The past of the broken 💔

The Showgrounds was unusually quiet. In the heart of the Mushroom Kingdom, the new castle stood tall, its colorful spires reaching toward a clear blue sky. Inside the main foyer, the usual chaos had been replaced by a heavy, lethargic silence. SMG4 was slumped on the sofa, scrolling aimlessly through his phone. Bob and Fishy Boopkins were sitting on the floor, half-heartedly playing a card game that neither of them seemed to be winning. Meggy was sharpening her Splatshot, though her heart wasn't in it, and Tari was busy tinkering with her cybernetic arm.

"Is it just me, or is it... weirdly peaceful today?" SMG4 asked, breaking the silence.

"It's Mario," Meggy sighed, leaning back against the wall. "He’s been gone since sunrise. Apparently, he went on a solo quest for a 'limited edition' spaghetti noodle. Without him here to blow something up or set the kitchen on fire, there’s nothing to do."

"I’m not complaining," Saiko muttered from the corner, her arms crossed. "My ears finally stopped ringing for the first time in three weeks."

Suddenly, the massive television monitor in the center of the room flickered to life. It wasn't the usual bright, obnoxious intro of an SMG4 video. Instead, the screen remained dark for a moment before a grainy, VHS-style recording began to play.

"Uh, SMG4? Did you start a livestream?" Tari asked, leaning forward.

"No, I don't have anything scheduled," SMG4 replied, his brow furrowing as he grabbed the remote. "I can't turn it off. It’s hardwired into the system."

The video cleared. It showed a small, cramped apartment. A young boy, no older than five or six, was sitting on a cold hardwood floor. He wore a faded red shirt and oversized overalls. He was playing with a single, broken wooden block, humming a quiet tune to himself. It was unmistakably Mario, but his eyes lacked the chaotic, wide-eyed spark they knew so well. They were dull and filled with a crushing loneliness.

The door in the video slammed open. Two figures stepped into the frame—Mario's parents. Their faces were blurred, but their voices were sharp, piercing through the speakers like jagged glass.

"You useless brat!" a man’s voice roared. "We told you to stay in the closet until we got back! Look at this mess!"

The man kicked the wooden block across the room. The young Mario flinched, curling into a ball. What followed was a blur of violence that made the air in the castle turn cold. The gang watched in horrific silence as the child was berated, shoved, and struck. It wasn't the "slapstick" violence they were used to in their world; there were no cartoon sound effects, no respawning, and no jokes. It was raw, cruel, and systematic.

Meggy’s hand flew to her mouth. Tari hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

"Wait, stop the video," SMG4 whispered, his face pale. "This... this can't be real."

"It is," a quiet voice said.

Everyone turned to look at Luigi. The taller brother was sitting in a recliner, his head bowed so low his hat covered his eyes. He was trembling, his gloved hands gripping the armrests so hard the fabric groaned.

"Luigi?" Bob asked, his usual robotic rasp sounding uncharacteristically soft. "Did you know about this?"

"I was younger... they kept us apart most of the time," Luigi choked out, a tear hitting the floor. "I heard the screaming. I saw the bruises. Mario... he always told me he just fell down. He’d make a funny face or do something stupid just to make me laugh so I wouldn't worry. He took everything so I wouldn't have to."

The screen shifted, fast-forwarding through the years. They saw Mario as a teenager, sitting on a park bench in the rain, his clothes tattered. He looked worse with every passing frame—thinner, more withdrawn, his skin pale. He looked like a man who had been told he was nothing for so long that he finally started to believe it.

Melony, who had been napping on the floor, was now wide awake. Her large, innocent eyes were fixed on the screen, shimmering with tears. She didn't understand everything about human cruelty, but she understood pain.

The footage transitioned again. This time, Mario looked more like the man they knew, though still younger. He was wandering through a vibrant green field, looking lost. He stumbled upon a small patch of dirt where a single, plump watermelon sat.

The gang watched as Mario stopped. He didn't eat it. He didn't kick it. He knelt down in the dirt and gently brushed the soil off the melon's rind. A soft, genuine smile spread across his face—a smile they realized they had rarely seen. It wasn't the grin of a man about to eat spaghetti; it was the look of someone who had finally found something to love.

"Hey there, little buddy," the Mario on screen whispered, his voice cracking. "You're all alone too, huh? Don't worry. Mario’s got you. I'll take care of you. I'll make sure nothing ever hurts you."

He picked up the melon with a tenderness that seemed impossible for the man who usually broke everything he touched. He carried it home, tucked under his arm like a precious treasure.

"He... he raised me?" Melony whispered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. "Before I was a person... he was my daddy?"

"He treated that melon better than he treated himself," Saiko observed, her voice thick with emotion.

The final scene appeared. It was a live feed of Mario’s current bedroom in the castle. The room was a mess of pizza boxes and dirty laundry, but the camera zoomed in on the nightstand. Mario was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to the camera. He was holding a framed photograph—a picture of the whole crew at the last Christmas party, laughing and covered in tinsel.

A single, heavy teardrop fell onto the glass of the frame. Mario wiped it away with his thumb, his shoulders heaving in a silent sob.

"I'm sorry guys," they heard him mutter to the empty room. "I know I'm annoying. I know I'm a burden. I just... I don't know how to be anything else. Please don't leave me like they did."

The screen went black.

The silence in the room was deafening. Melony was openly sobbing now, her deity mask lying forgotten on the floor. Meggy was staring at her boots, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles were white. SMG4 looked like he wanted to vomit.

"All those times we kicked him out," SMG4 whispered, his voice trembling. "All those times we called him an idiot, or told him we wished he’d disappear... we were just repeating what those monsters did to him."

"We're the worst friends ever," Boopkins wailed, hugging his knees.

"I thought he was just a jerk," Bob said, his green eyes dimmed. "I didn't know he was... broken."

Meggy stood up suddenly, her eyes burning with a mix of guilt and fierce determination. "We have to find him. Now. We have to tell him... we have to make this right."

"She's right," Tari said, wiping her eyes. "He needs to know he’s loved. Not for the jokes, not for the chaos, but just for him."

Melony stood up, her Fierce Deity sword appearing in her hand, though she wasn't looking for a fight. She was looking for her creator. "He's my father. I'm going to find him."

Just as the group began to scramble toward the door, a loud, crashing sound echoed through the foyer. The stained-glass window above the main entrance shattered into a thousand pieces as a red-and-blue blur came flying through.

"WAHOOOOOOO!"

Mario hit the floor in a perfect somersault, sliding across the polished marble before coming to a halt in a heroic—if slightly clumsy—pose. He was covered in mud, his hat was sideways, and he was clutching a single, golden-glowing noodle.

"Mario is back, bitches!" he shouted, throwing his arms wide. "And I got the Legendary Spaghetti Noodle of Infinite Flavor! Now, who wants to watch me eat this until I barf? Why are you all looking at me like I just died? Is there a spider on my head? Is it a big one?!"

He started spinning around in circles, trying to see the back of his own head. "Get it off! Get it off! Mario is too beautiful to die by a bug!"

He stopped when he realized no one was laughing. He looked at their faces—the tears, the red eyes, the expressions of raw heartbreak. His own expression shifted instantly. The "dumb" mask he wore so well began to slip, replaced by a look of genuine confusion and fear.

"Hey... uh... why is everyone crying?" Mario asked, his voice dropping an octave. He took a cautious step back. "Did... did Mario do something wrong again? I’m sorry about the window! I’ll pay for it! I’ll sell my liver! Just don't be mad, okay?"

He flinched slightly, a reflex they now understood all too well. It broke their hearts.

Before he could utter another word of apology, he was hit by a literal tidal wave of bodies.

"OOF!" Mario grunted as he was tackled to the floor.

Meggy and Melony were the first to reach him, wrapping their arms around his neck so tightly he could barely breathe. SMG4, Luigi, Tari, and even Bob and Saiko piled on, forming a massive, weeping huddle on the floor.

"Whoa! Hey! Too much touching!" Mario yelled, though he didn't pull away. "Is this a cult? Are we in a cult now? I didn't sign up for the huggy-wuggy cult!"

"Shut up, Mario," Meggy sobbed into his shoulder. "Just... shut up for once."

"We're so sorry, Mario," SMG4 choked out, gripping Mario’s hand. "We’re so, so sorry."

Mario froze. He looked down at Melony, who was burying her face in his chest, whispering the word "Daddy" over and over again. He looked at Luigi, who was crying harder than he had since they were kids.

The golden noodle fell from his hand, forgotten on the floor. The confusion in Mario’s eyes slowly melted away, replaced by a weary, profound understanding. He realized they had seen. He realized the secret he had buried under layers of spaghetti, memes, and screaming was out.

For a moment, he thought about making a joke. He thought about saying something crude to break the tension. But as he felt the warmth of his friends—his family—surrounding him, the walls he had built around his heart finally crumbled.

Mario didn't say anything. He simply closed his eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. He reached out, his large, gloved hands resting gently on Meggy and Melony’s backs, pulling them closer.

"It's okay," he whispered, his voice finally steady and real. "Mario’s okay now."

In the quiet of the castle, the red-clad plumber finally stopped running from his past. He didn't need to be the hero or the fool anymore. He just needed to be home. And for the first time in his life, he truly was.