Mario's grand return

The first thing Mario felt was the cold. Not the chilling, biting frost of a winter in the Mushroom Kingdom, but a strange, hollow numbness that had lasted for what felt like an eternity. Then, like a glitch in a game suddenly snapping back into place, the warmth returned.

Mario’s eyes snapped open. He let out a loud, wheezing gasp, his lungs burning as they filled with air for the first time in years. He scrambled upward, his white-gloved hands clutching at the familiar, scratchy fabric of a bedsheet.

"Mama mia..." he croaked. His voice was raspy, sounding like it hadn't been used in a lifetime. Because, in truth, it hadn't.

He looked around, his eyes wide and frantic. He was in his room. The wallpaper was peeling slightly at the corners, a half-eaten, petrified slice of pizza sat on the nightstand, and his dusty overalls were draped over a chair. It was exactly as he had left it. But the last thing he remembered was the darkness, the fading voices of his friends, and the heavy, undeniable weight of the end.

"Mario is... back?" he whispered, poking his own cheek. It felt squishy. It felt real. "Mario is alive! Woohoo!"

He didn't stop to wonder why. He didn't stop to think about the logistics of resurrection or whether this was some cruel dream. His stomach did a somersault of pure, unadulterated joy. He needed to see them. He needed to see his brother. He needed to see his daughter.

Mario scrambled out of bed, his legs feeling a bit like jelly, and burst through the door. He didn't take the pipes; he ran. He ran through the fields of the Mushroom Kingdom, his red cap flapping in the wind. The world looked different—the trees were taller, and there were new buildings in the distance—but the path to the castle was burned into his soul.

As the grand spires of the castle came into view, Mario slowed down. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped Bob-omb. He reached the massive oak doors and paused, his hand trembling as it hovered over the handle. He could hear voices inside. Soft, somber voices.

He pushed the door open just a crack, slipping inside with a stealth he usually reserved for stealing Bowser’s secret stash of chocolate.

The main hall was decorated, but not with the usual chaotic streamers and neon lights of an SMG4 party. There were candles everywhere. A large portrait of Mario sat on an easel in the center of the room, draped in a black ribbon.

The whole gang was there. SMG4 looked older, with a bit more exhaustion etched into his face. Meggy was leaning against a pillar, her goggles resting on her forehead, looking uncharacteristically quiet. Bob and Boopkins were sitting on the floor, and Saiko was crossing her arms, staring at the floor.

And then there was Luigi. He looked like he had aged a decade, his green hat pulled low. Beside him sat Melony. She wasn't the sleepy girl she used to be; she sat tall, her Fierce Deity sword leaning against her chair, her expression one of quiet, dignified sadness.

"It’s been five years," SMG4 said, his voice echoing in the hall. He held up a glass of soda. "Five years since the idiot left us. To Mario. The best friend a meme-lord could ask for."

"To Mario," the group echoed solemnly.

Mario couldn't hold it back anymore. His lip quivered. Seeing them all together, mourning him, sent a surge of love through his chest that was more powerful than any Super Star.

"Hey," Mario said, his voice cracking. "Is there any pizza left for Mario?"

The silence that followed was absolute. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, like the air had suddenly turned to lead.

Every head in the room snapped toward the doorway. SMG4 dropped his glass, the sound of shattering plastic echoing through the hall. Meggy’s jaw dropped so low it looked like it might hit the floor.

Luigi and Melony were the first to move. Their eyes locked onto the red-clad plumber standing in the shadows of the doorway. Tears didn't just form; they spilled over instantly, hot and fast.

"M-Mario?" Luigi whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying hope.

"Dad?" Melony gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Mario stepped into the light, giving a small, sheepish wave. "It’s-a me?"

"MARIO!"

Luigi screamed his name with such force it shook the chandeliers. He lunged forward, tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach his brother. Melony was right behind him, discarding her stoic mask as she sobbed openly, her green hair flying behind her.

They slammed into him at the same time, the force of the impact sending Mario stumbling back. Luigi wrapped his arms around Mario’s neck so tightly it was a miracle the plumber could still breathe. Melony buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with violent, heaving sobs.

"You're here! You're really here!" Luigi wailed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched sob. "I thought you were gone! I thought I’d never see you again!"

"I missed you, Dad," Melony cried, her voice muffled by his overalls. "Don't ever leave again. Please."

The rest of the crew broke out of their trance. It was like a dam had burst.

"MARIO!" Meggy yelled, sprinting forward and leaping into the pile, her usual competitive toughness replaced by raw emotion.

"Holy crap, he's actually back!" SMG4 shouted, laughing and crying at the same time as he joined the huddle.

Even Bob was making a weird, wheezing sound that might have been a sob. "I KNEW YOU WERE TOO STUPID TO STAY DEAD, YOU MAGNIFICENT BASTARD!"

Mario felt the weight of them all—the warmth of his family, the smell of Luigi’s laundry detergent, the strength in Melony’s grip. He felt the wetness of their tears soaking into his shirt, and soon enough, his own eyes were overflowing.

He wrapped his thick arms around as many of them as he could reach. He pulled Luigi closer, patted Melony’s head, and leaned his forehead against Meggy’s. A massive, toothy, tearful grin spread across his face—the biggest, happiest smile he had ever made in his entire life.

"Mario is sorry he was gone so long," he sobbed, his voice thick with joy. "But I’m home now. I’m home."

For a long time, nobody moved. They stayed there in a tangled heap of red, green, and every color in between, right in front of the memorial that was no longer needed. The candles flickered, and the portrait of the "Late Mario" watched over them, but the man himself was right where he belonged.

"So," Mario sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve as the hug finally loosened just enough for them to breathe. "Does this mean we can go get spaghetti now?"

Despite the tears, despite the years of grief, the room erupted into a chorus of watery, hysterical laughter.

"Yes, Mario," SMG4 laughed, wiping his eyes. "We can get all the spaghetti in the world."

Mario beamed, looking at each of them in turn. He didn't know how he was back, and frankly, he didn't care. He was Mario, and he was with his friends. And that was all the magic he ever needed.