The sad man

The main hall of SMG4’s Showgrounds castle was unusually quiet. The air conditioning hummed a low, steady tune, and the sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful geometric patterns across the floor. SMG4 was slumped in a beanbag chair, scrolling idly through his phone. Bob and Fishy Boopkins were arguing in whispers about a rare anime figurine, while Saiko leaned against a pillar, sharpening her hammer with a bored expression. Tari was focused on her GameBoy, her metallic arm whirring softly.

The most notable thing about the afternoon, however, was the silence. There were no explosions. No screams about spaghetti. No naked Italian men running through the halls causing property damage.

"It’s... weirdly peaceful without Mario here," SMG4 remarked, not looking up from his screen. "I actually managed to get some editing done without a plate of pasta being thrown at my monitor."

"He said he was going for a walk to 'clear his head' or something," Meggy said, sitting on the edge of a table while swinging her legs. She frowned slightly. "He’s been acting a bit distant lately. I thought he was just being lazy, but he didn't even try to steal my ramen this morning."

Melony, who had been dozing off on a nearby couch, opened one eye. "Mario is nice. He’s just... tired."

Suddenly, the massive television screen mounted on the wall flickered to life. It wasn't the usual bright, neon logo of a YouTube video or a meme compilation. Instead, it was static—grim, gray, and crackling with an eerie intensity.

"Uh, SMG4? Did you turn that on?" Tari asked, her eyes widening.

"No, I don't even have the remote," SMG4 replied, standing up and walking toward the screen.

The static cleared, revealing a grainy, old-fashioned home video. The date in the corner indicated it was decades old. A small, chubby child with a red cap—too large for his head—was sitting on a wooden floor, playing with a small wooden block. It was unmistakably a young Mario.

"Aw, look at him," Boopkins cooed. "He was actually kind of cute before he became... well, Mario."

The sentiment was short-lived. A shadow fell over the child in the video. A booming, distorted voice erupted from the speakers, dripping with a venom that made everyone in the room flinch.

"You worthless little brat! I told you to stay in your room!"

A man, his face blurred by the low resolution but his presence terrifyingly large, stepped into the frame. Beside him stood a woman, her posture rigid and cold. The gang watched, breath catching in their throats, as the man grabbed the young Mario by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him into the air.

"No! Please! I was just playing!" the child screamed, his voice high-pitched and trembling.

What followed was a blur of violence that silenced the room. It wasn't the cartoonish slapstick they were used to. There were no sound effects, no resets, and no jokes. It was a brutal, relentless beating that left the small boy curled in a ball on the floor, sobbing quietly as his parents walked away, hurling insults about how he was a mistake and a burden.

SMG4 felt a cold stone drop in his stomach. He looked over at Luigi. The younger brother had turned his back to the screen, his shoulders shaking. He was hugging himself, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Luigi?" Saiko asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Did you... did you know?"

"I tried to block it out," Luigi whispered, his voice cracking. "I was younger. They—they didn't go after me as much. Mario... Mario always made sure he was the one they were mad at. He’d make noise, or break something on purpose, just so they’d look at him instead of me. I didn't realize how bad it really was until I was older."

The video jumped forward in time. Mario was a teenager now. He looked gaunt, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. He was sitting on a park bench alone, a tattered blanket around his shoulders. He looked like a ghost of a person, staring at nothing with a hollow expression. Every subsequent clip showed him looking worse—scars that shouldn't have been there, a forced smile that never reached his eyes, and a desperate, clinging need for any form of affection.

Meggy felt a tear slip down her cheek. She remembered every time she had yelled at him, every time she had called him an idiot or knocked him aside for being annoying. She hadn't seen the trauma; she had only seen the mask he wore to survive it.

"He’s not stupid," Meggy whispered, her voice trembling with realization. "He just... he wants everyone to be happy so they don't look at him the way those people did. He acts like a clown so we won't see how much he's hurting."

The screen flickered again, transitioning to a scene from several years ago. It was a sunny day in a field. Mario, now an adult, was walking aimlessly when he spotted something in the grass. He knelt down, revealing a round, green watermelon.

The gang watched as Mario picked up the melon with a tenderness they had rarely seen. He didn't try to eat it. Instead, he wiped the dirt off its rind with his sleeve and smiled—a genuine, soft smile that looked entirely foreign on his face.

"You look lonely," the Mario on screen whispered to the fruit. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you. You're my little girl now."

The room went deathly silent. Melony stood up, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears. She stared at the screen, watching as Mario brought the watermelon home, tucked it into a small bed, and even read it stories. He had treated that melon with more love and care than he had ever received in his own childhood.

"He... he made me?" Melony whispered. "Before the mask, before the Fierce Deity... he was the one who gave me a home when I was just a fruit."

"He’s your creator, Melony," SMG4 said, his voice thick with emotion. "In a way... he really is your father. He poured all the love he never got into you."

The final image appeared on the screen. It was a live feed of Mario’s private room in the castle. The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp. Mario was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to the camera. His iconic red hat was sitting on the nightstand.

In his hands, he held a tattered picture frame. It was a photo of the entire crew—SMG4, Meggy, Tari, Luigi, Bob, Boopkins, Saiko, and Melony—laughing together after a successful adventure.

A single, heavy teardrop fell onto the glass of the frame. Mario didn't sob; he didn't wail. He simply sat there in the silence, his shoulders slumped under the weight of a lifetime of being the world's punching bag. He reached out and traced the faces of his friends with a trembling finger.

"I hope you guys are having a good day," Mario muttered to the empty room, his voice raspy. "I'll try to be better tomorrow. I’ll try to be funnier. Just... please don't leave me alone."

The screen went black.

For a long time, no one moved. The silence in the hall was no longer peaceful; it was suffocating. The weight of their own behavior pressed down on them. They saw the "stupid" Mario, the "annoying" Mario, the "gluttonous" Mario. They had never bothered to look for the broken man underneath who was terrified of being abandoned.

Bob was the first to speak, his usual robotic tone replaced by something jagged and raw. "That was... not cash money at all. That was horrible."

"We’ve been such jerks to him," Tari sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "He does everything for us, and we just treat him like a nuisance."

Melony walked toward the door, her grip tightening on her sword, but her expression wasn't one of anger—it was one of fierce, maternal protection. "He’s been a shadow for too long. He hides in the back so we can stand in the light."

Meggy stood up, wiping her eyes aggressively. She looked at SMG4, who looked just as devastated as she felt.

"We aren't letting him feel like that anymore," Meggy declared, her voice firm despite the tears. "No more 'stupid Mario' jokes. No more leaving him behind. If the world wants to treat him like a joke, they’re going to have to go through us first."

"He’s my brother," Luigi said, standing up straight, his cowardice replaced by a quiet resolve. "He protected me when we were kids. It’s my turn to protect him."

"It’s all of our turns," SMG4 added. He looked at the blank TV screen, then at the hallway leading to Mario’s room. "He’s been the heart of this group since the beginning, and we let that heart break right in front of us."

Melony led the way, her footsteps soft but determined. "I’m going to tell him. I'm going to tell him I know."

The group moved as one, walking down the quiet corridors of the castle. They reached Mario’s door and stopped. From inside, they could hear the faint sound of a hum—a sad, slow melody that Mario often whistled when he thought no one was listening.

SMG4 reached out and gently pushed the door open.

Mario jumped, quickly shoving the picture frame under his pillow and wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He plastered a wide, goofy grin on his face, though it looked brittle and fake.

"Oh! Hey guys!" Mario said, his voice bouncing with forced energy. "Is it spaghetti time? Did Mario miss the party? I can go get the plates! I won't even break them this time, I promise!"

He started to scramble out of bed, his movements frantic as if he were trying to prove his usefulness before they could kick him out.

"Mario, stop," Meggy said softly.

Mario froze, his foot hovering over the floor. "Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry! Whatever it was, I’m sorry! I’ll fix it!"

Melony walked forward, bypassing the others, and wrapped her arms around him in a tight, crushing hug. Mario stiffened, his eyes wide with confusion.

"Melony? What’s—"

"Thank you," she whispered into his chest. "Thank you for taking care of me when I was just a melon. Thank you for being my dad."

Mario’s breath hitched. He looked up at the doorway, seeing the rest of the gang standing there. They weren't looking at him with annoyance or frustration. Their eyes were filled with a deep, aching warmth and a collective vow of protection.

"We saw, Mario," SMG4 said, stepping into the room. "We saw everything."

The fake smile on Mario’s face didn't just fade; it disintegrated. His lower lip trembled, and the light he usually tried to force into his eyes flickered out, leaving only the raw, honest pain of a man who had been tired for a very long time.

"You... you saw?" Mario whispered, his voice small. "You saw how broken I am?"

"We saw how brave you are," Meggy corrected, coming to sit on the other side of him. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it tight. "And we saw how much of a jerk we’ve been. That stops today, Mario. You don't have to be the clown for us. You don't have to be anything but yourself."

Luigi joined the huddle, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, Mario. I'm sorry I let you carry it all."

Mario looked around at his family—the one he had built from scratch, the one he had protected in the shadows while letting them take the glory. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like a burden. He didn't feel like a mistake.

He buried his face in Melony’s shoulder and finally, after decades of holding it in, he let go. He sobbed with the weight of a thousand heartbreaks, his body shaking as the walls he had built around his soul finally crumbled.

No one pulled away. No one made a joke. They held onto him, a living shield against the ghosts of his past.

"We’ve got you, Mario," SMG4 whispered, looking at his best friend. "We’ve got you."

Outside, the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the Mushroom Kingdom. But inside the room, for the first time in a long time, the shadow was gone. Mario wasn't alone in the dark anymore. He was in the light, surrounded by the people who finally understood that the man who gave the world so much laughter was the one who needed it the most.