Mario Mario's return

The first thing Mario felt was the cold. Not the stinging, biting cold of a blizzard in Cool, Cool Mountain, but a hollow, empty numbness that had lasted for what felt like an eternity. Then, all at once, the warmth returned. It rushed into his chest like a spicy meatball, kickstarting a heart that hadn't ticked in years.

Mario’s eyes snapped open. He gasped, a loud, wheezing sound that rattled his lungs. He expected to see the white void of the afterlife or perhaps the fiery pits of a Bowser-themed hell, but instead, he saw cracked plaster and a dusty ceiling fan.

"Mamma mia..." he whispered, his voice raspy from disuse.

He sat up, the bedsprings underneath him groaning in protest. He was in his old room at the castle—or what used to be the castle. The wallpaper was peeling, and there was a thick layer of dust over his spaghetti-shaped lamp. He looked down at his gloved hands. They were solid. They were real. He wasn't a ghost, and he wasn't a memory.

"Mario is... back?" He poked his own cheek. It squished. "Mario is back! Whoo-hoo!"

The realization hit him like a Bob-omb. If he was back, he had to see them. He had to see Luigi. He had to see SMG4. And most importantly, he had to see his daughter, Melony. He remembered the look on her face when he had left—the tears, the way she had clutched her deity sword as if it could cut through the concept of death itself.

He scrambled out of bed, his legs feeling a bit like jelly, and stumbled toward the door. He didn't care about the dust or how long it had been. He just needed to find his family.

The hallways of the castle were quiet, smelling of old parchment and floor wax. As he approached the main foyer, he heard voices. They were muffled, coming from behind the large oak doors of the dining hall. Mario slowed down, his heart hammering against his ribs. He reached out, his trembling fingers gripping the brass handle. He pushed it open just a crack, peering inside.

The room was decorated, but not for a party. There were black ribbons draped over the chairs and a large portrait of Mario sitting on an easel at the head of the table. A plate of pristine, steaming spaghetti sat in front of the empty chair beneath the portrait.

"It’s been five years," SMG4 said, his voice sounding older, more tired. He was staring at a glass of soda, his signature blue hat pulled low over his eyes. "Five years since the idiot left us. You’d think the world would be quieter without the constant screaming, but it’s just... empty."

Luigi sat next to him, his mustache streaked with grey. He was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. "I still wake up sometimes and think I hear him raiding the fridge at 3:00 AM. I go downstairs to yell at him, and then I remember."

Melony was sitting at the far end of the table. She wasn't sleeping. Her eyes were wide and filled with a lingering, dull ache. She held a small plushie of Mario close to her chest, her fingers twisting in the fabric. "He promised he’d always be here," she murmured. "But even gods can't bring back what's gone."

Mario couldn't take it anymore. The sight of his brother and his daughter in such pain broke something inside him. He pushed the door open fully, the hinges letting out a long, dramatic creak.

"Hey," Mario said, his voice cracking. "Is someone gonna eat that spaghetti, or can Mario have a bite?"

The silence that followed was deafening. It was the kind of silence that happened right before a Warp Pipe exploded. Every head in the room snapped toward the door.

SMG4 dropped his glass, the sound of shattering pride and soda echoing through the hall. Bob's eyes widened behind his rags, and Boopkins let out a high-pitched squeak.

But it was Luigi and Melony who reacted first.

"M-Mario?" Luigi stammered, his face turning as white as a Boo.

"Dad?" Melony whispered, her voice trembling.

Mario gave a small, sheepish wave. "It’s-a me?"

The explosion of movement was instantaneous. Luigi didn't even use the floor; he seemed to phase through the air in a desperate scramble, tripping over his own feet as he lunged forward. Melony was right behind him, her speed enhanced by her deity powers, leaving a trail of green light in her wake.

"MARIO!" Luigi wailed, his voice a mix of a scream and a sob.

"DADDY!" Melony cried out.

They hit him with the force of a Thwomp. Mario stumbled back as his brother and daughter collided with his chest, their arms wrapping around him with such strength he thought his ribs might actually crack this time. Luigi was buried in Mario’s shoulder, his entire body shaking with inconsolable sobs. Melony had her face pressed against his overalls, her hands clutching the fabric as if she feared he would vanish if she let go for even a second.

"You're warm," Luigi sobbed, his tears soaking into Mario's red shirt. "You're real. You're actually real!"

"Don't go back," Melony begged, her voice muffled by his chest. "Don't ever go back to the dark place, please!"

The rest of the crew wasn't far behind. SMG4 tackled Mario from the side, crying uncharacteristically loud. Meggy, Saiko, Tari—they all swarmed him, forming a massive, weeping pile of friends in the middle of the doorway. The room was filled with the sounds of their collective grief turning into overwhelming joy, a chaotic symphony of his name being shouted over and over again.

Mario felt tears of his own hot and heavy on his cheeks. He wrapped his thick, strong arms around as many of them as he could, pulling his family into the biggest, tightest hug he had ever given. He didn't care about the spaghetti anymore. He didn't care about the memes. He just cared about the hearts beating against his own.

"Mario is here," he choked out, flashing a huge, toothy, tearful grin. "Mario is never leaving again. I promise. I'm-a sorry I stayed away so long."

The reunion lasted for what felt like hours. Slowly, the initial shock faded into a lingering, desperate need for proximity. They moved to the lounge, no one willing to be more than an inch away from the red plumber.

Melony, however, was struggling. The emotional whiplash of seeing her father return from the grave had sent her into a state of hyper-distress. Her breathing was jagged, and her eyes were darting around the room, her deity powers flickering uncontrollably. She was vibrating with anxiety, terrified that this was just a very cruel dream.

Mario noticed. He always noticed when his little melon was upset.

He reached out and, with his deceptive, incredible strength, scooped Melony up into his lap. Even though she was a grown woman now, to him, she would always be the little melon he had to protect. He tucked her head under his chin and began to rock her back and forth, his large frame acting like a rhythmic anchor.

"Shh, shh," Mario cooed. "It's okay. Mario's got you."

He cleared his throat. He wasn't much of a singer—usually, his singing involved screeching about ravioli—but for Melony, he had a special song. It was a low, rumbling melody he had made up years ago when she used to have nightmares about Zero.

"Soft-a melon, sleepy melon," Mario sang softly, his voice surprisingly deep and gentle. "Round and green and sweet. Close-a your eyes and go to sleep, and dream of something neat."

He continued the rhythmic rocking, his hands patting her back in time with his heartbeat.

"The stars are out, the moon is bright, Mario's here to hold you tight. No more monsters, no more fears, Mario's gonna dry your tears."

As he sang, the tension drained out of Melony’s body. The green glow of her powers faded, replaced by the soft, steady breathing of someone finally finding peace. Her eyelids fluttered and then stayed shut. Within minutes, she was fast asleep in his arms, her head resting securely against his heart.

Mario looked up at the rest of the gang. They were all watching him, some still wiping away tears, others just smiling in disbelief. Luigi sat on the floor by Mario's feet, leaning his head against his brother’s knee.

"She missed you the most, Mario," Luigi whispered.

Mario looked down at the sleeping Melony and then at his brother. He reached out a hand and ruffled Luigi’s hair, just like they were kids back in the mushroom kingdom.

"I know," Mario said softly, his voice full of a warmth that could melt a glacier. "But I'm home now. And I think... I think everything is gonna be okay."

He leaned back into the sofa, holding his daughter close and watching over his friends. For the first time in years, the castle didn't feel empty. It felt like home.