Mario's angst

The Showgrounds was uncharacteristically quiet. Inside the castle, the air was thick with a rare, heavy boredom that usually only occurred when the world wasn’t being threatened by an eldritch virus or a megalomaniacal lawyer. SMG4 was slumped on the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Meggy was balancing a Splat-o-matic on her knee, cleaning the nozzle for the tenth time that hour. Saiko was tuning her guitar with aggressive snaps of the strings, while Tari watched Bob and Fishy Boopkins attempt to see who could blink the least.

"Is it just me, or is it actually... peaceful?" SMG4 muttered, glancing around the room.

"It’s because Red isn't here," Meggy remarked, though her voice lacked its usual competitive spark. "No explosions, no spaghetti heists, and no one getting kicked in the pingas. It’s a miracle."

"Yeah, it’s actually kinda nice not having to worry about the castle being set on fire for five minutes," SMG3 added from the corner, though he looked just as bored as the rest of them.

Luigi sat in a nearby armchair, wringing his gloved hands. He looked paler than usual, his eyes darting toward the large monitor mounted on the wall. He didn't join in on the lighthearted ribbing of his brother. He just stared at his boots, his shoulders hunched.

Suddenly, the monitor flickered to life. Static hissed through the speakers, drawing everyone’s attention.

"Yo, Four, did you start a new video?" Bob asked, tilting his head.

"No, I’m not even touching the remote," SMG4 replied, sitting up straight.

The screen cleared, revealing a grainy, low-quality home video. The date in the corner indicated it was from decades ago. A small, chubby child with a familiar red cap and an oversized mustache was sitting on a kitchen floor, playing with a wooden spoon. It was a young Mario.

"Oh great, a trip down memory lane," Saiko groaned, rolling her eyes. "Are we really going to watch Baby Mario eat glue for twenty minutes?"

"I think it’s cute!" Tari chirped, leaning forward. "Look at his little face."

But the atmosphere shifted instantly. A heavy thud echoed through the speakers, followed by the sound of a door slamming. A man and a woman, their faces obscured by shadows but their presence looming and suffocating, walked into the frame.

"Mario! What did I tell you about making a mess in here?" the man roared. His voice was a jagged blade of pure vitriol.

The little Mario on screen flinched so hard he dropped his spoon. "I-I was just playing, Papa..."

"Playing? You’re a waste of space!" the woman screamed, her voice shrill and piercing.

What followed was a blur of violence that silenced the room. The gang watched in paralyzed horror as the parents descended on the child. It wasn't the slapstick, cartoonish violence they were used to in their daily lives. There were no "oomf" sound effects or comedic resets. It was raw, grounded, and cruel. The young Mario didn't bounce back; he curled into a ball, sobbing and begging for them to stop as he was struck repeatedly for the smallest of perceived slights.

Meggy’s hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened, the golden irises trembling. "What... what is this?"

SMG4 felt a cold stone drop in his stomach. He looked over at Luigi. The younger brother had his eyes squeezed shut, his hands over his ears, shaking violently.

"Luigi?" SMG4 whispered. "Did you... did you know?"

Luigi didn't look up. "I tried to hide him," he whimpered, his voice cracking. "I was younger... I couldn't do anything. He always told me to stay in the closet so they wouldn't see me. He took it all so I wouldn't have to."

The video jumped forward in time. Mario was eight. He was standing outside in the rain, locked out of the house without a coat, shivering and hugging his knees. His eyes, usually so bright and full of mischief, were dull and vacant.

Another jump. Mario was a teenager. He was trying to cook spaghetti for himself, his hands shaking as he stirred the pot. His father walked in, grabbed the hot pot, and threw it against the wall, screaming about the cost of groceries before shoving Mario into the shattered ceramic shards.

"Stop it," Melony sobbed, her usual sleepy demeanor replaced by a look of pure agony. She clutched Fishy Boopkins so hard the little spike-fish started to tear up himself. "Please, turn it off."

"I can't," SMG4 said, his voice trembling as he fumbled with the remote. "The controls aren't responding. It’s... it’s just playing."

They watched the years bleed by. They saw Mario slowly losing that spark of intelligence and awareness, his mind seemingly retreating into a shell of stupidity as a defense mechanism. The "dumb" Mario they knew wasn't just a product of the world’s randomness; it was a fortress built of spaghetti and nonsense to bury the memories of a childhood spent in fear.

They saw him enter the Mushroom Kingdom for the first time. They saw him meet Princess Peach, who treated him like a tool. They saw their own interactions with him—the times they had called him an idiot, the times they had beaten him up for a joke, the times they had left him behind because he was "annoying."

"Oh my god," Tari whispered, tears streaming down her robotic cheek. "We... we were just like them sometimes."

"No," Meggy gasped, her heart shattering. She remembered every time she had lost her temper and kicked him through a wall. She remembered the times she had looked down on him for his low IQ, never realizing that his brain was literally wired to survive trauma. "We didn't know. We never knew."

"He never complained," Bob said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and devoid of his usual bravado. "He just... he just kept eating spaghetti and acting like a moron. I thought he was just built different."

"He was protecting us," Saiko said, her fist clenched so hard her knuckles turned white. "He didn't want us to feel the way he felt. So he became the joke."

The screen finally flickered to black, leaving the room in a suffocating silence. The only sound was the muffled sobbing of Melony and the ragged breathing of Luigi. They felt a profound sense of guilt, a weight that threatened to crush them. Every "funny" moment of Mario’s stupidity now felt like a scar they had failed to see.

The heavy oak doors of the castle creaked open.

"It's-a me! Mario!"

The voice was loud, cheerful, and incredibly stupid. Mario skipped into the room, a half-eaten slice of pizza in one hand and a goofy grin on his face. He was covered in a bit of dirt, probably from some ridiculous misadventure involving a manhole cover or a stray dog.

"Hey guys! You won't believe it! I found a rock that looks like a butt! It’s-a hilarious!"

He stopped in the middle of the room, his grin faltering as he looked around. He saw the tears. He saw the way Meggy was shaking. He saw Luigi huddled in the chair.

"Uh... guys?" Mario asked, his voice dropping an octave, losing some of its exaggerated playfulness. "Why is everyone making the 'sad' faces? Did someone steal the TV? I can go find them! I'll-a give them the big stinky!"

He walked closer, his brow furrowed in genuine concern. "Meggy? Why you crying? Did you lose a Splat-fest? It’s okay, we can go get ice cream and—"

Before he could finish, a blur of orange and white slammed into him. Meggy had lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his red shirt. She was sobbing uncontrollably, her small frame shaking against him.

"Whoa! Meggy! You’re getting the snot on the overalls!" Mario joked, though his hands hovered awkwardly over her back.

Then, the rest of them moved. Tari and Melony joined the hug, followed by a tearful Boopkins. Even Saiko and SMG4 walked over, their expressions filled with a mix of pity and fierce, protective love. SMG3 stood on the periphery, looking away as he wiped his eyes, but he eventually stepped in too, placing a hand on Mario’s shoulder.

"Hey, hey! What is this?" Mario laughed nervously, though he didn't pull away. He looked down at his brother. "Luigi? You okay, Bro?"

Luigi stood up, his face red from crying, and practically tackled Mario into the group. "I'm sorry, Mario," he choked out. "I'm so sorry I couldn't stop them."

Mario froze. The goofy smile didn't disappear, but his eyes changed. For a brief, flickering second, the "dumb" Mario vanished, replaced by a man who had survived hell and come out the other side determined to never let anyone else see the flames.

He looked at the blank monitor, then back at his friends. He knew. He knew they had seen.

He sighed, a long, weary sound that didn't belong in his body. He slowly wrapped his thick arms around as many of them as he could reach, pulling them into a massive, protective embrace.

"It’s okay," Mario said. His voice was steady, clear, and surprisingly soft. It wasn't the voice of a clown; it was the voice of a brother. "That was a long time ago. Mario is okay now. I have-a the spaghetti. And I have-a the best friends in the world."

"We're so sorry for how we treated you, Red," Meggy sobbed into his chest. "We’re so, so sorry."

Mario pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. He reached out a gloved hand and wiped a tear from her cheek, his expression softening into something incredibly kind.

"Don't be sad, Meggy," he said, the goofy lilt returning to his voice as he tried to lighten the mood. "If you cry too much, your brains will melt and you'll be as dumb as Mario! And the world only needs one of me! It’s-a too much sexy for one planet!"

A weak, watery chuckle rippled through the group. Mario grinned wider, seeing the tension break just a little. He started patting heads and shoulders, handing his half-eaten pizza to a bewildered Boopkins.

"Now, come on!" Mario shouted, throwing his arms up. "This castle is too quiet! Who wants to go to the store and see how many watermelons we can fit in SMG4’s car before he notices?"

"Mario, no," SMG4 laughed through his tears, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Not my car."

"Yes! The car!" Mario cheered, grabbing Meggy and Tari by the hands and leading them toward the door.

As the gang followed him out, their spirits beginning to lift under the sheer force of Mario’s indomitable will to be happy, Luigi stayed back for a moment. He looked at his brother’s back—the broad shoulders that had carried the weight of their childhood so Luigi didn't have to.

Mario turned back in the doorway, giving Luigi a thumbs-up and a wink. It was a silent promise. *The past is gone. We’re safe now.*

Luigi smiled, a real one this time, and ran to catch up. They had always thought they were the ones looking after Mario, but as they watched him leap into the air and accidentally face-plant into a bush, triggering a chorus of genuine laughter, they realized the truth.

Mario wasn't the one who needed saving. He was the one who had been saving them all along, one stupid joke at a time.