Mario the exiled

The heavy oak doors of the Showgrounds castle didn’t just close; they slammed with a finality that seemed to vibrate through the very soles of Mario’s boots. The sound echoed across the open courtyard, startling a few nearby birds into flight, but Mario didn’t flinch.

He stood on the gravel path, his gloved hands hanging limp at his sides. For a long moment, he didn't move. He just stared at the wood grain of the door, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for SMG4 to stick his head out and tell him it was all a prank for a video, or for Meggy to come out and tell him he was being a "stupid face" and to get back inside for training.

But the silence that followed was deafening.

"Get out, Mario," SMG4’s voice had been cold—colder than the ice in the freezer where the emergency spaghetti was kept. "We’re tired of the messes. We’re tired of the disasters. Just... go. Don't come back until we say so."

Mario’s lip trembled. He wasn't thinking about spaghetti. He wasn't thinking about coins or Bowser or kart racing. He was thinking about the look in his friends' eyes. It wasn't anger—he was used to them being angry at him. It was exhaustion. They looked at him like he was a chore they were finally finished with.

Slowly, the red-clad plumber turned away. His head hung so low that the brim of his hat obscured his eyes. Every step felt like he was dragging a mountain behind him. He didn’t shout. He didn’t throw a tantrum. He just walked, his silhouette shrinking against the horizon as the sun began to dip, casting long, lonely shadows across the grass.

Inside the castle, the atmosphere was a jarring contrast.

"Finally!" SMG4 exhaled, throwing his arms up as he slumped into a swivel chair in the main hall. "Do you realize how much work I’m going to get done without a pipe bomb going off in the kitchen every twenty minutes? The peace... it’s beautiful."

"I hate to say it, but he was really getting on my nerves lately," Meggy added, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She gave a small, forced shrug. "Maybe some time alone will actually make him realize he needs to grow up a bit. It’s for his own good, right?"

Bob let out a raspy laugh, waving a blade in the air. "Oh Hell Yeah! Now I Can Finally Film My New Reality Show 'Bob’s Mansion' Without That Fat Guy Eating All The Props! This Is The Best Day Of My Life!"

"It is significantly quieter," Tari murmured, though she looked a little uncertain, fidgeting with her controller. "I guess it'll be nice not having to restart my games because the console got dipped in marinara sauce."

The room filled with the sounds of agreement. Boopkins started talking about an anime marathon, and Saiko mentioned finally being able to practice her guitar without Mario using her amp as a foot spa. They were moving on. They were already planning a life that didn't involve the chaos of the red plumber.

In the corner of the room, perched on a plush beanbag, Melony sat perfectly still.

She wasn't holding her sword, and she wasn't sleeping. Her heterochromatic eyes were fixed on the door Mario had just exited. While the others laughed and chatted, a cold knot of unease began to twist in her stomach.

Melony remembered what it was like to be ignored. She remembered being a literal piece of fruit that no one talked to. Mario had been the one to check on her back then. Mario was the one who, despite his idiocy, had a heart that functioned as the literal anchor of their universe.

She looked at SMG4, who was already pulling up a spreadsheet on his laptop, humming a jaunty tune.

"Is he coming back for dinner?" Melony asked. Her voice was soft, but it cut through the laughter like a knife.

The room went quiet. SMG4 didn't look up from his screen. "I told him not to come back until we say so, Melony. We need a break. A long one."

"But where is he going to go?" Melony pressed, standing up. "He doesn't have his own house anymore. The old castle is gone. His house in the Mushroom Kingdom is a wreck. It’s getting dark."

"He’s Mario," Meggy said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. "He’ll find a pipe to sleep in or something. He’s survived falling into lava, Melony. He’ll be fine."

Melony looked at Meggy, then at the rest of her friends. She saw the relief on their faces, a relief bought at the cost of the person who had been there since the very beginning. The person who, for all his flaws, was the reason they were all together in the first place.

"He looked sad," Melony said quietly.

"He’s always dramatic," Bob dismissed, picking at his bandages. "He’ll be back in two days begging for a ravioli. Just Watch."

Melony didn't respond. She felt a sudden, sharp pang of protectiveness. She thought of Axol. Axol would have never let this happen. He would have seen the look on Mario’s face—the look of an Avatar who felt his world had just rejected him.

Without another word, Melony turned and walked toward the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" SMG4 called out, finally looking away from his computer. "We were gonna order pizza! Without Mario here, we don't even have to hide the toppings!"

Melony paused with her hand on the heavy brass handle. She didn't look back. "I'm not hungry."

She pushed the door open and stepped out into the twilight.

The air was turning chilly, the wind whistling through the trees of the Showgrounds. Melony scanned the path. It didn't take a deity’s tracking skills to find him; the grass was flattened where he had trudged along, and a single, crumpled spaghetti wrapper lay discarded near the edge of the woods.

She followed the trail for nearly twenty minutes, moving deeper into the forest that bordered the castle grounds. The further she went, the more the silence felt wrong. Usually, if Mario was nearby, you could hear him humming, or screaming, or the sound of something breaking.

Instead, there was only the sound of crickets.

She found him sitting on a mossy log near a small, stagnant pond. He hadn't built a fire. He hadn't tried to find shelter. He was just sitting there, staring at his own reflection in the dark water. His hat was pulled down so low it rested on the bridge of his nose.

Melony approached slowly, her boots crunching softly on the fallen leaves. "Mario?"

The plumber didn't jump. He didn't even turn around. "Go away, Melony. SMG4 said Mario isn't allowed back."

"I'm not SMG4," she said, coming to a halt beside him. She sat down on the log, leaving a respectful distance between them.

Mario let out a long, shuddering sigh. "The others... they were happy, weren't they? When the door closed. Mario heard them laughing."

Melony felt a lump form in her throat. She wanted to lie. She wanted to tell him they were all miserable and missing him already, but she knew Mario, for all his lack of intelligence, had a keen instinct for emotions.

"They're just tired, Mario," she said softly. "They aren't thinking straight."

"No," Mario whispered. He finally looked up, and Melony flinched. His eyes weren't filled with his usual manic energy. They were dull, watery, and rimmed with red. "They were right. Mario is just... a big, stupid mess. All Mario does is break things. Mario breaks the castle, Mario breaks the videos, Mario breaks his friends."

He looked back at the water. "Maybe the world is better if the Avatar is just... gone for a while. Maybe the glitches stop if Mario isn't there to make them."

"That's not true," Melony said firmly, reaching out to grab his arm. "Mario, you’re the heart. If the heart stops, the rest of us don't work. SMG4 is a jerk sometimes, and Meggy is stubborn, and the others... well, they're idiots. But they don't know what they're doing."

Mario pulled his arm away gently, hugging his knees to his chest. "They looked at Mario like he was trash, Melony. Not like a friend. Like... a chore."

He went quiet again. The moon began to rise, casting a pale, ghostly light over the clearing.

"I'm not going back," Mario said suddenly. His voice was devoid of its usual Italian accent, sounding flat and tired. "If they want a world without Mario, they can have it. Mario will find a new place. A place where there's no castles to break."

"Where would you go?" Melony asked, her heart sinking.

"Somewhere far," Mario muttered. "Maybe I'll go find Greg. Or just walk until the map ends."

Melony looked at him—really looked at him. She saw the years of slapstick abuse, the countless times he had been the butt of the joke, the way he was always the one to take the hit so the others could be the heroes. He was the most powerful being in their universe, and he was sitting on a log feeling like he was worth less than a mushroom.

"I’m staying with you," Melony declared.

Mario blinked, finally turning his head to look at her fully. "What? No. Melony has a warm bed. Melony has her anime and her couch. Mario has... a damp log."

"I don't care," Melony said, crossing her arms. "If you're kicked out, then I'm leaving too. I'm not staying in a castle where people treat their family like that."

Mario’s lip wobbled again. "But... why? Mario is just... Mario."

Melony leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. It was a rare gesture of affection from the deity, but she felt he needed it more than anything else in the world.

"Because you're my friend, Mario. And because you’re the only one who didn't forget that being a family means sticking together even when things are messy."

Mario sat frozen for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached up and wiped his eyes with the back of his glove. A small, shaky breath escaped him.

"Melony is a weird melon," he murmured, but he didn't pull away.

"I know," she smiled.

They sat there in the dark for a long time. Back at the castle, the lights were bright, and the sound of a party was beginning to pick up. SMG4 was likely making a toast to "productivity," and the others were likely enjoying the lack of chaos. They didn't realize that the air in the castle was already starting to feel thinner, colder. They didn't realize that by throwing out the "mess," they had thrown out the soul of their home.

"Mario is hungry," the plumber whispered after an hour of silence.

Melony reached into her cloak and pulled out a slightly squashed container. She opened it to reveal two cold, leftover slices of pizza from the night before.

Mario’s eyes widened slightly. "Pizza?"

"It’s not spaghetti," Melony said. "But it's something."

Mario took a slice, holding it like it was made of gold. He took a bite, chewed slowly, and for the first time that evening, the crushing weight in his chest lightened just a fraction.

"Thank you, Melony," he said.

"Don't mention it," she replied, looking up at the stars. "We’ll stay here tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out where we’re going. But we aren't going back. Not until they understand."

Mario nodded, leaning back against the log. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like a character in a video game or a tool for a content creator. He felt like a person. A sad person, yes, but one who wasn't alone.

As the fireflies began to dance around the pond, the Great Avatar and the Deity of the Mask sat in the wilderness, turning their backs on the castle that had turned its back on them.

The silence of the woods was deep, but for Mario, it was finally better than the laughter coming from the home he no longer had.