Mario's emotional past

The Showgrounds was unusually quiet. The afternoon sun beat down on the Castle, casting long, lazy shadows across the foyer where the gang had gathered. For once, there were no explosions, no screaming matches over spaghetti, and no world-ending threats looming on the horizon.

SMG4 sat on the floor, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, while Tari and Meggy were engaged in a quiet game of cards. Bob and Boopkins were arguing in hushed tones about whether anime was better than "thicc" gold chains, and Saiko was tuning her guitar with a bored expression. Melony was fast asleep on a nearby beanbag, her chest rising and falling in rhythmic peace.

"Is it just me, or is it actually... nice today?" Meggy asked, laying down a card.

"It’s because Mario isn't here," SMG4 replied without looking up. "He went off to some secret 'spaghetti convention' or whatever. I’m just glad I don't have to fix any drywall for at least six hours."

"He can be a lot," Tari added softly, a sympathetic smile on her face. "But it is weirdly still without him."

Suddenly, the massive monitor in the center of the room flickered to life. It wasn't the usual bright blue of the system interface; it was a grainy, flickering static that hummed with an unsettling frequency.

"Yo, Four, did you leave the TV on?" Bob asked, tilting his head.

"No, I didn't touch it," SMG4 said, standing up and walking toward the console. "Probably just a glitch. Or maybe Mario’s trying to prank us from a remote location."

The static cleared, but it didn't show a prank. It showed a date, decades old, stamped in the corner of a grainy home video. The setting was a cramped, dimly lit kitchen. A small child, no older than five, sat 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.

"Is that... Mario?" Meggy whispered, leaning forward.

Luigi, who had been sitting quietly in the corner reading a book, suddenly froze. His face went pale, his hands trembling as the book slipped from his fingers. "Oh no," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "Not this. Not that tape."

On the screen, the young Mario was trying to reach for a piece of bread on the counter. He accidentally knocked over a glass of milk. The sound of the glass shattering seemed amplified in the silent foyer.

A shadow fell over the child. A man and a woman stepped into the frame. They weren't the loving parents the gang had imagined. Their faces were twisted in a fury that felt visceral, even through the low-quality footage.

"You stupid, clumsy brat!" the man roared.

What followed was a blur of violence that silenced the room. The gang watched in paralyzed horror as the man’s hand connected with the boy's face, sending him spiraling to the floor. The woman didn't stop him; instead, she joined in, her voice a shrill cacophony of insults, blaming the child for their poverty, their misery, and their ruined lives.

Young Mario didn't scream. He didn't even cry out. He just curled into a ball, his small hands over his head, trying to make himself as small as possible while the people who were supposed to love him most treated him like garbage.

"Stop it," Tari whispered, her hands over her mouth. "Turn it off, SMG4. Turn it off!"

SMG4 scrambled for the controls, hitting buttons frantically, but the screen wouldn't budge. "It’s locked! I can’t override it!"

The video jumped forward in time. Mario at ten, sporting a black eye and a split lip, hiding in a closet while the sounds of crashing furniture echoed in the background. Mario at fifteen, working three jobs and handing every cent over to his father, only to be kicked into the dirt because it wasn't enough.

In every clip, the light in Mario’s eyes dimmed a little more. The round, cheerful man they knew was nowhere to be found. In his place was a hollowed-out shell of a boy who looked like he expected the world to hit him at any second.

"Luigi..." Saiko turned to the plumber, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Did you know?"

Luigi was shaking, tears streaming down his face. He tucked his knees to his chest. "I was younger... they—they mostly ignored me. But Mario... he always stepped in front of me. Every time they were angry, he’d make a noise or break something on purpose just so they’d look at him instead of me. He took everything for both of us."

The screen flickered again, showing a montage of Mario over the last few years since arriving in the Mushroom Kingdom. But now, seeing it through the lens of his past, the context changed. They saw him being kicked out of windows, being called an idiot, being mocked for his weight, and being the butt of every joke. They saw the times they had lost their tempers and beaten him up for minor inconveniences.

They saw Mario’s face in the aftermath of those moments. For a split second, when he thought no one was looking, that same hollow, fearful look from the childhood tapes would return. Then, he would shake it off, put on a goofy grin, and scream about spaghetti.

He wasn't stupid. He was performing. He was staying the "clown" because if he was the clown, maybe people wouldn't actually want to hurt him.

Melony was the first to break. She let out a sob that echoed through the hall, her hands clutching her sword as if she wanted to strike the screen. "He’s... he’s always been hurting. And we just... we kept doing it."

Meggy felt a cold stone settle in her stomach. She thought of all the times she’d used Mario as a literal punching bag during training, or the times she’d yelled at him for being "annoying." She thought she was being a tough friend. Now, she felt like a monster.

"We treated him just like they did," Bob said. His usual bravado was gone, his voice flat and hollow. "I thought it was just a gag. I thought he was too dumb to feel it."

"He’s not dumb," SMG4 said, his voice cracking. He stared at his hands. "He’s just... he’s just trying to survive us."

The screen finally went black, leaving the room in a heavy, suffocating silence. The only sound was the collective sobbing of the group. Tari was buried in Saiko’s shoulder; Boopkins was crying into his sleeves. Even Saiko had a single, angry tear rolling down her cheek.

The heavy front doors of the castle creaked open.

"Ooh, boy! I got the extra spicy meatballs!"

Mario waddled into the room, balancing three cardboard boxes of pizza and a bag of groceries. He was humming a tuneless song, his hat skewed to the side. He didn't look at them at first, busy trying to kick the door shut behind him.

"Hey, why is it so dark in here? Did Four forget to pay the electric bill again? I told you, you can’t spend all the money on those weird body pillows of—"

Mario stopped. He looked up and saw the entire gang standing in the center of the room. He saw their red eyes, their tear-streaked faces, and the way they were all staring at him with a mixture of pity and agonizing guilt.

His smile didn't fade, but it faltered. It became a little too wide, a little too stationary. It was a mask.

"Uh... why is everyone looking at Mario like he accidentally ate the last of the secret chocolate?" He laughed nervously, taking a step back. "Because I totally didn't do that. It was... uh... a ghost! A spooky spaghetti ghost!"

No one laughed.

"Mario," Meggy choked out, her voice trembling.

Mario’s posture shifted. He dropped the boxes. The "stupid" look in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, defensive alertness. He looked at the blank TV screen, then back at Luigi, who couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Oh," Mario said. The word was small. It wasn't the voice of the Mushroom Kingdom’s hero. It was the voice of the boy in the closet. "You... you saw the tapes."

"Mario, we are so sorry," Tari sobbed, stepping forward.

Mario flinched. It was a small movement, a slight jerk of his shoulders, but it hit the gang like a physical blow. He expected to be hit. Even now, after years of friendship, his first instinct when someone moved toward him in an emotional state was to brace for impact.

"Don't be sorry!" Mario said quickly, his voice rising into that forced, high-pitched cheerfulness. "It’s okay! It was a long time ago! Mario is fine! Mario is invincible! See?" He flexed his arms, but his hands were shaking. "Who wants pizza? I got the pepperoni!"

"Stop it, Mario," SMG4 said, walking toward him. "Just... stop acting."

"I don't know what you mean! I’m-a Mario! I’m-a the superstar!"

"Mario, please," Luigi cried, finally looking up. "They know. You don't have to hide it anymore."

Mario’s fake smile finally broke. His lip quivered, and his shoulders slumped. The groceries fell from his hands, a jar of sauce shattering on the floor—just like the milk in the video.

He stared at the red stain on the floor, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged. "I... I didn't mean to break it. I’ll clean it up. Please don't be mad. I’ll be better, I promise—"

Before he could finish, he was hit by a literal wave of people.

Meggy and Tari tackled him first, wrapping their arms around his waist and neck. SMG4 and Luigi dived in next, followed by Boopkins and even Bob, who wrapped his cloaked arms around the outer edge of the pile. Saiko leaned over them all, her hand resting firmly on Mario’s head, and Melony squeezed in, hugging his leg like her life depended on it.

Mario froze. He stayed rigid for a long moment, his eyes wide and blinking. He was waiting for the punch. He was waiting for the "just kidding" followed by a kick to the ribs.

But it didn't come. Instead, he felt Tari’s tears soaking into his shirt. He felt Meggy’s grip tightening, her voice whispering "I’m sorry" over and over again. He felt SMG4’s hand on his shoulder, steady and grounding.

"We’re so sorry, Mario," SMG4 whispered into the huddle. "For everything. For every time we were mean, for every time we didn't listen. We didn't know you were carrying all that. You’re not an idiot. You’re the best person we know."

"You’re my big brother," Luigi sobbed, his face buried in Mario’s back. "And I love you so much."

Mario’s breath hitched. A low, broken sound escaped his throat—a sound he hadn't allowed himself to make in decades. The dam finally broke.

He collapsed into the hug, his knees hitting the floor as he let out a loud, wailing sob. He reached out, grabbing onto whoever he could reach—Meggy’s vest, SMG4’s hoodie—clinging to them as if he were drowning and they were the only thing keeping him afloat.

"It hurt," Mario gasped out between sobs, his voice raw. "It always... it always hurt so much."

"We know," Tari murmured, stroking his arm. "We know now. And we’re never going to let it happen again."

"I thought... if I was funny... you’d stay," Mario confessed, his face hidden against Meggy’s shoulder. "I thought if I was the joke, you wouldn't leave me like they did."

"We are never leaving you, you big dummy," Saiko said, her voice thick with emotion. "You’re stuck with us. And if anyone ever touches you again, I’ll bury them under the castle."

"I’ll help," Melony added, her eyes glowing with a protective ferocity.

They stayed there on the floor for a long time. The pizza grew cold, and the sun began to set, casting a warm, orange glow through the castle windows. For the first time in his life, Mario didn't feel like he had to be the hero or the fool.

He was just Mario. And for the first time, that was enough.

Eventually, the sobbing subsided into quiet sniffs and the occasional hiccup. Mario pulled back slightly, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He looked around at his friends—his family—and saw the genuine love in their eyes.

"So..." Mario croaked, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Does this mean I don't have to pay for the groceries I dropped?"

A chorus of watery laughter erupted from the group.

"Not today, Mario," SMG4 said, wiping his own eyes and helping his friend to his feet. "Not today."

"But seriously," Bob added, trying to lighten the mood. "If you touch my gold chains, I’m still gonna kick your ass. Just... a little more gently."

Mario chuckled, a real, deep sound that reached his eyes. "Okay. Mario can live with that."

As they moved toward the kitchen to clean up the mess and actually eat, Luigi kept his arm firmly around his brother’s shoulders. Mario felt lighter than he ever had. The past was still there, etched into his skin and his memory, but the weight of it was no longer his alone to carry.

He looked at the group, bickering over who got the biggest slice of pizza, and felt a warmth in his chest that no amount of spaghetti could ever provide. He was home. And for the first time in his life, he was safe.