Mario returns from the dead

The first thing Mario felt was the cold. It wasn't the bone-chilling cold of the freezer or the icy breath of a Snowman, but a heavy, hollow numbness that felt like being submerged in a vat of static. Then came the smell—not of spaghetti or old socks, but of damp earth and stale air.

Mario’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, everything was a blur of dark browns and grays. He let out a sharp, ragged gasp that burned his lungs, as if they hadn't held oxygen in half a decade. He sat up abruptly, his head thumping against something hard and wooden.

"Ow! Mamafucker!" he yelled, rubbing his head.

Wait. He could feel pain. He could hear his own voice.

Mario looked around, his pupils dilating as they adjusted to the dim light. He wasn't in a grave, and he wasn't in the Great Beyond with the big spaghetti bowl in the sky. He was in his old room at the castle—or what used to be the castle. The wallpaper was peeling, and a thick layer of dust coated his old NES console, but it was unmistakably home.

He looked down at his hands. They were solid. He pinched his cheek until it turned red.

"I'm... I'm alive?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Mario is back? Mario is back!"

He scrambled out of bed, his legs feeling like jelly. He stumbled toward a calendar hanging precariously on the wall by a single rusted nail. The last crossed-out date was five years ago. He had been gone for five years. The memory of the "Final Level"—the incident that had finally claimed his many lives—flashed through his mind, but he pushed it aside. He didn't care how he was back; he just knew he had to see them.

He had to see SMG4. He had to see Luigi. And he had to see his daughter, Melony.

Mario burst out of the room, tripping over his own feet in his haste. He didn't care about the cobwebs sticking to his mustache or the fact that he was still wearing his iconic red hat, which somehow looked brand new. He sprinted through the familiar hallways of the Showgrounds, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

As he approached the main hall of the new castle, he slowed down. He could hear voices—subdued, somber, and familiar. He crept toward the heavy oak doors, his hand trembling as he reached for the handle. Through a small crack, he peered inside.

The room was decorated, but not for a party. There were white lilies everywhere and a large, framed photograph of Mario himself sitting on a pedestal. In front of it was a single, pristine plate of spaghetti that had long since gone cold.

The whole gang was there. SMG4 looked older, with slight bags under his eyes and a more refined blue hue to his outfit. Bob and Fishy Boopkins were sitting quietly, a rare sight for the duo. Meggy was leaning against a pillar, her gaze fixed on the floor, her signature beanie pulled low.

But it was Luigi and Melony who caught his eye. Luigi looked weary, his green hat clutched tightly in his hands. Melony was sitting cross-legged on a rug, her Fierce Deity mask resting in her lap. She wasn't sleeping. She was staring at the photo of Mario with a look of profound, quiet longing.

"It’s been five years," SMG4 said, his voice breaking the silence. "I still expect him to crash through that window demanding a pizza."

"He was a moron," Saiko added, though her voice lacked its usual bite. "But he was our moron."

Mario couldn't hold it back anymore. The sight of his family mourning him, five years later, sent a surge of emotion through him that eclipsed even his hunger for pasta. He pushed the door open, the hinges letting out a long, dramatic creak.

The group didn't turn at first. They probably thought it was just the wind or a stray Goomba.

"Is the kitchen door open again?" Meggy asked without looking up.

Mario stepped into the light, the glow of the chandeliers hitting his red shirt. He took a deep breath, his chest swelling.

"Hey," Mario said, his voice trembling with a mix of joy and his trademark stupidity. "Does this mean nobody's gonna eat that spaghetti?"

The effect was instantaneous. It was as if the world had hit a collective pause button.

SMG4 froze mid-sentence. Bob dropped his bag of gold. Meggy’s head snapped up so fast her beanie nearly fell off. But the reaction from Luigi and Melony was the most visceral.

Luigi’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open as his face turned a ghostly shade of pale. "M-M-Mario?"

Melony stood up slowly, her grip tightening on her mask. Her eyes searched his face, looking for the trick, the prank, or the hallucination. When she saw the way his mustache twitched and the familiar, vacant-yet-kind glint in his eyes, the tears began to overflow.

"Dad?" she whispered.

Mario opened his arms wide, a goofy, tearful grin spreading across his face. "It’s-a me!"

Luigi didn't even hesitate. He let out a sob that sounded like a tea kettle screaming and launched himself across the room. He tackled Mario with such force that they both went sprawling onto the floor.

"MARIO! YOU'RE ALIVE! YOU'RE REALLY ALIVE!" Luigi wailed, burying his face in Mario’s red shirt, his hands clutching the fabric as if he feared his brother might evaporate into mist.

"Oof! Easy, Luigi! You're crushing the goods!" Mario wheezed, though he wrapped his arms tightly around his brother.

Melony was right behind him. She didn't tackle him; she knelt beside them, her hands hovering over Mario’s face before finally touching his cheek. When she felt the warmth of his skin, she let out a choked sob and collapsed into the huddle, hugging Mario’s neck.

"You came back," Melony cried, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "You actually came back."

The rest of the crew finally broke out of their trance.

"What the hell?!" SMG4 shouted, running over. "Mario? How? We saw the game over screen! We saw the credits!"

"I got better!" Mario yelled back, laughing as he tried to navigate the pile of friends now descending upon him.

Meggy slid into the fray, punching Mario lightly on the arm before pulling him into a fierce headlock. "You idiot! You absolute, red-colored moron! Don't you ever do that again!"

"I missed you too, Meggy!" Mario gasped, his face turning blue from the lack of air.

"OH MY GOD, MARIO IS BACK!" Boopkins cheered, hopping up and down. "Now we can watch anime together again!"

"I CAN FINALLY START CHARGING HIM INTEREST ON THE MONEY HE OWES ME!" Bob shouted, though he was uncharacteristically quick to join the group hug, his bladed arms carefully tucked away so as not to poke anyone.

Tari was crying soft, digital tears, her robotic arm whirring as she patted Mario’s hat. "We missed you so much, Mario. The world was so... quiet without you."

Mario looked around at the circle of faces. They were older, maybe a little more scarred by the years, but they were his people. He felt a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with fire flowers.

"Mario is sorry he was gone so long," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He looked at Melony, who was still holding onto his hand like she was afraid he’d be pulled back into the darkness if she let go. "I missed you most of all, Melony. You grew up so much."

Melony wiped her eyes with her sleeve, giving him a watery smile. "I had to. I had to look after everyone for you."

Mario patted her head. "You did a good job. But now, Mario is back in charge of the snacks."

SMG4 stood back for a moment, wiping his own eyes with his sleeve. He looked at the chaos of the reunion—the crying, the shouting, the sheer absurdity of a dead man returning just in time for his own anniversary. It was messy, loud, and completely nonsensical.

It was exactly how things were supposed to be.

"Alright, alright," SMG4 said, claping his hands together, though his voice was thick with emotion. "We have a lot to talk about. Like, how you're even here, and where you've been, and why you're currently sitting on the commemorative cake Luigi spent three days baking."

Mario looked down. He was indeed sitting directly in the center of a giant chocolate cake shaped like a mushroom.

"Eh," Mario shrugged, reaching down and scooping up a handful of frosting. "It’s okay. It tastes like grief and chocolate. Mostly chocolate."

He shoved the frosting into his mouth, and for the first time in five years, the hall was filled with the sound of genuine, raucous laughter.

Luigi pulled his brother into one more squeeze, refusing to let go. "I don't care about the cake, Mario. I just... I missed my brother."

Mario leaned his head against Luigi’s. "I missed you too, Green Stache. Now, someone get Mario a real plate of spaghetti. I’m starving!"

As the gang began to scramble toward the kitchen, talking over one another in a frantic rush to catch Mario up on five years of insanity, Mario stayed on the floor for a moment longer with Melony and Luigi. He looked at the photo on the pedestal—the one of him smiling with a pizza in each hand.

He reached out and tipped the photo over, face down.

"Mario doesn't need that anymore," he said firmly. "Mario is right here."

Melony hugged him one last time, a sense of peace finally settling over her that hadn't been there since the day he left. "Welcome home, Dad."

"It's good to be home," Mario replied, his stomach letting out a roar that could be heard in the next kingdom. "Now seriously, where is the pasta? Mario is about to eat his own shoes!"

The sadness that had hung over the castle for half a decade evaporated in an instant, replaced by the beautiful, chaotic energy of the red plumber's return. The anniversary of his death was over. From now on, they would only celebrate the day he decided to come back.