one."

"Luigi? What’s wrong?" Saiko asked, her hand instinctively reaching for her hammer.

Before he could answer, a shadow loomed over the little Mario on the screen. A booming, gravelly voice echoed through the castle speakers—a voice that sounded like a distorted, terrifying version of Mario’s own, but stripped of all humor and replaced with pure, unadulterated venom.

"You worthless brat!" the voice roared. "I told you to stay in the corner! Do you ever listen?"

The little Mario flinched violently, dropping his toy. He looked up, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. "P-Papa, I was just—"

The sound that followed was a sickening thud, followed by a scream that pierced the hearts of everyone in the room. It wasn't the comedic, over-the-top scream they were used to hearing when Mario fell off a cliff or got hit by a car. This was the scream of a terrified child in genuine, agonizing pain.

"Stop it! Please!" the child wailed on the screen.

The crew watched in frozen horror. Meggy’s hand dropped from her weapon, her face turning a ghostly white. Tari covered her mouth, tears already welling in her eyes. Even Bob, usually the first to make a joke, remained deathly silent, his glowing eyes fixed on the screen.

"Luigi..." SMG4 whispered, his voice trembling. "What is this?"

Luigi didn't look at him. He was staring at the floor, his hands over his ears. "It’s... it’s the tapes. The ones he tried to burn. Our father... he wasn't a good man, SMG4. He hated that Mario was... different."

The video jumped forward in time. Mario was older now, perhaps a young teenager. He was sitting on a park bench alone. The vibrant world of the Mushroom Kingdom seemed gray around him. The light that usually danced in his blue eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, hollow stare. He looked at his hands, which were bruised and trembling. He looked like a person who had been told he was a failure so many times that he had finally started to believe it.

"He looks so... empty," Melony whispered. She had been quiet until now, but her deity-like intuition was picking up on the waves of sorrow emanating from the footage.

The montage continued, showing snippets of Mario’s life before he met the crew. Every scene was a testament to loneliness. He walked through crowds where no one looked at him; he ate dinner alone in a dark kitchen; he slept on a floor because he didn't feel he deserved a bed. The "stupidity" they all mocked him for suddenly looked less like a personality trait and more like a defense mechanism—a way to numb a mind that had been broken by years of neglect.

Then, the footage changed to something unexpected. A younger, but adult, Mario was sitting in a field. He was holding a melon in his hands. It was just a regular watermelon, green and striped, but he was cradling it as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

"It’s okay," the Mario on screen whispered, his voice cracking. He took a marker and drew a crude smiley face on the fruit. "I’ll take care of you. You won't ever be lonely. I'll call you... Melony."

The real Melony gasped, her hands flying to her chest. She stared at the screen, watching as a younger version of her creator—her father figure, her friend—hugged the melon tightly, burying his face into its cold rind and sobbing quietly.

"He... he made me because he was lonely?" Melony’s voice was barely audible.

"He didn't have anyone else," Luigi said softly, finally finding the courage to look up. "Before he met you guys, before the memes and the adventures... he just had his imagination. He had to create friends because the real world was too mean to him."

The TV began to speed up, showing the highlights of the past few years. They saw the arrival of SMG4, the first time Mario met Meggy at the Inkopolis plaza, the battles against Waluigi, Bob’s rapper arc, and the terrifying confrontation with Zero.

Initially, the crew felt a sense of pride seeing these moments, but that feeling quickly souared. As the clips played, the screen began to overlay Mario’s internal thoughts in flickering text.

*They only like me when I'm funny.*

*I’m just a shield.*

*If I’m not the clown, I’m nothing.*

The footage showed Mario standing in the background of their group photos, his smile fading the second the camera clicked. It showed him sitting on the castle roof at night, looking at the stars while everyone else celebrated inside, his expression one of profound, crushing sadness.

"We... we did that?" Tari sobbed, her metallic hand sparking as her emotions surged. "We made him feel like that?"

"We call him an idiot every day," Meggy said, her voice thick with guilt. She remembered all the times she had snapped at him, all the times she had lost her temper because he was being 'too much.' "We treat him like a nuisance."

"I thought it was just a bit," Bob muttered, his usual bravado completely extinguished. "I didn't know he was actually... you know... sad-sad."

The images on the screen became more frantic. They saw Mario looking at his own reflection in a mirror, his face contorting into a mask of self-hatred. He would slap his own cheeks, forcing a goofy grin until his skin was red, just so he could walk out of his room and face them.

The final image on the screen was a live feed. It showed the hallway just outside the castle doors. Mario was standing there, his hand on the golden doorknob. He wasn't moving. He didn't have his usual manic energy. He just stood there, his shoulders slumped, taking a deep, shaky breath. He adjusted his hat, pulling it low over his eyes, and practiced a loud, obnoxious laugh.

"It’s-a me! Mario!" he whispered to the empty hallway, testing the tone. It sounded hollow. Fake.

He took another breath, straightened his spine, and pushed the doors open.

The TV turned off instantly.

The heavy oak doors of the foyer swung open with a bang. Mario marched in, tripping over his own feet and landing face-first on the rug. He scrambled up, tossing a greasy pizza box onto the coffee table and letting out a loud, forced hoot.

"Who wants-a some pizza? Mario found a place that gives you a discount if you promise not to sue them for the rats!" He laughed, the sound echoing through the silent room. "Hey, why are you all looking at Mario like he just pooped in the kettle? I only did that once!"

No one moved. No one laughed.

Mario’s smile wavered for a fraction of a second before he doubled down, jumping onto the back of the sofa. "Ooooh, is it a silent game? Mario is the king of the silent game! Watch this!" He puffed out his cheeks and crossed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable insults or groans of annoyance.

Instead, he felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around his waist.

Tari had lunged forward, burying her face in his red shirt. She was shaking, her sobs finally breaking through.

"Whoa! Tari? Did you see a scary spider? Don’t worry, Mario will hit it with a shoe!"

Then came Meggy. She walked over and placed a firm, trembling hand on his shoulder. "Mario... stop."

"Stop what? Mario isn't doing anything! I’m being a good boy!"

"Stop pretending," SMG4 said, his voice cracking. He stood up from his laptop and walked toward his oldest friend. "We saw, Mario. We saw the screen. We saw... everything."

The colorful, chaotic energy in the room seemed to drain away. Mario froze. His goofy expression didn't just fade; it collapsed. The wide, crossed eyes straightened, looking at the blank TV screen and then back at his friends. The silence that followed was the heaviest thing any of them had ever felt.

Mario reached up, slowly taking off his hat. His hair was messy, and without the brim of the hat to shadow his face, the exhaustion in his eyes was laid bare. He looked small. He didn't look like the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom or the avatar of the universe. He looked like the little boy from the video, waiting for a blow that he thought he deserved.

"Oh," Mario whispered. The voice wasn't high-pitched or cartoonish. It was quiet, weary, and deeply human. "That. You weren't supposed to see that."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Melony asked, walking over to stand in front of him. She reached out, touching the marker-drawn face on her own melon-themed clothing, a symbol of the care he had given her when he had nothing else. "Why did you carry all that alone?"

Mario looked at the floor, his fingers tracing the rim of his hat. "Because everyone likes the funny Mario. The funny Mario makes people happy. The sad Mario... the sad Mario is just a broken toy. And nobody wants to play with a broken toy."

"You're not a toy, Mario," Luigi said, stepping forward to embrace his brother. "You're my brother. And you're their friend. We don't care about the 'funny' version. We just want *you*."

Mario stayed tense for a long moment, his breath hitching in his throat. Then, slowly, the wall he had built over decades of pain began to crumble. He let out a small, broken sob, dropping his hat and clinging to Luigi as if he were a lifeline.

One by one, the rest of the crew joined in. Bob and Boopkins leaned in, Saiko placed a protective hand on his head, and Meggy joined the embrace, her tears mixing with his.

For the first time in his life, Mario didn't have to be the joke. He didn't have to be the shield or the clown. He could just be Mario. And as he sat there, surrounded by the family he had built from the ruins of a lonely life, the light in his eyes didn't come back all at once—but for the first time, it didn't feel like it was flickering out.

"It’s okay, Red," Meggy whispered into the silence of the castle. "We've got you."

Mario didn't say anything. He just squeezed his eyes shut and, for the first time in a very long time, he felt like he was finally home.