Mario return

The first thing Mario felt was the cold. It wasn't the biting, bitter cold of a winter in the Mushroom Kingdom, but rather a hollow, numbing chill that had settled into his bones for what felt like centuries. Then, there was the smell—the faint, lingering scent of old wood and dust.

His eyes snapped open.

Mario gasped, his chest heaving as air rushed into lungs that had long forgotten how to breathe. He flailed his arms, hitting something solid. He wasn't in a golden field or a dark void. He was lying on the floor of his old bedroom in the pipes. The sunlight filtered through the grime-streaked windows in dusty golden bars, illuminating the posters of spaghetti and the discarded pizza boxes that looked exactly as he had left them.

"Mama mia..." Mario whispered, his voice cracking and raspy. He stared at his gloved hands. They were solid. They were real. He pinched his cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. "Ow! Mario is... Mario is back?"

He scrambled to his feet, his legs feeling like jelly. He didn't know how, and frankly, his brain wasn't built for the 'how.' All he knew was that the last thing he remembered was the fading voices of his friends and the heavy pull of sleep. Now, he was awake.

"Luigi? SMG4?" he called out, but the house was silent.

A sudden, desperate surge of energy kicked his heart into high gear. He didn't care about the logistics of resurrection or the supernatural anomalies of the universe. He needed to see them. He needed to see his brother. He needed to see his daughter.

Mario burst through the door, his heavy boots thumping against the grass. The Kingdom looked different—more trees, a few new buildings—but the path to the castle was burned into his soul. He ran faster than he ever had during a Bowser chase, his red cap fluttering in the wind. He didn't stop to greet the Toads who gawked at him like they were seeing a ghost. In their eyes, they were.

He reached the front of the castle. It wasn't the old Peach’s Castle, but the grand, sprawling fortress SMG4 had built. Mario slowed down, his breath coming in ragged hitches. He reached for the heavy oak doors, his hand trembling. He pushed them open just a crack, slipping inside with a silence that contradicted his usual clumsy nature.

The main hall was decorated. But it wasn't for a party. There were white lilies everywhere, and a large, framed portrait sat on a pedestal in the center of the room. It was a picture of him, mid-laugh, with a smear of tomato sauce on his chin.

The gang was all there. SMG4, Meggy, Tari, Bob, Fishy Boopkins, Saiko, and Chris and Swag. They were sitting around a long table, speaking in hushed, somber tones. Luigi sat at the head of the table, looking older, with a few streaks of grey in his mustache. Next to him was Melony. She wasn't the sleepy mask-wearer he remembered; she looked more mature, her gaze fixed on a plate of spaghetti that nobody was eating.

"It’s been five years," SMG4 said, his voice thick with emotion. "And it still feels like he’s just out on a grocery run and forgot the way home."

"He was a complete idiot," Bob added, though his usual robotic snark was replaced by a hollow tone. "But he was our idiot. The castle is too quiet without the explosions."

Meggy looked down at her lap. "I still catch myself trying to challenge him to a competition. I forget for a second that there’s no one to compete against."

Mario felt a lump form in his throat. He couldn't stay hidden anymore. He took a step forward, the floorboard creaking under his weight.

"Does this mean Mario gets to eat the spaghetti now?"

The silence that followed was absolute. It was the kind of silence that felt like the world had stopped spinning. Every head at the table snapped toward the doorway.

SMG4 dropped his glass, the sound of shattering porcelain echoing through the hall. Meggy’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening until they looked like saucers.

"Mario?" Luigi whispered. His voice was so faint it was barely audible.

Melony stood up slowly, her hands trembling as she reached for her Deity Sword, perhaps thinking this was some cruel trick of a villain. But as she looked into those wide, blue, stupidly innocent eyes, the sword clattered to the floor.

"I'm home," Mario said, a goofy, tearful smile breaking across his face.

"MARIO!"

The scream came from Luigi and Melony simultaneously. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated agony and joy mixed into one.

Luigi moved faster than a green blur, launching himself across the room. He didn't care about physics or dignity; he tackled his brother into a sprawling heap on the floor. Melony was right behind him, throwing herself onto the pile, her arms wrapping around Mario’s neck so tightly he could barely breathe.

"You're here! You're really here!" Luigi sobbed, burying his face into Mario’s red shirt. He was crying so hard his entire body was shaking. "I thought I’d never see you again! I thought you were gone forever!"

Melony was inconsolable. Big, fat tears streamed down her face as she wailed his name over and over. "Dad! Dad, don't go! Don't ever go again!"

The rest of the crew finally broke out of their trance. It was a stampede. SMG4 was the next to arrive, followed by Meggy and Tari. Soon, Mario was at the bottom of a massive group hug. Everyone was shouting, crying, and laughing all at once.

"How is this possible?" SMG4 yelled over the noise, wiping tears from behind his glasses. "I don't care! I don't care how, you're back!"

"If this is a prank, I'm going to kill you and then hug you again!" Meggy cried, her fist lightly thumping Mario’s shoulder even as she squeezed him.

Mario felt the warmth of them—the real, physical weight of his family. He wrapped his thick arms around as many of them as he could reach, his own tears soaking into his mustache. He gave the widest, most joyful grin he had ever made in his life, a smile that reached his eyes and stayed there.

"Mario missed you guys too," he choked out. "Mario missed everyone so much."

After several minutes of chaotic reunion, the initial shock began to settle into a heavy, emotional exhaustion. The group pulled back slightly to give him air, but Luigi refused to let go of Mario’s hand, clutching it like a lifeline.

Melony, however, was still struggling. The trauma of the loss had run deep into her heart, and seeing him again had triggered a flood of emotions she couldn't contain. She was hyperventilating, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps as she clung to his overalls.

"It's okay, Melony," Mario whispered. He looked at her with a softness that he rarely showed to the world, but always had for her. "Hey, look at me. Look at your papa."

He pulled her into a more secure embrace, tucking her head under his chin. He began to rock back and forth slowly, the way he used to when she was just a little mask finding her way in the world.

He didn't know many songs. Most of his musical talent involved parodies of Italian folk songs about pasta. But he remembered a melody—a soft, humming tune that Luigi used to hum to him when they were kids and the thunderstorms in Brooklyn got too loud.

Mario began to sing, his voice low and surprisingly steady. It wasn't a song with many words, just a gentle, rhythmic hum that carried the warmth of a thousand suns.

"Don't you cry, little melon," he murmured between the notes. "Mario is here. The red star is back in the sky. I'm not going anywhere. We're gonna have so much spaghetti. We're gonna go on so many adventures."

As he sang, the tension began to bleed out of Melony’s frame. Her frantic sobbing slowed to small, rhythmic hiccups. The soothing vibration of his chest against her ear acted like a balm to her frayed nerves. The rest of the room fell silent, watching the man they once thought was just a "dumb idiot" provide the exact comfort his daughter needed.

"You promise?" Melony whispered, her voice tiny.

Mario pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. He reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"Mario promises," he said firmly. "I survived Bowser, I survived the YouTube Arc, and I survived... whatever that dark place was. You can't get rid of me that easily."

Luigi let out a wet, shaky laugh, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "He's right. He's too stubborn to stay dead."

SMG4 stepped forward, placing a hand on Mario’s shoulder. "We have so much to tell you. So much has happened."

Mario stood up, keeping one arm firmly around Melony and the other around Luigi. He looked at the table, at the portrait of himself, and then at the faces of the people who loved him.

"Later," Mario said, his stomach giving a loud, thunderous growl that broke the tension instantly. "First... someone told me there was an anniversary spaghetti?"

The group erupted into a mix of groans and laughter. It was the most "Mario" thing he could have possibly said.

"Classic Mario," Bob remarked, though he was secretly wiping his visor. "The man rises from the grave and the first thing he wants is carbs."

"I'll go make a fresh batch," Luigi said, his face beaming with a happiness that hadn't been seen in years. "The biggest batch in history."

As the gang moved toward the kitchen, talking over one another in a frantic rush to catch Mario up on five years of history, Mario lingered for a moment in the hall. He looked at the portrait on the pedestal. He reached out and turned it face down.

He didn't need a memorial anymore. He was home.