Mario's angst heh

The main hall of the Showgrounds castle was unusually quiet. It was a rare, almost unsettling silence that lacked the rhythmic thud of a plumber’s head hitting a wall or the high-pitched screeching of a man obsessed with spaghetti. For the first time in weeks, Mario was nowhere to be found. He had claimed he was going on a "solo adventure" to find a legendary tomato sauce, and while everyone knew it was likely a lie to nap in a dumpster, they didn't complain. The peace was a luxury they rarely afforded themselves.

SMG4 sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression. Nearby, Meggy was polishing her Splatshot, while Tari and Melony were engaged in a quiet game of cards. Bob and Fishy Boopkins were arguing in the corner about whether anime was better than "thicc" rappers, but even their bickering was subdued.

"Is it just me, or is it actually kind of... nice?" SMG4 asked, breaking the silence. "No explosions. No screaming. No lawsuits."

"It’s peaceful," Meggy admitted, though she glanced at the door. "But it feels weird. Usually, by this time, Mario has at least tried to set the kitchen on fire."

"Maybe he finally grew a brain cell," Saiko remarked, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Though I wouldn't bet my hammer on it."

Suddenly, the large monitor on the wall flickered to life. It wasn't the usual bright, colorful static of a glitch or a meme. It was a dull, grainy gray. The gang turned their heads, expecting a prank or a sudden broadcast from a villain. Instead, an old, dated timestamp appeared in the bottom corner of the screen.

"Uh, 4? Did you start a new video?" Tari asked, leaning forward.

"No, I’m not even touching the remote," SMG4 replied, his brow furrowing.

The screen cleared to reveal a cramped, dingy living room. It looked like a house from the Mushroom Kingdom’s lower districts. A small child, no older than five, sat on the floor playing with two wooden blocks. He had a tiny red cap pulled low over his eyes and a pair of oversized overalls.

"Wait... is that Mario?" Boopkins squeaked, his eyes widening. "He looks so cute!"

The sentiment was shared by most in the room, but the warmth was short-lived. A heavy door slammed open on the screen, the sound echoing through the castle speakers with a violent crack. Two figures stepped into the frame—a man and a woman, their faces blurred by the distortion of time, but their voices were crystal clear.

"You useless little brat!" the man roared.

The young Mario flinched, dropping his blocks. He tried to scramble away, but a hand reached out and snatched him by the collar of his shirt.

"We told you to stay in the closet until we were finished!" the woman screamed. "Do you have any idea how much of a burden you are?"

What followed was a blur of violence that silenced the castle instantly. It wasn't a cartoonish slap or a comedic bonk on the head. It was visceral, cruel, and relentless. The young boy didn't even scream; he just curled into a ball, trying to shield his head as his own parents took turns venting their frustrations on him.

Tari gasped, burying her face in her hands. Meggy’s grip on her Splatshot tightened so hard her knuckles turned white. SMG4 stood up, his face pale.

"What... what is this?" SMG4 whispered. "Luigi, did you know about this?"

Everyone turned to Luigi, who was sitting in the furthest corner of the room. The taller twin was trembling, his hat pulled down so low it covered his eyes. He didn't look at the screen. He couldn't.

"I... I was younger," Luigi choked out, his voice cracking. "They kept us apart most of the time. I heard things through the walls. I thought... I thought it stopped when we moved away. Mario told me it was just 'tough love.' He told me not to worry."

The screen jumped forward in time. Mario was now a teenager. He looked gaunt, his eyes rimmed with red, standing in front of a mirror. He was trying to stitch a tear in his iconic red shirt with shaking hands. He looked exhausted, the spark of life that they all knew—the chaotic, energetic fire—was completely absent. He looked like a ghost.

As the years progressed, the montage continued. They saw Mario being kicked out of schools, being laughed at by peers, and eventually, the moment he arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom. They saw the "glitch" that changed him, the moment his IQ dropped and he became the bumbling idiot they all knew.

But seeing the context changed everything. The stupidity wasn't just a quirk; it was a shield. A way to process a world that had been nothing but cruel to him.

"We've been so mean to him," Melony whispered. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I hit him... I hit him all the time because he's annoying."

"We all do," Saiko said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She looked at her boots, feeling a sickening weight in her chest. "We treat him like a punching bag because we thought he couldn't feel anything. We thought he was too stupid to care."

The footage shifted again, slowing down. The quality improved, becoming more recent. It showed Mario walking through a field of tall grass during a sunset. He looked lonely, his shoulders slumped. He stumbled upon a small, patch of dirt where a single, perfectly round watermelon sat.

The gang watched as Mario knelt beside the melon. He didn't try to eat it. He didn't try to kick it. Instead, he reached out and gently stroked the rind.

"Hey there, little lady," the Mario on screen whispered. His voice was different—deeper, softer, filled with a paternal warmth none of them had ever heard. "You’re all alone too, huh? Don’t worry. Mario’s got you. I’m gonna take care of you. You’re gonna be the best thing this world has ever seen."

He picked up the melon with a level of care he usually reserved for nothing. He cradled it against his chest, humming a soft, off-key lullaby as he walked back toward his home.

The realization hit the room like a physical blow.

"He... he didn't just find her," Tari sobbed, her robotic eye flickering with emotion. "He raised her. Before the mask, before the deity powers... he was her father."

Melony was inconsolable now. She slumped onto the floor, her hands clutching her chest. She remembered the warmth of being carried, the feeling of someone talking to her when she was just fruit. She had always wondered why she felt such a strange, instinctual pull to protect the red plumber, even when he was being a nuisance. It wasn't just friendship. It was biological.

"He’s my dad," Melony wailed, her voice breaking. "And I... I treat him like he’s a joke!"

The screen flickered one last time. It showed the interior of Mario’s room at the castle—the one he rarely let anyone inside. It was messy, filled with spaghetti wrappers and trash, but the camera zoomed in on his nightstand.

There was a small, cracked picture frame. Inside was a photo of the entire crew—SMG4, Meggy, Tari, Saiko, Bob, Boopkins, Luigi, and Melony—laughing together after a successful adventure.

The real Mario, the one from the present day, sat on the edge of his bed. He wasn't eating. He wasn't laughing. He was just staring at the photo. A heavy, silent tear fell from his eye, landing right on the glass over SMG4 and Meggy’s faces. He wiped it away quickly with his glove, his lip trembling.

"I hope they had a good day today," Mario whispered to the empty room. "I hope they're happy I stayed away. I don't want to ruin their peace."

He laid down, pulling his blanket up to his chin, looking small and fragile in the middle of the large bed. The screen went black.

The silence that followed in the castle was deafening. No one moved. No one spoke. The weight of their own actions, their jokes, their insults, and their physical "comedic" abuse felt like lead in their stomachs.

"He thinks... he thinks we're better off without him," Meggy said, her voice trembling with rage and sorrow. She slammed her fist into the sofa. "How could we let him think that? After everything he’s done for us? He’s saved the world a dozen times over, and we treat him like trash!"

SMG4 looked at his hands. He thought about all the times he’d used Mario as a prop for his videos, all the times he’d screamed at him for being "stupid" or "ruining the take." He thought about the tear on the photo.

"I’m the worst friend in the world," SMG4 muttered.

"We all are," Bob said, his usual bravado completely gone. "Even I don't feel like making a joke about this. That's messed up, man. Really messed up."

Luigi stood up, wiping his eyes. "He’s at the old pier. That’s where he goes when he wants to be alone. He thinks the sound of the waves hides his crying."

Melony was the first one to the door. She didn't use her powers to fly; she just ran, her heart pounding against her ribs. The rest of the gang followed close behind, a silent, somber procession through the Showgrounds.

They reached the pier just as the sun was beginning to set, casting long, orange shadows over the water. There, at the very end of the wooden planks, sat a solitary figure in red. Mario was swinging his legs over the edge, staring out at the horizon. He looked so small against the vastness of the ocean.

He heard them approaching and stiffened, quickly wiping his face with his sleeve. He put on a wide, goofy grin and turned around, though his eyes were still bloodshot.

"Oh! Hey guys!" Mario shouted, his voice forced and unnaturally high. "You found Mario! I was just... uh... looking for a giant fish made of pepperoni! I didn't mean to stay out late, I’ll get out of your hair right now!"

He started to scramble up, looking panicked, as if he expected a lecture or a shove.

He didn't get either.

Melony reached him first, throwing herself at him with such force they both nearly toppled over. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Dad!" she sobbed. "I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!"

Mario froze. The "stupid" mask he wore—the wide-eyed, vacant expression—shattered in an instant. His eyes widened, and he looked at the others, who were all gathered around him with expressions of profound grief and love.

"What... what did you call me?" Mario whispered, his voice trembling.

"We saw, Mario," Meggy said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. "We saw everything. The video... your parents... the way you found Melony."

Mario’s face went pale. He looked like he wanted to run, to hide, to disappear into the floor. "You weren't... you weren't supposed to see that. That’s the old Mario. The bad Mario. I tried to be the funny one so you’d like me."

SMG4 knelt down so he was at eye level with his friend. "Mario, we like you because you’re our friend. Not because you’re a joke. And we are so sorry for how we’ve treated you. We had no idea what you were carrying."

Tari joined the hug, followed by Luigi, who was crying openly now. One by one, the entire gang huddled around the red plumber, forming a protective circle of warmth on the cold pier.

Mario sat there for a moment, stunned. For decades, he had convinced himself that his value was tied to how much people could laugh at him. He thought that if he showed his pain, he would be the "burden" his parents had claimed he was.

But as he felt Melony’s tears soaking into his shirt and heard the genuine apologies of the people he considered his family, the wall finally broke.

Mario let out a ragged, broken sob. He reached out, pulling Melony closer with one arm and grabbing SMG4’s hoodie with the other. He buried his face in his hands and finally, for the first time in years, he didn't cry alone.

"I just wanted to be a good person," Mario wailed into the salt air. "I didn't want to be broken anymore!"

"You're not broken, Mario," Meggy whispered, wiping a tear from his cheek. "You're the strongest person we know."

The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving them in the purple twilight. They stayed there for a long time, just holding onto the man who had been their anchor without them ever realizing it. The scars of the past wouldn't disappear overnight, and the memory of the video would haunt them for a long time.

But as Mario looked up at his friends—his real family—he saw something he hadn't seen in a mirror since he was five years old.

He saw someone worth loving.