The death of mario

The sterile scent of the Mushroom Kingdom General Hospital was a sharp, biting contrast to the usual smell of tomato sauce and gunpowder that followed Mario wherever he went. Inside Room 402, the atmosphere was heavy. There were no slapstick antics, no explosions, and no shouting. There was only the rhythmic, agonizingly slow *beep* of a heart monitor that struggled to keep pace with a fading life.

Mario lay tucked beneath thin, white sheets that felt far too heavy for his tired limbs. His iconic red cap sat on the bedside table, slightly dusty. His mustache, usually bushy and defiant, looked limp. Every breath felt like he was trying to inhale lead. He knew the "Game Over" screen wasn't going to offer him a 'Continue' this time.

With a trembling hand, he reached into the pocket of his overalls, which were folded neatly atop his hat. He pulled out his phone. His vision blurred, the pixels of the screen swimming before his eyes, but he managed to find the one contact that mattered most.

He hit the video call button for SMG4.

At the Showgrounds, the atmosphere was chaotic as usual. SMG4 was hunched over his computer, frantically editing a video while Bob and Boopkins argued over a piece of trash in the background. Meggy was polishing her Splatgun, and Tari was focused on a handheld game.

"Ugh, Mario, if this is another prank about a pizza delivery..." SMG4 grumbled, reaching for his buzzing phone. He paused when he saw it was a video call. Mario almost never used video unless he’d accidentally sat on the phone.

SMG4 swiped to answer, and his annoyed expression instantly vanished, replaced by a cold, hollow dread.

"Guys... get over here. Now," SMG4 whispered, his voice cracking.

The crew huddled around the small screen. The background behind Mario wasn't the kitchen or a pipe; it was the unmistakable, bleak grey of a hospital ward. Mario looked small. He looked fragile.

"Hey, guys," Mario rasped. His voice was a ghost of its former self, lacking the high-pitched energy the world had come to expect. "I think... I think Mario's out of lives."

The room went silent. The bickering stopped. Meggy dropped her weapon, the clatter echoing through the room.

"Mario? What are you talking about? Is this a bit?" SMG4 asked, his hands shaking so hard he almost dropped the device. "Where are you?"

"Hospital," Mario whispered, a weak, sad smile touching his lips. "The doctors say... the spaghetti in my heart is finally running out. I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the next level."

The revelation hit them like a physical blow. Luigi, who had been standing in the doorway with a tray of snacks, let the tray fall. Crackers and juice boxes scattered across the floor. His eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

"M-Mario?" Luigi’s voice was a high-pitched whimper. "No. No, no, no! It’s not funny, Big Bro! Get up! We have to go get dinner!"

Beside him, Melony froze. Her deity-like composure shattered instantly. To the world, Mario was a buffoon, a hero, or a nuisance. But to Melony, he was the one who had watched over her when she was nothing more than a fruit on a vine. He was the one who had nurtured her, in his own strange way, and stood by her through the loss of Axol.

"Dad?" Melony breathed. The word hung in the air, heavy and heartbreaking. She began to hyperventilate, her hands clutching at her cloak. "No! Mario, wait! Don't go!"

"We're coming!" SMG4 shouted into the phone, already sprinting toward the door. "Don't you dare close your eyes, Mario! That’s an order!"

The trip to the hospital was a blur of frantic movement and suffocating silence. When they burst through the doors of Room 402, the reality of the situation became even more grim. The monitor was slowing down.

Luigi was the first to reach the bed, collapsing onto his knees and grabbing Mario’s hand. "Mario! Look at me! I’ll give you all my coins! I’ll buy you the biggest pasta factory in the world! Just... just keep breathing!"

Mario turned his head slowly, his eyes dimming. "Luigi... take care of the house. Don't let... don't let the ghosts in."

Melony pushed past the others, her face streaked with tears. She didn't look like a fierce fierce deity or a master hacker; she looked like a lost child. She threw her arms over Mario’s chest, careful not to jostle the wires, and sobbed into his shoulder.

"You can't leave too," she wailed, her voice muffled by the blankets. "Not you. Please, Mario. I need you to stay. Who’s going to tell me it's okay to take a nap? Who’s going to make the bad things go away with a joke? Please, Dad, stay!"

The rest of the crew stood at the foot of the bed, a wall of grief. Meggy was crying silently, her cap pulled low over her eyes. Saiko looked away, her jaw clenched to keep from breaking down. Even Bob was uncharacteristically quiet, his glowing eyes dimmed.

Mario looked down at Melony. Seeing her this broken hurt worse than any illness. He had always tried to be the "funny guy" so she wouldn't have to be sad. He reached out a trembling hand and rested it on her head, stroking her hair with the last of his strength.

A single tear escaped Mario’s eye, trailing down into his mustache.

"Hey... Melony," he whispered. "Don't cry. You're... you're a big, strong melon now."

"I'm not!" she cried out. "I'm not strong enough for this!"

Mario felt the darkness tugging at the edges of his vision. He knew he didn't have much time left. He remembered the long afternoons years ago, back when Melony was just a physical melon he carried around in his hat or sat on the couch with. He used to talk to her for hours, and when the world got too loud, he would hum to her.

With a shaky breath, Mario began to hum.

It was a soft, simple melody—a tune from an old world, something gentle and warm. It was the song of a man who loved his friends more than he loved himself, even if he never had the words to say it.

"Mm-mm... mm-mm-mm..."

Melony’s sobbing slowed as she heard the familiar vibration in his chest. She looked up, her eyes red and puffy, seeing the tenderness in Mario’s expression. He wasn't the "stupid" Mario right now. He was just a father saying goodbye.

"Is that... the song?" she whispered.

Mario nodded weakly, his humming continuing, though it grew faint. He hummed of green fields, of jumping over flagpoles, of the taste of starlight, and of the family they had built together.

"Go to sleep... little melon," Mario murmured, his voice barely a breath. "Everything’s gonna be... okey-dokey."

SMG4 stepped forward, placing a hand on Mario’s shoulder. "Mario... thank you. For everything."

Mario looked at his best friend, the man who had documented his madness for over a decade. He gave a tiny, weak thumbs-up.

"Mama... mia..."

The monitor emitted a long, continuous tone.

The hand on Melony’s head went limp. Mario’s head fell back against the pillow, a peaceful, goofy smile fixed on his face, as if he had just seen a giant bowl of spaghetti waiting for him on the other side.

The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the sound of Melony’s heart breaking. She buried her face in his chest one last time, the soft melody he had hummed still echoing in her mind, a final gift from the man who had been her world.

Outside the window, the sun began to set over the Mushroom Kingdom, casting a long, red shadow over the castle, marking the end of an era. The hero was gone, but the song remained.