Mario angst

The main hall of SMG4’s castle was uncharacteristically quiet. Usually, this room was a chaotic vortex of spaghetti sauce, explosion debris, and the high-pitched shrieks of a certain red-clad plumber. But today, Mario was gone. He had mentioned something about a solo trip to a hidden pasta discount warehouse, and for once, the rest of the gang was enjoying the rare commodity of peace.

SMG4 sat on the floor, lazily scrolling through his phone. Saiko was tuning her guitar in the corner, the metallic pings the only sound breaking the silence. Tari was focused on her handheld game, while Bob and Boopkins were arguing in whispers about which anime girl had the best character arc. Meggy was leaning against a pillar, checking her gear, and Melony was fast asleep on a beanbag, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic slumber.

"Is it just me, or is the castle actually... pleasant when Mario isn't here?" SMG4 remarked, looking up from his screen.

"It’s definitely less sticky," Saiko grunted, though there was no real venom in her voice.

"I feel like I can actually hear my own thoughts," Meggy added with a small smile. "No 'stanky leg,' no screaming about ravioli. It’s nice."

Suddenly, the massive television mounted on the wall flickered to life. It wasn't the usual static or a meme compilation. A grainy, old-fashioned video began to play. Everyone paused, their eyes drawn to the screen.

"Did you start a stream, Four?" Tari asked, tilting her head.

"No, I’m not even touching the remote," SMG4 replied, frowning as he stood up.

The footage cleared. It showed a small, cramped kitchen. A young boy, no older than five, was sitting at a wooden table. He had a mop of dark hair and a familiar red cap that looked three sizes too big for his head. It was Mario, but a version of him they had never seen—small, timid, and strangely quiet.

"Aww, look at baby Mario," Boopkins chirped. "He looks so cute!"

Luigi, who had been sitting quietly in the back, suddenly stiffened. His face went pale, and his hands began to tremble. He looked at the floor, his breath hitching. "Oh no... not this. Please, not this."

Before anyone could ask Luigi what was wrong, a loud, booming voice erupted from the TV. A man stepped into the frame, followed by a woman. They were Mario's parents. They didn't look like the kind, nurturing figures one would imagine. Their faces were twisted in perpetual scowls, their eyes filled with a cold, simmering resentment.

"You clumsy little brat!" the man roared, pointing at a shattered plate on the floor.

The young Mario shrank back, his lower lip trembling. "I-I'm sorry, Papa. It was an accident..."

The woman didn't offer comfort. Instead, she stepped forward and hissed, "Accidents are for children who have worth. You’re just a drain on our lives."

What followed was a blur of violence that silenced the room instantly. The man’s hand came down with a sickening crack against the boy's cheek. Young Mario was sent sprawling across the floor, but the assault didn't stop. It was a barrage of kicks and strikes, accompanied by a litany of insults that were far too heavy for a child to bear.

In the castle, the silence was deafening. Meggy’s hand flew to her mouth. Tari’s eyes welled with tears, and she dropped her gaming device. Even Bob, usually the first to make a joke, stood perfectly still, his glowing eyes flickering in shock.

"Stop it," Melony whispered, having woken up the moment the shouting started. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the screen. "Make them stop."

But the video didn't stop. It was a montage of a nightmare. It skipped forward in time, showing Mario as a seven-year-old, then a ten-year-old. In every clip, he looked worse. There were bruises that never seemed to heal, and a haunted, hollow look in his eyes that replaced the childhood spark. He was seen sleeping in a cold basement, eating scraps from the trash, and being told daily that he was a mistake.

The gang watched as the Mario they knew—the loud, energetic, seemingly invincible man—was forged in a furnace of hatred. They saw him try to smile to hide the pain, only to be struck down for "looking stupid."

"I didn't know," SMG4 whispered, his voice cracking. "I’ve known him for years... I call him an idiot every single day. I... I didn't know."

Meggy felt a sharp pang of guilt in her chest. She remembered all the times she had lost her temper with him, all the times she had called him a burden or pushed him away. She looked at the screen, seeing a teenage Mario sitting alone in the rain, hugging his knees, shivering and bleeding.

"We were so mean to him," Tari sobbed, covering her face with her hands. "He just wanted friends, and we treated him like he was a nuisance."

Luigi was now curled into a ball, his eyes shut tight. "He told me to never talk about it," he choked out. "He said if he acted like a clown, people would laugh with him instead of at him. He thought if he was funny enough, the world would forget he was 'broken.'"

The footage shifted again. Mario was now a young adult. He was walking through a park, looking weary and lonely. The bruises were gone, but the slump in his shoulders told the story of a man who expected nothing from the world. He sat down on a bench and looked at the ground, sighing a heavy, soul-crushing sound.

Then, he spotted something.

Near a bush, half-hidden by leaves, lay a perfectly round, green watermelon.

Mario blinked, leaning in closer. For the first time in the entire video, a genuine, soft smile touched his lips. It wasn't the manic, wide-eyed grin of a man obsessed with spaghetti. It was the smile of someone seeing something precious.

"Hello there," the young Mario on the screen whispered. He reached out, his hands trembling slightly, and gently picked up the melon. He didn't try to eat it. He didn't throw it. He pulled it into his lap and began to brush the dirt off its rind with his sleeve. "You're all alone too, huh?"

He cradled the melon against his chest, rocking slightly. "Don't worry. I've got you. I'll take care of you. You're going to be the best thing in the world."

The screen showed a fast-forward of Mario in his small apartment. He had placed the melon on a silk pillow. He talked to it while he cooked. He read it stories. He treated that watermelon with more love and tenderness than he had ever received in his entire life. He poured every ounce of the affection he had been denied into that fruit.

Melony stood up from her beanbag, her legs shaking. She walked toward the TV, her hand reaching out to touch the image of Mario holding the melon.

"He... he made me," she whispered.

The realization hit the room like a physical weight. Mario wasn't just a friend who happened to be around when Melony gained her human form. Through his care, his weird energy, and the sheer volume of love he had projected onto that melon for years, he had essentially been her father. He was her biological creator in every sense that mattered in their chaotic world.

The video faded to black, leaving the room in a heavy, emotional gloom.

"He's the strongest person I know," Saiko said quietly, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "To go through all that and still be able to love something that much... I don't think I could do it."

"We have to make it up to him," Meggy said, her voice firm despite the tears. "When he gets back, no more insults. No more 'stupid Mario' jokes. He’s been through enough."

"I'm gonna buy him so much spaghetti," Bob declared, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Like, the expensive kind. Not the stuff out of the bin."

Melony didn't say anything. She just stared at the blank screen, her heart aching. She remembered the way Mario always looked out for her, how he let her sleep whenever she wanted, and how he always made sure she was safe during their adventures. She had always felt a connection to him, but now she understood why.

The front doors of the castle swung open with a loud bang.

"I'M-A BACK!" Mario’s voice echoed through the hall. He marched in, covered in what looked like glitter and tomato sauce, carrying a giant bag of discount pasta. "You guys won't-a believe it! I found a warehouse that gives you a free meatball if you can do a backflip! I fell on my face, but they gave it to me anyway because they felt-a sorry for me! Wahoo!"

He stopped in the middle of the room, noticing the dead silence and the tear-stained faces of his friends. His smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine concern.

"Uh... guys? Did someone die? Is the Wi-Fi out again?"

Before he could say another word, he was tackled.

Meggy and Tari reached him first, throwing their arms around him in a crushing hug. SMG4 followed, patting him on the shoulder with a grip that was uncharacteristically tight. Boopkins and Bob joined the huddle, and even Saiko walked over to ruffle his hair, her expression uncommonly soft.

"Oof! Hey! Watch the pasta!" Mario yelped, though he didn't push them away. "What's-a going on? Why is everyone being so touchy-feely? It’s-a gross!"

"We're just glad you're here, Mario," SMG4 said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Yeah," Meggy added, pulling back to look him in the eye. "You're a good person, Mario. The best."

Mario blinked, looking confused. "I mean... I know that! I'm-a number one! But why are you saying it now?"

Melony walked through the crowd. The others stepped aside to let her through. She looked at Mario, her eyes shimmering. Without a word, she leaned forward and hugged him—not the quick, casual hug she usually gave, but a deep, protective embrace.

"Thank you, Papa," she whispered into his red shirt.

Mario froze. The goofiness drained from his face for a split second, replaced by a look of profound, silent understanding. He looked at the TV, then back at his friends, and finally down at Melony. He knew they had seen it. The secret he had buried under layers of memes and madness was out.

He didn't get angry. He didn't run away.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Melony, resting his chin on her head. He looked around at the group—his ragtag, chaotic, dysfunctional family.

"It's-a okay," Mario said, his voice soft and surprisingly steady. "The past is-a like a bad level. You just have to keep-a jumping until you find the flag, right?"

He gave them a small, tired smile—the same smile they had seen in the video when he first found the melon.

"Now," Mario shouted, his usual energy returning with a forced but brave burst. "Who wants-a to help me cook this discount spaghetti? It-a smells like copper, but the label says it's-a fine!"

The gang laughed, though it was a wet, emotional sound. They followed him toward the kitchen, trailing behind the man in red. They knew things wouldn't change overnight, and Mario would likely still be his chaotic self, but the way they looked at him had changed forever.

He wasn't just the castle idiot. He was a survivor. And as Melony walked beside him, holding his hand, she knew she was the luckiest girl in the world to have a father like him.