Untold story of the idiot

The main hall of SMG4’s castle was unusually tranquil. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the floor. On the massive, plush sofa, the crew was enjoying a rare moment of absolute peace. SMG4 was scrolling through his phone, looking for meme inspiration that didn’t involve fire; Meggy was polishing her Splatshot; and Saiko was tuning her guitar with a bored expression.

Even Melony was present, curled up in a corner of the sofa, her head resting on a pillow as she drifted in and out of a light nap. Bob and Boopkins were arguing quietly about a video game, but for once, their voices didn’t escalate into a shouting match.

The reason for this serenity was simple: Mario was gone. He had announced he was going on a "solo adventure" to find a legendary spaghetti stall three kingdoms away. For the rest of the crew, it was a much-needed vacation from the constant explosions, screaming, and general idiocy that followed the plumber like a localized storm.

"You know," SMG4 remarked, breaking the silence, "it’s actually kind of nice to be able to hear myself think for once."

"Tell me about it," Meggy sighed, leaning back. "I love Red, but I think my ears are still ringing from that stunt he pulled with the lawnmower yesterday."

Luigi, sitting on the edge of the couch, gave a weak, nervous laugh. He didn't join in on the lighthearted teasing. He looked at his hands, his expression uncharacteristically somber.

Suddenly, the massive television mounted on the wall flickered to life. Static hissed through the speakers, making everyone jump.

"Hey, who turned that on?" Saiko asked, narrowing her eyes.

The static cleared, but it wasn't a show or a game. The screen displayed a grainy, old video feed. It showed a small, cramped room. In the center of the frame stood a very young Mario—hardly more than a toddler, wearing oversized overalls and a cap that fell over his eyes.

Luigi’s face went pale. He gripped the edge of the sofa so hard his knuckles turned white. "Oh no... not this. Not this video."

"Luigi? What is this?" SMG4 asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Before Luigi could answer, a shadow fell over the little Mario on screen. A booming, gravelly voice echoed through the speakers, vibrating with a terrifying, primal rage. It was a voice they didn't recognize, yet the cadence was hauntingly similar to Mario’s—only stripped of all joy and replaced with pure malice.

"You worthless brat!" the voice roared. "You can't even get a simple chore right! You're a disappointment to the name!"

The little Mario on screen trembled, his tiny hands shaking as he looked up at the unseen figure. "I-I'm sorry, Papa... I tried..."

What followed was a sound that made everyone in the room freeze. It was the sound of a heavy blow, followed by a scream. It wasn't the comedic "Woomy" or the exaggerated "Mamma Mia" they were used to. It was a high-pitched, genuine scream of agony and terror from a child who didn't understand why he was being hurt.

Meggy dropped her Splatshot. It clattered to the floor, but she didn't notice. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her breath hitching in her throat. "Stop it... someone stop him."

"It’s a recording, Meggy," Tari whispered, her voice trembling as she hid behind Saiko. Her robotic eye was flickering rapidly, processing the distress.

The video began to fast-forward, showing snippets of years passing. Each clip was a new horror. They saw Mario growing up, his vibrant red clothes becoming faded and dirty. But the most jarring change was his face. The wide, curious eyes of the child were replaced by a hollow, vacant stare. The light in his eyes hadn't just dimmed; it had been extinguished. He looked like a puppet with its strings cut, moving through life with a profound, crushing sadness.

"He was always so quiet back then," Luigi whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. "He took it all so I wouldn't have to. He told me to stay in the closet and cover my ears. He said he was playing a game with Papa."

The crew sat in a horrified, heavy silence. The man they teased, called an idiot, and treated as a nuisance was a survivor of a nightmare they couldn't even fathom.

The screen shifted again. The setting was more familiar now—the Mushroom Kingdom. Mario looked a bit older, sitting alone in a field. He looked lonely, his shoulders slumped. He reached into a bag and pulled out a small, round melon.

The crew leaned in. Melony, who had been jarred awake by the screaming, was now staring at the screen with wide, wet eyes.

On the screen, Mario sat the melon down on a rock. He didn't eat it. Instead, he began to draw a crude face on it with a marker. He looked at the melon with a tenderness they had rarely seen him display toward anything other than food.

"There you go," the Mario on screen whispered, his voice cracked and soft. "You're my best friend. I'll take care of you. I’ll call you... Melony."

He pulled the melon into a tight hug, burying his face in its green rind. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise."

A collective gasp went through the room. Melony stood up slowly, her hands trembling. She looked at the screen, then at her own hands. She was the personification of that melon—the manifestation of the only comfort a broken man had found in his darkest hours. She wasn't just a creation of the Fierce Deity mask; she was the legacy of Mario’s need for something to love that wouldn't hurt him back.

But the video wasn't finished. The tone shifted, the music turning sour and discordant.

The screen began to show a montage of the last few years. It wasn't Mario’s father this time. It was them.

It showed SMG4 kicking Mario out of a window for a joke. It showed Saiko slamming him into a wall. It showed Meggy screaming at him, calling him a "stupid fat idiot" and a "burden" during their training sessions. It showed the countless times they had used him as a meat shield, laughed at his pain, and treated his genuine attempts at affection as annoying interruptions.

The "funny" moments they had shared now looked sickeningly similar to the footage of his childhood. The physical abuse, the verbal degradation—it was all there, framed not as a cartoonish comedy, but as a continuation of a cycle of trauma.

The screen went black.

The silence in the castle was deafening. No one dared to move. The guilt in the room was a physical weight, pressing down on their chests.

SMG4 looked at his hands, the same hands that had typed out scripts putting Mario through hell for the sake of views. "We... we didn't know."

"That's no excuse!"

The voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Everyone turned to look at Melony. She wasn't the sleepy, innocent girl they knew. Her eyes were glowing with a faint, dangerous light, and her expression was one of cold, righteous fury.

"Melony, please—" Boopkins started, but she silenced him with a look.

"You knew he was hurting," Melony said, her voice shaking with emotion. "Maybe you didn't know why, but you saw him cry. You saw him try to help and you pushed him away. You called him an idiot every single day until he started to believe it himself."

She stepped forward, pointing a finger at SMG4. "He created me because he was lonely. He treated a melon with more kindness than you treat your best friend."

She turned her gaze to Meggy, who was looking at the floor, tears blurring her vision. "And you. He looked up to you. He thought you were his hero. And you treated him like he was something you had to scrape off your shoe."

"Melony, we were just... we were just being friends," Bob tried to interject, though his usual bravado was completely gone. "It was all in good fun."

"Was it fun for him?" Melony snapped. "Did he look like he was having fun when you were kicking him around? He laughs because if he doesn't, he'll start screaming again. He hides behind the 'stupid' persona because it’s the only way he knows how to survive people like you!"

She took a deep breath, her chest heaving. The disappointment in her eyes was harder for the crew to bear than her anger.

"I’m going to find him," Melony said firmly. "And I’m going to make sure he knows that he’s loved. Not because he’s funny, and not because he’s a hero. But because he’s Mario."

She turned and began to walk toward the massive castle doors.

"Wait!" Luigi called out, standing up. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his usual cowardice replaced by a quiet resolve. "I’m coming too. I... I should have said something a long time ago. I should have protected him better."

The two of them walked out of the castle, the heavy oak doors thudding shut behind them.

The remaining crew members sat in the shadows of the hall. The "vacation" they had been enjoying felt like ashes in their mouths.

"What have we done?" Tari whispered, a sob breaking through her voice.

SMG4 didn't answer. He looked up at the blank TV screen, seeing his own reflection in the dark glass. He thought about all the times Mario had reached out for a hug and he had responded with a punch. He thought about the light that had been missing from Mario’s eyes for decades—a light he had never even tried to help relight.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the kingdom. The castle was quiet once more, but it wasn't the peaceful silence from before. It was the silence of a house that had suddenly realized it was haunted by the ghosts of its own cruelty.