Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

We all wear masks metaphorically speaking. We suppress and hide our darkest desires and adopt a more socially acceptable image. 

–The Mask, 1994

__

There was a world of magic, where a kingdom of mushroom people spread. It was a fantasy world, a fake world, governed by the prettiest princess. She was saved countless times from a tyrant thanks to a humble plumber, and together, they were superstars. 

The people of this world were living in a dream. The same story, over and over, and they grew under thousands of tales of their fantastic adventures, and that was all they wanted. They cheered for the couple: the plumber and the princess were soulmates, they said, and they were all that was needed.

And along the path, the plumber looked over his shoulder, his guts gnawing for the soul that was left behind. It was for the best, his brother said. Because in every story, there ought to be a punchline. And if he couldn’t escape this role, then it was best to hide.

In this world of magic, the plumber was returning home. Look closely, and you might notice the signs of a tight throat and a clenched jaw. Sand dust rose from his feet as he trotted down the path to his house. A blue bird chirped on the roof, looking down at the man opening the door. When it closed, the bird flew away.

It was dark inside the house. In September, the heat waves had barely abated. The plumber removed his shoes, socks, gloves and his famous M hat before opening the stores and the windows. When all was done, he took a break. A hand rested on the nearby table, supporting the plumber for one moment of weakness. Then he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and marched on.

The bedroom was plunged in obscurity too when he knocked and opened the door. On the bed, he could see the dim blue light coming from a phone, illuminating the familiar face of his little brother. 

It had been a long time indeed.

“Heya,” Mario said.

The boy on the bed flickered his eyes towards him, clearly elsewhere else in his head. He cleared his throat before greeting back in a very quiet voice. 

“Everything’s all right?” Mario asked.

His brother nodded and gave him a thumbs up which he didn’t bother to raise, still engrossed in his phone. 

Mario didn’t know what to say; it took him several seconds before asking:

“What are you watching?”

This time, Luigi paused the video, tapping the phone twice and taking off his heavy headphones.

“What?”

“What are you watching?”

His brother hesitated. For some reason, Mario sensed a tingle in the air, something like… annoyance. His presence wasn’t welcome.

“Godzilla: King of the Monsters.”

“Oh, cool”, Mario said, forcing a smile. “Is it any good?”

“Yeah,” the weak voice murmured.

“.. Mmh.”

The silence was unbreakable. The more he failed against it, the more it was to be feared. Mario learned he had hopes when coming in, because he felt the loneliness of their departure. Once again, he didn’t know what to do. He was the symbol of hope in this world. But his humble house was where powerlessness overcame him. He was despairing.

But then, an idea came to him.

“The Princess–Peach–she has invited us for a party.”

It was hard to distinguish in the dark, but the shadows over his brother’s face shifted. Mario was left with an impression of anger.

“You don’t need to attend the party… but perhaps you could come for some cake? It  won’t be so bad, I promise.”

“Why...” His brother frowned. “I didn’t go on an adventure with you.”

“Because I want to share it with you.”

More silence. The light of the phone died out, then shone again.

Mario had come prepared, but in the end, his face lost all its composure. 

“Come, please. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I wanna watch the movie.”

“Then we’ll go after it’s ended, yeah?”

“...Okay,” the little brother said, defeated.

The bedroom door opened almost an hour later, with Mario leaping off the couch and looking up. His tall, lanky little brother was not looking his greatest, but it wasn’t so bad either. He was wearing his usual brown boots, a pair of jeans, a pair of white gloves and a dark green T-shirt. 

No hat.

His brown, slightly curly hair was a bit of a mess. Mario passed a hand to smooth it down. The mustache wasn’t looking its best either, but there was nothing he could do right away.

What looked most ugly was his brother’s general expression, reeking of neglect and hopelessness. But Mario knew better than trying to pull his shoulders back or tell him to stand tall and cheer up. Luigi had tried once, and miserably failed. “You told me to smile,” he’d said in that mechanical voice of his. Not like that , Mario had thought.

“Let’s go?” he asked. 

Luigi gave the tiniest of flicks from his chin. Mario turned to open the door, and off they went.

The two walked lazily at first. When they reached town, they picked up the pace. Mario looked back to see if his brother was still following closely; he was indeed, hiding his face in shadows, his steps light over the gravel. They walked faster. It was necessary. His brother couldn’t stand being in public for too long. While Luigi was trying to blend in the background, Mario was on the lookout. They needed to take relatively deserted alleys and today was no exception. 

Finally, they were standing before the guards who granted them passage. The brothers crossed the bridge and the gardens, setting foot into the fresh, sweet-smelling marble palace. Mario looked back again: as expected, Luigi was turning his head right and left, on his guard for whomever came. 

It was an eldery, brown-dotted Toad who came greeting them: the venerable Toadsworth. 

He and Mario talked, and the little brother followed them like a silent shadow, almost forgotten.

But as he’d said, it was best this way.

–

They all were on couches now, a nice trio of a princess, her grandfather and her savior chatting the afternoon away. They gave no signs they were bothered by his presence; he might as well have been part of the decor if it wasn’t for his relentlessly jumping leg. But he made do, fully reclined on the back of the royal couch. The smell made him heave: it was rosy, cloying, alien; it was all overwhelming. He shut his mouth about it, because it wasn’t his home anyway. He was aware of being awarded a lot of impoliteness, pouting like a child during a happy reunion that his brother and Peach had kindly invited him to. He couldn’t understand how they could bear him. Perhaps Peach was putting up a facade for Mario’s sake, while the hero of the kingdom was wasting his time trying to save a hopeless fool. Toadsworth was ranting and raving about the same things, over and over ( must be senile , Luigi thought). While Mario was able to bear it, Peach seemed unbothered as always. Luigi didn’t know if he could envy them. Had he been Peach, he’d have been embarrassed.

He tensed when the cake was delivered. Meal time, it was. Jerkingly, he put on his earphones, blasting the loudest music he could. The pain on his tympans was better than struggling on the verge of rage and tears whenever he heard those disgusting pigs eating with their mouths open, or slurping, or making all those fucking noises that gave him the urge to bang his head against the table till blood shot from his ears and he remained crippled enough not to suffer from it anymore. They could not imagine the absolute torture those moments represented for him. 

Except Mario. Mario had understood, and Luigi had been grateful.

He fixed his gaze onto the plate, eating as quickly as he could against the vague disgust. The cake was good, excellent even. But he’d have preferred it if Mario had brought home a piece so that Luigi could eat it in the safety of his room. 

When he was done, he relaxed against the couch–eyes tightly shut, of course, so that he could not see them eating–and he lowered the music a few notches. 

The wait was harduous too, especially under the ridicule and the strain of having to shield himself from the outside world like this. He couldn’t even enjoy watching videos in peace there. It was one of those times where he needed loud looping music to survive but didn’t enjoy it. 

He should have had the courage to say no when Mario had asked him to come.. But as always, his nerve had failed him.

The afternoon hadn’t started so badly. He’d gotten up at a decent hour, 1 p.m, instead of 5 or 6 p.m. He’d abandoned months ago the goal of waking up in the morning, 1 p.m was close enough. Sure, he’d felt weak, with his usual day-long headaches, a swollen throat and stinging sinuses, but at least he’d had the time to eat a proper meal and have his daily dose of Internet. Thirty minutes into the 2019 Godzilla movie, and he was interrupted. Oh, he’d heard the entrance door close, so he’d already paused the movie when Mario came in. He’d faked still watching it, encouraging his brother to leave him alone. That wasn’t about to happen. 

And now, Luigi was the one feeling like a boulder to his brother’s foot.

Thankfully, no one had seen him and made remarks as he passed through the town. No one attracted attention to either Mario or his infamous brother. He remembered laughter last time this happened; it still hurt him to this day. 

He fantasized for a bit. Showing the inhabitants of the kingdom why they shouldn’t take him for a fool. Proving he was more than comic relief. He imagined himself controlling storms like Ghidorah to impress them, saving the town. He imagined, childishly, that somehow, a lightning bolt would strike the first one who started the round of laughter, due to pure bad luck or thanks to a deity watching over him. In vain, of course. Those dreams were a trademark of the powerless and the weak. Of victims and losers.

He opened his eyes just a little bit to see if something had changed. Mario was having another share of cake, Toadsworth was raging against the ceiling with his scepter, and Peach was done eating. He closed them again.

Once more, he wondered what had driven Mario to invite him. Because there was no doubt he was the one who instigated it. Sure, Peach would always welcome him as a friend… when Mario asked.

There was a simple explanation though, he reckoned. The paranoiac part of himself had the mad thought that Mario was just putting him in uncomfortable situations to later laugh with his friends at how pathetic his failure of a brother had become. Luigi knew not to listen to it. No, Mario wanted to make his little brother feel better about himself, and he was running out of options. It just left him bitter. Some cake party wasn’t going to do anything about what truly mattered. Really, Mario shouldn’t have bothered.

He opened his eyes again five minutes later. Toadsworth had left. The couple, in their oh-so-pretty romance, didn’t know what to say to each other. Mario glanced at his brother, looking away in surprise when he was caught in the act. Luigi understood the message and straightened himself on the couch.

He was down again for what he’d come to call his “cyclical negative thoughts”. Could Mario even help him? He didn’t think so, or else he’d have succeeded already. There was only one conclusion if the greatest of superstars couldn’t save him: it was no use to even try. He was hopeless. It must be in his genes, to be a loser. He may have discarded his L cap, but he would always remain that: an L.

What if Mario hadn’t had a brother at all? Perhaps he’d be kissing Peach in the garden right now.

Perhaps it was a testament to how powerful those negative thoughts were, because he didn’t notice the change in the air until some foul-smelling wet heat was blown onto his neck. He was an idiot, he thought in retrospect, turning around and opening his eyes like a naive fuck. Perhaps his eyelids were tired of being forcefully closed. Perhaps he’d forgotten the danger when he thought about how he’d finally be able to turn away from that horrible mess of an afternoon tea. Either way, he came face to face with fangs the size of his arm, and though he could not hear the roar, he could feel the vibrations shaking his body. He leaped out of place; he leapt so well in fact that he broke the ceiling and remained stuck in the rafters, his legs dangling in emptiness. He’d lost the grip on his phone and the connected earbuds when he’d jumped. This time, he could hear the mirth from below.

He unstuck himself, eventually, falling onto his ass and feeling like he’d cracked his coccyx. Mario’s question (“Are you okay?” obviously) was muffled by the sound of Bowser practically pissing on himself in laughter, laughter that was shared among his minions. He should have been expecting it, he should have been used to it, but it wounded whatever pride was left inside him. He couldn’t control the tears welling up, though that also had to do with the pounding, searing pain deep in his skull.

“Leave him to me,” Mario said. And there was nothing Luigi could do about it. Mario would once again be the hero that defended the castle from Bowser’s attack. Were Luigi to try helping him, he'd become a bother, an obstacle, rather than a partner. 

Oh, how times had changed.

“No, no, NO!” Peach shrieked, swinging her pan at the minions. She swiftly dodged Bowser's huge claws, falling into Mario’s arms. 

“YOU CAN’T STOP OUR LOVE!” Bowser roared at both of them.

Mario surreptitiously–or rather, unconsciously–tightened his arms around her silhouette under the ferocity of the growl, before turning around and lightly pushing the princess in Luigi’s direction. He rolled away from Bowser’s swinging arm, the force of the afterblow destabilizing him. The beast lost interest quickly as he rushed towards the princess and Luigi, the castle trembling at each of his steps. Peach squeaked, hiding behind the tall, lanky plumber.

Luigi didn’t move. As though paralyzed, his body a shield for the princess, he looked up in terror as the King of Koopas was charging at him like a bull. Time seemed to slow down, but his reactions were even slower. By the time his body started to unlock, it was too late.

He closed his eyes at the last millisecond… the deadly impact didn’t come. He did take a swing of Bowser’s thick claws though, sending him flying several feet to the side. The shock of his fall made him dizzy. It seemed his brother had managed to stop the beast by grabbing his tail and swinging him around with superhuman strength. Bowser was thrown down the corridor. He rolled and crashed against a pillar; the ceiling shook as dust and bits of rock fell all over the place.

The danger incapacitated for a moment, Luigi allowed himself to look down. Though he couldn’t yet feel the pain under the adrenaline rush, he was aware of the lacerations on his chest and his left arm burning. Not only that, but they were bleeding. Two open wounds on his arm were particularly bad; in the magicless world, they would require stitches. He would bleed out if he didn’t take a Shroom in the next hour. The little brother settled for pressing a hand on them, watching, for a moment of morbid fascination, as the blood seeped through his white gloves.

That was when he noticed the origin of the chaotic background noises. Toads and their ear-grating screeches, like nails on a board. They weren’t screaming in fear. These were fans cheering for Mario, as always. It was difficult for Luigi to process the blurry forms and incoherent screaming however, so he could only guess based on what he'd seen before.

Bowser was getting up, and that was what mattered most in the present. Mario sprinted and jumped. Before the Koopa could register it, Mario had gotten his 1000 pounds hammer out of his pocket and rammed it between Bowser’s horns, knocking him out for good. Or at least, that’s what it seemed. 

The crowd was cheering and lightning mini fireworks. The hero kneeled next to the fallen princess, who promptly accepted the hand of her devoted gentleman. Mario helped his Highness get on her feet, taking his hat off his head as she rose, standing a foot above him. He made sure she was well: Peach was shaken rather than injured. 

“Thank you, Mario,” she said with all the grace and holiness of a fairy-tale princess. The crowd fell silent and Mario took his eyes away from his brother. “Once again, you saved me. I do not know what we would do without you. It seems Bowser will never learn his lesson...”

Although he remained mute, Mario’s heart was obviously fluttering in his chest, remaining still as Peach kissed his nose. The crowd cheered as if they were attending a wedding.

His brother looked from 40 feet away, W-sitting, staunching the bleeding from his left arm with the other. His gaze was shy but intense. See, this is something you’ll never get. 

There was a reason his brother was named Super Mario , while he was…

A growl shook through the castle. The couple looked at Bowser’s direction as once again, Mario stood in front of Peach in an attempt to protect her. The king was rising. Mario got a flash of the inferno inside his mouth before his body jumped into action. Hell descended where they stood as Bowser shot like a living flamethrower. Tapestries caught fire, walls and floors were scorched. Soon, the air was filled with smoke and ashes. Luigi saw his brother leaping away at the last second, Peach in his arms bridal-style, while the howling crowd ran outside the castle. Then, the smoke and ashes engulfed him. His eyes, throat and sinuses stang horribly. He could not control his coughing nor the tears that welled up. He was suffocating, and he swore he could feel his eyes turning red as the cinders attacked them like millions of needles. He bent his head as close to the floor as possible, attempting to crawl away. He must have made too much noise, because soon enough, he felt a huge hand closing around his waist, suffocating him some more. However much he struggled against the claws, Bowser’s hold on the lanky plumber was simply unbreakable. Luigi was quite no match for this strength… so he stopped struggling.

He didn’t know how Peach could put up with Bowser’s shit over and over like that. He felt scared, powerless, and most of all, humiliated, as the smoke cleared up and Bowser held him high like a trophy, cackling like the evil and cowardly animal he truly was. It was so, so easy for him to take advantage of commoners: almost everyone was weaker than him. That was how he became king.

Luigi looked away as if burned by the rage he saw in Mario’s eyes. 

“What?” Bowser said, confusion in his voice. Luigi gave a side-glance at his huge, beastly head. He was looking back and forth between the plumber in his hand and the princess in Mario’s arms. “Green Stache?”

The so-called “Green Stache” felt Bowser’s grip slacking. He could have wormed his way out, had he broken out of his frozen state sooner. As it was, Luigi’s indecisiveness was his undoing, and just as he was starting to wiggle out, Bowser’s claws retracted. All the air inside Luigi’s lungs was forced out and this time, he couldn’t breathe. He wondered when the first ribs would break. It didn’t help that the pain from the bleeding lacerations was like fire.

“Give me the princess, and I’ll give–”

“No,” Mario simply answered.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Bowser grumbled. He hid Mario’s little brother behind him, snapping his fingers from the other arm. Then, he retracted into his shell, carrying Luigi inside; a smart move, as the red plumber's golden hammer hit his shell rather than his head. Bowser spun, broke the laws of physics to leap inside his famous smiling ship, and rose up again, taunting Mario some more. 

Noises faded in the background. Luigi’s ears were hot and ringing. His lungs were burning. It was as though his throat and his face were swelling as he tried breathing in air. He was conscious of the ship going up and the ceiling of the roof breaking on their passage. And as soon as the sun shone on his face, he could see no more.

Bowser had definitely never held Peach with such carelessness. Luigi lost the will to fight.

His upper body slumped over the huge fingers. He was at Bowser’s mercy now, he thought, before the world blacked out.

Chapter Text

“He’s awake,” a high-pitched voice echoed somewhere up. 

He coughed and immediately groaned in pain. His hands reached towards his waist. With great effort, he was able to look below his T-shirt: his flesh was a deep purple-blue. Bowser, he remembered, had choked him till he passed out. The area of his ribs was now a giant bruise. He heard hisses, ouch’s and wow’s surrounding him.

“That’s gotta hurt.” 

Luigi agreed. He still couldn’t breathe correctly.

A girly voice harrumphed. “Sucks for him,” she sneered in a haughty tone. How very familiar that voice sounded.

The next second, the vice digging into his ribs was gone. The plumber fully breathed in before sighing.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because.”

“You know papa’s forbidden you to do that!”

“He didn’t,” said a voice that Luigi’s brain qualified as ‘the intellectual kind’ for some reason. “He said nothing about healing his injuries. Besides, I’m bored, and I don’t need to…” 

“This is papa’s prisoner. We’re forbidden to talk with him!”

“That’s not what you say when Peach is there,” a bully voice remarked.

The Koopalings. And sure enough, when he cracked his eyes open, he saw them arguing over his almost lifeless body. 

"Kids, Prince Bowser Jr," the high-pitched, mean-sounding voice from before said from a dozen meters away. Kamek was watching from the doorframe on Luigi's left. 

"Why must he always have the big title?!" Iggy protested. 

"Because I'm papa's true son! You're just adopted."

Ouch. 

"So what?!"

"We're still his children!"

"He chose us, he did not choose you!"

"But he chose me to become king! He told me! Right, Kamek?"

"That is true," the eldest Koopa in the room said. Almost all Koopalings argued at once. 

"That's not fair!"

"That's not what he meant!"

"Why you?"

"You're an idiot. Obviously he said that to make you feel better." 

The boys turned to Wendy, grateful. 

"Yeah, you're the youngest, you're the most sensitive, it wouldn't make sense to make you king."

"When I'm older!"

"Dad always lies."

The shouting was becoming unbearable. Luigi moaned in pain, the headache doubling in intensity despite his attempt to block out the sound. There was a reason he disliked children. All those whiny kids, living in royalty, and they weren't even aware of the responsibilities being a king implied… They were all mini-Simbas, chanting how much they'd love to become kings so that they could have their fun… and Luigi understood, because it seemed to be what Bowser was dedicating his royal status to… but the day they realized there was more than that… they would all beg their siblings to take care of the mess. They couldn't even properly take care of their kingdom's trash even though they had literal magic to make it disappear at will… 

And as though someone had read his thoughts, all the shouting ceased. 

"Will you shut up?" It was Ludwig, who swished his magical scepter for more effect. "There's a prisoner we gotta take care of first."

Everyone stared at the green-clad plumber, who gulped, his Adam apple bobbing out. 

He noticed a cage floating near the ceiling. Everyone looked as it levitated above Luigi before falling down in a great, ear-shattering CLANG . Though he expected the shock, Luigi jerked up with the violence of the fall. The lock shone blue for a few seconds; a spell was put in place. The lock would be indestructible. Only Kamek and the key he'd give to Bowser would be able to open it. 

"Done," Kamek added, before leaving.

The Koopalings stayed mute for a moment, until Morty pulled a scepter out of his shell, canceled the silencing spell and started ranting all over again. Meanwhile, Luigi sat up fully and leaned against the metal bars. All that noise and the following crash of the cage had wasted what little energy had been left in him, turning his thoughts negative in a split second. Plus, knowing Mario now had to go on a new adventure just as he was resting for the previous one… it was a shame Luigi was such a pussy that he couldn't manage his own protection for a second. Stupid… he thought, lifting his head a bit before letting it fall lightly against the cage.

He didn't want the Koopalings to see him having a meltdown. They'd laugh and taunt him some more. As all the kids started blabbering again, Luigi turned his face away. Eventually, he changed position, turning his back on the group, facing the wall–or rather, the ground, as his mood plummeted once again. 

He'd told Mario not to insist. Or rather, that he didn't want to come. But his opinion didn't matter anyway, right? Had he stayed at home, he wouldn't have been kidnapped. He'd be sleeping in the safety of his bed rather than on a stone floor. Now, the news would spread all over the kingdom. Luigi, the new damsel in distress! It was utterly humiliating. Oh, why should Mario even bother? the Toads would say. He wasn't worth it. Hell, Bowser basically made them a service. 

A loser. He was a fucking loser. Always had been, always would be. 

Though he was too tired and numbed down to break into full sobs, some tears managed to fall on the stone, near the hand resting on the floor. He remained silent, so as not to attract the attention of Bowser's kids. His nose quickly clogged up, so he resorted to breathing through his mouth, as naturally-looking as possible. 

Broken . That's how he felt. 

Just as he was laying down on his belly, ready to sleep the following days in misery, the cage shook. The plumber shuffled back. The cage rose, levitated to the side, and touched the ground again. Luigi had cringed, expecting another great CLANG , but it didn’t happen.

"Stupid Kamek," Ludwig said. "No need to find the lock's magic code when you can just take the cage off."

Luigi was… free?

Was he so pathetic they didn't want him there?

Did they want to play with him some more or something? 

Kids were renowned for their cruelty and obliviousness to the consequences of their actions. He could already imagine Roy locking his arms behind Luigi’s body and Morty beating him to a pulp, or the three younger Koopalings transforming Mario’s little brother into a clown and forcing him to perform ridiculous things for their amusement, or worse… 

It was hard to breathe, with the feeling of inevitable doom washing over his senses. And yet, Luigi could neither flee nor fight anyway. He was trapped like an animal. His best bet would be to remain a good boy . 

He heard them arguing behind him.

"But why?"

"I don’t think the cage is necessary. Just look at him.”

The plumber felt a dozen eyes assessing his form. He knew what they’d see. He didn’t need to be reminded of it. It was clear, in any case, that he wouldn’t cause any problem, nor offer any kind of resistance. He’d been broken beforehand.

It was dangerous though, a part of his mind nagged. Now that they knew Luigi would let them do whatever they wanted, they could decide to effectively do so. Should he piss over himself to convince them it wasn’t such a good idea? His bladder might make the decision for him anyway.

“I think it’ll be best if we just…”

“Play with him?”

Oh no… 

And the worst was that everyone was considering their options. Except Roy, who raised his eyebrows and laughed, before leaving the place. 

“After dinner,” Ludwig answered. “For now, let’s just find a bedroom for him.”

It was starting to drive him crazy. He couldn’t have a definitive answer on the nature of their intentions. Comply , instinct told him. Be nice, don’t anger them, make them love you a little bit, so that they’re less tempted to harm you .

“Hey you,” Ludwig said. 

He wouldn’t even say his name, he was that low . 

“L… Luigi, is that it? Mario’s little brother?” 

Oh okay. He might have gotten ahead of himself. He nodded stiffly. 

“Come with us.”

And he complied.

They didn’t even need to surround the green plumber to escort him through the castle. He followed them like a lost puppy, through corridors, stairs and disused rooms. Luigi tensed as they crossed minions, but apart from a look of surprise or curiosity, they left him alone. He was relieved. The farther they went up and through the castle–Ludwig and Junior in the lead–the less people they crossed. The group entered an isolated corridor lit with a couple torches on the wall, and with a flick of his scepter, Ludwig broke the door’s camouflage. Their secret hideout, perhaps? A kid’s dream. 

The oldest kid made sign to Luigi to come to the front of the group, which he obediently did, discreetly circling the Koopalings. 

He waited. Ludwig became impatient.

“Well?” he growled. 

He hadn’t told Luigi what to do–what should he do?

“Enter.”

Oh. Right. He’d always been a socially clueless idiot. Awkward situations like these were not new, though they always stressed him out. He pushed the doorknob, and in he went.

"Here's your room," he said, illuminating the bedroom with candles. "Be grateful, this was supposed to be for Princess Peach, when daddy still tried to seduce her with his, er… his 'grandiose generosity'."

A king size bed on the left, a nightstand, a large window in front of him, shelves on the right wall, and lots of withered plants. The plants vanished the next instant. 

“That’s actually quite nice!” Larry said.

Junior harrumphed in a childish imitation of his sister. “My room’s better!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ludwig said, rolling his eyes. “What do you think?” he addressed the tall, lanky plumber. “Packs a punch, doesn’t it?”

It was an irrational feeling. He couldn't explain why his heartbeat went out of control, why his breathing became ragged, why his limbs were washed with numbness and a weird tingling sensation, why he broke in sweat, or why he felt flashes of ice and heat at the same time. 

All he knew was that the room felt terribly, horribly wrong, and that something damning was going to happen there.

“Well?! You’re really testing my patience tonight–are you just slow?! C’mon! Sit!”

Luigi looked back with such terror in his eyes, Ludwig felt struck. That look would have made everyone feel unsettled. The bed was obviously for him, but Luigi refused to look at it. He searched right and left for a place to sit on, and crouched… on the floor. A few of the Koopalings snickered and laughed, the youngest looking at each other in confusion.

“What’s the matter with you?!” Ludwig shouted. “You don’t like the bed?! My minions would have sold their families for a room like this!” 

He was ready to shout some more, but just as he was opening his mouth, his voice died out. The plumber’s face was whiter than his gloves. He looked, frankly, on the verge of fainting. What was the problem? He was being kinder than usual, did the guy think it was a trap or something? Or was he just not used to this amount of attention?

In the plumber’s head, it was a different story. He would be a fool to use the bed, he thought. He wanted to hide his face and cry, although he could not pinpoint the true reason why. His throat tightened, making it hard to breathe.

He waited some more, but it was obvious they wouldn’t leave him until he sat on the bed. He stood up with difficulty, his legs almost giving out under him. 

“Alright?” Roy asked, then frowned, visibly surprised with himself.

Luigi nodded frantically, stabilizing himself on the shelves behind him and breathing hard to avoid fainting. He felt so weak .

“That’s not a trap,” Ludwig added.

The plumber looked at the bunch. Now that the surprise of his reaction had passed, they were all looking confused in their own ways. Kids. They were just kids, Luigi reminded himself. And those kinds didn’t mean harm. Not too much anyway. 

“I’m…” He cleared his throat, trying to calm the shaking in his voice and putting in a bit more strength. “I’m alright. Give mi un minuto.” He didn’t know why he was reacting like this. Perhaps he was just being his overly anxious self, freaking out for nothing… 

“I’m alright,” he repeated, and to prove it, he used the weight of his body to bend forward and stumble towards the bed like a drunk man. He was navigating disoriented and half-blind, but he made it. He waited, his breath rapid and shallow, stars covering his field of vision and his head buzzing, almost overheating . It made him look like a retard, but he rocked back and forth ever so slightly, so as to stabilize himself. His skin was clammy and shining with sweat. His hair and clothes were damp with it.

The kids didn’t mean much harm… But what if they’d received an order from Bowser, unaware of his true intentions? What if Bowser had pretended to mistake Luigi for the princess, or had gotten a new idea to get back at Mario? 

The nausea hit. The choking, cold feeling of doom in his chest only seemed to blossom despite Luigi’s attempts to control it. It was only a question of time, now, before he would truly break down.

Someone talked. It took him forever to determine if that was him or one of the kids–he was starting to lose awareness of them. It took him even more time to piece the sounds together. Here’s a glass of water , that was how it sounded.

It was humiliating enough to break down in front of Bowser’s kids like that. And obviously, they wouldn’t know what to do. That was to be expected: not even Mario could calm Luigi down when he had those moments out of nowhere, they could only bear them together. Right now, there was nothing to be done but to leave him alone, riding the fear on his own.

Luigi hoped he made sense, when he attempted to speak. He could hardly remember how to form the words. Having lost almost all sensation in his mouth, he couldn’t even distinguish what he’d said. It sounded all alien in his head. He could only trust the kids to understand what he was asking for: to leave him be. Please , he begged, the first tears wetting his eyelashes and slipping on his cheeks. He wouldn’t be able to escape the castle even if he wanted to. He waited for what seemed like hours and seconds at once, before lying back where he knew the bed was. It didn’t help that he felt like he was falling backwards, prompting him to grab and squeeze the blankets as hard as he could. This way, he wouldn’t really fall.

He couldn't determine how long it took before his voice cracked in a wheeze, his face cringing and heating up. Turning to the left, burying his face in the pillows, the sobs finally broke out. After the fear, he had to ride out a weird urge to cry, as well as the pain that radiated from inside. Was he too loud? He couldn’t even remember where he was. Eventually, the more he sobbed, the less he cared. Could anyone hear him? Would his tantrum make them shout at him to shut up, or would they take pity on him?

One shouldn’t bear so much stress. 

Humans like him weren’t made for this.

–

He wanted a shower.

Waking up on the pink, silky bed, fully clothed, in a room heated by burning candles, just after another one of his “moments of panic”, felt utterly disgusting. But, wasted as he was, both mentally and physically, he endured, lethargic, on the bed. Besides, the door was locked. He could only wait before one of the Koopalings allowed him out. Hopefully, they wouldn’t forget about him. And if bad came to worse, Mario would come to free him. 

He couldn’t remember why he'd been so upset. Then again, he'd often broken down without any reason, these last months; and these last weeks, those moments of freaking out had worsened both in frequency and unpredictability. He didn’t know why, although a part of himself insisted that he knew perfectly why he was increasingly on edge and that he was just trying to remain in denial.

His face was a disaster to witness, he bet. Red, swollen, covered in tears, sweat and snot… and since no one could see, he allowed himself to drool on the silky pillow. He couldn't smell anything yet, but he knew the bed was imbued with either the body odor of someone else (Peach? Bowser?) or the smell of dark, moldy, abandoned homes. However soothing the room was intended to be, it could not match the comfort Luigi felt at home. It was fair to recommend the privacy and the relative comfort he was granted with, he guessed. The worst he could complain of for now was that, since he found himself unable to sleep off the hours of wait before his rescue, he felt incredibly bored. He just hoped the kind treatments did not come with a price. He was, after all, sleeping under Bowser’s tyranny.

He stood up. It was nighttime: he could see his reflection on the window. It was always nighttime in Bowser’s Kingdom, because of the dark clouds blocking the sunshine. He opened the window and after a quick glance behind to ensure he wasn’t spied upon, he rested his palms on the windowsill and looked far away.

The green-clad boy took a deep breath, trying to freshen up and calm down. Instead, he had a coughing fit. The Koopa Kingdom, he was hardly reminded, was plunged in some sort of constant air pollution due to the ashes produced by the surrounding volcanoes. It was also always hot, though thankfully, Luigi's room remained lukewarm. He pitied those who lived here. It was a truly miserable place to grow up in. The kingdom was cursed. 

He wiped the tears on the corner of his eyes and looked far below. As expected, he was sleeping at the top of a tower. The ground was 200 feet below, or at least that’s what he thought; it had always been such a pain to calculate distances. Either way, he could probably make that jump and if he didn’t fuck up, would avoid falling into the lava surrounding the tower, or splitting his lower joints apart. The problem was that gravity, in this world, was inconsistent. Sometimes, you could survive a three thousand feet fall, like on Mount Pajamaja or in New Donk City. Sometimes, a thirty feet high jump was enough to cripple you. 

Perhaps he should try anyway. He could hang on the bricks, turrets, mini roofs and spires of the tower. It wouldn’t hurt to try. Well, actually, it would if he failed, but it was better than doing nothing. He couldn’t let Mario do all the job, right? He had to find a way out, even if he wasn’t very enthusiastic about it.

Oh, how he wished he was a power-up to fly away. Perhaps his Scuttle would be enough.

Unfortunately, the stars had aligned to ruin any attempt that Luigi made to get out of this mess. Just as he was about to lift himself up the window, he heard the doorknob squeaking. Startled and fearing that he’d been caught trying to escape, his arms jumped to his sides, pretending he was just admiring the view. Behaving like a good boy .

“What are you doing?” 

Luigi tried to remain as calm as possible. He shrugged to make it seem like he didn’t understand the underlying question (“Are you trying to run away?”). 

“I wanted a bit of fresh air. I don’t know what to do in here.”

He heard a menacing snicker. Don’t try to take me for a fool , it said. 

“Get out the window.”

Luigi complied and backed away, just before the little window doors slammed inches from his face, startling him some more. He looked down in shame. He could be read like an open book, and he’d wasted his chance. If only he’d been less lazy and whiny. He’d be hundreds of yards away.

Sitting on the bed, head down in submission, he glanced at the magic scepter in Roy’s hand. This was a problem. His body tensed in anticipation, ready to strike if given the proper opportunity. But Roy kept his scepter aimed on Luigi, smiling with such evilness that the plumber was feeling violated.

“Did I tell you to sit down?”

“Roy!”

This time, Luigi lifted his head fully, looking at the entrance. From behind Roy’s big frame emerged Morton’s even bigger head.

“Shut up,” Roy said, his grin falling into a grimace of annoyance. His fun had been wasted. Still, it hadn’t been the smartest thing to say, because Morton pushed Roy aside like his brother weighed nothing to him. There was a comical moment of Roy trying and failing to catch himself up, limbs flinging out and about in panic, but eventually, he crashed against the little table in a great mess of broken porcelain. Luigi felt petty satisfaction blossoming in his chest. He had to bite his lower lip to keep the bubbling, slightly insane laughter at bay. He redirected his attention on Morton, who looked oblivious to Roy’s instant humiliation. 

“You come with me!” the Koopaling ordered, although his tone lacked any malevolence. He looked rather excited about something, but in a childish way. Luigi was about to stand up when…

“Wait.” Roy was getting up on his feet again, pissed off . “ You stay here,” he told Luigi. “I’m not–HEY!”

Morton had taken hold of Luigi’s arm and was pulling him out, a mean but playful grin on his face directed at his brother. “First come first served!”

“ I’M THE ONE WHO CAME FIRST!”

But Morton was not listening. A firm grip on the plumber’s arm, he tumbled down the stairs. Weren’t Luigi trying so hard to stand on his feet, he would be dragged around like a ragdoll, crashing against every corner. He was afraid, admittedly, hearing Roy’s screams just a few feet behind them, but as he was being forcefully dragged along by Morton, the pink bully of a Koopa couldn’t blame him for not staying in his room.

At some point, Roy’s shell came flying over their heads, the wind brushing Luigi’s hair upright. Morton halted. Luigi was harshly thrown back in his momentum, but Bowser's kid hardly paid attention to the prisoner’s twisted arm in his grasp as he pulled out his magical scepter and produced a pipe from the wall, which they entered together. They stepped into a new and gigantic bedroom, before the pipe retracted and vanished.

What is this all about? Luigi wondered as he rubbed his poor arm. 

“My room!” Morton exclaimed, throwing his arms side to side. “Now, we can have some fun.”

Huh.

“Also, did you saw him,” Morton snickered while Luigi suppressed his urge to correct the boy’s grammar. "What an idiot! Telling me to shut up. He used to bully me, everyday. But then one day, I threw him to the other side of the room."

Wow.

"That's when I knew I had become stronger! I'm two years younger than him but I'm the big one now." 

Indeed, he was towering over Luigi. 

"When I grow up, I'm gonna put on even more stock. And then Roy won't even try to pick on me again."

The dynamics might in fact completely turn the other way around, with Morton bullying Roy. It wouldn't be long before the Koopaling started being the bully, as soon as he knew he could perfectly get away with it. The rule of the brute , Luigi thought.

“Anyway!" Morton cried as he trotted to a desk in excitement. "I need someone to talk about my fic. But no one seems to really care about it. So I figured that, since you were the prisoner, I could discuss it with you. Don’t tell papa though.” 

Morton was rummaging through the desk, pulling out two textbooks and joggling back towards the lanky plumber. Squinting his eyes, Luigi read ‘Write Book’ and ‘Drawing Book’.

“It’s about Warhammer 40k,” Morton said, a hint of embarrassment showing on his grinning face. “You know Warhammer 40k?”

Luigi shook his head.

“Okay,” Morton replied. “Okay, then it’s gonna take longer than expected, ‘cause I have to set the context before explaining what my fic is about.”

That was okay. Although he was usually the talkative one with his brother, Luigi was a great listener too. And obviously, Morton was happy to have to talk even more about a universe he loved.

“Let’s sit on my bed!” He practically let himself fall onto the mattress and started bouncing on it, waiting for Luigi to come sit next to him. He pulled out his phone and opened lots of Warhammer-related windows, including on VanceTube and Cyclopedia, and Luigi spent the next hours trying to look interested. 

When most of the fantasy universe and the fic's plot had been explained, Morton opened his art notebook. Admittedly, his drawings weren't that bad. It was clear he'd been training for a while. He just needed actual drawing lessons. Oh, who was he kidding? Morton could easily afford a teacher in artistry, but Luigi bet none of them had lasted under the talkative, stubborn spoiled teen. 

Eventually, Morton asked what Luigi thought about his drawings. 

“Well, they say that the more you train, the better you become…” Luigi hesitated, expecting Morton to talk over him. “Practice makes perfect.”

Then, the Koopa kid gave him the first chapter to read. It wasn't enough that his handwriting was atrocious and the grammar a pain in the ass: the writing style and the ideas themselves were simply torturous to read. 

"You like?"

No , Luigi wanted to say. 

"It… It could do better", he replied, his grin a grimace. "But it's good!"

Coward , his inner voice told him.

"Really?!"

"Yeah," Luigi lied. 

Double coward. 

"And I'm sure it'll get better." 

The bar was low, it wouldn't be too hard to invent anything better than that.

Oblivious to Luigi' disdain, Morton jumped out of bed and threw a fist forward in victory, giggling like a fangirl. 

He actually likes my cowardice. 

People-pleaser.

Why am I even doing this? Why am I being nice? He's gonna be back trying to kill me next time Bowser invades the country. 

"Thanks bro!" 

Luigi was startled for the second time this day. He wasn't Morton's brother. He wasn't anyone's bro but Mario's. Did Morton see him as a brother instead of an adult enemy? If anything, Luigi had felt more like taking the place of the Koopalings' mother. 

Or mothers , he thought, studying the dark-skinned Koopa. 

He was an idiot, he told himself, shaking his head. Of course they came from different mothers, they were all adopted to become… well, child soldiers might be too extreme of a term, but Bowser certainly expected them to command armies for his personal gains. And if he married Peach, he'd expect her to take care of his heirs. Well yeah, what could you expect from a guy sexually harassing a princess? And people bought into those trends painting Bowser as a saint?! Stupid Koopa Kronicles.  

Luigi blinked. Morton was watching him, confused.

"You all right? You've been all silent and staring at nothing for minutes. It's creepy."

Ah. Damn. Again? 

"Yeah. 'M just… tired." He gave a tight smile. His head hurt after hours of concentrating on something that didn't catch his interest, all the while pretending it did. So much for being grateful of being allowed out; he'd have preferred staying in bed, really.

Morton nodded, still unsettled. 

"By the way," he continued. "Why did you start crying…"

Luigi felt his face get very hot.

"...when we gave you your new room? I know you're supposed to be quite the crybaby…"

Boy.

"...but I never saw you sobbing that bad. We didn't even insult you or beat you up or anything. What was that all about?"

The so-called 'crybaby' pulled his hat over his face, except he didn't have a hat anymore; he ended up brushing his hair forward, rubbing his face with a hand to pass off the awkward reflex for something natural.

"I guess…" Luigi trailed off, almost losing himself in the memory, before grounding himself back to Earth. "Getting kidnapped really stressed me out and…" he sighed, almost chuckling. "I didn't know what to expect when you gave me that room."

"Yeah, but…" Morton struggled to explain. "It was really bad."

"I know," Luigi said, and what did he want him to add? That it wasn't his fault, that it was all okay, that it didn't matter? If he really cared, Morton could set him free, anytime , but that wasn't going to happen, was it? Were Luigi to ask, he'd push the buttons too far and would lose his privileges. It was clear enough that Luigi wasn't very happy about being kidnapped and used as chip bargain for the princess, but as Morton did nothing about it, he knew his apparent concern was in fact self-centered.  

"Why did you put me in that room?" the plumber asked.

"I don't know." The Koopa shrugged. "Ludwig's idea. Ask him."

Yeah, as if. 

Luigi rubbed the corner of his eyes and squirmed again on the spot. 

"Can I…" That was gonna be difficult to ask, but it was necessary. "Is there a bathroom around here?"

Morton stared curiously, then laughed. Luigi felt a wave of bitterness choking him. He should have been the one laughing at Morton's pathetic artistic skills. 

"You didn't see the bathroom in your room? Come, let me show you."

–

Luigi was allowed more than the loo. There was a bathtub. The water, of course, was ice cold. It had been expected of Peach, he bet, to ask for Bowser to heat up the water with his flame. He wanted to gag. 

It wasn’t surprising. The bedroom was apparently among the first ones Bowser had made his minions construct for the princess, to try and convince her that he was worth marrying. As if the princess could be seduced while trapped in a foreign castle. Bowser had watched Belle and the Beast, obviously, and was trying to make the fantasy become true. He was an idiot, who hadn’t understood that what made Belle fall for the Beast was his humanity. The Beast had allowed Belle to leave. Bowser never did.

Luigi took a deep breath and slowly plunged his sensitive sides into the freezing water, then his chest, then his shoulders, and finally his head. He hissed and puffed to vent out the pain, shaking violently. Frankly, he just wanted to scream. Why did he want to take a bath, again? He should have spent the rest of his wait in his sweat, just like he'd done during the whole summer… Maybe he should have asked Morton to set up a heating spell on the water; he was starting to regret not doing so.  

Luigi thought back about Morton’s worry over his breaking down in the bedroom. It was something that could not be helped. Luigi was, indeed, a crybaby. He hadn't always been like that though. So overwhelmingly sad and hopeless and prone to bursts of tears. But the last two years had been hard, and he’d broken down under the stress.

He left the bathroom realizing he'd forgotten to prepare a towel and that his clothes were missing. At first, he reassured himself, thinking he’d just lost them somewhere evident, but all he could find, eventually, were pajamas on the bed. Someone had come into his room, stolen his clothes and replaced them with pajamas…

For women. 

He wanted to die. 

Frankly, he didn't mind wearing girly dresses. But only in private, where he could do so without being mocked, which obviously wasn’t going to happen there.

He knew what was coming. When the door opened, he was prepared.

Wendy O'Koopa was the first one graced with the sight of Mario's little brother in the pajamas of a princess. She exploded in laughter; it would be hard to believe that anyone with functioning ears in the castle wasn't hearing her shrieks of mirth. 

And Luigi hated how loud she was being.

Fuck. He wanted to cry.  

She was still guffawing when she admitted that pink actually flattered his complexion . Oh, wasn't that a relief! She was the one who got that idea of a wonderful joke , right? 

Wendy swished and flicked her magical scepter. The girly pajamas vanished, making way for Luigi's own clothes. They felt fresh and clean. 

“Not quite right,” Wendy spoke. 

Of course, the feeling of relief couldn’t last long. Another swipe of her scepter and Luigi felt weights added on his body. He saw spiked bracelets around his wrists and, palming his throat, found a spiked collar too. Manacled like a proper prisoner, only the chains and the Chain Chomp were missing. His jeans had been replaced with black overalls, the buttons reaching low on his chest. His gloves and his socks had turned gray.

“Hmm, much better.”

He didn’t quite agree, but he kept silent. 

A haughty look on her ugly face, Wendy swung her hips to one side, almost obscenely. 

"I heard Morton kept you in his room all morning." 

He could have sworn it was afternoon. Was it afternoon right now? 

“So now, you’re coming with me .”

Luigi soon found out that Wendy had wanted a person of the other gender to help her through her make-up and clothing. Luigi had commented on her fashion style, trying to help her out. It made her angry, at first, initiating a round of degrading comments and mockery. 

“Hmff, what do you know about fashion anyway.” 

“Boys… ugly pervs.” 

“Hairy animals.” 

“Ungraceful. Except you, perhaps. Your hips are quite feminine.”

Luigi’s throat had tightened painfully on this one. It was a miracle that he could still talk after that.

He should have expected the embarrassing questions that came next.

“So, how does it feel to be a boy? A human boy? Is it true that boys wake up with a morning wood and their underwear wet with… that ?”

Horrible. It was simply horrible. 

The question struck Luigi like a lightning bolt. Shocked, his heart beat out of rhythm and his face paled. He was getting dizzier by the second up there. 

Slowly, he tried to rationalize everything. Perhaps she was just curious. 

Despite the breach of privacy, he agreed. It was true for the majority, those who were healthy.

“How does it feel to walk with a pack dangling in your pants?”

A girl's question. How should he answer? 'Normal? How does it feel to walk without those?'

He shrugged. “Like walking with something in your pants.”

“Do you boys rub yourself on pillows?”

Like a dog? Luigi heard. Now he was getting angry. He was too tolerant, there were limits she ought to respect. He frowned, hating her, refusing to talk.

“Too cowardly to answer?” she commented. “Pity. Well then, let’s try something else.”

He'd tried to convince himself otherwise, but it was obvious this was turning her on. She was disgusting. Those weren't questions asked out of pure, innocent curiosity. She wasn’t ashamed of pushing through Luigi’s boundaries either, after all, he was a prisoner. She’d taken his clothes and forced him to dress like a girl. She could take them away again, leaving him naked for everyone to see, if she wanted. 

He wished stares could burn. 

“Is it true that boys like it when they pinch their nipples–”

“Stop it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Pardon me?”

Luigi was struggling on the verge of speech, but it seemed he was more suicidal than expected.

“Ask your boyfriend those questions if you have one.”

If he really wanted to go in this direction, he should have added a smirk while saying that, he thought in retrospect. As it was, he contented himself with the look of offense on Wendy’s frog-like face. It was comical, really.

He was expecting her to remove his clothes or something as punishment for daring to speak like that, but it seemed she hadn’t learned yet how to master her emotions, nor how to be a smug bitch through and through. Instead, she threw a tantrum.

“Oh, I see how it is! You wanna know why I’m asking you that?” Her voice rose, strident, as her chair tumbled over. “I can’t ask anyone! I’ve tried asking my brothers but they’re either prude idiots or assholes. Half of them are too young to know or don’t want to answer me.”

Gee, I wonder why , the plumber thought. Her loud, strident voice grated his ears; perhaps he should have just shut up.

“Roy is an asshole. D’you know what he called me the other day?!”

Most importantly: did Luigi care?

“He said the only way I was gonna be queen is by whoring myself up, and that  I already looked like one! Can you imagine?! Just because my lips are big and I make myself pretty! He called them SAUSAGE LIPS! ” Her voice cracked on the last words. 

Luigi had the stupid urge to smile, hearing Roy’s insult, but that was because it was intended to be funny, and so he’d had the urge to show he found it funny. He bit the inside of his cheeks to stop that stupid reflex smile as soon as he heard the insult. 

“I can’t help how I was born! Am I not allowed to be who I am and proud of it?”

As much as he hated her, she was right. Her huge lips did constantly make him think of those women in the real world who underwent plastic surgery and left with deformities, but it was different for Wendy. She was right. Nobody should judge her for being born with big lips. 

“And then,” her continued, cheeks vivdly flushing, “he put on that stupid music! I’m Miss Sugar Pink, lick-a lick-a lips, I’m gonna be a bubblegum bitch ’...”

Oh. Ohhh…

He didn’t hear what she said next. But he did notice that her gaze had hardened.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“No.” His voice was too raw to sound true. “No I don’t,” he repeated, a little more assertiveness in that statement. 

“You were smiling, I saw it!”

“I wasn’t.” Or at least, he was desperately trying not to. His eyes felt like they were on the verge of popping out and his face was run with spasms. He remembered her purposefully clownish interpretation of Roy’s song, and he gulped the laughter down.

Wendy huffed through her nuzzle. He could almost see the smoke of a raging mini-dragon that came out of it. She contended herself with that answer, or rather, Luigi’s intense effort not to laugh in her presence. She was still blushing in embarrassment though.

“Anyway… I tried asking Morton. Thinking that this time, it would be different–but of course, it wasn’t, he never changes. We’ve all learned not to ever ask questions to Morton. Idiot can’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him. As for Ludwig, hah! ” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “He’s a self-entitled prick, but as much as I hate to admit it, he’s intelligent too, the bastard. He could use my questions against me. I never asked, and I won’t, ever.”

She turned on her heels, and after a few seconds of reflection, looked over her shoulder, settling her eyes on the clumsy plumber.

“You understand now, why I’m asking you? ”

Luigi was clawing his palms, still putting all his might in keeping the crazy laughter at bay. Oh, it wasn’t often that he wanted to laugh these days, but when it happened, it was at the worst possible moments. Still, he tried keeping up the conversation, as though everything was normal. Smooth.

“Well…” he choked and tried again. “Why don’t you ask your father?” His voice was very weak and wavy, but it’d made do.

“Hmf! My father… either he’s a hopeless idiot or he’s avoiding my questions on purpose. It’s embarrassing enough for me , and yet he won’t even give me an answer. I guess he wants to preserve my ‘innocence'.” She harrumphed again. “There isn’t anything wrong with wanting to know. Is there?”

“There isn’t,” Luigi said. “But…” Come on, he had to do it. “But those can be pretty private questions,” and it’s obvious they turn you on, which makes it even more embarrassing to answer . 

“Private?!” she mocked. “You’re boys . Showing off your dicks in the dormitories, playing helicopter with it, pissing together and looking at each other’s weenies… but suddenly it’s a problem when a girl asks how that stuff works, huh?”

“Yes. Us boys have private stuff we’d rather not talk about. I’ll let you know that I do not, in fact, play helicopter with my dick–” he choked, his cheeks burning.

“Hmf, nice to know,” Wendy smirked teasingly.

“ Hey, you asked. ” He held up his palms in front of him in his defense, then crossed his arms, brooding.

They didn’t know what to say to each other for a moment. Wendy seemed to take pity on him, or perhaps she too was tired of this conversation. She sat on her chair, turned towards the mirror on the wall and started looking through her phone.

“Whatever…” she said in a snobbish voice. “I don't need you anymore. You can go.”

And Luigi gladly did. 

Those horny teenagers, he swore… Obviously, she would think back to what he’d said and get off on it. Teenagers, always obsessed with sex. What a horrible pest she was …

Just as he was about to close the door, a beefy hand blocked it. Amidst the shadows and the torches’ light, he saw the mean face of Roy Koopa. He’d been listening through the door. Talk about privacy indeed. 

Roy indicated the end of the corridor with a nudge of his head. Luigi walked off in that direction, while the large Koopa entered.

“Hey, sausage lips!”

He was tired, he reckoned. He’d just gone through a rollercoaster of emotions. He wasn’t being himself. At Roy’s insult, Luigi snorted hard , his knees turning to jelly for a second. His laughter was restrained but hysterical. He covered his face with both his hands, breathing in, chastising himself because it was not funny . It was mean, cruel, destructive–it was bullying . He should know not to laugh. Idiot. 

He could already hear an extremely high-pitched voice shrieking through the stone walls. He sighed, tired of himself. He should probably intervene, even if both Roy and Wendy might turn on him, even if it shouldn’t be his job, and even if he might get beat up. 

“Hey,” a tiny voice said in the dark.

Luigi looked down. Tall enough for his muzzle to reach his shoulders and his saw-like cockscomb to overhang the lanky plumber, was Larry. In his hand, a light blue Switch. 

“Wanna play?” he said, grinning mischievously. 

Morton and his big mouth… He hadn’t been able to refrain from telling everyone how much of a good time he’d had with Mario's little brother. Now, each Koopaling wanted Luigi for themselves. 

But he guessed it wasn’t all that bad. 

He threw a glance at the uproar that came from Wendy’s room. Poor her. Shouldn’t he intervene? He really ought to. Would he make a good difference though? Perhaps that would only serve to throw ashes on the fire. With Mario, it would work. But he was Luigi . A clumsy cowardly fuck who made everything worse everytime he tried to be a hero.

He looked back at Larry and nodded, waiting for the young Koopa to show him the way. A few minutes later, they were entering a playroom with plenty of toys, wires, consoles, pillows and legos spread all over the floor. It was a messy minefield. Luigi craved to put everything back in order.

A huge TV was on against a wall, with Iggy and Junior playing a video game while they’d been waiting for Larry to come back with the plumber. Lemmy, he saw, was happily minding his own business in the back of the room.

Luigi sat crossed-legged, waited for a controller to be put in his hands, and played.

When they had enough of video games, the young Koopas got interested in Lemmy’s (stunning) paintings. And when that wasn’t enough (they sucked at painting), they reverted back to the TV, watching a horror movie.

Of course.

Although to be honest, he could have gotten worse. He was spared from brain-numbing cartoons.

–

For hours, he was waiting for a joke or an insult, such as “wetting yourself yet?”, but to his surprise, none came. Meanness wasn’t on the front of the youngest kids’ mind today. The worst he got was “Nice style, dude; it kinda suits you”. It had taken a few seconds before Luigi understood Iggy referred to his Koopafied clothing style. He missed his red and white striped socks.

Luigi was teaching Iggy how to play chess when they heard three knocks on the entrance and the doorknob turning. Larry must have locked the door when entering, because it didn’t open and they heard more knocks on the wood. They heard a high-pitched voice calling for ‘Master Junior’ and his friends to come eat dinner: no doubt it was Kamek. Luigi felt a bit anxious but otherwise uncaring that the Magikoopa might see him here, but the kids didn’t think so. They’d get in lots of troubles, visibly, for playing around with the kidnapped Mario brother. In an instant, the kids’ panic set Luigi’s heart on high speed. Because if the kids weren’t supposed to bring him here, then he'd get in trouble too. Nevermind that they’d been the ones asking for him: under Bowser’s tyranny, any excuse was valid for a roughing-up, if he bothered with excuses at all.

“Hey, over here!” Junior frantically whispered next to Lemmy, together opening a chest of toys. He knew what he had to do. Hoping there weren’t any legos in there, Luigi sent a quick look at the door before half-running, half-crawling, inside the box. Just in time, it seemed, because not two seconds after the box’s lid closed, he heard the door creaking open and an adult voice in the room, just a few feet away from him. Kamek spoke, though Luigi, stressed out as he was, couldn’t understand what he was saying. He can only distinguish the grumble and the whines of the kids, smartly redirecting Kamek’s attention on themselves rather than the chest where Luigi was hidden. Another set of steps–thankfully, in the opposite direction–and the door was closed. He waited for the kids to open the lid, telling him to regain his bedroom-cell, but the box remained closed. Luigi, admittedly, was starting to feel claustrophobic. Had it been a trap? A prank? He closed his eyes, calming his breathing so as not to suffocate in the narrow space heated by his humid breath. Calm. He had to remain calm and sort out his options.

Not a minute later, the door opened again.

“Yes, we’re coming!!”

“Just a few minutes!”

A moment of tension… and the door closed. 

Eyes shut, plunged in damp obscurity, Luigi heard the box’s lid lift. Pushing through his fear that Kamek had found him, the green prisoner cracked his eyes open. It was not the loathsome face of Kamek that greeted him, but the uncertain, round black eyes of Bowser Junior. 

“He’s gonna come back again soon,” he whispered. “So I’ve got a plan.” He looked somewhere towards the door, alert, before giving instructions to the plumber. He and his brothers were to leave with Kamek for dinner; meanwhile, Luigi was to run back to his room as quickly as possible, before anyone (well, mostly Kamek and Bowser) found out that he was out of his cell.

The prisoner agreed, Junior silently closed the chest and together, they waited. Three minutes later, Kamek–ever the harasser–opened the door. This time, the kids left.

Luigi decided to wait five more minutes just in case.

It was clear that Kamek had made up excuses to enter the room and spy on the kids, who had, for sure, acted a bit off. It was also clear that despite their novice skills in manipulation and pretense, the kids had well learned patience . They’d been smart enough to wait for Kamek to come in, rather than immediately free Luigi. Had he tried to get back to his cell earlier, Kamek would have spotted him just outside the door. Clever kids. 

Finally, it was time to move.

–

The funny thing with trying to regain his room was that he quickly realized he was lost in the castle. But it wasn’t the stupidest thing that Luigi did by far today. Oh no, it wasn't. Brooding on his status as a prisoner, as the damsel in distress, had reminded him that he could take this opportunity to escape. However, it seemed that being kind to receive better treatment was working the other way around too. Now that he had spent a relatively good time with Iggy, Larry, Lemmy and Junior, he hadn’t the heart to betray their trust like that. Especially when they had risked the wrath of Kamek to keep their gaming afternoon secret. So now, “Green Stache” was hiding from Bowser’s subjects to regain his cell and wait for Super Mario to come save him, like a good little boy . 

He was a slave to his guilty feelings.

It seemed he’d found Roy’s room along the way, because he heard a familiar music blasting through a wall. Luigi walked closest to the source, laid his ear against the stones, and listened.

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips 

Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss 

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips 

I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch 

His lips twitched, but he quickly bit the lower one to avoid smiling.

Evidently, when Kamek had come to call for dinner, he’d lost the fight against the pink bully of a Koopa. If Roy wanted to stay in his room, he was gonna stay in his room. He was sure Roy was purposefully blasting the song as loudly as possible in case Wendy walked near. Luigi was surprised though that he liked Marina’s songs. Roy, the punk who wore sunglasses in the dark. But then, perhaps he only liked this song because it represented an opportunity to bully his sister.

Silently, he kept walking until he reached an antechamber. Another dead end. He was ready to go back where he came from when suddenly, he recognized the place. It had only taken him turning around and seeing the room from another perspective for the image to make sense. The plumber took some steps back, where he ought to find a circular staircase… and sure enough, he found it in the corner of the room. He hadn’t noticed the set of stairs because of a pillar that hid it. Stupid architecture. 

A few minutes later, he was laying flat on the silky bed, staring somewhere above him, plunged in thick darkness. The candles had burned out. The only light available came from the window, the lava of the volcanoes emitting some sort of red and yellow glow. If anything, it made the room appear a bit more nightmarish. 

He hated the dark, dammit. It always set him on edge. His brain kept making up faces, ghosts and dangerous shadows in the periphery of his vision. But this night, he found the dark wasn't the worst part. It was the thoughts it brought forth. 

Luigi could already picture the Toad guards mocking him. “Scared of the dark?” and a wave of snickering among the crowd. “I’ve got some spare diapers, if you need some,” a father had once dared saying, his baby in the arms of a despising spouse. “Oh no,” his friend had added, “don't bother, he needs bigger ones.” 

He clawed at the sheets, assaulted with the memory of their laughter. Good ol’ times between pals, he bet that’s what they would remember this day as. He’d loathed himself for looking like on the verge of crying. Throat so tight he felt like choking, wished he could either become insensitive to their mockery or forget it entirely. Everytime he was on his own, with a bit too much mental energy left, similar memories would harass him. They made Luigi wish he'd had the wit or the power to properly strike back at them, the day it happened, or that he could tear out his aching heart.

He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t been that afraid of the dark, growing up. But once more, he’d learned to always be on his guard. His sharpened sixth sense had saved him many times, particularly in the Mansions. But at what cost? Sometimes, not even Mario’s presence sufficed to make him feel safe enough.

Luigi palmed his crotch by force of habit. If only he'd been in the mood, he'd have a wank right there.

He told himself there was no need to be afraid in his cell. He was already kidnapped. No one was waiting in his room to play the villain. Bowser’s kingdom, however horrible it was, had proved to be relatively mild in terms of harm when it wasn’t their mission. Hell, Bowser and his minions could be civil enough to attend parties, kart races and various sport events, including the Olympics.

So instead of tormenting himself with worries and painful memories, he thought back to the little fun he had today, playing Rayman Legends with the kids. As mundane it might seem, it had been a mind-blowing experience. In parties and sporting events, Bowser's offsprings were okay rivals, but there had always been some sort of barrier between them and Luigi; not unlike the one he always felt around clans of friends, utterly out of place, looking left and right for something to do and sometimes observing the fun like a typical outsider. This time, he had played with the kids as if they’d considered him a friend. Meeting the Koopalings in a more personal and casual setting was a breath of fresh air. Half of them could be really nice when not in a quest of evil set up by their father. If he weren’t counting Roy and Wendy, Luigi had been allowed intimacy and good treatments. Ludwig had given him a private room, if he were to believe Morton. Morton, while annoying, had saved him from Roy, and Larry, in turn, had soothed him down after Wendy made him upset. Iggy hadn’t even minded losing against him the first times they’d tried out chess. He’d enjoyed learning and had been enthusiastic with the idea that soon enough, he would prove he was more intelligent than Ludwig with his improved strategic skills. And in the end, the four youngest kids had tried to protect Luigi. Well, mostly their own asses, but also him.

Spending quality time with them helped Luigi realize two things: Bowser's kids were like other kids… and kids were human beings. Either they truly were mini adults, or grown-ups were just taller versions of kids.

Luigi disliked kids; hated them on his foulest days. They were stupid, cruel, prejudiced–and were someone to point out he'd been a kid once too, he'd take it as proof of his statement (on the stupid part). They were unnecessarily loud too. Bowser's kids? They were worse . Or at least… they were supposed to.

He was used to seeing kids as little demons that were either indifferent to his pain or actively drawing pleasure out of it. They were stupid, but smart enough to hit him right where it hurt. They lacked virtues and didn't care about being good people. They complained about everything, they didn't care to work hard; they despised authorities and broke rules but pissed on themselves when they were caught, making them cowards; they didn't care about other people as long as it benefited themselves, making them selfish hypocrites. Pull candies or toys out of your pocket, and they would swarm around you like animals. Luigi had tried to be different, better, and all he'd gotten was whiplash. He'd wasted his chance to grow up like a normal person.

Being an adult, meaning, imposing on first sight and relatively able to defend himself, was the one thing that allowed Luigi not to be racketed on the daily. And even there… even there, he once got a rock thrown on the back of his head. He'd looked around to find a gang of Toad teens laughing. The memory was engraved in his head; he wished he could tear apart their sadistic little smiles, and he’d scratched his palms to engage in the fantasy. He hadn't been able to do anything about them. Toads were fast: he wouldn't be able to catch them if they ran, which they were obviously readying themselves for. And even if he caught them, people would get incensed that an adult was laying a hand on a kid . Nevermind that those kids were growing up to be abusers. The parents weren't doing their job, but don't you dare criticize their kids or their parenting skills! He was sure many of those parents were enjoying what their kids were doing anyway. 

His thoughts were running circles, weren't they? Always reminding him what he should expect when returning home. It became obvious that he wanted to stay in Bowser's kingdom. Nevermind the cold baths, nevermind the darkness or his precarious state. Give it a little more time, and they would make arrangements so he could truly settle in a more comfy life. If the kids liked him enough, they would ensure it.

Hadn’t he been accepted as one of Bowser’s minions by accident anyway? Becoming the babysitter of Bowser’s kids, he might be treated better than in the MK; he could even offer his plumbing services. The Mushroom Kingdom was where Luigi's true enemies slept. That was where true evilness lay. No one needed him there. Not even Mario.

Oh sure, in many ways, Bowser’s minions were worse than the Toads in the MK. For once, they often tried to capture or even kill him. Yet Luigi had always been able, with the help of his brother and occasional partners, to punch some sense back into them. Sometimes, minions stayed real clear of his path. Bowser might forget his name once in a while, but it had more to do with his stupidity. His minions, however, remembered him. His kids knew his name and seemed to like him. 

In the MK, he wasn’t allowed to stomp on the Toads when they made fun of him, and Mario refused to take out some form of justice upon them. 

And that was what made the difference. It was easier to bear with the vicious insults of an enemy than those of the people you were saving. Those he lived with weren't trying to beat him up because they saw him as a threat. They loved humiliating him because he was the kingdom's clown. 

And he could do nothing about it.

Luigi was gasping now, his neck arching under the searing pain. He would have held his head with his hands if it was where it hurt the most. Not, it was deeper, deeper inside. Not in his brain, not in his heart, nor even his chest. It was everywhere. For a moment, he was considering knocking himself out to stop feeling it.

Turned out, there were other methods to get him out of this mind torture. He heard voices behind the door, and suddenly all thoughts of the Mushroom Kingdom were gone, without even realizing it. Luigi sat up on the side of the bed in a second. Someone knocked and entered.

Iggy, with something in his hand. It was stupid, but Luigi softly smiled, genuinely grateful of his presence, despite the recent agony he'd had to bear. 

Looking back to the door, the green plumber saw that Morton was accompanying him. Iggy hadn't managed to get him off him. 

"We forgot," Iggy started, an expression of mild embarrassment on his face, "that since you were moved out Kamek's cell, no one could know where you were to bring you food. So uh, sorry."

Iggy was holding a plate of royal meat. He handed it over for Luigi to eat. The smell was actually delicious, so delicious that his stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten in a day, he remembered, and the day before, he'd only had a pack of cookies, milk and a share of cake. Hadn't even realized it until now.

"Kamek found out," Morton added. "A Koopa guard came when we were eating and said that you were missing. And then Wendy told everything. Ludwig, me, Roy–and her, because he said she'd been spending time with you in her room–"

Uhh, he hoped they didn't understand it the wrong way.

"We've all been punished. Except Junior. He's off eating with dad."

Iggy snorted in anger. "Stupid cunt."

Wow, the language. 

Morton saw the look of shock on Luigi's face, and explained: 

"She calls him palm head."

"Tchh." Iggy hated Morton's presence right now, Luigi bet, cringing in empathy.

The bespectacled Koopa sighed. "He doesn't even know we played w–err," he sent a furtive look to Morton, who looked very interested. "That we–well…" He cleared his throat. "He punished Lemmy, Larry and me because he said we should have told him that Ludwig had given you a room."

Luigi shouldn't be in this room. "So I have to leave, right?" Oh well.

"No. Kamek doesn't care about you getting a room. He just wants to know where you are, in case they must move you out if Mario beats papa again."

Called it.

"Lemmy doesn't care, obviously Junior is gonna get away with it, but Larry and I are forbidden to play on consoles for tomorrow. Stupid…" He pinched whatever he had that stood for lips, trying to control himself, and ended up kicking the cupboard to Luigi's left. 

Interesting situation, but frankly, he wasn't surprised. Luigi had concluded long ago that those kids were at once spoiled and abandoned. Oh, they were little pests for sure, but they followed their papa on adventures because it was the only way for them to spend time with their princess-obsessed dad. It didn't help that the Koopalings’ status as adopted deprived them of true consideration. They were part of the royal family, but might never own their own share of the kingdom. There was no doubt Bowser cared a lot for his son Junior, but he hardly saw him spending genuine good parental time with the Koopalings. Oh, the jealousy it must create. With such bad education and neglect, he guessed it was to be expected that the kids were being punks. It didn’t help that they had no mama and seemingly no company of their age except their own siblings. This family was a ruin. 

And yet, they had a potential for goodness that couldn’t be neglected. Bowser once had to convince Junior to kidnap Peach, telling his son that Mario was a big bully attempting to break apart their family. In other words, Bowser Junior was to be convinced to do good, so he could do bad. Would Junior accept walking in his father’s steps, or resent him for manipulating his own son for his own adult purposes? What about the other Koopalings? How easy would it be to sway them to the light side if they were offered kindness and consideration? Or wouldn’t they care? Perhaps the only thing that would truly matter was their father’s attention rather than that of strangers and enemies. 

Luigi finished his plate, thanked the both of them, bid them goodnight, and waited until they left the room before stripping off his shoes, socks and gloves. He tried removing the spiky wristbands but it was no use. He hesitated for a while, but then he removed his overalls, keeping the long sleeved polo on, and slid under the fresh, silky blankets. 

As always, sleep never came when he needed it. 

–

It must have been near midnight when he heard it. The metallic creak of an opening door. He was facing the window, so he couldn't see who entered. He froze, though he took care to breathe as naturally as possible. Should he turn around, as if he was naturally moving in his sleep? He discarded that idea. He'd be spotted immediately. It was best to wait and see, he didn't know what to do anyway. 

Was it Mario? His heart jumped in joy for being reunited with his brother, and doom because it meant he'd have to leave in secret. He didn't want to return to the MK, he wanted people to forget about him entirely. They'd throw a party to have fun at him. 

But it was soon evident it wasn't Mario. The footsteps sounded wrong, and his brother would have woken him up. Whoever had come into the room was an enemy that didn't want to be noticed. 

"Hey."

He couldn't believe it at first, refused it even. It must have come from his head. But he heard it again, louder, and decided to face the threat. He had no choice, it was no use pretending he was still asleep. So much for remaining discreet.

The plumber turned around and saw a pair of reptilian eyes staring. His heart tried leaping out of his chest at the sight. Cool, he had to remain smooth and cool, so then the encounter wouldn’t degenerate. Perhaps he could wiggle out of the situation through calm behavior. Following this thought, he moved slowly, controlling his movements as much as possible, like a cat being preyed upon. Something told him that the man (it sounded like a man) wanted to have a full conversation, so he straightened against the tall bed head, careful to hide his underwear with the blankets. He should have kept his overalls on. Idiot. 

The gem of a scepter shone white, conjuring a soft, light blue glow in the room, as if it were plunged in moonlight. Luigi could finally pinpoint the intruder's identity. Ludwig Von Koopa. 

Well, it was his turn to spend time with Weegee today. Although the plumber hoped that next time, he would choose a better hour. He’d been just about to fall asleep.

Ludwig’s gaze was fixed on the window. He was thinking, Luigi saw, till he made up his mind and puffed his chest out, standing tall, superior and arrogant like he used to before fighting the Bros. 

“Like the bed?” he asked. 

“Um,” well wasn’t that a weird question. “Yeah? Yes. Thank you for the room.”

Ludwig’s expression turned comical as he realized the strangeness of his question, though he quickly hid it with a mask of self-pride. 

“Of course it is.” 

It couldn’t be any cheesier. The silence afterwards was very awkward. Ludwig, he guessed, wanted to ask something else.

Both kept staring at each other. It was a tad difficult with the fake moonshine as the sole source of light in the room, but it seemed that he was breathing a bit too fast and shallowly, even for a Koopa. Perhaps it was the stairs that led to this room? And yet, something felt off about him. It wasn’t typical social awareness; it was as if Ludwig was expecting something from him. 

An alarm set off in Luigi’s head, but he ignored it.

Eventually, Ludwig broke the stare and looked at the magic scepter he held in his hands, pensive, considering his options. Luigi should probably say something before he did something unpleasant. In a few seconds, Ludwig’s gaze settled on the plumber, insistent, burning. And then, he sat on the edge of the bed.

Before he could fully process it, overwhelming instinct took control of Luigi. Forget the signals of danger, he could only expect the best of the Koopaling. It was natural. He was just a teen–no, a young man. Ludwig wasn’t aware of the significance of what he was doing. That was okay though, they could become friends. 

Amazement blossomed on the face of Mario’s little brother as devotion clouded his eyes. He gave his best, happy smile, looking cute. 

Pretty boy.

“Yes?” he whispered. He bobbed his head to the side, naive, genuinely curious as to whatever was on Ludwig’s chest. The Koopa was mildly taken aback. Still, he edged closer. 

Luigi titled his nose up, his soft mustache fluttering, thrusting his face forward. He was very grateful indeed of being granted a room on his own when he could have been rotting away in a cage of a cell. He might as well return the pleasure.

Apparently, he had been too direct. The Koopaling struggled, hesitating strongly. Eventually, he slid back, his face turned sideways. Luigi didn’t move… if anything, he tried closing the space between their faces.

Ludwig was still so young and he hadn’t touched true evil. He was a young man craving for new experiences, though he remained innocent, driven by dreams, goodness and fantasies. That was okay, Luigi could show him the way. 

But Ludwig kept looking away.

He ought not to insist. After all, Luigi wasn’t sure he wanted this. Still, his eyelids dropped and his lips parted ever so slightly, panting a little harder than natural. His legs started to relax under the blankets too. 

For some reason, he was experiencing great fear, his body screaming for every move he made. He wanted to look anywhere but in the light blue eyes. Nonetheless, some irrational part of him didn’t listen. His gaze was locked on the young Koopa’s face, and he sighed, eager.

Ludwig angled his body back. Luigi was tempted to ask him to come closer and not be shy, but something in his mind retained him. It was best to let Ludwig go. He wouldn’t want to become provocative, would he?

Dangerous, immoral thoughts were circulating in his mind, and for a moment, he considered slipping out the blankets and kneels with his hands between his legs, displaying the collar and the manacles. And of course, his exposed underwear.

You’re not being in your right mind , he told himself, self-aware for a split second. Don’t go too far .

Very well then, he could do something else. To show Ludwig that he was at his mercy. That anything he wanted to do to him, he could. And that, because Luigi was willing , it didn't need to involve fear or violence. Luigi laid back against the bed, hooked his fingers under the polo and retracted them, displaying the smooth skin of his belly, the trail of hair pursuing its quest under his pants.

“Wow–um–uhhh–” 

Ludwig was panicking. That stopped the man for barely a second. Next, he was showing the upper part of his body and arching his back like a cat, a sigh at the back of his tongue.

“Stop. Stop it!” Ludwig sprung onto his feet. “What the–I’m not… I wasn’t asking for– that . I just…”

That should have felt like cold water. But Luigi was in a really strange state of mind. Almost in a trance. Almost an out-of-body experience.

“I don’t,” the Koopa was still rambling incoherently, “I don’t understand— what’s wrong with you, man?! ” His voice was getting very high-pitched. This time, he stomped towards the door, his mind made up. There was fury in his eyes when he last looked at Luigi and shrieked . 

“If you don’t want this, then tell me! Don’t try to… to–force yourself… dammit, I’m not that kind of guy! What do you take me for?!” 

Luigi remained silent. Accepting, as always.

“Y–you’re disgusting…!" 

But there was shame as well on the Koopa’s face. 

Luigi remained alone in the room, once more, his enthusiasm blown away, leaving him all numb. 

But the good thing, Luigi reasoned, lying slowly back on the bed, was that his brain had found a way not to think too much anymore. 

This way, even if he could not sleep, he would pass the time in peace.

–

Over the following hours, the fog that prevented Luigi from thinking clearly dissipated, leaving the fresh memories free to loop in his head, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

As unbelievable as it might be, Ludwig seemed to have gotten a crush on the green plumber. Luigi tried not to overthink it, but his head wasn’t listening. Everything was okay, he guessed, nothing too serious had occurred. Except his uncharacteristic reaction. That was humiliating in retrospect. 

There was no doubt that it had worked, true. This strategy was risky, but to a virgin teenager who probably just wanted a kiss, that had been effective. Subconsciously, it had been a calculated risk . Yes. Ludwig was just a horny 17 year-old kid who had yet to tamper his hormonal urges. That would explain why he’d get a crush on Luigi of all people. 

He didn’t know whether to feel flattered that someone had gotten a crush on him or despairing because it came from a teenager with little to no outside friends. Although, as Luigi had become enthusiastic in appearance, the Koopa had stepped back, faced with the reality of the situation. He remembered the expression on the Koopa’s face shifting from arousal to incomprehension, and eventually, to horror. It was neat to know that he could count on his status as an eternal outcast to drive anyone away if he tried to be seductive. 

Luigi was angry too. Yes, what he’d done was embarrassing–some would say he had been ready to whore himself up to Bowser’s kid and wasn’t that retching-worthy . But it wasn't as if he’d had much of a choice. True, he felt a little guilty of having shocked the young Koopa, but he too had his share of the blame. Luigi had done that to protect himself. He had been a prisoner locked at the top of a tower, while Ludwig had held a magical scepter in his hand. The Koopa could have done anything to him, convincing himself either that Luigi deserved it, or that he would make the plumber feel good so it was all okay.

Nevertheless, Luigi agonized over his reaction. Couldn’t he have fought? Couldn’t he have tried to flee, stealing Ludwig’s wand to dress up appropriately? What he’d done was dangerous. It could have gone wrong a thousand ways, had Ludwig been a bit more selfish, a bit more evil. Luigi was not that helpless, he knew, so what had he proceeded as if he were a helpless fuck?! 

So that's why Ludwig gave me a special room , yet another part of him thought. To seduce me. He, truly, is a son worthy of Bowser himself! Only, he was gay. Did Bowser know? Would he approve of his son chasing after men rather than princesses? Luigi was imagining telling Ludwig's father and witnessing the chaos that would ensue. If Ludwig ever told anyone how Luigi had acted, he could probably count on Ludwig’s siblings to taunt him about it. 

But of course, Luigi didn't have the heart to actually do it. After all, he knew how terrible it was. Just as Luigi had learned Ludwig's sexual preferences, Ludwig now knew that the rumors were true about Mario’s brother.

He wasn’t gay per say, and that wasn’t the reason he couldn’t hook up with a woman. He was rather… tapping on both sides. Or would be, had it been easy for him to get horny. While Luigi had gotten quite a lot of crushes, only one person had managed to elicit such a reaction. 

Oh dear , he thought, suddenly in pain. He hooked an arm around his eyes, anticipating the headache. And to think that he could have gotten that low for a random teen . How could he even…

It seemed that wherever he went, the haunting thoughts would follow. He had hoped for changement here, but it became more evident by the minute that it made no difference. And judging by the drama that had happened on day 1, it would be best to leave the kingdom as soon as possible. 

What had he been thinking! It was obvious. He didn't belong there. He never did and never would. He would be treated like a slave and it could get dangerous. If Ludwig ever decided to get revenge for Luigi's refusal…

As damning as it was, Luigi had to return home. At least, there, he could get relative security.

Come quick , he begged Mario, deep in his heart. Come quick before this degenerates.

–

But then, he realized, he could escape on his own. He should have done so long ago, from the moment Ludwig put him in a bedroom rather than in a cage. This way, Mario wouldn't risk getting hurt or killed in Bowser's castle. He could stop him before he reached it. Stupid. He was so stupid. 

Sudden rage made the plumber jump out of the bed, putting on his clothes at the speed of light. He wouldn't try escaping through the door but through the window, for more stealth. He tried opening it but it seemed Roy's spell hadn't died out. No matter. Luigi took a chair and swung. An explosion of glass shards, and he could now hear the exterior world. He had to act quick before anyone came in.

There was a bit of wind, he noticed as he straddled the windowsill, careful not to lay his bum on the shards. His heart pounded as he looked down and around, and even up, checking if there was a safe route. It was a shame this window was facing the surroundings of the castle: he could glimpse another tower just behind his own. 

There was no other choice then. He had to jump and pray for the best. Tuffo ad angelo it was.

He almost jumped. 

…He tried again.

But it was when heard something behind him that his heart leaped and made the decision for him. The next instant, he was plummeting down the tower. 

Gravity pulled him down faster than he expected; for a moment, he expected to crash. But his legs were strong and this world operated differently. Under years of habit, his body positioned itself in the most optimised way to take the shock.

His feet touched the ground, as always, sooner than anticipated. 

He survived. 

Standing up, Luigi looked at the open window on top of the tower. It was very high up indeed. Still, he shouldn't have hesitated. He could have spared himself so much trouble with the Koopalings. Hiding in a toy chest to regain his cell… Stupid victimized fuck. 

No one saw the plumber hide and run his way out of the castle grounds. Guards were guarding the main gate, but Luigi found an alternate route thanks to the pile of garbage stocked near the lava on the west side of the castle. It smelled awful; coincidently, no one was around to check the place. Luigi climbed over the pile and leapt on the wall. Sometimes, he really loved his superior jumping ability, he jumped higher and farther than Mario. This appreciation lasted a second, because the next, Luigi was slipping over the edge, knocking the back of his head against the side of the stone wall and dropping backwards.

He hoped no one saw that. 

Although, he should count himself lucky. He hadn't slipped as far as the lava ravin surrounding the castle. How was he going to cross that? 

He had no idea.

Great , he thought, crouching at the foot of the wall, the heat quickly unbearable. He had trapped himself. The only way to cross the huge lava lake was to cross the main bridge, which was guarded. Perhaps he could impersonate as a Koopa, a Beetle, or even better, a Spiky? Stupid idea. He didn't have any shell. He should have searched through the garbage pile for anything that could have helped. Could he even climb back up? He studied the bricks. None of them stood out. 

Unless he wanted to risk a full army charging against him, he was… trapped. 

Should have seen this coming , he thought, defeated, sliding down the wall.

Looking over the lava lake towards the exit, he longed for Peach's floating ability. She could have made the jump. She could have floated from the tower halfway through the wasteland. Yoshi too could have done the job with his Flutter jump. Luigi could jump high, but not enough to cross 300 feet of lava. 

Ten more minutes were wasted, and many more would be. He wondered if, by now, the castle was under alarm. 

For me? Heh… An alarm for Peach or Mario. Never because they lost me.

The bitterness of that unwanted thought almost choked him. The headache was returning. 

The plumber sighed in pain, looking at his hands, contemplating his uselessness. The manacles were still looped round his wrists. He hated them. Not only did they make him feel somewhat violated, but they were a constant reminder that even though he was out of the tower, he was still a prisoner. He wished he had the strength to break them and his collar. But as always, he was pow…

Wait. 

The manacles… they might help him pass the bridge. 

Luigi stood up, using the wall as support. Yes. He could pretend he was out because the Koopalings had allowed him. He could pass off as acting like a servant going shopping on Wendy's orders.

It was crazy, foolish, it was based on the stupidity and laziness of Bowser's armies. But hadn't he spent a whole day entertaining the Koopalings? The minions hadn't given two fucks when crossing him walking alone through the castle. Couldn't he use that to his advantage? 

It was mad, but if necessary, he would jump and run away as fast as he could. For now, stealth was his primary weapon. He just had to be careful of the guards at the entrance.

Turned out, when he reached the junction of the gate, the bridge and the side of the castle wall, the guards were sleeping. Still, just to be sure, Luigi smoothly blended among the crowd, finding the perfect hiding spot between two Bullies and a Thwomp on legs. Hopefully, no one would even ask what he was doing here.

Made it.

"Hey, you!"

Luigi froze. Slowly, ever so slowly, he looked where the sound came from.

But he couldn't locate the person who'd called him.

"Tell Kamek we need him."

Shit.

"I've got soldiers fainting all over the place. Something must be going wrong with the freshening spell. We need a sorcerer to fix this, preferably not an incompetent."

"Yes Captain Karnage!"

Oh. So that explained the sleeping guards. Moving to the side of the bridge's entrance, Luigi could spy on a bunch of Boos removing the metallic armor off the dizzy Koopa guards, while others poured water from buckets. 

The perfect occasion to slip away. 

It was unreal, he internally remarked. Nobody had recognized him, or cared enough to ask what he was doing out of the castle, walking through the casernes-riddled Koopa village. In no time, he was out of bounds, the castle and its cursed clouds far away behind him.

Out of reach. 

Now, he didn't know where the Mushroom Kingdom was. Bowser had several castles and he couldn't guess which one he had been kept in. However, he had a hint. Not that his sense of orientation was good–Mario had it, Luigi not–but sometimes, it really helped. 

He felt a pull. A little bit to the right, miles forward. Hopefully, he would find a power-up on the way to make the journey faster. If only he had taken his power-ups and portal pipe before going for an afternoon tea in Peach's castle. No matter that Bowser had just been defeated. He should have known that they never knew when the new attack was planned.

Thirty minutes later, he saw a black spot in the red sky. Approaching. 

And then he knew.

He was noticed. He waited until his brother was down. They hugged. 

"One day to find me," he whispered in Mario's ear. "That was quick. How did you know I was in this castle?"

They parted, though Mario's hand remained on Luigi's shoulder, patting. 

"Had a hunch."

It hadn't been the first time this happened. Somehow, they had always been able to save each other in under a day, when it would take a week or more for Peach. 

"How did you do?" Mario asked. 

"Jumped out of the tower and crossed the bridge." Luigi smiled smugly, shrugging. "There were dysfunctions in their cooling system. Also…"

He almost told Mario about how Ludwig had given him a bedroom because he'd hoped they'd get fun time together. But this… this too, he chose to keep a secret.

"...they're incompetent. Or they didn't care if I went out." His mood dipped. "You weren't too hurt on the way?"

"Hardly," Mario answered, smiling, fixing his hat. "Say, what's that outfit?"

Luigi looked at himself, although he knew what to expect.

"Wendy's madness."

Mario chuckled. 

"Hope you didn't spend too much of a hard time there."

"It was… okay." Luigi's lips tightened. 

"I can go in there and kick Bowser's ass, you know."

The green man shook his head, refusing. He'd rather not get either of them hurt and just go home. Mario's shoulders relaxed as he accepted this decision.

They sent a last glance at the castle, together.

"Let's go."

----

Outro music: Project IGI - Eagle's Nest I (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3x34QxJ1DSg&list=PLOx6rohJKHV3rr25aq7F67wa_e87FOCff&index=13)

End Notes:

- I couldn't fit in all my End Notes into the End Notes feature because they were too long, so I'm putting them there, before the "Mild Spoilers" section.
- I wanted to make some sort of tribute to the discontinued Luigi fic on Ao3 called “I’m so sorry” I read as a teen. Luigi does not have a good time in it. I was so traumatized obsessed with this fic I must have drawn 30 pages of comics to illustrate it. Poor Weegee.
- I also wanted to make a tribute to that discontinued comic on DeviantArt, I always forget the name… it was about Luigi never having been saved as a baby and being raised as Bowser's brother and right-hand man. He wears Koopa-style clothes with some Mr.L vibes to them.
- In this story, Junior is 9, Larry 11, Lemmy and Iggy 13, Morton 14, Wendy 16, Roy 17 and Ludwig 19. Luigi thinks Ludwig is a teen because he has trouble remembering his age.
- This part greatly changed. I had imagined a three days-long stay, but some parts didn't make sense. Why would the Koopalings sleep in the same room and accept Luigi putting on a lullaby? Why would Ludwig invite him into his room if he stays away because he's got a gay crush? Why would Luigi watch TV with Lemmy then play monopoly with the kids when he cannot stand remaining in Bowser's castle anymore, realizing he could have escaped long ago? Plus those parts, while somewhat cute, would make the chapter unnecessarily long.
- “Anyway!" Morton cried as he trotted to a desk in excitement. "I need someone to talk about my fic. But no one seems to really care about it. So I figured that, since you were the prisoner, I could discuss it with you. // Am I projecting? Mayyybeee… But also, I’m surprised not to have seen a fic referring to a character writing a fic rather than a book, so I did it myself.
- Peach hadn’t been expected to ask Bowser to warm the water up for her. It’s just that the plumbing system broke down over the years. Now, you might wonder why the water is ice cold in a world ridden with volcanoes: that’s because, since cold water is a luxury Bowser wants in his castle, the water is pumped from a cold world, and later warmed up through, not geothermal energy, but a huge, now defective, hot water tank. No maintenance is possible, since Bowser has forbidden the job of plumbing due to his intense hostility against Mario and, to a lesser extent, Luigi. It is insane, stupid, consumes huge loads of energy unecessarily, pains everyone in the kingdom: it is the trademark of Bowser’s tyranny.
- Larry’s cockscomb is as tall as himself.
- I used to mistake Lemmy for “Lenny”.
- I always thought Roy wore a pink bandana round his head (also called cocktail apparently?? https://cdn.w600.comps.canstockphoto.com/woman-and-man-hats-models-collection-of-eps-vector_csp55122744.jpg), but no! It’s really just his head.
- Will you be able to name the type of reaction Luigi had when Ludwig sat on his bed?
- One of Luigi’s irrational thoughts was “Well if the young man wants a first experience, I can provide it; I’m ready, I want it, I will do it and it’s best this way if it must be done; might as well have a good time too and gain some experience”.
- Hey at least, if I cave after the first chapter, you will have a mini Luigi & the Koopalings fic on hand.

Chapter Text

Years ago, Luigi and his famous brother would constantly find themselves in amazement, wandering wild in this brand new, magical world. The Acorn Plains, the huge polyhedric mounts of Star Hill, the sky-scraping mushrooms and the world of practicable clouds stretching over the ether were a delight that Luigi thought he’d never get bored of.

He eventually did. The wonder of discovery gone, the flaws of the mushroom world bursting out, never again did he feel the peace and hope his new home used to provide him. The exception was thunderstorms, majestic chaos he fell in love with when almost everyone else would lock themselves back indoors.

Today, there was no thunderstorm, and none would be expected until a week or two. 

So while his brother was both checking and admiring their surroundings, Luigi was resting on his shoulder, protecting his eyes from the sunlight, carried bridal style back in the kingdom.

Mario had asked if he wanted to check for power-ups in the blocks below so that he could fly on his own but Luigi had refused, only demanding to return home and rest. He was coming to regret this decision, however, as he realized his brother was not planning to carry him to their home, instead heading to Peach’s castle. Hundreds of meters were crossed in a matter of seconds, and then it was too late.

Oh, what a charming sight it would be, not an emasculating one at all. Super Mario, wearing a Cape, carrying his tall but lanky little brother like he carries his future wife. Mario's feet touched the ground and he could finally stretch out as the green plumber put a few inches between them. 

He should have told Mario to go home in a literal sense. Not Peach’s castle. He wasn’t the princess. The castle wasn’t home. 

Screeches erupted left and right in the town. The crowd swarmed around them in record time. Two clouded Lakitus were carrying cameras, recording everything for the television. Luigi hated them. He’d rather have a discreet arrival. Why did Mario have to screw up so badly…?

Mario was gone. Judging by the crowd’s stares, he’d gone past the castle gates. 

He must have not noticed him because of the damn crowd.

There were lots of phones and cameras aimed in his direction, taking photos and videos. Gossiping, giggling behind their chubby baby hands, making funny gestures.

Like what you see? he sneered internally. 

A crowd of mindless, dangerous idiots. A town of cowards. Waiting, for sure , for Mario to be away before picking on him. Did they even know he was Mario's brother?

"So…" a Toad with bad taste in mustaches loudly called. The crowd's chatting got a little quieter. 

Here we go. Welp. At least this time they couldn't point the L on his hat and call him a loser. He didn't have any hat. He’d left it locked in his cupboard purposefully.

"Did you enjoy being Bowser's bitch?"

There was a split second of silence before the crowd exploded in hysterical laughter. Luigi, on his part, was shocked. That was a new one. That sure was a new one. Never had he…

He paled, wondering, for a moment, if anyone had seen him ready to whore himself up for Ludwig in Bowser's castle to avoid getting hurt when the Koopaling made his intentions clear. Well, half-clear. But no, it was… it should… be impossible. They called him that just because…

Because he'd been the damsel in distress. 

He felt his cheeks get very hot, but not so much in embarrassment. No, in rage . It was utterly unfair. 

"Is that what you think of her then?" he said, pointing at Peach's castle with a nudge of his head. "Whenever she's captured? Princess Bitch ?"

There was a great gasp. Some Toads stopped laughing to ask what had been said, while others were sending vile looks, promises of pain. Luigi didn't wait for the Toads to start throwing insults at him: he sprinted up the castle steps and past the gate. It would be all over social media; whatever he said next would be used against him. He mentally blurred whatever insult he could catch with the rest of the crowd's incoherent babbling. He almost expected the guards to block him out, but they didn't seem to have heard. Thankfully, past the gate, the noisy mayhem died out. Red and gray made place for marble white, garden green and sky blue. 

Alone in Peach's castle, on a bright sunny day. 

His pace got slower and slower until he halted halfway through the bridge, sitting on the edge, looking past his shoes to the river below. It was pretty. Gliding on the blue surface, were waterlilies, stray pink and white petals. The water was fresh, clear, sparkling under the sunlight; a delight, he bet, to plunge and bath in. 

He knew the secret passages of the moat. There was a door hidden on the north-east side of the castle, on water level. There was also a tunnel against an outside wall, under the water, that led to the plumbing system of the castle; a trapdoor that opened on the flooded backrooms which rabbits liked to inhabit for some reason; spacious holes at each side of the wall, the west one higher, the east one lower, from where the water came and went, carrying fishes from the mountains to the nearby lake. 

In these moments of trouble, he took care to enjoy the feeling of his legs dangling over the edge, the fresh smell of nature that the wind carried around the marble bridge, the sound of the water sloshing and flowing a few feet below; the chipping birds and the croaking frogs that he had never found. 

Just like Bowser's castle contained spells to make the environment more bearable to live in, Peach had hired magicians to place a pacifying globe around her own, made of walls, nature and peace. The sun never was too hot. The rain never poured hard. The wind could be gentle or fun, but never on the level of a storm. While those spells were mostly a background that hadn't prevented Luigi from feeling down many times inside it, the walls carried the most power. Whenever they were raised, not even his usually depressed mood could resist. That was why, he reckoned, his negative thoughts were almost all put on pause. He felt sleepy and there was something pleasantly buzzing at the back of his head. He didn't have the strength to fight it, nor the motivation to purposefully feel negative. Why would he, so he could be a bit more like himself? It wasn't worth it. He felt good, he might as well appreciate it as long as he could.

He knew the kingdom was prepared for an attack: that was why the castle walls were up in the first place. Were Bowser and his minions to enter the castle, they'd be KO'd instantly. They wouldn't want to fight anymore, they'd rather surrender. Why kidnap the princess? Why not take a stroll instead and let Mario escort Bowser back to his kingdom?

Peach had learned a bit of everything in light magic, though she was mostly known for possessing the power of love. Or, as Luigi remembered thinking, the power of infatuation. It was terribly effective. No matter how physically strong an enemy could be, if they were hit by the spell, she could do anything to them and she could make them do anything she wanted. It had taken years of self-discipline for Luigi to stop having the honeyglows whenever she talked to him, or kissed his nose, his cheek, or just in his general direction. He remembered hating the reactions she drew from him. He knew he wasn't in love with Princess Peach. Oh, she was charming for sure, beautiful, spirited, kind and fair, but she was… wrong in his tastes. 

He remembered crying after the 20th time she'd elicited unwanted feelings from him just to score a goal, her magic so strong he'd been unable to block it off. People had thought he'd cried because he was a sore loser. 

Somehow, those memories were free of their emotional baggage. He felt nothing while reminiscing about this day.  

"Hey bro. Woah."

It had to be the funny look on Luigi's face.

"Your pupils are all big ."

"The walls…" 

Next to him, Mario hummed questioningly.

"The walls are raised…" Luigi explained.

A chuckle. "How do you feel?"

Luigi blinked slowly. "A little bit high."

"A little bit high, huh," his brother teased. 

There was a moment, of calmness and simplicity, where Mario took a deep breath of fresh air, drinking it in as if it was filled with pacifying fumes. 

"I feel… very peaceful too. These walls are particularly strong today."

"They think Bowser is gonna attack again…"

Mario snorted quietly. "Let him try…"

They contemplated the garden and its beautiful trees. Harvest time had passed, yet they were filled with juicy peaches, so heavy the branches looked about to snap. 

"By the way…" Mario added. "Here's your phone. I took it before they started cleaning the castle up."

Luigi didn't know how he did it, given how deep he was in the trance, but he took the phone from Mario's hand. Though its smooth silicone cover was okay, he thought he felt glass cracking under his palm. He did not want to look into it. He did not want to let it ruin his mood. 

"Here's cake too."

Mario presented a share of pink strawberry gateau overstuffed with white whipped cream and icing sugar. Luigi opened his mouth wide till his brother understood and stuffed it in. He crunched on strange pearls of ice filling the cream, but the cake was not too cold as to hurt his teeth. It was delicious. 

"If you don't want to attend the party tonight," Mario continued as Luigi was licking his lips clean, "then we should go back home. I'll go with you. Unless you want to stay here?"

The green brother lazily shook his head, rubbing his tongue obsessively against his chipped upper tooth. The way it scraped against his tongue felt good. 

"Alright then… Let's go."

Luigi felt so sleepy. He hadn't slept the whole night as another, anxiety-induced bout of insomnia had taken over him. Usually, it was the opposite: he slept too much, between 13 and 16 hours a day. However, he guessed his circadian rhythm was so broken that now his sleeping schedule was pure chaos. 

He just wanted to lie over the water below, or even under if he could breathe in it, and not move, letting the current carry his body wherever it wanted as the sunlight played optical games with the ripples. He didn't want to get out of the castle. He had finally found peace…

Nonetheless, before Luigi topped over the bridge, a red-clad arm swiftly slid under his shoulders and lifted him up. The human contact felt very pleasant. Feeling grateful and somewhat lonely, Luigi hugged his brother. Tight.

"The walls are too strong…" Mario muttered as his little brother's legs were turning to jelly and sliding out. "Let's go quickly."

"'M sleepy…" the lanky plumber protested. "Wanna stay here and eat peaches… under the trees… hihihi."

He was half-driven, half-carried, in the direction of the castle gate, feeling more and more euphoric. Until, that is, he was right under the gate... 

A world of dreams, Luigi repeated in his head. An utopia. An idyllic place to find refuge. It was supposed to be just that… for him included. 

Exiting the castle's magic was like being forced back under the water. Ice spread throughout his lungs and the sun became hot and blinding.

And the crowd was back. 

He couldn't breathe, he could hardly see. The shock of his emotions going from one extreme to another made him want to cry. 

"I… Mario… I…"

"I know," he heard in his ear. 

Luigi struggled to keep face, acting as if everything was normal despite the panic coursing through his veins. Unable to speak, as if his throat was a waterfall swallowing down his words and keeping them locked deep into his stomach, he remembered why he fled the crowd and why, most importantly, Mario shouldn't stay there any longer. The Toads would tell what Luigi'd said, in their own twisted version. Mario trusted him, but it would put him in a difficult situation to choose between comforting his brother and defending the princess's dignity in public like a proper gentleman. Mario couldn't make this choice. Luigi couldn't risk seeing his struggle and disappointment. Were Luigi to lie, denying he'd ever said "Princess Bitch", Mario would see the truth written on his forehead. He couldn't even lie since he couldn't speak, but that was not… a good thing…

On the verge of irrationality, Luigi nudged Mario and started walking first in line rather than behind, so that Mario would see if anyone attacked his brother and thus dissuade the crowd. He was stopped in his tracks and he nearly fell down the stairs though. Feeling the stares and the smirks of the Mario fanboys and girls, Luigi was shown a portal pipe that had just appeared on the steps. He tried ignoring that the way he'd tried to leave as soon as possible proved to everyone how he was afraid of their reaction, the fact that Mario could learn the truth on Twitta and the like–and yet, his whole focus was on the burning stares behind him. He wondered, for a moment, if they wanted to meet Mario just to have an excuse to see the Green Clown in the flesh. It was a herculean effort to understand what Mario wanted of him: jump in the portal pipe first. He almost fainted thrice getting there. Instead, he stumbled, to the city's delight.

Luigi didn't recognize where he landed. As soon as he was out of the pipe, his knees gave out. The muscles of his back became unable to sustain him; he bended with Earth's gravity. The plumber crouched on the ground that he could not see, waiting until he didn't feel so dizzy anymore.

—

Someone grabbed him under the arms. He gasped. 

As his vision gradually cleared up, Luigi realized he'd fainted for a moment. To force himself to stay awake, he took care to breathe in and out hard, trusting his brother to protect him. Gradually, he regained control of his vision. 

He must have fainted for a few seconds, he thought, since Mario had just gotten here. Plus, he had woken up still on all fours. 

His brother was now dragging him against something. He felt a hand and cold water splashing on the back of his head. Next second, the ringing in his ears disappeared and he could hear himself panting loudly. He needed more sugar, more cake, and definitely more water. 

He was fainting too many times these days. 

" Mama mia… " he thought he heard Mario say. There was more incoherent babbling, as Luigi's awareness fluctuated. Then, he realized that some words were said three times in the same tone; the tone, after reflection, was that of questioning. Mario was asking him something.

" Wha… " Luigi asked in return. His voice was too loud and yet he could hardly catch the words. 

Mario stopped asking the question. More water was poured onto the little brother. 

As time passed, he shivered, cold, weak and extremely exhausted. 

It took him too long in his tastes before he was back to his senses. 

—

He should eat more, he knew. He had eaten yesterday, but a single meal couldn't cure months of malnourishment. He wasn't pauper, he wasn't following a diet: it was just too exhausting to prepare whole meals for himself and eat everything on his plate; it was pointless in his opinion since he could still perform his daily tasks on his current food supply; it was a waste of time and frankly, however much he hated being so lanky, he liked feeling light. 

The price was anemia and all the problems that came with it. Oh, it wasn't too severe, he was just a bit more fragile. 

Still, his brother blamed it all on his unwillingness to eat 'enough'. So now, Mario was buying food in the nearby market while his brother tried not to slump backwards into the fountain. 

He had the reflex to take out his phone, only to put it back in his pocket when he saw the cracked glass. That might have been just the protection, but he did not want to check on the state of his phone until he was home and free to cry as he wished if it truly was broken. 

What hour was it? Perhaps 5 p.m? The sun was still hot but it was getting very close to the hills and mountains afar. He took out his phone to check, only to put it back in his pocket. Stupid reflex. He'd ask his brother when he came back. 

"Please, mister!"

A light blue Yoshi madame was running up to him, worry on her face. 

"My son," she started to explain, taking his hand and trying to pull him out of the fountain, "my son has fallen down a manhole, please save him!"

Luigi resisted. He didn't like to be touched by strangers. "Mario's gone shopping over there, he'll be back in a few minutes."

"No–it will be too late! Please, come quick…"

"Don't worry, as long as your son remains where he is, there’s hardly anything to be afraid of.”

“But–monsters! There are monsters down there!”

“You mean, Bowser’s minions?” Luigi asked, uneasy. “You saw them?” Already there, coming for him or the princess?

“N–I… No, but,” and she started getting angry, “my son’s in danger! They could come anytime! Can’t you come and save him?!”

So she was really asking for him, Luigi, to save her son? It wasn’t often. Last time someone had asked, they’d meant for him to search for Mario.

Well, he was a hero, wasn’t he? That was his job, and he could certainly save a Yoshi toddler from the city’s plumbing system. He wondered why she wouldn't try to save her kid on her own though. Surely, she wasn't as helpless as Toads, Beetles, Spikies or Goombas? Even if there were enemies, she could make omelets out of them. But then, he figured the inhabitants had learned that it was best to always ask a Mario brother to save the day, rather than risk screwing up and getting captured or beaten to a pulp. It was also an excuse for fans to spend time with their favorite person. If that was the case, then Luigi ought to feel flattered. So he stood up and let the Yoshi madame lead the way.

The manhole was a few blocks from where she'd come from. Thankfully, few people were walking there. He ignored the burning looks shooting on his back, concentrating on the manhole that the Yoshi was indicating. The heavy lid had been put aside, uncovering a hole that led to the town’s sewer system, a labyrinth that Luigi knew by heart after all the time he’d repaired it alongside his brother. They’d kept a map and old blueprints at home, in their working desk. The sewers were indeed a scary place, even though those of the Mushroom Kingdom were well-kept. Huge, long holes and some pipes running on the ceiling, the walls and the floor. No light, of course, except for some spare bioluminescent mushrooms, and always run by filthy water. Sometimes, the damp atmosphere reeked of all kinds of disgusting things. Thankfully, they’d repaired the sewers so well that the water was purified very efficiently; a touch of magic and it was perfect to pour into the river a few miles away from the town, which the lake largely filled.

He hoped the kid had been smart and not tried to escape the sewers on his own though. It could quickly become a problem. 

Although the sun was up, it was badly angled, so he couldn’t see anything but pitch black. Luigi checked for stairs leading outside the manhole. There weren’t any. Obviously, the bottom was too far down for a baby Yoshi to jump out the manhole directly. It was weird, hadn’t they installed solid stairs to last for at least some decades? They hadn’t forgotten this manhole, had they?

He called for the Yoshi. No one answered. Beside him, the mother was fidgeting more and more. Either the kid had walked away, or they’d fallen unconscious. Or he was deaf. 

"He's not down there, madame,” Luigi told her. “Are you sure it's the right…"

"He must have walked away!" The Yoshi covered her face with her hands, gasping in panic, her voice getting very high-pitched. "He was there when I left, but he must have tried to escape, and now he's lost… I've lost him…" 

Luigi called for the toddler again, for naught.

"I've lost him…" he heard the Yoshi say again, with much less force in her voice.

People were watching all around them, interested. Luigi had an idea. Perhaps saving a baby Yoshi would make the difference. Perhaps it would prove to the people around them that he was worth respecting. Hopefully. At least they'd leave him alone, unable to deny he was still a hero.

The last idea tipped the balance. Ceasing to hesitate, he arranged his legs into the manhole and slipped inside, falling into pitch-black darkness. Thankfully, he landed on flat ground, not spraining his ankle on the side of a pipe. Pity he didn’t have his lamptorch. Weird green flashing on his retina after leaving the sunlight so brutally, and waiting for his eyes to get used to the darkness, he called the Yoshi again. 

But then, he heard something above him. Like metal grinding against stone. He looked up to see the last rays of light shut down.

CLANG.

He was very confused, at first. He didn't understand what was happening. Neither did he understand why it was happening. But he wasn't that dumb either. 

The denial came and went. 

Reality sank in.

They'd locked him down, for fun. 

No one had answered, because there wasn't any baby to save.

Another “prank”. He’d fallen right through it. And the message was clear: he was as worthy as the shit running down those pipes. He’d hoped to prove to everyone that he was a hero worthy of respect. Now, they were probably laughing at the top of their lungs. Waiting, with their phones up, for Luigi to crawl up the manhole in all his soiled dignity.

They didn’t need another hero. He’d pay whenever he tried to be one. 

It was hard to understand how it had happened. It had been a Yoshi. Yoshis were supposed to be kind and innocent… But he couldn’t deny the truth. If she’d been truthful, she’d never have locked him down.

Those sorts of things only happened to him. Mario wouldn't ever be given this kind of treatment. And Luigi would never be treated otherwise. He'd never be an equal to his older brother. 

Wherever he looked, it was pitch-black. The silence was thick and oppressing. He could hear his heartbeat and the occasional drip of water. But what he heard most were his rushing thoughts. His head was starting to hurt again.

Luigi knew what was coming if he tried to leave the sewers through a city manhole. He refused to let this happen to him. He could not. Not today. He had too much shit to put up with, he couldn’t bear another bout of laughing from them . The pain never eased over time. It only cemented his self-loathing. He remembered the way he’d tried, years ago, to hide his insecurities with ego and optimism that, really, was just naivety . But he wasn’t dumb, and however much he tried to fool everyone, including himself, it didn’t work. This fake, awkward charisma, this other persona–it couldn’t have worked. He’d gradually broken down, and then one day, he’d abandoned the pretense entirely. All that useless work had left him utterly exhausted to the point that now, he could very well be considered lazy.

Luigi didn't understand how he could feel that much pain, especially when he wouldn't scream. 

His thoughts were becoming dangerous. But he couldn’t risk letting them see . He had to get away… He’d find the passage to the castle’s pipes, swim back up the moat, leave from behind the castle, and make a huge detour to walk back home dir–

Thud.

Splash!

He’d tripped on a pipe.

It was too much.

BANG.

The tears welled up but he forced himself to remain stoic, silent. He couldn’t let them hear too much. He refused to cry. Crouching down, he hid his head between his arms, just in case someone came and saw him. At least he could pretend he was just sleeping–

BANG .

Oh, who was he kidding? They’d know what he was doing. Banging his head against the pipes, was there anything more pathetic than that?! Completing their work, he was sure they were counting on it!

BANG .

“Of course you’re a hero, Luigi. Without you, I’d have been long gone…”

BANG .

Mario was a sweet brother. Most of all, he was unable to understand. He wouldn’t ever need to. 

“Who cares about what they say about you? You’re still a hero–"

BANG!

This one echoed.

The tears slid down despite his efforts. However much he was trying to teach himself to stop being a crybaby little fuck, he was always breaking down after a certain level of pain.

Rage was rushing through his fingers. He'd saved the kingdom at the risk of his life, countless times, and that’s what he got for thanks. But what could he do? Burn the village down and rejoice in its warmth? He could, he guessed. He could also become an exile after Mario beat his ass.

Becoming a hero was supposed to be the way, and yet, despite everything… He failed. No matter how hard he tried…

BANG.

He was in a dead end…

BANG–BANG– BANG!

That wasn’t enough. He needed more, he would always need more, because he never got used to the pain. He was doomed…

BANG!

He sobbed, loudly. Wailing in agony, hurting his own sensitive ears.

Fuck his tears. He wanted to break his skull against the concrete until he became too dumb to be aware of the pain. 

“ Help me. ”

Luigi’s head was preparing for another round when his brain processed the noise–or rather, voice. He remained still, suddenly very aware of his surroundings, his muscles tensing in case of danger.

“ Help me, please… ”

There was someone. There was someone in here! Was it the Yoshi toddler? Was it not a prank after all? He hoped that wasn’t an enemy or another prank. 

“ I cannot move… I can barely speak… ”

The voice sounded… weird, to say the least. Disembodied, kind of. It spoke in his head but did not echo through the sewers. Someone was talking through telepathy. Could it really be the baby Yoshi?

Oh come on, there isn’t any baby Yoshi , he mentally scolded himself. There never was, you fucking guillible idiot… It must be someone else.

“Where are you?” Luigi dared to call, standing up.

“ ...at the bottom of the water… ”

Luigi blushed in shame, wiping his tears. If that voice knew he was down there, it meant they’d heard him and his little theatrics. They were probably judging him right now, regardless of their intentions. 

Incredibly nervous, he decided to act as if nothing had happened to avoid the awkwardness. He hoped the person who’d called him would return the favor. But what if they'd taken a photo or a video of him wrecking his brain? Mario shouldn't know… And what would he say? "I was just checking the pipes"? Although he felt no mirth, he choked a laugh at the ridiculousness of the scene. So much for banging his head against sewer pipes.

“ Please… ”

“Yeah I know, I’m comin’,” he said in a shaking voice, the kind fresh from crying.

Telepathy offered no indication on the location of the person to save. He didn’t know where to start. Plus, wasn't it neat that the voice called him to search under the water when he was trapped in total darkness and when that water was probably soiled with piss, diarrhea, menstrual blood and other fun things? Why was he wearing white gloves anyway? 

Oh well… he was supposed to be a plumber, so he might as well suck it up. He could very well dirty his clothes in exchange of a life. Although considering all the ways life could manifest in this world, he hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to locate the trapped person. 

He stumbled like a blind man. 

“ Over here… to the left… ”

Luigi walked carefully so as not to trip over a pipe again. He dipped his feet into the dirty water and followed the current.

He almost tripped again. His foot had knocked over something in the water.

“ Thank you… ”

Bending over, his fingers closed on something flat and solid. 

And for a moment, he saw green.

“ Luigi! ”

He would remember this moment as a fever dream. He could see his own face, opening blind eyes wide, facing the light above. Taking his first breath. Hope. Free.

“Luigi!” the voice repeated. 

This time, the lost plumber took notice of the light coming from behind. The manhole had been opened.

“Mario…”

“There you are!”

He heard the swooshing of air and the flutter of a cape. Mario’s hands grasped his brother, hovering above the dirty water. 

“I…” the red-clad hero tried. Luigi knew what was coming.

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t. “I don’t care.” He shrugged to emphasize the point. 

Mario had obviously noticed his nasal, broken voice. He knew what had happened. 

Luigi shoved his shoulders out of his brother’s reach. He didn’t want pity comfort. They were probably watching, recording everything. It was too late to show he wasn’t weak-spirited. Still, it was a private moment, and he didn’t want to feel like he was soiling his brother’s clothes with the stench of decay. Inside his shoes, his socks were filled with piss water. That’d teach him not to wear his boots. 

“Let me carry you up there,” Mario asked. He hardly waited before taking hold of Luigi's body and rushing out the sewers. He laid Luigi a foot away from the manhole, which he took care to close.

Those few seconds to close the manhole were too long. Each of them was an atrocious experience for the green plumber. Laughter. Relentless, shameless laughter. Even Mario couldn't do anything about it. But then, Luigi recognized some voices. He looked up. And his heart froze.

No… Them? Had they… Had they watched? Had they come afterwards when everyone was already laughing? Or were they the instigators of the "prank"?

He felt his brother inspecting his reaction. Mario's gaze followed and he spotted them too. He walked towards the possible culprits.

Oh no…

Looking for a distraction, Luigi directed his gaze on what he'd found (and oh god, he wanted to remove his soiled, smelly glove and manacle so bad). 

It was… a mask. A thick, solid mask smiling mischievously. He couldn't exactly describe its color as it was covered in mud and sludge. It had probably been lost on the streets and flushed down the gutters, left to rot for a few days or weeks.

He could still hear them. Wario and Waluigi. He certainly hadn't missed them. And by the looks of it, the Warios had indeed come up with the plan. Luigi was usually always on the look-out for humans that dressed in yellow, magenta, purple and black, but this time, they’d taken care to hide, using a good-looking Yoshi mother to lure him into a trap. 

He wondered why it had actually worked. The Warios were not that popular, even though they offered the crowd good laughs at Luigi's expense. Had it been for money? Wario was greedy to the extreme. Luigi didn’t see him bargaining even one gold coin to help them have fun. Perhaps it had been Waluigi? Heavens knew how obsessed Luigi’s self-proclaimed rival was. 

Along the years, Luigi had dearly paid the price of his “rival’s” sadism. It wouldn’t stop; he couldn’t be left alone. Not even mere hours after a kidnapping rescue. 

Oh, and to think of those days when he would assure everyone that he, Luigi, wasn’t afraid of an ugly, jealous, evil maniacal doppelganger obsessed with becoming a bit more than a shadow of a shadow.

It felt very awkward to let Mario defend him while he was standing there, doing nothing, twiddling his thumbs metaphorically speaking. Mustering the nerve, ignoring the looks of the surrounding Toads, he approached the arguing group.

At once, Waluigi stepped back, pinching his nose in a comical manner and fake-gagging. 

"AAAARGGH! Keep away!" Waluigi said as Wario snickered, watching his companion's theatrics with much interest. "You fucking stink! Did you step in shit or something? Oh wait–" 

They looked at each other, before laughing hysterically. 

Luigi had the urge to approach them even more , to make them smell what they'd inflicted upon him, but then he'd be 'asking for it'. At least, that's what they'd tell him as they'd force his head into a bucket of soapy water or bleach or something. 

"Hey, will you two cut it out?!" Mario shouted, his shoulders squaring as if he was readying himself to brawl. 

Were the Warios to keep picking on his brother, Mario would likely intervene in a radical manner. But whatever the outcome, did Luigi really want their fight to escalate? He really didn't need to get any more attention. Sure, it could allow him to brawl against the Warios, but he had to think long term, and frankly, he didn't want to get their revenge. Two on one wasn't fair, but that's what he'd have to expect if he retaliated with Mario right now. The Warios would merely need to hide and pounce when his older brother was away, and this time it would be far worse than anything they'd inflicted on him thus far.

Not even Mario knew the full extent of what Luigi could expect whenever they were near. It was too painful, too humiliating and useless for Luigi to say anything more than "the Warios were jerks today." It was dangerous , because the Warios could make Luigi pay for Mario's intervention. He was already shit-scared of leaving home, if Mario attacked now… 

No, he really didn't want to. He just wanted to be left alone, in peace, and go back home as originally planned. This time he would take the lead. 

But just as he was about to walk away, forcing Mario to end the drama so he could follow his little brother, he heard the one thing he didn’t want Mario to learn from someone else’s mouth.

"Shouldn't have called the princess a bitch though."

NO.

"What?"

"He shouldn't have called Peach a cunt."

Time seemed to slow down.

"What are you even talking about?" Mario exclaimed, clearly losing his composure. "Stop making stuff up." 

Waluigi laughed. 

"He actually did call her Princess Bitch ," the Yoshi replied.

Mario looked confused. He wouldn't come over.

"I did not !"

However horrible this situation was, Luigi had to intervene. He had to make things clear. Were they trying to turn his own brother against him? 

"We have videos, you know."

"Well then," Luigi said, nervous but trying to remain confident, "if you replay it, you should see I did not call her that. I was merely–I was defending myself because people insulted me."

While the Warios had jumped on the occasion to have a laugh at him, the Yoshi might have locked him in the sewers because she'd bought into a lie. If that was the case, then she might be convinced she was fighting the wrong enemy. 

"Cool. Still called the princess a bitch," she said.

"I haven't said such a thing! " he yelled, voice cracking, for everyone to hear, for her to understand. "They've been twisting my words!"

" I hAvEn'T sAiD sUch a ThiNg !" Waluigi whined in a girly voice. Wario's laugh was crass and greasy.

The Warios weren't listening. They didn't care about what he'd actually said, as long as it offered an occasion to pounce on him like predators on their toy. And now, they were laughing, offering a childish, wimpy imitation of his complaint.

But what hurt Luigi the most was the realization that he couldn't fight the rumors with the true version of the story; now that he was discredited, okay-people wouldn't believe whatever he said. 

What hurt most was, in essence, the Yoshi mother's laugh. 

“They haven’t twisted anything. I was there, and everyone heard you.”

What?

"When you call the princess a bitch, don't cry if people call you a bitch.”

A new round of roaring laughter.

Luigi loathed them all. He loathed the Yoshi for being so stupid as to believe in rumors and turn into a bully herself. He loathed himself for wanting to cry again. 

The plumber felt someone looking intensely at him. Mario was speechless and didn’t know what to do. Most importantly, he wanted his little brother to explain himself. 

Luigi couldn’t sustain his gaze any longer. He walked off.

“Oh, are you running away?” the Yoshi shouted.

“Well, he is a coward, isn’t he?” a mean, very nasal voice said. “Gotta live up to the expectations. Oh mama, where are you? ”

Hearing the Warios clowning themselves to mock him, Luigi had the old burning desire to beat them up. But in effect, he was powerless. It was a lost fight. He couldn't retaliate without consequences . And now, the Warios had the public on their side. They might get Peach's forgiveness or even approval: they'd merely need to lie about his exact words.

He’d fucked up.

“Stop it!” Mario intervened. 

Luigi walked away faster.

“What, you …kay w… th…s?”

“I a….”

It seemed that the Warios would never stop laughing.

End Notes:

• I said that chapter 1 would be divided in three parts, but it felt right to sever the last third in two. Not only was the third part beginning to be extremely long, but it does help to write extensively on a smaller doc. Loading and navigating through 65 pages of draft every time I want to write is kinda annoying, you know? My phone keeps having synchronisation issues. Plus, the part that follows is special and quite different to Chapter 1 TER. 
• Peach's castle is a mixture between Mario 64, Paper Mario Origami King and NSMBU. Its gardens look something like this. 
• Here are beautiful images to help you imagine the moat: here, here and here.
• The secret passages of the moat: greatly inspired by Mario 64 but also Tactical Ops' Rapidwaters map and its two doors on water level. There are more passages of course.

• The first door's location with Tactical Ops inspiration for its design (one and two)
• The trapdoor, but it's between the door and the bridge rather than near the water source
• The underwater tunnel's location (where the wooden bridge is), an approximation of what it looks like
• West water source, east water exit, nearby lake: an approximation but the lake is farther, the source is lower and the exit is underground. A funny thing is that neither entry nor exit of the water are guarded or protected, so you could use them to infiltrate the castle when the wall wards are lowered. 

• I imagine the strawberry cake like this, but a bit more sophisticated and with strawberries. I don't know which to choose between a pink cake with white whipped cream or a white cake with pink whipped cream. 
• I hesitated between giving Luigi upper front teeth diastema or a chipped tooth. I settled for a chipped tooth. 
• Luigi eats the same amount of food as a normal person, but that's not enough for someone who performs athletics on a weekly basis. Also, Luigi is not a common human, he is a human nintendonus. A healthy male human nintendonus is heavier than a male homo sapiens of the same height. The interpretation of his BMI is different. So while 75 kg for 175 cm of height is normal for a male homo sapiens sapiens, it is in the underweight range for homo nintendonus. He should at least weigh 80 kg, and ideally 90 kg. 
• Here's a cool graphic I found. As stated in the graphic, Mario is 155 cm tall, Luigi 175 cm and Peach 177 cm without heels, 185 cm with. However, in my fic, Daisy is 180 cm tall without her heels (5'11 feet), and 187 cm tall with (2 cm the sole, 5 cm the heel). So yeah, she's pretty tall compared to Weegee. Bowser's height varies a lot, but let's say his minimum is 260 cm tall. 
• In my fic, the humans of New Donk City are not homo sapiens sapiens either. They might be another kind of homo nintendoni. What I know is that they are 300 cm tall on average and thus New Donk City is giant-scaled. This is not a surprise considering Rosalina (homo nintendonus) is 230 cm tall and Pauline 250 cm tall. The Bros navigate in a world of giants. 
• I do not know if the Warios are brothers in my fic, so I left it ambiguous.
• Female blue Yoshi.

Chapter Text

Warning : Vivid bullying scenes, heavy suicide talk, innuendos, body horror, bad trip

Toilet water was not breathable water, especially when combined with human waste. That was a hypothesis that Luigi hadn't planned to test, but as was often the case, he didn't have his word to say. 

In the course of dozens of adventures, he'd expanded his lung capacity. That didn't mean, though, that he could never drown. 

His lungs weren't just burning, they were on the verge of exploding. He was a bit out of his right mind. He was shoved in and out of consciousness, like a never-ending nightmare, just as they were shoving his head in and out of the cubicle. It wouldn't stop. At some point, he thought it would never stop.

It was amazing how one's will, rage or despair was insufficient in a world of fantasy. It held no power against the firm grip on his hair.

The primal reflex not to drown, to stop it, to survive.

Or begging to put an end to his misery.

In the end, he'd stopped thrashing around, focusing the insignificant remnants of his energy on forcing his body to stop resisting, to let them do whatever they wanted. He would take care of the mental backlash and develop strategies so that it never happened again–but later, when the swirly ceased. 

"You're a plumber, so why don't you look inside!"

The fourth shove-out had been a bluff. Just as Luigi was trying to take air in, he was forced back inside, breathing in toilet water. Choking, gagging, drowning, his limbs flailing about desperately.

It had taken the two of them to restrain Luigi, but in the end, it had worked to keep him in. 

However much he screamed. 

It hurt. 

He'd felt a weird rub on his behind, for a split second. He couldn't know if it was accidental. He couldn't know if it was preferable for Mario to come help him or to avoid being seen in this state. 

To die was scary. To be relentlessly thrown on death's door was… 

He couldn't believe it, for an undetermined amount of time, that it had stopped. Not as a bluff. That the whole session was almost over. He felt a kick in his ribs; his diaphragm sort of cramped just as he was trying to fill his lungs with actual air.

Maybe he gets off on toilet water.

Or smelling shit . 

How long he was left prostrate on the bathroom floor, he couldn't know. He flitted in and out of consciousness, for hours, or maybe, for some feverish minutes. He hadn't looked at the time when he'd come back home later that day, hadn't been aware of the weather. 

He was wondering where he was, why he was there, when he woke up. Probably, he had been drunk and fallen over as he made way to the toilet. What a horrible dream he'd just had. But then, he became aware of the foul taste in his mouth. 

Perhaps he ought to be thankful that he vomited. It would be unhealthy to try digesting human waste. The mere idea made him retch harder. 

He couldn't believe it until a long time either, that it hadn't just been a nightmare, but reality.

There was supposed to be a tea party, yes. With Princess Daisy. And Waluigi hadn't approved of Luigi's participation. 

He wondered if the party had started yet, or if it had ended already. Regardless, he couldn't stay there. Not that he could go to the party either. He had to go home. 

Hide there, possibly forever.

He raised his head. His arms trembling, failing under him. His body cold. His face, guts and lungs soiled with toilet water.

They'd even taken care, as it seemed, to piss on his hair. He could smell it. He could see the yellow puddle on the tiles near his head.

Grabbing the sinks, he learned to walk again, blacking out every five seconds standing up or so.

Breathing.

Breathing.

Air.

He left for the main hall. 

He’d heard her voice as she was entering the castle. Thankfully. He’d hid behind a column, pale, faint, sweating profusely, attempting to breathe as soundlessly as possible. 

He couldn’t afford looking at her. Because if he saw her, then she could see him… in this state. It was a wonder she couldn’t smell him from where she stood, barely some feet away. 

If she knew, she would be disgusted to be even near him. It was bad enough that he was a plumber. Now… How could anyone think of kissing that face?

No one would want to touch him now. And he wouldn’t blame them.

Was it luck or bad omen that he never heard her mention his name for being absent at the tea party?

Everything seemed so unreal. He was surprised to feel his body moving. It was as if he didn't own it anymore. 

Her boyfriend? he thought, as he saw himself pussyfooting to the east wing of the castle, searching for the flooded basements. Never. Who was he kidding? She better not bother, and he better not hope. 

He saw his body plunging into the water, surprised that he could still do that. 

The next memories were scattered like a broken dream.

A man running through the sunny fields. The shadow of a human laying on a lake's beach by twilight. A flower woman sitting next to him. Looking at his shoes, then a house in front of him, that must have been his but felt all wrong, alien, dangerous, like an old-forgotten haunted house. Losing balance on a bed, reaching where he could not fall any farther, the world swaying back and forth violently, ridiculously.

Perhaps, if he stayed above, he could find timeless peace; because of that, no one would try to wake him up. They'd understand, that…

It was new reality. 

When he woke up on the parquet, he felt his lips moving, soundless, in auto-mode. Driven by a stronger force. He couldn't understand how this force was his own. It would sooner be a ghost or a demon possessing him, or his brain misfiring. He teared up, whining. He was losing control and couldn't endure the unending, senseless stimuli.

How could a princess ever marry a boy who got victimized on a daily basis? 

Non-sequitur, he'd babbled to the void, or perhaps to the red sun beyond…

He wouldn’t be able to protect her. She’d have to do the protecting. 

But then, it meant he’d basically put her in danger. 

The Warios would ensure that. Waluigi could want to fuck her because Luigi loved her that way. Given what they were able to do, the lengths they could go to ruin his life, it could go very bad. She shouldn’t live in fear because of a friend who couldn’t defend himself and brought problems into her life. 

Though it seemed it was already too late. It was obvious who Luigi had the hots for, and Waluigi had easily picked on the signs. 

For now, his attempts at seduction were mostly macho-embarrassing, and she was very well able to take care of it on her own. She’d been able to kick Bowser to the next galaxy once, so it wasn’t surprising. But Waluigi too had been able to beat Bowser down. He was, in Luigi’s opinion, crueler and more dangerous than King Koopa, and that was saying something. It might be a question of time before he overpowered Daisy. 

Sure, Luigi would do everything to protect her. But would he be able to save her? They might attack where he couldn’t see, or as they were restraining him–

He forced himself to breathe.

All those worries had pushed him, for both his and Daisy’s sake, to ask Princess Peach to either imprison the Warios or send them to exile. She’d refused, believing that showing compassion and otherwise ignoring their shenanigans was the best answer. And when he’d told her:

“I’m worried that they might try to do horrible things to her.”

She’d answered:

“What do you mean?"

And he was surprised that she, as a woman, as a regularly kidnapped princess, didn't know what he meant. 

He'd had to get more explicit. 

"Something very bad. Unforgivable. I…"

He was tearing up, worried to the death. 

“If they really pose a threat to Daisy," Peach said in a concerned tone, "then your brother will take care of it. Don’t you trust him?”

No. The bad, irreversible, unforgivable thing might have been done before he was asked to intervene. He was Mario's own little brother, he knew all that. His brother could not always be the hero.

"Please!..."

If he could protect her, then he’d gladly be tortured some more, both through violence and humiliation. It was okay, he could handle it. He’d just never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

The nights Daisy stayed in the kingdom, he wasn’t able to sleep.

But thankfully, oh thankfully, he’d noticed that after his demand, whenever either of the Warios were near Daisy, Peach approached her friend and kept her eye on them. They were forbidden to enter the castle while Daisy was in the kingdom. Just as a precaution.

That was why, he reckoned, the Warios had taken their revenge on him that day. Sure, they'd been able to access the castle in secret. But they couldn't approach the princess. Peach and Mario would ensure that. 

Perhaps the knowledge that Luigi had, from the shadows, protected and probably saved the princess of Sarasaland, had made it easier to bear the aftermath of the assault. It was a surprise that he could enter toilet cabinets at all. 

'I've done that to protect her. If I hadn't done anything, she might have gotten far worse. I can handle it.'

No he couldn't, and he didn't fully believe that it was worth it. The Warios had then started to take pleasure in "waiting for their friend" wherever he went, forcing Luigi to carry portal pipes for a quick and direct trip home in case of emergency. They'd started to knock on the windows of his room, enraging Mario, prompting his brother to pay a filthy greedy Magikoopa for undetectability spells on the house. He wasn't sure it was worth it.

Still, that was what a true gentleman would think, so he tried to convince himself as such. So he would never regret, regardless she didn't love him back. 

He just hoped that the day she dated an actual man, he wouldn't see it. However selfish it might seem, it hurt to think that she might never know, never thank him, for protecting her; that 'Luigi' was just another loser in her life, while a much more privileged man would get to spend the rest of his days with a princess whom a green sneeze stain had preserved at the cost of his mental health. 

He couldn't make the thought not hurt. 

Such a needy obsessed creep. 

Drip…

There was water in front of him. It was calm. Smooth, though half-sterile. 

He breathed in. 

His eyes saw again.

Those were memories he couldn't yet make sense of. He didn't know how much of it was real. He'd just known that familiar sensations had emerged as he and his brother were returning home. 

And hadn't that been an experience.

His head dipped inside the water once more.

Luigi had hastened half-way to their home, near Castletop Hill, before waiting for his brother–making sure, like the paranoid ass he was, to check that the Warios weren't following them. He'd stepped out of his hiding place (a bush), heading towards his brother. Mario had walked past him without saying a word. 

Resentment was an old friend of his. Oh, Mario was angry at him now? He hadn't been locked in the sewers just for fun. He hadn't had to endure rumors and diffamation right after spending a day or two locked up in Bowser's castle. He didn't get routinely bullied by a pair of disgusting alter egos–

"Is it true?"

Mario had halted.

"What they said. Is it true?"

His stare was so intense, Luigi avoided it.

"That's not what I meant to say."

Silence. 

Mario hadn't berated him, but Luigi knew he better not speak either. He wondered, for a moment, if Mario would have found it fair to let the Warios bully him if he weren’t his brother.

Luigi was looking at his feet when something was presented right under his eyes. A bag of groceries. He took it.

“It’s for you”, Mario specified, before walking up the mountainside on his own. 

The green plumber looked inside the bag. There was a Star blinking at him. He stared back, and followed his brother home. 

Putting the junk mask in a thigh pocket of his slacks, he scooped the Star out of the bag in sympathy. He ought to stock it in his "heart", but it would hurt, emotionally, to appropriate a gift whose value had been ruined in an instant. He, clearly, was unworthy of it now, and Mario would regret buying it. 

For this night, and perhaps the days afterwards, Luigi had lost his brother. He had the stupid urge to just throw the bag in the trash; perhaps it would make his brother feel better?

No, it'd make me feel better… for a bit. Mario would be furious.

He should have seen it coming. Mario would have learned the truth one day anyway.

How heavy the bag felt in his hand. 

Coming back home, he'd daydreamed about the aftermath of the awkward revelation. He would stop at the entrance of the house, unable to cross the threshold. Entering it would feel like coming uninvited at a friend's house, like blasphemy. He would 'know' not to enter. And before he'd ask his older brother if he could enter or if he'd prefer it if his brother slept at an inn or something, Mario would beckon him into the house. Luigi would try to explain.

"They…" 

They called me Bowser's bitch.  

He wouldn't be able to say that, because it hurt too much. It was so, so humiliating…

"They…" 

He just wouldn't be able to. To say it, was to make it real; it was to make it matter. 

He would start crying uncontrollably, hugging the side of the doorframe, hanging onto it. After all, he'd been called a sissy, a faggot, a tranny, a femboy, a castrati , and now it had happened, and it would only get worse…

Mario would drop everything to hug his little brother, as Luigi explained he'd been in fact accusing the Toads of implying that Peach was Bowser's bitch. 

And Mario would forgive him. 

None of that was going to happen, of course. 

Luigi had the irrepressible desire to explain himself, but he also knew what was coming if he tried to tell the full story. He should suck it up for being called Bowser's bitch; if he wasn't a bitch, then he shouldn't care about being called one. So why had he reacted at all? Did he feel… called out? 

(His head jerked to the side as he fought the flashbacks of him and Ludwig on the same bed.)

They were just pranks, he’d always been told. It was for a laugh. He shouldn’t have blown this out of proportion. He shouldn't have escalated. He should have been the better man. He shouldn't have used the name of the princess to salvage his own reputation. He should have cared enough for Peach to shut his mouth and sacrifice, if needed, a bit of his dignity, so that such insults were not spread. 

Because for Peach, it was a different story. She was sweet, kind-hearted, pure, and an actual woman. Plus, she was of royal status. In other words, she, as a princess, had it harder than him. Not only that, but to insult the princess was to insult the whole country. Thus, her name shouldn't ever be used in such degrading ways, least of all for Luigi to save his own image. Words had meaning. Words could hurt. He was expected to protect her at all costs, not the other way around, and it was normal, wasn’t it? She was of greater worth than a blue-collar servant who wouldn't ever become her husband anyway. 

Luigi had certainly never forgotten those times Toadsworth would yell at him and his brother for failing to protect the princess. “A disgrace”, he’d been called. 

"He was just out of his mind, Luigi!” Toadbert had told him as he was weeping in a remote corner of the gardens. “He wasn’t really thinking it!"

"You're too sensitive," his brother had later added. As if he could do anything about it. He'd always been like that. He'd never managed to change.

In the very real world, out of his reverie, Luigi had crossed the door of the Mario house. However much he'd tried to suppress his childish, cliché false hopes, it hurt to see that what he'd dreamed about never came close to becoming reality. Nothing inside him broke down as he stepped through the threshold. He didn't have the bravery to say anything. He didn't break down in tears so that Mario would stop what he was doing and hug him out of pity and some remnants of brotherly love. All he knew was the fear of spending an awful night outside his room, of annoying Mario with his tantrums and humiliating himself some more as his older bro either ignored him or shot him down with insults. And that was more than enough to make him shut up. 

Perhaps he ought to feel grateful and relieved that Mario had decided to break the spiked wristbands and collar he'd been wearing all day with a bolt cutter and a minutious application of Firebrand. Though Luigi couldn't help feeling extremely anxious and uncomfortable. Really, he could have done it himself…

Skipping dinner–or rather, avoiding his brother till he left the house for the party that was sure to happen tonight–Luigi had decided to take a bath. But he wasn't sure it was a good idea anymore, given how long he remained there, poisoned with all sorts of memories. 

He should have used perfume salt if he was going to stay so long. Plus the blinding light reflecting on the white, polished surfaces hurt . Going to the bathroom was not a soothing experience because of that. Sure, he could turn it off and relax under the light of the sunset, thanks to the tiny window at the end of the room, but it wouldn't provide enough luminosity, and he was shit-scared of the dark. Not to mention, he didn't want to risk slipping and cracking his skull against the ceramic corner as he tried to enter the bath again. It had been months that he'd planned to upgrade their bathroom light system so they'd have at least the option to choose low intensity. And instead of getting to work, he was wasting his days away on the bed…

Then again, that wasn't so surprising. So many hours, so many days, he had spent lost in what felt like existential crises. There was nothing, indeed, to expect in the future, and wasn't that a perfect excuse to laze around. Although all the signs had been there since the beginning, it was only a few months ago that he could fully admit it to himself, in some sort of twisted confidence: his life was wasted. 

It was weird, but he had this mental image of a dysfunctional machine breaking apart the more it was pushed forward, its lights flickering, its metallic wires screeching painfully, like nails on a board. The machine, of course, was him. Soon enough, the only thing he'd be able to do, would be to self-sustain, draining on his brother's ressources like a parasite,  until either Mario or himself finally decided that it was best to get rid of the trash. Maybe Mario would smuggle him under a pillow or something.

So then, why did he keep going? 

Hiding in a rat's hole was hardly worth it. Objectively, nothing could save him, not even the greatest hero of the Mushroom Kingdom. Hiding, trying to be a hero too, nothing helped. He was fucked both ways. And in the meantime, he suffered. The only answer he'd gotten was that the universe wouldn't allow him to live or die in peace. It'd rather have him rotting away .

There was a reason he'd been locked in the sewers. Had he seriously thought a Yoshi mom would ask him to save her baby? Stupid. Naive. As always.

Sometimes though, he preferred the familiar mental turmoil over feeling… devoid of meaning. A pointless existence clutching on borrowed time. It was both comforting and anxiety-inducing to think that he would really die one day, that perhaps his very soul would cease to exist, and that nothing would have mattered in the end. He wouldn't even be aware of it. He wouldn't be , he wouldn't be a "he" anymore. Just… a corpse, dust, anonymous atoms. Mario, Mochi, Puppy, perhaps they would make him "live" through their memories. But then, they too would be gone. 

Yes, it was kinda scary. To know that he was born without prospects. That nothing he accomplished mattered. He saw himself as a kid, in his bedroom, in the classrooms, in the corridors, the apartment, in the streets, on the buildings. Then he was observing an adult who didn't feel like an adult, his accidental discovery of the Mushroom World; Mario's life blooming into success, becoming a legend, across the whole universe, forever and ever. There'd be tales to remember him by till the end of times. And then, looking a bit closer, he saw that green dude trembling, cowering away, going into haunted mansions and pissing himself for nothing. Trying to have fun during parties, races and sport events. Coming back home, hoping, hoping; coming to the inevitable realization a decade later. His life would come and go, and nothing would be accomplished. The world would forget about him. In fact, it would rejoice in getting rid of him. A party might be thrown, heh. 

So, why was he still there? Why was he wasting water, food, air, space? He knew it would destroy Mario if he were gone first, but if he were honest, he didn't know if he could keep staying alive for his brother's sake. 

Why was he born at all? Cliché, he knew, but that was just a fact: His life was a succession of failure and misery. A fucking joke. Super Mario didn't need a brother. He could go on in life without a lame, defective copy of him. When the egg that was to become Mario had been conceived, a spermatozoide had entered a second egg, released by mistake. That bothersome sperm cell shouldn't have bothered, and now its descendants paid the price of its greed. What if Luigi had been stillborn? Aborted? What if the stork and magikoopas had dropped him to his death as an infant? Mario couldn't mourn a baby sibling he never knew, it would hardly be a loss. Oh, he was supposed to have a twin but it died in the womb? Welp, that happened. C'est la vie. No use crying over spilt milk. A bit of a shame, he could have spent some hours playing with a twin, but so many people didn't have a twin and were all fine. As for Mario, he had his own friends. Plus it was for the best for that baby to have died early. If it couldn't survive its first few hours on its own, then "saving" it was to condemn it to a life of pain and assistance. Natural selection was a good thing, you shouldn't get in its way. 

He thought of parents aborting out of love, wanting to spare their baby a life that wasn't worth it, a world where it would be born misfit. If Luigi had known what his choices were, between survival or unbirth, he'd have been grateful to choose the latter. Death before getting self-aware. 

He was sorry to make Mario so unhappy. Luigi saw it everyday. His needy, useless, worthless baby of a brother was poisoning his life. It would need pruning. 

He looked at his hands, his arms, his body. Why was it still there? He had come to understand that some people didn't have the privilege of living, and that, if they weren't aborted or killed sooner, then they should try their best to finish the job. Or else. 

He'd tried to run from it. From the shadow of his hanging self. Convincing himself that it was just a warning of what would happen if he lost Mario; some sort of cruel mockery from the undead. Heh. Hopeless idiot. It was the universe reminding him what he would one day come to do. 

Luigi had entered life with a fake ticket. It didn't matter if he hadn't asked to be born. He knew the only way out. Such a shame he was too weak and stupid to go through it.

…

He was happy no one was hearing him having an inner tantrum of self-pity. They'd have told him to shut it up already and some whining. Truth was, sometimes it helped. Sometimes, like today, he was just… assessing the situation. Even if it mentally ruined him.

Oh. 

The mask. 

He hadn't noticed it was floating on his lap, poking on his lower belly. He had washed it, coming home. He'd laid it on the sink when off to bathe, before taking it with him. To admire his new "gift", perhaps.

He wiped his silent tears with wet, wrinkled palms, for all the good it did. 

To be fair, he wasn't sure it was a mask, as there were neither straps nor holes to hold it onto someone's face. There wasn't any nose hole either for that matter (not that it would make much of a difference considering his own abnormally large nose). But if it was made for decorative purposes, then it sure was beautifully sculpted. It wasn't a cheap plastic mask one could find in random shops; it was made of wood and metal. There were thin, dark, artistic cracks running through it, stripes of various shades of green, a metal bar screwed from the forehead to the nose area and an L in a circle engraved on the top (not unlike his own L cap, Luigi thought, it was as though the mask had been fabricated with him in mind). The upper corners were slightly pointed, giving the impression of horns. What he found most well done were the eyes, hexagonal hollows and convex slitted holes in the middle, as well as the mysterious mouth. It was mysterious because, a bit like the Mona Lisa, he couldn't pinpoint its expression. Mischievous? Faint? Smug? Tired? 

It was a wonder that such an object could have been lost in the streets long enough to be flushed down the drains, without anyone stealing it or dumping it in the trash. It must have cost a lot to manufacture. Luigi was suspecting that the mask hadn't been dropped on the streets. Either someone had hidden it down a gutter, or a careless idiot had lost it when walking through the sewers, or it had come from somewhere else. The castle; another part of the kingdom. A broken warp pipe. Perhaps it was the freak collector side of him, or the lasting consequence of having lived in precarity for years, but…

To think that it had been left there to rot for so long… It made him angry. 

So he was glad to have found the mask and taken it home. It was his little pity gift of the day. His found treasure. Which he liked a lot. It wasn't much, but… he'd learned to love second-hand shops, donations, lost and abandoned items in the streets, and the habit still remained as a multimillionaire. (Funny how life worked.)

It was neat, he realized. He felt better just looking at his found mask. It had helped, it seemed, to save him from his lost, confused thoughts. His "defective locked state", where he lost awareness of present reality but still felt . There'd been Puppy, sometimes, trying to ground him back to Earth. Sometimes it worked, sometimes the licks, the insistence and the worry only made it worse. He hoped she was having a good time, playing with Gooigi and the ghosts in his mansions. He hadn't been able to take care of her anymore. He'd said he was giving her vacations in the mansions to spare her the heat of the Mushroom Kingdom, and that after summer, he would come for her; yet there was that back-thought that he'd always push the reunion date until, surely, they realized he wasn't fit for her, that he wasn't responsible nor in a healthy state to care for a dog, and they decided she was better off living with Gooigi and the ghosts forever. And she would have to, one day, when the human passed away and she was left on her own to search for a new best friend. 

So to think that a mask he'd found in the sewers could snatch him out of his pessimistic thoughts, even for a few minutes, where his dog and his brother had failed… that was… nice. Yes, nice and neat.

Perhaps it had been a bit idiotic to put a wooden mask in the bath water though. Yes, it had survived days in the sewers, but he couldn't risk deteriorating it any further. 

He laid the Mask on the pile of towels near the bath, summoning the megre mental energy left inside him to unclog the drain and shower the soiled water off him. In a minute, he was out, drying his hair and feet with a towel then wrapping it round his waist. He'd forgotten to bring Y-fronts when off to bathe. 

Then, he got caught in the sight of his reflection in the mirror… and stared.

Were Luigi less used to the sight, the gradual degradation of his expression, he would have qualified his face as sickly pale . His pupils lacked a glare, rendering them almost soulless, although he felt very much, painfully alive, and the rim of his eyes were of a fever-pink shine. Regardless of the number of times per day he subconsciously smoothed his mustache between his fingers, its strands were out of place. He was rubbing his upper lip self-consciously before he was aware of it. 

No matter what his brother said, he just saw an ugly face. It was jarring, for a so-called "pretty boy", to be so negligent with his daily grooming. Especially when in royal company. 

But there was one thing that brightened his mood when looking in the mirror: a bruise swelling on his forehead. Oddly fascinated and satisfied, he touched it, measuring its size, testing its consistency, scaling the pain. Such a shame it hadn't prevented him from thinking this night, and that he'd have to either hide it from Mario or lie to be left in peace. Still, he was glad to find he'd done a good job . Perhaps the mind-numbing effects would start tomorrow.

Snatching his eyes off the mirror, he powered off the heater, stuck the bathroom door wide open to evacuate the steam, dried off the mask and held it against his chest as he was padding to his bedroom upstairs. He laid it on the bed and almost felt shy when removing the towel, putting on a fresh pair of underwear.

Very quickly though, he grabbed the towel back and hid his body with it. That mask had talked , he remembered. Stupid. Utterly stupid. Ooow FUCK–

"H-Hello?" he stuttered. 

Did he want the mask to answer or not? To know that it had seen him naked, bathed with him , or to realize that he'd just had some weird hallucinations back in the sewers after screwing up with his brain? 

Or perhaps the mask had talked like a power-up, a semi-sentient… thing, neither object nor being, that didn't care about one's secrets and only reacted when the user was being evil against it. In that case, there was no need to be so prude. But first, he had to make sure…

"Is there someone in there?" 

No answer.

Had he picked up the right object? He was clumsy and slow to understand, perhaps he'd taken the wrong thing and the person that had called him was still stuck in the sewers. Wouldn't that be awkward… But the voice had thanked him, when he'd touched the mask… so unless that person was clumsy too, this was the true thing. 

Maybe it was asleep or didn't want to talk so as not to make Luigi feel embarassed. Maybe it was a power-up or an enchanted thing. Maybe they'd fainted. Whatever the reason, it remained as silent as ever. 

Luigi sighed. His calls, his voice, were echoing in quick successions in his head. Just imagining what he looked like from the outside, calling for someone in the green mask… humiliating. They'd have called him touched in the head. Or lonely. So very lonely. 

Well, at least, he got a well-crafted toy, and no one had been there to see him naked in the house. Thanks god the curtains were closed too. 

…He put on a pair of beach shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt for good measure. 

Luigi wasn't usually the type to wear beach shorts outside of an actual beach, but his other shorts left him sweaty. It was still scorchingly hot outside, these days, and he tended to get drenched in sweat easily in-between the sheets. Not that Luigi was going to sleep right then. He had difficulties falling asleep so soon (it was only 10 pm or so), and he knew what would happen if he waited in his bed for too long. It was dangerous to remain alone with his thoughts. He considered wanking to relax, but he wasn't in the mood at all, and the more he'd try, the more it would hurt. Besides, he would wake up an hour later. After-nut was strong but short-lived, and he wasn't in for a fitful sleep, spent in wanking and simulating pleasure he didn't feel. 

It didn't help that he could feel the memories of the Warios still at bay, waiting for a moment of weakness to ruin him once more. This night would be a night of insomnia. He didn't get nightmares, for some reason, not often anyway. But he did wake up in the middle of the night, at his most mentally vulnerable, sometimes nauseous with anxiety, sometimes possessed by a destructive rage; assaulted, relentlessly, by painful thoughts. Those were the "nightmares'' he had to fear. 

Tonight, he was too afraid to go to bed: he could feel the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, readying him against an attack, warning him not to sleep so soon unless he was absolutely sure he wouldn't wake up till late in the next day (so sweaty he'd beg Mario never came in the room). He would have to remain awake. Maybe he could finish his movie tonight? Yeah, why not. He might as well fill his head with dreams and nonsense to pass the time. Read a story. Play video games. Listen to music for hours on end. Where was his phone? He must have left it in the bathroom, so he walked there. 

There was no need though. He found it on his nightstand, where he'd absentmindedly left it while waiting for Mario to leave before going to the bathroom…

The phone was damaged. 

Right. He'd forgotten about that. Fuck. 

It was cowardly, he knew, but he did not want to test and see how broken his phone was. Whether he'd only need to replace the screen, or if the hardware itself was crushed. If he could, or could not, save its memory. No; instead, he hid it in a drawer of his nightstand. He'd take care of it later.

Welp. He had no phone now. 

But he had a bag waiting for him, the one Mario had (regrettably) gifted him. Stupidly, naively, Luigi hoped (just a tiny little bit) that Mario had had the presence of mind to buy him a new phone. Of course, nothing resembled a phone among the items he pulled out and laid on the bed. 

There was the star, which he'd stuffed back inside the bag when preparing the bath. This time, Luigi pressed it on his chest, locking it inside him. It would be ready for the next emergency. 

Next, there was a little box with the drawing of a yellow flower. As usual, it took a lot of concentration to make out the words. "St John’s Wort. 300 mg, 90 capsules," it read. Written on the box was: “1 cap morning + 1 noon + 1 evening, for one month.”

Medication? He wasn't sick–oh. To make him feel better? Hmph. Visibly, his brother was getting desperate. Luigi had tried phytotherapy, some time ago. It didn't work, and he wasn't gullible anymore to get a placebo effect. The stress always won in the end. Mario was wasting his money. Besides, Luigi was too… lazy, to take medication three times a day for a month. He'd forget to take a capsule, break the schedule, and he would be too disturbed by that mishap to keep on the new routine; he'd simply give up. He knew how his brain worked enough to expect failure. 

He stuffed the box in the second drawer of the nightstand. He'd take it, one day, maybe, once Mario started to press him about it. Though Mario would probably forget the St John's Wort by the time he and Luigi talked to each other again. Hopefully he'd forget.

Finally, he found food in the bag. As if they didn't have enough food in the house already. But he understood: it was Mario's way of encouraging him to eat more, because although Luigi had the impression of eating all day, he was too lazy to get proper meals and thus was prone to fainting in the streets. Not that Mario had bought him a prepared meal either, he knew Luigi could rarely stomach them. He'd bought him… fast food. Well, they worked well to be addictive and prompt one to eat. Useful, really, after such a shitty week that ruined his appetite. 

Just opening the paper bag made way for a delicious, mouth-watering aroma to reach his nostrils. Luigi breathed it in, so that it awakened his empty stomach. Okay, Mario won. Tonight, his bro would eat. 

The memory of the earlier altercation triggered a lump in his throat but, shaking his head, he realized that Mario would be angrier to see his troubled brother wasting food than him feasting after the disaster that just occurred. And, now that he thought of it, since he had the house all to himself for tonight, he could eat on the table rather than on the side of the bed. 

Down in the main room, he laid the package on the kitchen table and searched for a drink in the cupboard and the fridge. Water was nice but made him nauseous when eating fatty food. He almost took his lactose-free milk, but he wouldn't be able to stomach that with the salt and grease of the fast food, would he? He'd need soda, but none of the bottles he found in the stocks was fresh, and he didn't want to feel like drinking over-sugary, flavored water. He settled for orange juice. There was his muesli waiting for him in case he found himself still hungry after the meal–he'd probably munch on it in the middle of the night, as he often did on those times he couldn't sleep. 

He sat at the table and sighed, opening the paper bag fully and picking out the meal. Two burgers, two cups of french fries, two cups of potato chips and two cups of red mushrooms (at this point, Luigi suspected Mario had originally wanted to dine with him), two little glass bottles of bubble tea (guess he wouldn't need the orange juice after all) and a single lemon tartlet. Obviously, Mario had skipped his own pastry. He was trying to cut down on sugar since he was already eating cakes at the castle and suspected these were the reasons he'd gained some pounds. 

Luigi lost himself at the sight of the single tartlet, resentment churning at his guts. Before he'd decided to lurk in his room and eat on his own, Mario subjected his brother to the "little problem" talk nearly every day, as if he could do anything about it; and while Luigi did not want to be mean, he'd found himself irritated that Mario could not see that there was more than cake sugar that mattered in terms of weight. Did Mario want to get help? If not, did he have to make his younger brother worried sick about his diet? Could they even do anything about that extra weight, when running, jumping and fighting thousands of hours a year could not get rid of it? Did he realize how uncomfortable Luigi got everytime they talked about diet and food, not knowing whether he should try to help and risk being shot down for making Mario's weight a problem, or let him do his stuff and still get the food talk? How guilty he felt every time he ate, knowing his brother envied how he could never get fat? How angry he got to know that Mario was worrying over nothing, as being chubby only added to the fans' mania over their in-the-flesh superhero, while Luigi suffered the other end of the weight spectrum and the unpopularity on top of that? He’d been sorry for Mario, but then he had enough. 

It did not help that, despite repeated complaints, Mario always made those disgusting sounds while eating that made Luigi want to crack his skull and tear his face off. Or blast his ears with music so loud he'd go deaf. It was torture . Even thinking about them made him crack his knuckles on the table and arch his neck painfully. Once, he'd bitten through his lip and had fantasies of severely poisoning his brother, of breaking his jaw, drowning him or shoving his head into an upward knife on the kitchen table. By this point though, he'd started to weep loudly. He was only thankful that after this weird episode, his brother had started to warn him when he was going to eat, so Luigi could flee inside his room and protect his brain with his heavier headphones and slightly less tortuous, loud music on an hour-long loop. He'd have to find a new, functioning phone quickly though, if he did not want to have another meltdown against his brother. He could also move to his own home, which he was increasingly considering. Despite his "training" plan, he could not seem to get used to the sounds; in fact, it only seemed to get worse. He was living in a constant state of pain and fear, at home and outside. It just sucked to have to move out for such a stupid issue that he could not explain and that made him look like a whimsical, tantrum-prone misanthrope. An ugly-looking one too, when he was fighting to survive the brain assaults. 

So it was the one redeeming quality of the day that Mario had left the house for the upcoming party, and that this time, he wasn't forcing Luigi to come along. He'd also given up the meal, preferring to dine on a whole feast with Peach and his friends at the castle rather than him , so now Luigi could help himself with his left-over.

It was good, Luigi thought, forcing himself to swallow down the food against the initial block. Quickly enough, he was salivating and wolfing down the double little meal. There were  red mushrooms too, mushrooms that were not power-ups and that grew in the MK's countryside in trippy-looking forests. Finally, he settled for a Shast'Ice, which had become their survival drink during particularly hot summers and trips to deserts or volcano-scorched lands, before they'd gotten used to them. 

He stood up and opened a window, welcoming the cooling air and observing the gently swaying trees. It was just his luck, then, that he heard the echo of an explosion. Luigi stepped out of the house, looking at the source, towards the castle. He saw the towers and the spires from miles afar, ink-black against the star-filled night sky, the bright moon and some clouds traveling like packs of fresh, wet smoke. Then, he saw the fireworks. Pink, green, red and golden, the sound reaching the Corn Hills a few seconds afterwards, untampered, amplified by the vast plains of the Mushroom Kingdom.

What he felt, assisting to the celebration on his own and so far away... it would be difficult to describe. A dull, deep kind of ache and a strange longing. He was perfectly aware, however, of how the sight–what it meant, what it was for and at whose expense–triggered fantasies of making himself vomit all he'd just had for dinner. He wasn’t really seeing the fireworks after that, though each explosion drew him back to Earth momentarily, the Earth that felt like a nightmare. Eventually, he managed to force himself back home, to close everything: door, window, curtains. Soon enough, he was sitting on his bed, staring into emptiness–or rather, blinded with his own thoughts.

Over there, Mario, his date and the Toads were having a 5-star royal feast, and here he’d been eating a bunch of burgers and fries, alone in a house they could not see. Puppy was having fun at the mansions, with Gooigi, E.Gadd, the Boos and the ghosts. Mochi was probably partying with her friends overboard. He was…

Well, could he really complain about being "left behind"? This was all he could tolerate now. This was all he'd been allowed, and to go to the party now would be a disaster. He'd craved to attend parties for so long but had become allergic to them. He couldn't have a good time among so many people, in such settings. It had been painful, to learn how to cope with being lonely by force. After a while, he'd become mostly numb to that pain and had ceased dreaming about having friends, when searching for friends meant exposing himself to bullies, abusers, betrayals and failed attempts with lasting consequences. Sometimes though, he regretted all the things he would never experience. He'd chosen solitude when loneliness had become his home and, ironically, his best protector. But that loneliness was like a chronic disease, and coupled with the mockery he received…

He wished he had the balls to go buy a pack of cigarettes or weed to dumb his brain, numb himself for a good night's sleep and endure the night. Or maybe he needed a drink. No, lots of alcohol. To forget about everything. To forget everything up to the first bottle. Who knew, alcohol might help him sleep better. They said alcohol was bad for one's brain. Well, he'd be counting on it. He'd lose himself, perhaps, he'd end up in even more misery, but at least he wouldn't be too aware of it. It was a shame they didn't keep alcohol at home, except for birthday parties, or else he could have smuggled some without Mario's immediate notice. Oh well, he always had his secret hiding place and an even more secret hiding place to stock some bottles in… He'd have to buy the bottles in the real world though. Couldn't risk anyone in the kingdom gossiping about the Green L ruining himself in alcohol. Not yet. Not before he'd even started. 

But he knew the real reason he hadn't bought those bottles. He was a coward, and spineless, and riddled with social awkwardness. He couldn't use the excuse he was buying alcohol for friends and family, they'd read right through him, like an open book. Often he reasoned that one more guy buying alcohol in which to drown the rest of his sanity wouldn't surprise anyone. And yet, the few times he'd been in some supermarkets, he'd stared at the bottles, read their names, prices and alcohol percentage, but never had dared to even pick one. To die with alcohol was a long process and Mario would stop him. Luigi, first of all, would have to see himself slowly die in a pathetic state, at least in the beginning, and he couldn't bear that, apparently. Everybody would see him deteriorate, and not only would it be humiliating, but… he couldn't give them too much satisfaction over having successfully broken him, could he? 

Once more, the vivid memories of the Warios–of what they'd done to him over the years–assaulted his brain. He loathed them. The unfairness of it all disgusted him. Rage coursed through his veins as he imagined that the Warios were probably having fun in that party too, stuffing themselves with delicacies they didn't deserve, eating Luigi's share , thanks to dozens of threats and gratuitous attacks that warded him away. 

That rage, however, quickly faded to despair. He reminded himself once more: he was helpless against them, and not even Mario could make a difference. Life sucked like that. 

There was always that hopeful, little naive voice in his head: Would they change for the better if they got the same treatment they gave him? What was he waiting for? And everytime he needed to remind himself: No, it wouldn’t make a difference. Were they to face consequences, they'd double down on him, to punish him and to force him to ask whoever was bothering them to give them better treatments so they would stop attacking him so viciously. He was their hostage, wherever he was . Besides, they were currently facing hardly any consequences for picking on him, so unless they were thrown in jail, nothing was really useful. If Bowser could get away with kidnapping the princess, trying to kill the Bros and imprisoning the inhabitants in ?-blocks, then the Warios certainly wouldn't face any meaningful repercussions. And if he tried to retaliate, and succeeded, for once? With his brother? Well, next time, instead of force-feeding him live crickets, they could shove spiders or maggots down his throat. For revenge, for a change, for more fun.

As long as he existed, they would pick on him. He was their punching ball for whenever they felt like it, and especially when it served to let them vent some daily-life frustration. He was their obsession, and now that Luigi had learned to fear their appearance at every fucking corner of the Mushroom world as well as to daydream of countless ways he could make them pay, he was obsessed with them too. 

The one way he was relatively sure would work to stop them was to either cripple or kill them, once and for all. But he wasn't sure it would work. The other way out, of course, was to yeet himself off this planet, if he was able to, one day–and pray that the Warios wouldn't follow him there. 

In other words, he was fucked .

It was just then that he noticed his thoughts were going on a loop. Didn't he have the same reflections earlier today, in Bowser's castle, on the way home and in the bath? Not to mention, the preceding days, before Mario had gotten the great idea to force him on an afternoon tea at the castle, and look where it had gotten him!…

He had enough! 

Clutching his head, clawing at his unkempt hair, he said it once again: He had enough.

He’d ripped out the third fistful of hair–or maybe the fourth, he wasn’t really aware of what he was doing–when a horrible shiver shook him from head to toe, as if someone had just poured cold water all over him. 

Someone had laughed right next to him, right inside his left ear. Someone was in his room with him.

Luigi was on his feet, trembling almost imperceptibly, not knowing if he’d better take a weapon as quickly as possible, at the risk of being attacked immediately, or if he should play the fawning game. He'd heard 'What are you waiting for', but he had been so sure, at first, that it'd been his own inner voice that he hadn't questioned it. It had taken him way too long to process it, to realize that this voice was alien. Now, his mind was racing with the smartest thing to say in this situation, as danger lay where he could not see.

Who were they? The Warios? Some Toad “pranksters”? Bowser's minions? Something else entirely? How did they come in, when and why? What did they want to do with him?

"Where are you?" was his question.

Silence. An oppressing presence. Someone watching him where he couldn't see them coming. His ears, now incredibly sensitive, were scanning for any sound like breathing or a heartbeat other than his own. His muscles were tense, ready to spring into action, and his vision was like a tunnel, something he knew he would later remember like a fever dream. If there was a “later”, that is.

"I am armed,” Luigi said in a overly-controlled voice, which was only half a lie considering he could activate the Star at any moment. He was considering doing it as soon as he located the danger, before it struck, nevermind that Stars should be used as sparsely as possible. “If you show yourself, slowly, I might not hurt you. We can settle down calmly and… avoid an unnecessary confrontation."

He was begging for them not to attack. It was so obvious.

"I will act in self-defense if you attack me,” he added. That, too, was not a lie: he could kill them, in fact, if proven necessary. Oh, why hadn't he followed Mario's training too?

He felt so exposed. The enemy could come from anywhere. Were they watching him from the windows? Were they near the door? Inside his cupboard? Under his bed? Right behind him, moving as he fearfully scanned the room? Were they a ghost with the magical ability to bypass the protections of this house and find him there? He begged for them not to be a ghost, he didn't have his Poltergust right now, nor Puppy. Perhaps he really should take his other weapons in the drawer… but that'd take too much time and it might provoke the enemy… prompting them to pounce on him…

So slow, so careful, so sure that his current attempts at approaching the nightstand could be the last one. Finally, oh finally, he was standing next to it, his heart beating in his ears. It was suicide, but also his best bet, to try and retrieve his Soul Snatcher from the mid-drawer. He risked a look there–and as a shriek of pure terror got stuck in his throat, he could feel his blood rushing down.

There was a face on the nightstand, grinning, all wrong. The eyes were fixed on him, so intensely that Luigi knew… they were alive.

It was the Mask.

He was petrified. 

. . . __ __ __ . . . 

Luigi knew not what to do or think for the eternity he spent looking back at the face. His entire body was screaming DANGER , and he felt so Darwin Award-worthy stupid, standing there doing nothing, yet he could not look away. He could not afford to either. He was not a child anymore, looking away from the thing that scared him in the hope that suddenly, because he could not see it, it had ceased to exist. More than the sight, it was the presence of that other living being in his room, so close , that was wrecking him. But then, something in the expression of the Mask changed, as if it had stretched its human features in unnatural ways. A little moan of despair managed to force through Luigi’s throat. “ Avid ”, though he could not explain it, was the first word that came to mind. 

He wanted to cry . It was, if anything, a miracle that he had not fainted yet.

A green light. Somehow, it was a caress on his head, and when he next opened his eyes, the Mask’s features had softened greatly. Now it looked less alive, less focused on him, almost indifferent. Almost… harmless. 

True. The Mask had called for help, hadn’t it? And Luigi’d saved it. “Grateful.” The Mask, however casual it wanted to appear, bore the expression of gratitude. “Thank you”. He remembered the words, how soft and weak they’d sounded. It was stupid, to think that after saving the thing from sewage water , it would–that it could , in its current state, attack and overcome him. He’d called the Mask to answer, and it had been unable to. Now, it was stuck, unmoving, on a nightstand. Unless he intentionally put it on his face and waited for something to happen, then he was safe, and Luigi was too much of a paranoid fuck to try it on, so that was settled. He’d have to learn how to stop worrying over nothing, one day, to stop blowing things out of proportion, for the sake of his own mental health.

His last error was to look away.

A forced sedative trance, he thought, inspecting the entrance to his bedroom while something slapped on the back of his head. He’d always had a weakness for mind attacks. It was just his luck that this snake of a mask knew the ways of the human mind. 

That night, he discovered that there were worse ways to die. 

As his hand reached to grasp whatever lay on his hair, he felt three cold tendrils stretching rapidly towards the front of his face, sliding over his sideburns. His hand grasped nothing but a hard object that became rubbery by the second. The last thing he saw as he turned around was an empty bedroom and a nightstand devoid of mask. And then, as the tendrils knotted and enlarged, he could see no more. 

Locked from the outside world. 

Like before, his body froze, but this time, Luigi fought through that helpless state at once. His arms shaking terribly, he lay his fingers on top of the thing encasing his head. Instead of the outlines of his face, he only found a thick and smooth surface. He tried to tear the Mask away. It was no use. 

Not like that. He couldn't die like that. Not because of a stupid cursed mask that he found in the sewers and suffocated him to death. He'd wanted to die peacefully or in battle alongside his brother. Instead they'd find him dead in his room with his head caked in green rubber.

After the shock, panic struck. From deep within his petrified body, emerged a noise that quickly rose into a blood-curdling scream, although it was muffled behind the alien substance. 

"GET OFF MEEEE!!! "

Frantically, he tried ripping the mask off. He clawed at the back of his head, where the thing was twisting and turning, but soon enough, he was clawing at his own skin. The moment he realized that the mask must have delved under his skull, was when he knew he was fighting a lost battle. 

He was a dead man. But what else could he do than try ripping the thing off?

“ MARIO!!! ” he howled like never before. It was pathetic, because that too was engulfed by the mask. It was terribly foolish, it was a human habit, to hope for his big brother to hear and come save him from his own mistakes. 

Soon enough, the alien face was part of his own skin. He had no face anymore, but the mask had a new one–eyes, mouth–a mouth opening in a grin, so that Luigi could feel its teeth for a fraction of a second.

For whatever good it did, he tried to call for Mario again. Except he had no mouth anymore: the green mask had stolen his face. He could not see, nor hear, nor speak or breathe. He could do nothing about it.

He stumbled and fell on the ground–or so Luigi assumed, as he could not feel his legs anymore. Overwhelming instinct told him the obvious: he was dying. He was losing control of his body, losing his mind… losing himself.

Luigi felt the voice coming before he heard it in his head.

"Hold still and it won't hurt. I might even make it pleasant for you."

No , part of him begged, god please no . Another reasoned: Which one did he prefer? Pain or pleasure? And honestly, what could he do about it anyway? 

Helplessness. He wanted it to cease. He wanted to die right now, so he could escape the fear and avoid the pain. It was ironic then, that he was clutching on his life. If only he’d had the guts to end the job sooner, the mask would be rotting in the sewers, and he would have been spared from this. 

The mask was shivering. There was a flash of neon green, and then, he could see again. He could not speak though, he could not control his own face. He was locked-in, forced to endure what the accursed mask would do with his body. It spoke again, a loud, distorted, constantly mutating voice, as if it were undecided on which one to settle on. 

“You want to… die?”

It had promised to spare him from pain and even make it “pleasurable”. What Luigi got instead was his head being split open . Or so it must be. He was too incoherent to decide, or truly care, how to describe that kind of agony. He just knew he wanted it to stop. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to feel. If he had to die, then let it be quick. 

He was flailing about his room, bumping into the furniture. Why wasn’t his brain shutting down, when it was getting fried? In his delirium, Luigi had the flashing image of his own head being scissored by the mask’s tendril, his brain melting, his eyeballs falling out. 

"Is that what you want?"

He is screaming, he thinks–but he cannot hear anything else than this intense, horrific sound, like an alarm coupled with a jet plane, and in the background a loud pounding noise that he was convinced was his own panicking heart. It triggered every danger signal in his body but he could not take the mask off, his head was trapped inside it–the sound was excruciating, it ought to have split his skull open long ago. The pain, the fear, the throbbing blood, the panic and the crushing force of the mask, forcefully pulling his lips backwards, showing his teeth in a maniacal snarl–it was too much for a human to endure. “Traumatic head injuries”, the alien part of his mind came up with.

"Is that what you want?"

There was almost like a looming presence just out of his field of vision. Drowning in the ever-feeling of doom, he was convinced after a moment that it was either the owner of the mask, or Death, or the Devil itself coming for him. Luigi screamed, screeched and sobbed till a hand choked him; something in his throat snapped, and he was silenced.

“You don’t want to be a hero? You just want to end it?”

He was in a place he couldn't recognize and he could not for the life of him remember if someone had taken him away. Everything felt wrong. The world was dark blue and black, but the light of the moon was turquoise then pink then green and yellow, while a glow of red was tracking the presence just above his eyes–and despite all his will he could not look up as he'd lost the command of his eyes.

“These are fake desires.”

Vertigo hit. He grasped something–a chair leg, his bed–to avoid falling inside his own body. But his fingers eventually slipped–the thing inside the room having forced his fingers away. He fell on the floor, but where he should have crashed, he only fell deeper, below it, in increasingly slow-motion, to the end of the world.

_________

Peach if paved, with kingdom saved.

Frowning. Did he have to wake up?

Hurrah to Mario, our only hero.

His eyelids lifted lazily. He loved Mario, he knew. But there was rage, all-consuming rage boiling inside him, rage that would destroy him if he did not let it go. 

He was at the bottom of a sea, floating, like a fetus in a woman’s belly. There were currents, soft lights, there was life down there. There were memories, that he’d suppressed, that he’d attempted to erase, to no avail. The dam had broken, and he could see them rushing past him, spiraling upwards. Though he could not see their content, per say, he was reminded of their existence, and that was enough.

He turned his head to the right, and saw a familiar scene. Wario and Waluigi laughing, as if the most ridiculous thing wasn’t the pig snout sitting in the middle of their faces. At his left, he saw–oh, it had been so long, but he would never be able to forget–Matthew, Kevin, James and Justin–Zach and Christopher, and his girlfriend “pretty-nails Jessica”. He recognized the others, “tribes” watching him, savage pleasure in their eyes. Darkened tall figures on the sides, facing away, indifferent, unfazed. Luigi looked away once more. There was nothing visible in front of him, except for a weird outline. He knew there were people there, people so terrible, it seemed, that his heart started racing. He breathed the water in, struggling to swim up and reach the surface. It was a futile attempt: hands grabbed his ankles, fingers digging in his skin, and he was dragged underground mercilessly. The sand closed upon him, and light was no more.

This ends your trip, of a long friendship.

When he next opened his eyes, he could only see a screen of bright light with multicolor bits, an “organized” TV white noise. He knew the purpose of this dream, what he'd come for. Everything made sense, but he was unable, it seemed, to get free. Instead, fractals were stretching before him.

Someone came forward. She felt intimately familiar, though Luigi was certain they had never met each other before. She spoke in a foreign language, though it did not matter, as they were, in truth, speaking in languages of the souls.

"Are you? Are you?"

"Where I was nothing but hallucinations."

"Who are you?"

"The 475th, and all the others."

He was saying something, he was meaning another. But in this plane of existence, there was no need for meaning in the words. He could share his heart, and everyone would understand. Even if he, before coming here, would have been unable to understand himself. 

He saw traces of multiple presences. He talked, more and more, uncontrollably, knowing he was revealing the secrets of his heart. That was okay though. His secrets would remain trapped here as surely as he would himself. 

The light flickered as though a lamp was on the verge of extinguishing. At last, they understood. The woman reached out her hand. He took it. When she pulled, his skeleton was forced out. He was aware his body had followed, but what he saw was that his body was still where his soul remained.

"You lost my mind. Please, don’t forget it."

"That's right…" the woman answered dispassionately. "Well, I have to start somewhere, right?"

He wasn't listening though. His head had the extreme urge to turn to the left and extend his neck as much as possible, looking somewhere above, opening his eyes very wide.

The world was mutating, time was spinning, he could see it with his soul. Commutating around him, and it was about to touch his body; if it did, he would get older, rot, and die. But when he opened his eyes, everything stilled. Trapped by Schrodinger's box. Quantum, continuum. Words that he didn't know. And yet, he understood everything .

He'd just have to accept they lived in a very weird world, whose rules were not fixed, but ever-changing.

Could it follow his will? They felt parallel to each other. 

Reality. 

He heard, from above, a thunder roar. Ghidorah was there, it had always been there, sleeping within. He stretched his hand upwards, but reality was unreachable. By stretching his hand above, he had stretched it further into the abyss. Upside was downside. Opposites were the same.

He was aware of something pleasant coursing through his mind. It was unwanted, unexpected, unwelcomed. Alien. It persisted nonetheless.

He looked down. The Mask was sleeping on his hands. It split open, the green light almost blinding, engulfing him in a portal.

The Mask was the door to true freedom.

There was no use forestalling the moment he'd come through the doors, because they were coming after him. He stepped forward, resigned. They rushed past him with surprising force, as unstoppable as a roaring high-speed train. The world shook, and he was showered with bright passion. 

He cried out.

…and lost the fight. 

—

End Notes:

• *Looks at the first chapter's total word count* WHAT IS THIS.
• I don't have writer's block. I have writer's traffic jam. 
• I hope you don’t mind how… explicitly dangerous the Mask reveals to be here. I hope I’ll manage to pull off the next impression I want to give about it next… 
• No, I did not take drugs when writing this fic. Luigi's mind is playing tricks on him, and the Mask is forcing him into some sort of (bad) trip. 
• In my fic, and as shown in the Mario universe, you can breathe in water. The subtlety is that not all of them are breathable: salt water is harmful, and toilet water shouldn’t be tested.
• Whenever I think of the swirly, I think of Mahou Shoujo Site ep 1 as well as a scene from a deleted, non-Mario fanfiction. One of my favs too…
• It was weird, but he had this mental image of a dysfunctional machine breaking apart the more it was pushed forward, its lights flickering, its metallic wires squeaking painfully. The machine, of course, was him. // For some reason, it makes me think of Soma.
• Luigi says he's slow to understand; he's half-wrong. He has difficulties understanding oral instructions. It doesn't help that he's very anxious around people. 
• As a reminder, the Mario from TLP's M&L the Mask once wondered if his Luigi had gone to kill himself; at least, it was hinted at: "It looked like a tornado hit the place and I was worried you were going to do something stupid."
• Kudos to the artist here (@NelliesNest_official on Instagram apparently?) (can't find the original post). Somehow it’s funny to me. Like Luigi pulled the ultimate prank on his bro.
• Luigi's beach shorts? Pick either one.
• To imagine the pain Luigi endures when hearing someone eating, hmm… let's say, you're getting brain-raped. Or if we go with more accessible feelings, imagine someone scraping their nails on a board for hours, and getting emotional damage from that on top of the sensory pain. 
• “Corn Hills” because “Acorn Plains → Acorn Hills → ‘Corn Hills”.
• Not described because we are looking through Luigi’s pov, but know that when the Mask shone green, his pupils became so obscenely dilated, his eyes looked almost entirely black. They’re meant to look scary on their own. I can not find satisfactory examples, but these may give an idea of what I imagine Luigi’s eyes right then: 1 and 2.
• Luigi’s outburst as the Mask also makes me think of Mahou Shoujo Site ep 1. If this is real… then please… get me out of this hell!
• Remember that scene from The Matrix? 
• The Mask becoming part of Luigi's back head, his brain, thus rewiring and mutating it as it grows strong again… I like the alternate visual it gives in their "relationship". Really emphasizes the horror that the Mask is, doesn't it? Here are two examples to show what you could see if you were in Luigi's room, witnessing the transformation: 1 and 2. Only, remember that Luigi's actual face is hidden under a thick green rubber, until the monster face travels through his head and re-emerges at the front.
• Luigi was having one hell of a bad trip. His fear, coupled with the Mask's hallucinations and the pain from the mind-breaking, resulted in this.
• He is screaming, he thinks–but he cannot hear anything else than this intense, horrific sound, like an alarm coupled with a jet plane, and in the background a loud pounding noise that he was convinced was his own panicking heart — the sound.
• The memory of the chant during Luigi's mindrape comes from the secret ending of Mario Bros The Lost Levels.
• Music moments before Luigi's consciousness blacks out: Stairway to the Fifth, Made in Abyss Movie and/or Shinsu, Tower of God. Kevin Penkin is a music genius.

Mild spoilers:

• If you wish, I can explain the memories in the comments, notably the "flower woman" part
• A bit of explanation on St John's Wort and Luigi's reflection: he tried herbal remedies, which would be the UK equivalent of D-Stress, Euphytose, Phytostress, etc. It didn't work because his symptoms were too severe, and because I believe that plants like chamomile or lavender are pretty ineffective as medication, that they mostly work as placebo (or to give a calming taste to tea). St John's Wort is a bit of an exception. It is a herbal remedy, but it can fight moderate depression, the downside being its side-effects and incompatibilities with other kinds of medication (and perhaps alcohol, I don't remember). St John's Wort is special in my fic, because it is the first medicine that effectively fought my depressive symptoms as a teen. I was not the same person after that. Would St John's Wort have cured Luigi? Far from it, but it would have alleviated his symptoms significantly. It would also have convinced Mario that Luigi needed actual, professional treatment. He would even have thought, mistakingly, that all Luigi needed was a bit of a boost thanks to medication and everything would be back into place. Of course, it would have been far from enough… but it would have been a start. As for Luigi, he'd have started to believe that a different life was possible. Maybe he'd have jumped on medication like an alcoholic on his bottles, an addict on his drugs… or a miserable man on the Mask. 
• Luigi has lots of painful, repetitive thoughts because the Mask is trying to find his desires, fears and weaknesses. It's clever of the Mask, because anyone would think Luigi is just having PTSD-flashbacks and negative ruminations.
• The reason it is so hard for the Mask to take hold of Luigi is because 1) it hasn’t used its powers for around a millenia so it needs a bit of warming-up, 2) the intensity of Luigi’s hidden inner world is devastating. The Mask has to resort to other ways to take hold of him, which are far less elegant. On the other hand, the Mask was a bit over-excited with the possibility of getting freed and starting symbiosis with a wearer again.
• There is another reason that drove the Mask not to simply let go. See ~25 chapters later. 
• Luigi's last mind cry isn't just one of pain. 
• Masked Luigi, in this “primal” form, is pure nightmare fuel. During most of his quest, Luigi’s head and part of his neck are completely encased in the Mask, giving him the appearance of a green-headed Slenderman. Luigi is zombified, the Mask acting like a mind-controlling parasite. The more the Mask takes hold of his psyche, the more it allows to manipulate his face. The most terrifying instance of that sight happens as he is pinning Waluigi down and the Mask cracks open, particularly at the area of Luigi’s mouth and eyes, while hollering at Waluigi’s face (a vivid green light shining from some cracks, while one eye is blooded). Masked Luigi sounded at once like an other-wordly siren and a human wail, and damn, he looked so horrifying. At the end of the first night, he looks a lot like Springtrap but sounds like the Thing (in the Waluigi Punishment, yells like at 0:56). Not only that, but Waluigi genuinely thought there was a corpse inside the Mask and that he was going to die the same way, so he legitimately pissed himself. And then, unspeakable things were done to them. No wonder the Warios are traumatized for life. Luigi would be too if he’d lived through it.
• Masked Luigi took so much time exacting his revenge on his most important enemies that Toamas (TLP’s Toadlop) was spared (as were many others, really). It also took a lot of energy for an already exhausted Mask to control Luigi. But when it returned to bed, it knew that it was only a matter of time before the others got their share of punishment too. The dam was broken and the Mask expects Luigi to try and find some help in it. How could a human being resist the temptation?
• I’ll leave you the rest of the way the events unfolded that night up to your imagination.

Chapter Text

It was a night of vengeance, a night of mayhem, a night of terror.

A night of good, clean, fun.

The Mask, issue #3

The very beginning of this late morning was very good. For a while, all the things that usually plagued him were gone. It was like waking up on those rare Wednesday mornings, as a child, where nearly everything was going well. At least, compared with later years. He was drifting in peace, half conscious, fully in control, floating between alertness and sleep. 

It was such a good start, in fact, that Luigi's first instinct, when he decided to wake up, had been to sneak a hand downward and take care of his morning wood. Oh, it had been so long , and it felt… amazing . He was out for a few more minutes. 

Of course, all good things had an end. Reality set in, and the familiar worries crept back. 

He absolutely needed a shower, and he could not miss out of the congealed liquid in his lower area and on his hand either. So much for paper towels, he'd have to clean the sheets. Probably the entire bed, judging by the amount of sweat he was drenched in. He dearly hoped his brother would not come in here.

Trapped in a painful fog, the plumber sat on the side of the bed and waited for the dizziness to abate. He tried, in the meantime, to know if Mario was in the house, or if he'd gone for his routinary parkour. He heard nothing–no footstep, no voice, no click or tap on the computer in his brother's room, no cutlery or plates being washed. He could hear a few strange voices, but he deduced, by experience, that his brother must have left the TV on when leaving the house. Idiot, Mario should know by now that his brother didn't like TV, and certainly not letting it on when no one was watching it. At least he knew big bro had come home not too long ago–

Oh. 

It had taken a while, because of his morning headache, to remember that he and Mario were not on good terms since yesterday. That meant he would have to avoid him as much as possible, and watch out for any sign he was at home. 

Luigi was now strongly considering moving out to the little house E.Gadd had gifted him. He should pack up as soon as possible. It was the cowardly way out, he knew, but he just wasn't up to a round of hostility from his big brother. Life was hellish enough, he didn't need additional stress right where he was supposed to recover. 

Now he knew why his head was in such misery. Sadness hangover. His eyes felt slightly swollen, his throat had become the new Dry Dry Desert overnight, his head was throbbing stupidly hard… yesterday had been too much. 

He pulled off his blue tank top, and oh god, it was to be dumped in the laundry basket right now. Then, he was off to shower, finger-brushing the left side of his stache out of stress.

No one was home, no one burst out of the door when he padded like a thief to the bathroom. He was only grateful that the memories of yesterday were not harassing him in the bath. Whenever he attempted to remember, all he could get were hazy general facts, like knowing that he'd been rescued, that he'd gone to the castle, had landed in the sewers and that the evening had been absolute shit, but all the details were lost in a void. What he'd gone through must have been really bad for his brain to block everything out. It was a little sad; nonetheless, he welcomed the effects. It was freeing. If it was the only way he could keep going on, then so be it. 

It was on lighter feet that he stepped out of the bathroom and found himself face to face with the exact person he was attempting to avoid. 

Mario sprung forward immediately–Luigi had the sudden thought that he wanted to slap him and raised an arm to block the blow–but all he got was a big head on his chest and arms trapping his body in a hug. He almost fell backward under the force of Mario's leap, and he sneaked a hand on his side to keep his bath towel well in place. 

"Have I missed something," Luigi half-asked in his usual monotonous voice, as the hug went on for a whole minute. Mario pulled out, though his hands remained on his brother's shoulders. He seemed to hesitate before settling on: 

"Where were you?"

What?

"The other night. I couldn't find you anywhere. You didn't answer my calls, you–well, okay, your phone was broken, but still–"

He didn't want to remember that. 

"I had this hunch , you know…" and Mario really looked at him, as if Luigi ought to understand something deeper, "that something bad was happening to you…”

Oh! Yes. The 'hunch'. Luigi nodded to show he’d understood. It seemed to have been some sort of test–Mario was satisfied with the answer and carried on.

“So… I tried calling you, and when you wouldn't answer…" He dropped his arms to the sides. "I bolted out of the castle and flew as fast as I could. I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I heard that, yes."

"Then where were you?"

"Uh…"

He guessed that if Mario was asking him where he was, then he couldn't have been sleeping in his room yesterday night, though how he could have then awakened on his bed if that was the case, he couldn't tell. On the other hand, it was also his luck that he'd spent the last thirty minutes attempting, without really trying, to remember what had happened yesterday, only to meet a wall of fog and the dread of actually remembering horrible things. What was curious, was that… 

“You said, the other night?”

“Yeah. The day before yesterday. You slept all of yesterday. You don’t know how relieved I was to see you there…”

Oh wow. He did have sleep issues, but usually he’d wake up intermittently, wasting his time on the bed with small pauses to the bathroom or the kitchen. 

“Uhh… maybe I was really tired.”

“Maybe?” Mario prompted, a crease emerging between his eyebrows. Luigi shrugged. “You don’t remember?” his bro continued.

“Well… yes? A bit? I don’t know… I’m so tired all the time. And you know I’m still having these memory issues…” Luigi frowned, still uneasy. He didn’t want to interact with his brother, and he was only clad with a towel…

"What's that on your forehead?"

"What?"

Mario raised his fingers to his own forehead, indicating the front. Luigi did the same, and he found it–a solid swell that hurt like a bruise when touched. 

That was weird… He remembered having his ribs crushed when Bowser kidnapped him a few days ago, but he hadn’t been hit on the head… Had he–

Oh, no. Welp, Mario had seen it. It was a long time habit to hit his own skull, for various reasons, and he delighted in leaving an overt trace of his miserable state or what he considered the proof of “the contract”, but he did make an effort to hide it from his brother ever since that day Luigi had been a little too trusting. He guessed he couldn't blame his big bro for having freaked out and lowkey shouted at him to stop or else – Mario had his own stuff to deal with and he was probably unprepared to handle these sorts of things – but what it had definitely taught Luigi, was not to stop, but to never tell, and hide it. 

It was very convenient, then, that Mario himself did the job of finding an excuse for that bruise.

"I hate to say this, bro… but I think someone knocked you out." 

Luigi didn't know if he wanted that to have been the case. But wait–why did he suspect someone had–

"Knocked me out? Why?"

It was then that he noticed–his brother seemed very pale. 

"D'you not remember anything that happened?”

Luigi was taken aback. 

"Please, you're scaring me enough already. And why d’you think someone knocked me out?” he grumbled, walking away, trying to keep his towel above his hips. That way, Mario wouldn’t stare at the bruise too much, and Luigi would stop feeling so self-conscious. His brother followed suit, walking up the stairs as well. He tightened his towel more.

"The other night, when I was looking for you…” His big brother explained. “I found six guys–Bowser's Koopa Troopas. Right outside the garden. From what I gathered, they were trying to kidnap you again, but they couldn't find their way through the barrier. They couldn't even see it…"

Luigi entered his bedroom, closing the door until there was only a gap to talk through without breaching his privacy too much.

“And you think they’re the ones who knocked me out?” he continued, putting on new summer clothes. Mario did not answer immediately.

“No. Not them . But that proves someone’s after you.”

Luigi raised his eyebrows.

“Bowser again? Wait–why do you think I was attacked if those Troopas couldn’t even get past the barrier? They’re not the ones who supposedly attacked me, you just told me you don’t think that’s what happened,  so why do you think those Troopas have anything to do with–whatever happened yesterday night–I mean, the other night? How is that proving that someone was after me?”

“I have a few ideas… Though… I don’t think Bowser’s the one behind your kidnapping.”

What was Mario talking about? This was giving him anxiety butterflies in his stomach.

“Something else happened the same night,” his brother continued. “I reckon you haven’t watched the news yet, huh?”

"...Nnnno? I don't watch the news, and I only woke up two hours ago, you can't expect me to watch TV at that hour." And by the way, you left the TV on while you were away, ya idiot. "Why should I watch them? What happened?”

A few seconds of silence before Mario told him:

“Come downstairs. They’ll explain it better than me. It’s everywhere: on the TV, on the web, on the newspapers… They keep talking about it.”

“About what?” Luigi was starting to get really impatient. “Spit it out, bro. What happened?”

“Come downstairs and you’ll see.”

Uuuurrrgh. Stupid big brother… Oh well. Socks, or no socks? Eh, no socks for today, it was still swelteringly hot. He opened the window, just so he could remove the smell of sweat from his room, and walked out the door. Mario let him pass. He walked so fast, he stumbled loudly on the stairs and nearly tripped.

Where did that energy come from? He felt so… light! He could hop towards the couch. He didn’t, trading it for an enthusiastic scampering. He sat down, searched for the remote, and switched up the TV. 

“So,” Luigi asked as he waited for the right channel to load. “Those Troopas… How did they manage to come so close to the house?"

"I reckon they saw me flying here and so they followed me,” his brother answered, having sat on the armrest. “Not to worry, I knocked them out proper. After a bit of interrogation, to assess the situation… since I thought they had something to do with your disappearance. They won't be trying anything funny anytime soon."

Oh. An angry Mario. A very angry Mario. It would be enough to make Bowser piss himself. He'd bet his life on it that the Koopas were currently begging for any way to drop out of their service. 

The TV loaded at the end of a weather forecast, which Luigi could summarize as “hot, hot and hotter”. The MKTV  made their announcement and…

“A day has passed since the attack and yet no decisive progress was made. No one knows who might be behind the rampage that occurred on the night of the royal banquet, right outside the castle. Detectives Pitahaya and Trompette are still searching the crime scene and all around the town, for any clue that would lead to our culprit.”

The screen switched to a low-angle shot of the sun-bright castle, the grounds surrounding the place, then to a mass of guards surrounding a Yoshi who, judging by the fact they were inspecting every corner and cranny of the castle, appeared to be one of the detectives. 

“Thus far," the journalist continued, "they can only rely on the recordings of a few cameras. A call for evidence was launched, as the detectives will need more to uncover the truth of what truly happened that night.”

The news gave a recording of an old-fashioned Toad – surely the other detective – giving a press conference under a stand, not far off the castle. "The images are inconclusive –" the recording cut, "we ask anyone who might recognize that person, or anyone who has witnessed something strange lately, to report to us as quickly as possible."

A capture of the culprit was displayed. The culprit… It was hardly distinguishable. The camera had been in a greenish night mode, but also defective, as there was a lot of interference. There was… a face? Maybe? A bright light that he assumed was reflecting from an eye… and nothing else noteworthy. Not even the borders of the head could be seen. The only thing this capture could confirm was that a creepy individual had roamed in the town. No telling if it was a Toad, a Goomba, a Yoshi, a Koopa, a Penguin, a Human, a Luma… well, at least it was unlikely to be a Cheep Cheep. 

"As of today,” the journalist said, “we ask everyone to be very careful, as the assaulter might still roam among us.”

Hehehe.

“So far, there haven't been any new victims, thank heavens. Unfortunately for the victims of the attack, Misters Wario and Waluigi,” she stated while the unmistakable portraits were displayed on the screen, “they have undergone unsuccessful attempts at healing…”

Whiteout. 

A loud ringing sound.

Had he… had he heard this right?

What? 

What did they mean ?

“...still fighting for their lives at Penicillia Care Center–”

That can’t have been them, they must be showing the suspects, not the victims–

“...octors are faced with a unique case of Mushroom-resistant traumas. Some of our colleagues report sayings of doctors assessing the risk of the spreading of a new disease that could have afflicted them while they were assaulted, while others suggest a new kind of powerful magic has struck them.”

"What?" Luigi could not help himself. "They're… They're…"

"A mailman saw them hanging on the highest pole of the castle,” Mario said. “He warned the guards, and Toadbert called me, while I was searching for you. I saw Wario and Waluigi hanging there. They were unrecognizable. If not for their caps…” 

From the corner of his eyes, Luigi saw him crossing his arms and squaring his shoulders.

“You know I’m not one to get easily grossed out,” Mario said, clearing his throat, “but I can tell that what happened to them was – real savage. But the worst was that," he raised his hand in the journalist's direction, "Shrooms didn’t work on them. That’s quite uncommon.”

Luigi looked up to his big brother, not knowing what to say, or how to react. So, after a few seconds of staring, waiting in case Mario wanted to add anything else, he paid attention to the TV again.

The news didn't show the state the Warios were found in, not even them being transported to a hospital. Only the ruby-red pole where they were found, profile photos of the “brothers”, the hospital, the two detectives involved in the case, and the Warios’ house, whose entrance was blocked by yellow “DO NOT CROSS” tape. 

A crime scene. A crime had happened there, against them, yesterday – no, the night before that.

It was so unreal. Their “neighbors”, people they knew, Wario and Waluigi … had, just a day and a half ago, been attacked by a criminal that was still on the loose. Why had this happened? What force of the universe had made this happen now ? He couldn’t comprehend any of this situation…

The journalist continued: 

“We have tried to interview Super Mario–”

It was a reflex. Frustration. A hint of rage. The plumber knew what was coming, and he already had enough.

“...sadly, he seemed too occupied with the issue at hand to give us the time to answer our questions.”

“Not that we can blame him, Helmling!” said another journalist, a male Toad. “He seems to be taking the situation very seriously.”

“And speaking of which: Could this mean the Mushroom Kingdom is in danger? Could it be that our entire world is at risk, with this new threat arising, and Mario immediately jumping on the case?”

They pulled that narrative device on TV every time. It was grating on his nerves. What a great way to remember why he didn’t watch TV.

“Well, if you ask my opinion, Mario’s reaction is both a warning and a reassurance! If there is a threat, then he is on it! And in that case, he will protect us from whomever, or whatever , befell his nemeses. Just as he has always done.”

The simpering smiles. Were this a sitcom, they’d be laughing like idiots. It wasn’t so far off a sitcom either.

His brother kept saying he was too negative, but Luigi couldn’t help it. He hated those journalists.

"...Why them?” he asked Mario, trying to ignore the TV now that he had the information he wanted. “Why were they attacked? D’you know?"

Even now, Luigi couldn’t stomach saying their names.

"No idea," Mario answered. "Trompette and a few guards have gone to their house, as you saw, it was a wreck… but they found nothing that could – say – explain if there was a settling of scores, of sorts. Maybe someone gratuitously attacked them… maybe it was an enraged creature…”

Luigi stared some more at the TV, without caring about what was being said. He almost felt sorry for the Warios. He could never have expected this. But what disturbed him the most was…

…the feeling of elation that he was currently basking in. 

He couldn't admit it to his brother, not right now anyway, but… it was as though one of his deepest wishes had come true. After so many years… Hadn't he always wished for someone to make them – the Warios – pay for what they'd done? To ensure they could never reach him anymore? And now that they were at the hospital, they wouldn't be able to do anything to him, not even to vent their frustration. If they tried, sick and hurt as they were, Luigi would easily be able to defend himself. 

It was very conflicting… On the one hand, the Warios had sort of gotten what they deserved. They'd stop picking on him for a good while. No need to worry too much anymore. It was liberating. It felt like justice. On the other hand, it was shameful and cruel to rejoice over the beating they'd gotten. He should be horrified and sorry for them. He forced himself to stop feeling so satisfied – at least, not to act too happy, and instead remain solemn. He should worry too. If a Shroom couldn't heal the Warios… if whatever had attacked them could bypass the power-ups…

But boy… 

Hadn't they asked for it…

No! No. What am I thinking? I shouldn't be saying that…

Once more, Luigi wasn't sure what to say. His brother, thankfully, shut the TV. Unfortunately , he redirected his full attention towards the youngest plumber, making him uncomfortable. Luigi was reminded of the subject that had initially brought them to check the news about the Warios. 

"So… you think that…" He hoped he understood his brother's point well. "Whoever did this to them must have attacked me?"

Mario nodded. Yet Luigi was skeptical. 

"W-What if it was all a coincidence?"

But Mario was shaking his head.

"It all happened on the same night. This' too convenient to be a coincidence."

It was hard to believe, Luigi internally admitted. Pensive, he started to rub his chin and twirl his mustache. 

“But–think about it, bro," he tried, looking up. "Why would it be the same guy? Whoever attacked the Warios left them in a horrible condition. If I were to believe you, this guy would then have broken into the house and knocked me on the forehead while I was sleeping, and then left. Sounds a bit silly if you ask me.”

“They’d have kidnapped you.”

“Why would they do that? They’d have gotten me home right after, why would they need to attack and kidnap me, only to leave me back home, safe and sound? Nothing was stolen either, as far as I know."

“ I don’t know , Luigi," Mario answered. He put himself between the TV and his brother, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. " Maybe that’s why we should investigate.”

Luigi's arms fell, slapping on his knees.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really . I shouldn’t be the one asking to make sure.”

Truth be told, Luigi didn't understand either why he was being so defensive and refuting his brother's hypothesis. 

“So… Are you sure ,” and Mario was stressing on each word, his eyes intensely boring into Luigi’s, as though he was attempting to X-ray his mind, “that you saw no one that night? You truly remember nothing ?”

At his brother’s insistence, Luigi took his time and thought long and hard about that night. Yes, he could remember more bits of it, though it was painful. The humiliation among the crowd, the Warios– yes , the Yoshi and the Warios tricking him, Mario getting mad and the stupid fireworks. Although he feared the pain of those memories, for his brother's sake, he spent a good while remembering what was said and done that evening when getting rescued from the sewers and being depressed in the bath. He could even remember thinking about what the Warios had done to him over the years (and suddenly, the little amount of sympathy that the TV’s report on their supposed torture had evoked in him was snuffed out like a flicker in the wind). 

Regardless, nothing came up when thinking about the last moments before falling asleep. Or, if Mario was to be believed, being kidnapped in his own room. He remembered closing his eyes, getting very tired or sleepy… and then… then… well, the usual blackout of falling asleep. Until he woke up this morning with the first proper morning wood he’d had in two months… which made him very proud. Nothing that his brother should be aware of, in any case…

“No. I remember nothing of interest."

Mario retreated and passed a hand upon his face, immediately fixing his mustache.

“Cazzo.”

Huh. 

“Don't sweat it, bro," Luigi said. "It was a pretty awful day, so if anything, I’m grateful I don’t remember too much about it." The line of his jaw stood out. "Or that I used not to…” 

A shadow appeared at the corners of Mario's mouth. His eyes were somber. 

"You know I have to make sure…" he whispered. 

"Huh. Whatever…" Luigi paused. "In any case… I do feel even better than usual.” He squirmed enthusiastically on the couch. “Surprisingly better, after what happened yesterday. I mean, the other day.”

Mario did not like it.

“Is this supposed to reassure me? This guy probably fucked up with your head and whatnot–”

“You don’t know if it’s the same guy–you’re not even sure I was attacked!”

“And the bruise on your forehead?”

Luigi gulped. Was it worth it to break out the truth?

“And the fact you’ve been sleeping all day, yesterday, and you can’t remember what happened. The hunch I had. The fact you were away and you can’t tell me why . And then, the Warios, found hanging on–”

Mario briefly looked away, crossing his arms.

“It was not a great sight, Luigi! What if it had been you on that pole?”

He almost rolled his eyes and was about to tell him to stop worrying because that didn’t happen, until…

“That night – you don’t know…!” Mario took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “You don’t know how worried I was. I’d been searching for you for hours, all night. And then I got a call and… when I answered, Toadbert told me I had to come immediately at the top of the castle, that it was an emergency, because they’d found bodies over there. I thought, for one moment… that they’d found you . Mutilated and broken. ”

Just like that, all of Luigi's defensiveness swept away. His shoulders slumped and his features grew grave, solemn. Humbled. Big brother continued: “What happened wasn’t normal. I couldn’t find you . Our link was broken all this time…! Something must have done it. I can’t let that pass. They could attack you again, Lu, at any moment. I can’t let that happen.”

There was a long silence, during which Luigi was gradually filled with love and gratitude. It wasn’t fair to let his brother worry so much. And so, he smiled.

“I’m gonna be okay, big bro. I’m still there, safe and sound. Besides, think of what that guy didn’t do to me. They trashed the Warios round, if they’d wanted to, they could have attacked me. Or, you know, caused me much more damage. But they didn’t. So either it’s not the same guy, or it was but they did nothing to me. Or, hardly anything."

"...But why?"

“Dunno. Maybe he likes me? Or maybe he took pity on me and decided to give me a break. God knows I could use one.” 

Luigi scratched the back of his head, humming. 

"Who knows, maybe I did fight them," he hypothetized, "and I won. That'd explain why I can’t really remember what happened and why I needed some rest, but am alright. Besides, now that you’ve warned me…” He bent his head forward, looking up, confident… “I’ll be prepared in case they come back.

"And to be honest, Mario…" he continued, sly, "it's possible that bruise came from when I escaped Bowser's castle, or when I fell into the sewers." The best lie was closest to the truth. "I don't remember clearly, but maybe I slipped and–you know how clumsy I can get, with my soap shoes on." He grinned bashfully. "Which would mean… that guy wouldn't even have attacked me."

He couldn't explain it, but some kind of darkened veil fell on Mario's eyes. 

"But why were you away?" Mario repeated with much less conviction. "Why did I 'hear' you calling me?"

"I… I don't know." Luigi cocked his head, then shrugged. "But everything's fine on my side. I don’t feel any pain,” he looked at both his arms, rolling his shoulders to stress the point, “I’m feeling very healthy in fact,” he blushed slightly, “and I’m not a mindless vegetable right now, so… Nothing to be concerned about."

Mario was thinking, thinking very hard about the situation at hand, and what his little brother had told him. Doubting his conclusions, assuredly. Doubting his own worries… maybe. Luigi… observed and waited. 

"Alright," big brother said. "I… As long as you're not hurt…" He looked very uneasy. "But let's stay on our guards, alright? You'll tell me if there's anything weird going on, or if you… feel the need to, al – uh…"

" Alright ," Luigi teased. 

Mario half-grinned, fixing his cap over his head.

“Want some aranchini?” he asked. 

“What? No! You know how much I dislik–”

Luigi fell silent, as his brother looked back at him and winked.

Clever Mario. 

“Spaghetti and meatballs, then?”

“Eh… just a salad. With tomatoes… cheese, pesto… and croutons. And… ice cream, if I have the stomach for it.”

“Alrighty!”

This time, it was Luigi who followed his brother’s steps. He found him checking the freezer, the salad already on the counter. 

"Mario… About what happened yesterday… I mean, the day before that…”

“Which flavor?”

“What? Oh, uh… salted caramel. No wait–lemon. So uh…” 

He shut the freezer and laid the ice cream box on the counter. 

"You know, what they said," Luigi continued, "about me calling Peach a b… bad thing? I uh… I never called her that. I swear it. It's just that…"

Oh, he fully remembered now. It was painful, almost too much. Taking in the feeling of humiliation as though he was living it the first time. But he had to brave the pain, for the sake of his brotherhood. He did not want to spend the following days in hostility, just because of a misunderstanding. Or rather, rumors that Mario bought in. So he tightened his fists, took a deep breath, and told the painful truth. He hoped his brother wouldn't find anything wrong in what he'd said…

"They were calling me… names, because Bowser had kidnapped me instead of the princess. So I threw that back at them. I asked them if they thought that the princess was–a bitch–just because she got kidnapped regularly. And then of course, they took that excuse to accuse me of blaspheming the princess. Which I didn't. It wasn't my intention at all…"

"To call her a bitch?" 

Luigi almost choked.

"...yeah."

All ingredients ready, salad and tomatoes were washed under tap water.

"Thought so."

Mario was smiling… but he never said that he'd never doubted him. Meanwhile, he was checking the salad for any inedible part, putting it in a large bowl, and starting to slice the tomatoes. 

"Who called you names?"

Luigi scoffed, walking away.

"Pretty much everyone in town. You know I'm not popular in this kingdom.” He sneered. “Are you planning to beat up all Toads?" 

"I'll ask the princess if she can do something about it."

He heard a pause in-between the slices and a rapping sound, hinting that Mario was pushing the slices of tomato into the bowl and readying another one.

"Whatever, bro,” he sighed. “It's not my first time, and it won't be the last. I'll just–"

"So you're gonna let them do what they want."

It was tiring and useless to try and change their opinions about him anyway.

And it wasn’t fair… It wasn’t fair for Mario to scold him like that. He already had it bad, it wasn’t his fault. Not anymore anyway. Luigi turned on his heels and strode back towards his brother.

"What can I do?” he exclaimed, throwing his arms upwards. “What can Peach do? People won't stop mocking me just because she asks to stop it pretty please! It's gonna make things even worse!"

Couldn’t he understand?

"She's the princess of the kingdom, and she's our friend,” Mario insisted.

URGH.

"That's what I said!"

At once, his big brother shot him a defiant look.

"Has it helped, to let them insult you like that? Has it ever helped?"

"It helps not to make things worse!"

"And clearly this is working."

"Yes! That's all we can do. It doesn't mean I won't be picked on… but there's not much to do about it anyway. If you or Peach make a fuss about it…"

Painful, flashing memories.

"You must remember that it hasn't always worked, to… try and make bullies feel ashamed of themselves… and it always made the situation worse at first… Except when we taught them a lesson the hard way, but I reckon you don't want to do that to those Toads?”

Mario wasn’t looking at him, paying attention to the third tomato he was cutting, although Luigi knew very well he was listening closely.

“So unless you actually start to beat them up everytime they mock me… they won't care. And nothing that I'll do will change it, because they'll always think you're better than me and that I'm dragging you down. That I'm just some sort of… comic relief or whatever. Nothing to be helped for. That’s life.”

It hurt. It was pathetic. He wished he never had to say that. Mario would never have to say those words. It was an old, familiar kind of bitterness that invaded his chest…

But, he guessed, he was so familiar with it, he'd learned to tame it.

Or rather, submit to it and never hope for anything better. 

False hopes and broken dreams hurt the most. 

Tomatoes done, Mario poured the cheese cubes in the salad and added some croutons, before mixing the salad loosely. 

"Look–I think she should intervene. First, because she must learn what actually happened, not just rumors, and because if people know that she's still siding with you, they'll probably stop taunting you about it! Plus imagine their faces when Peach asks them if they think that being kidnapped means you're a whore. Mamia mia, that's gonna be a sight…" 

Luigi exploded.

"Would you just listen to me! This is no joking matter!" It was rare, but the intensity of his emotions were making his cheeks flush red. " I'm the one who gets a say in this! I don't want you to make people focus on me! They won't care about what you and Peach will say! They'll only–" it was painful to think about, "they'll only see that they're getting to me! Like, yeah, they do, but there's no need to make it so public! Tell them to stop bullying me," he half-yelled, pointing a finger somewhere to his left, "and you'll cast me as a crybaby and loser !"

"You're not a loser!" his brother exclaimed, slapping the vinaigrette on the counter.

"Then stop trying to always do things your way, stop thinking I can't make decisions for myself and listen to me! Okay? That's my problem, if I want you to stay out of this, then you just leave it! I'll manage! 'Cause if you try to brute your way through it, you're gonna make my life actual hell!"

He almost regretted having said this. Mario looked hurt. He hadn't really expected to be so open about this issue either. Had he been as depressed as these last few days, he would have… tried to protest, abandoned, let Mario humiliate him, and stopped going to Toad Town altogether. He'd have fled, to put it simply. 

But there was, again, that unnerving feeling. However hurt his brother looked, Luigi almost felt proud to have vented his anger and… stood up for himself. 

"We could at least try, Weeg. They could be fined or banned from the castle or something if they insult you–"

"HAH! Like that's gonna stop them."

Now, Mario's sad look was starting to feel like a knife thrust in Luigi's chest. Unless Mario was pitying him? It must be–it made Luigi feel even more frustrated. Regardless, he sighed. He had to calm down. It wasn't fair for Mario either. His intentions were pure, he knew. 

"I guess…" he said, "I guess you could tell Peach what really happened. I didn't want to insult her, I don't want her to think that… that I did. Because that's not true. People have just been putting words in my mouth. They…” Luigi looked towards the window. “They tend to do that a lot.”

The salad was swirled one more time before the instruments were put to rest.

"Okay." At last, Mario smiled. "I'll warn her about that Yoshi that was with the Warios too. Bad gossip, and she's such a cunt. Don't look at me like that," he added with the look of someone who was unimpressed, "that's just the truth. And you know it."

A thin, guilty smile.

"Peach will want to help you out though."

Luigi's smile faded.

"Tell her… not to bother. There are things we can't help with. It's not her fault if she can't do anything about it."

Mario took a deep breath, chest puffed out, belly very round. His mustache was as sophisticated as ever. 

Mario's bright mood was contagious; Luigi reluctantly indulged in it. 

"We'll see, my bro," Mario said in a clear, almost overwhelming tone. "There must be something we can do."

Luigi retreated.

"I just wanna sleep. My head hurts."

"That's because you haven't truly eaten for almost a week."

A subtle smile on his little bro's lips.

"I'm low maintenance."

"Not now, Weeg. Salad's ready, eat up."

He decided to let Mario win today. Right now, he was only too happy he wasn’t angry or ashamed of him anymore. 

Luigi peered at the TV again, and he was unsure what to make of his current feelings. His heart was beating fast, and he felt like he could bounce all around the house. It was a pleasure to hear the Warios were finally taught a lesson.

Thank you , he whispered to whatever deity had listened to his prayers.

__________

Mario apologized for the vinaigrette – he'd been on auto mode and had poured what he usually ate, completely forgetting about the pesto. Luigi shrugged – his taste buds and stomach could tolerate acidity today. He hadn't been joking, when he'd affirmed feeling better.

That day, he was very active. He washed his sheets, his clothes, put them out to dry on the cloth line; cleaned and tidied his room, and then the rest of the house too; folded the laundry when it was done drying and put it in their cupboards; and for the pleasure of it, he prepared a nice afternoon snack as well as a full course meal for dinner, including: cake. (His brother was very pleased.) In the meantime, he listened to music from his computer and napped. For the first time in months, he was able to read two nice chapters from his beginner's grimoire, his eyes crossing only after an hour of deep concentration. He rested again outside, when the sun was low and the shadows of the nearby forest were stretching, snacking to calm his appetite before dinner. (Nevermind that wasn’t a very good habit.) Finally, he played some video games – not Mario Kart 8, since that would make him rage, but a good, soothing open-world Zelda.

No Toad, no Bowser, no Wario, no princess, no maniac to worry about.

Only his phone? He was too cowardly to do anything about it, so he asked Mario instead. His phone was returned, as good as new and, thank god, with all its data. 

“Triple protection, this time,” Mario remarked. “It relies on your own defensive stats before it gets broken. In case you’re not feeling well enough, it will rely on good ol’ magical – uhh – optimization of the protection of your phone’s case? As well as a shield infused with my own energy. Before you ask: you can still break your phone if you want to, and no Weej, I haven’t got access to your phone.”

His twin brother blinked and shrugged.

“You would only find gay porn on it.”

“I’ll leave it to you,” Mario wheezed.

“With huge, quivering cocks…” 

Luigi was paranoid enough to make a copy of the data onto his computer and a spare external drive, as well as to put an SD card in his phone and set the parameters to copy-paste an 'image' of its data onto the card two times a month. By the end of the afternoon he had headaches and nausea, but it was worth it. 

"Do I need to do all this?" Mario awkwardly asked.

"You should at least make a copy of your phone's data every month, just in case," Luigi nodded. "Just like the computer. And don't have all the copies on a single drive, because if it breaks or gets corrupted… I need water, excuse me –"

Luigi would spend the following days actually enjoying the summer, a wide brim hat to protect him from the sun and his water bottle in a pocket. He tended to their garden at the back of the house, taking some of the vegetables they’d grown while leaving the others for wildlife to feed on. He went to feed the ducks at the nearest lake, and when he was sure no one was around, he went in for a nice swim. And because it still felt amazing to this day, he took a Feather and went flying all around the house. It was fortunate that magic existed here: he could do a Link, jumping from a cloud and letting himself fall, enjoying the wind rushing against his body, before deploying his Cape and gliding away at high speed. 

Mario kept smiling at him, pleasantly surprised that his brother’s mood had improved so much and so quickly. It was too tiring for Luigi to question his own sudden mood improvement. The only thing he bothered doing was to enjoy it, faintly conscious that it would end too soon anyway. It was nice, to be able to stuff memories and worries behind a fog of unawareness, for once. 

He watched the news from time to time. Checking if the Warios were still in the hospital, and why that was. They were in a stable condition, if a long way from recovery. They were out of artificially induced coma, though still deep in dreams… or nightmares, probably. Every time, it brightened Luigi's day a bit, though it was with its load of guilt. No progress was made in the criminal investigation. 

Not even when detective Trompette knocked on the entrance door and questioned him. 

"Sorry bro," Mario said. "I meant to tell you yesterday but I forgot. He's contacted me at the castle, I've allowed him access to the house – I hope you don't mind?"

Luigi pouted at him. He didn't mind helping the detective out, the Warios would stay in the hospital regardless, he hoped – but he did mind being informed, so that he could groom himself and not be questioned in summer pajamas. 

"Could you excuse me," he said with red-hot cheeks, scuttering to the bathroom. A quick shower would do it, as he brushed his teeth under the water jet. He'd forgotten to grab new clothes, so he put his shorts on, hid his chest with the towel, and ran upstairs, catching whiffs of Mario's idiotic snickers in the background. 

Coffee cups had been served on the kitchen table where detective Trompette was sitting. Luigi's heart skipped a bit when he saw the Toad had pulled out a sheet of paper, a pen and some black device that he could recognize as… a voice recorder. That was… impressive.

"Sorry for the wait," he said, sitting down and squirming on his seat. "I wasn't expecting to host a guest."

"No need to explain," the detective said. “This is your home. I apologize for intruding."

"Y-you're not." He frowned at Mario, who was still smiling too hard behind the Toad. "I uh, how can I help you? You want to know if I know anything about the attack on…" Luigi pointed somewhere at his left with a slight movement of his head, "the uh… the Warios?"

"I would like very much," detective Trompette smoothly said. "As you must know, I am leading the case, and any bit of information can help. I think you could be a great help to this case, as a matter of fact," he noted in a slightly rumbling voice. 

Wow. He's really old-fashioned. And with a feather on his fedora hat! Proud of his job, ain't he. 

"Before we begin, I must ask if you would give your consent to have this conversation recorded, so that I can review it later, in the eventuality that I am forgetting some details. Of course, this conversation will remain confidential."

"Oh, uh…" Luigi didn't like it very much, but he shrugged. Why not? He had little to hide. "Okay."

Detective Trompette switched the recorder on, immediately presenting himself, the person who was being questioned, the current case, the location of the interview and the date. He confirmed that Luigi had given consent to be recorded, aware that it would remain confidential.

Luigi's eyes were following all his movements, his face neutral if not curious.

And so the questions started.

He watched as the Toad took some notes, checked his phone, in moments of casual and thoughtful silence. It made him feel very relaxed. Kind of in a trance… There was a nice sensation of 'pins' all over his scalp. The interview went smoother than he expected.

Until.

Trompette started to speak in a lower voice, so that Mario – who'd retreated to the desk under the stairs – couldn't hear. The detective didn't know both brothers had super hearing. Luigi didn’t tell him so.

"Now, we happen to know that… you, your brother and the Warios have a history of rivalry, even… enmity , isn't that right?"

"Yeah.” Luigi didn’t bother speaking in a lower voice. “Though everyone has an enmity with the Warios, if I may…"

"Indeed,” Trompette insisted in an even lower voice, “but between you and the Warios, it's personal ."

"Yeah, I guess…"

"We were also told that there was an incident between you and the Warios a few hours before they were attacked. They locked you down in the sewers and your brother had to rescue you.”

Luigi scoffed. ‘Rescue’ me? I wasn’t on the verge of death . He didn’t rescue me, he just… helped me out. Even though I didn’t want him to…

“Yes?” He frowned. “So what?” 

The detective stared.

“...You’re thinking I…” 

Indignation almost choked him. Some part of Luigi’s mind told him that if he exploded in anger, the detective would think it was forced and his suspicions would get stronger. So, he forced himself to remain collected. Though he had to admit, spitefully, that it was utterly stupid in this world, that to avoid being thought the culprit, you had to act the way one would expect an innocent to act, just like a criminal would think to do. And yet he was innocent! 

The green plumber ran a hand across his face and pinched the corners of his eyes.

“You’re thinking I did this. I uh… I didn’t.”

Trompette laid against the back of the chair, not quite facing him. His silence forced Luigi to develop.

“I guess I know where you’re coming from. Of course you’d think I had something to do with it. But I didn’t do anything. That wasn’t me, t’was someone else.”

“And yet,” the Toad argued, “your brother told me that you had left the house, on the precise night of the attack.”

“I was kidnapped!” Luigi called out. “Or…” Or so he says. “...I didn’t attack them!”

“Could you prove it?”

Oh! So now I have to prove I’m not guilty. Great.

“I–I guess I c… wait, you’d have seen in on the cameras, right? What about the DNA tests in their house?”

“Pardon me?”

Nevermind.

“Tests that show who was there.”

“We have tests for that indeed. Nothing was found. And it just happens that you seem very interested in other forms of magic,” he said, indicating something at Luigi’s right. 

The green grimoire.

“We are familiar with the ways criminals cover their tracks and remove evidence. However much the citizens think you are weak –”

Thank you ever so much.

“– we professionals know better. You are very skilled in magic, though until now, you rather were an adept of raw, destructive magic, like your brother.” 

Trompette placed his elbows on the table, interlaced his fingers, took his time before delivering the final blow.

“You said you… understood… why we must come to such conclusions. I thus hope you understand if you are, until contrary evidence, deemed the primary suspect."

The accused almost had no words for this.

“I…” 

“Of course, I will be waiting for such evidence to be provided…”

To prove one’s innocence…

He felt like nothing that he said would matter anyway. He wouldn’t be able to convince Trompette otherwise. He could only pray, now, that he wouldn’t be taken and preventatively put in jail. And to think that nothing of the sort had happened to the Warios, though they’d certainly committed plenty of crimes…

His nails were digging in his palms, forcing him to say something…

“Well then, take my book. See if it has anything about covering one’s tracks." 

He pushed it to the detective for good measure. Trompette took it without a second thought. He opened it, quickly reviewing the table of contents, and seeing as there was just so much to read, abandoned doing it right then. Trompette put the grimoire in his suitcase, clearly intending to review it in his office. It felt like stealing. Luigi shouldn’t have given it to him. He’d miss his book.

Nervous, he smoothed his mustache between his fingers and started bouncing his leg, without being really aware of it. The detective discreetly took his voice recorder and pointed it towards the young man like a microphone. 

“I must do this for the sake of this investigation. Could you confirm, clearly, that you have nothing to do with this case, and that you were not responsible in any way of the attack on the Warios?”

“Yes. Yes! Oh yeah I do…. confirm that I’m not – the criminal you’re searching for.”

Everything indicated that he should leave it at that. It was only – fair – that the Toad would deem him a suspect after what happened. He shouldn’t worry too much; after all, if truth and justice prevailed, nothing would happen to him. The interview had gone well so far, Trompette was professional indeed. 

But Luigi… wasn’t very wise. He was quite spiteful and… hot-headed in his own way, when he wanted. 

"Why aren't you interrogating my brother? Why isn't he a suspect too?"

Trompette huffed.

"Master Mario – he wouldn't have an incentive."

Luigi sneered.

"He would have. The Warios picked on me. That could be enough for him." He made a gesture in which he 'opened' his palms and made them face upward in a semi-insolent, shrugging attitude. "Who says he's not the one who caused this mess? You're just gonna trust him when he says he's been out searching for me all night with a Cape?" 

Trompette was trying to speak over him. Luigi didn't let him until he finished what he wanted to say. For the better or the worse.

"Who says he's not the one who trashed the Warios and put them on the castle pole to teach them a lesson?" 

"Are you accusing your brother?"

Luigi half-raised his arms, emulating the posture of someone who was being arrested.

"You're accusing me ."

"This is my job."

"I guess, but then it's also your job to consider all possibilities and put Mario on the suspect list. Not to let your assumptions or beliefs about him bias your work."

Welp, Luigi had been very impolite, telling Trompette how to do his job. But it wasn't his fault he didn't know how to be more subtle. 

"But you see,” the Toad began, joining the tip of his fingers on the table, “it doesn't… suit the character .”

Luigi wanted to laugh out loud. What a joke! 

“I have to consider everyone's personality when doing my job. Mario is – more emotionally stable –"

"Oh!! More emotionally stable, huh. "

"You shouldn't take this personally."

" More emotionally stable ," Luigi grinned bitterly, slumping on his chair. "Yes. More mature , more – I don't know, super… "

"I regret if the wording is a little crude. It wasn’t my intention to offend you."

Trompette didn't sound or look like he cared about Luigi's sensitivities, at all. The plumber was still smiling, though he was fixing a spot on the ceiling. 

“So you’re accusing me because I’m more – emotional , and sensitive , and because I’ve been on the receiving end of a dirty prank by the Warios, that's it? And because I like to expand my knowledge on magic. Like Magikoopas, I guess, but we aren't interrogating them either, huh…"

"As I said," the stupid Toad insisted, "you shouldn't take this personally."

That only made his arms fill with tenseion energy.

“Alright! But why is it okay for everyone else to learn more about magic but when I do it’s a problem?”

Trompette didn't deign to give him an answer. 

Luigi shook his hand as though he was brushing that off. 

"Bah! Whatever. That still doesn't mean Mario can't have attacked the Warios. He can be mature and emotionally stable all you want, if he's decided to teach the Warios a lesson about 'pranking' his little brother and then making it as though he was only away to 'search' for me all night long because he somehow knew I wasn't at home and this time it meant I was in danger – you guess where I'm going, I suppose?"

"I know what you mean, yes… but, you have to understand, this is just not who Mario can be –"

Luigi threw the Toad a filthy look.

"You're going to tell me, Mario's own twin brother, who he is like in real life…"

He knew he wasn't helping his case. Being difficult and – whatever, childish and tantrumy and with a fragile ego. But that wouldn't be his fault if Trompette thought that his offended reaction at being insulted made him a criminal in disguise. 

The detective insisted:

"Just because one is someone's twin brother doesn't mean they truly know him. If, for instance…"

Trompette was thinking, trying to bring up an hypothetical, bullshit scenario to conveniently suit his case. The plumber wouldn't let him have it.

"You who considers contexts and backgrounds and, surely, frequentations, maybe you could consider the fact that I've been living with him all my life and that we've gone on adventures together, where we saved each other at the risk of our own lives! Hm?"

The silence was a fiery fight. No one talked, only stared. Looking right at Trompette's eyes felt like a fucking assault, but mama be blessed, his body could scream all it wanted, Luigi wasn't going to break the stare first.

Trompette was the first one to look away and sigh in a very business-like manner. 

"I will take note of it."

He took not a single note on his paperclip. 

All this trouble… to get ignored.

Something fumed, fumed very hotly in Luigi’s chest…

The Toad’s grasp on his recorder seemed quite tight, even though his attitude seemed mostly relaxed and unimpressed. The recorder was the weapon he was casually brandishing against the green brother. 

“Please repeat your version of the story one more time.”

The hell if he cared…

“My version of the story,” Luigi hissed, “is that I am not the culprit. My… version of the story… is that they – Wario and Waluigi – played a ‘prank’ on me for laughs and giggles, and then humiliated me in front of everyone so that the Toads could have a good laugh too. They insulted me –” he didn’t want to develop that part, and his head was really starting to hurt, “so I left with my brother. I got home, Mario left for the party, I stayed at the house to have a bath, and then I ate. And because I was getting pretty depressed…” 

Luigi’s eyes got vacant when he remembered the loneliness and injustice he’d drowned in as he’d watched the fireworks pop above the castle. 

“...I went to bed. Then – and you can ask Mario about it, since you trust his word so much more than mine – I got kidnapped but was returned home in the morning with a bruise on my forehead. I slept the whole day and I couldn’t remember things straight when I woke up. I know it sounds fishy and too convenient, but it’s the truth. Mario reckons that the guy who kidnapped me is the same one who attacked the Warios, though we both don’t know why I was spared and they weren’t.”

There was no clock to slice the time, yet Luigi could hear the seconds of silence tick by.

Trompette’s next words sounded like whispered disappointment.

“There was no Toad laughing at you when your brother saved you from the sewers.”

Yeah yeah, call me insane while you’re at it.

“Anything else to add?” Trompette said. 

Luigi cocked an eyebrow.

“No.”

"We currently do not have enough evidence to incriminate you and have you placed in custody,” the Toad continued. “Though that may change if the threat level is heightened or if we deem your behavior too suspicious.”

Veiled threat…

“I said I was only doing my job, but I may have lied a little. If you were anyone else than Master Mario’s brother, I would already have called the guards to place you in custody. Your story is… unbelievable .”

…

“If that is all, I will take my leave. Please contact me if you remember anything else.”

Luigi was about to burst, though he wasn’t sure if that would be in anger or in tears. The detective was staring, inspecting the features of his face, his attitude, his reaction. Waiting to see if there was any clue that would betray the young man, any reason to have him preventively locked up. 

"Yes?"

Luigi's smile was very tight. His voice, very strained.

"Yes."

Yes… I luv being treated like a criminal because the Warios targeted me once again…

The Toad nodded sharply and tidied his stuff. Luigi didn’t bother getting up to walk him out the door. Let that Toad leave the house, knowing he wouldn’t be accepted here anymore. Trompette stepped outside and went to close the door until he noticed Mario nearby. Only then did the plumbers hear the click of the recorder being shut off.

Five minutes to ensure Trompette was not getting back.

The green brother got aware of the way his leg kept bouncing when he saw the coffee inside his cup shake. He stopped. And then, because Mario’s presence was getting a little too strong, he got up, walked back to take his book and remembered the detective had taken it, almost went for the fridge, and walked up the stairs to lock himself in his room. There, he fell on the bed, cradling a pillow against his chest, curling around it, burying half of his face in its cool, smooth, soothing texture. 

The Toad had had such an aggressive attitude. The look of a bully on his face. 

His ear perked up. He knew Mario was hesitating right behind his door, wondering if he should knock. He would just tell him to leave him alone. He needed some time for himself. To calm down. 

Luigi sighed loudly, so that if his brother could hear, he would know that his little bro wasn't crying, only tired. He needed lone time to lick his wounds. Mario heard, walking away. Those walls weren't soundproof enough, Luigi thought. That could be a problem. But at least his bro had let him be. 

There was a lot that Luigi wished he could have said to the obnoxious “detective”, attitudes he wished he’d had, so he could have defended himself better, put in question the Toad’s competence, in brilliant, spontaneous verbal jousting. It was tiring and useless, because it hadn’t happened. He’d never been the witty kind.

It sucked not to be cool.

In all fairness, Luigi wanted to know what had happened as well. If he could prove he wasn’t guilty, he would have told the detective. He hated how Trompette had made him start to doubt his own innocence. Start to question if, perhaps, he’d done it, and somehow erased those memories from his head. Or – heck – invented most of what happened…

So much for helping the investigation. He should have refused and let them deal with that shit on their own. He should have known better. There wasn’t any proper police in the Kingdom, but Trompette was still a detective out to catch someone and get his bounty. 

Who cared that Luigi suffered it, unfairly or not. It was fun. For them, he should have taken what the Warios had given him and shut up. It was only natural to punish him for whatever happened to those who brightened the crowd’s days at his expense. It was only natural that he was, once again, a target. 

He'd forgotten an important rule. That justice, truth and fairness were a luxury that could not save him on their own. He’d spoken up, trying to defend himself, to prove a point. In the end, it had been useless, if for making things even worse for himself.

He sighed.

__________

[Warnings: mention and ideation of self-harm, suicidal thoughts]

“It’s okay, Mario. You couldn’t have expected it.”

Luigi was speaking dispassionately, moving his units to the enemy AI’s city. 

“Santiago!”

“But I’m still sorry. I won’t involve you next time.”

“Meh.”

He shivered when he heard the sound of a monk converting one of his soldiers. Pause – quick, where was it – let the sirkmish–skirtmish–skichkt– s-sPearers get that fucker…

“Oh, you’re still playing that game!” Mario noticed, having peered at his computer’s screen. 

Luigi was too concentrated on giving directions to his endangered cavalier so that the spearers could kill the monk while avoiding as much damage as possible from the nearby enemy tower that his other cavaliers were taking too long to destroy. He didn’t bother showing the frustration of his brother making a comment that sounded too much like “you should move on from playing video games”. 

“Yeah…” he settled for instead.

Got you! he thought when he saw the monk fall, his cavalier, safe.

Oh no – again?! he added when another monk appeared from the fog of war and another one of his cavaliers started to be converted. The tower was so close to being destroyed, and his spearers too far…

“Argh – I’ll leave you to it,” Mario said, retreating to the sofa, “I can’t stand those monks…”

Me neither.

Maybe he could send half of the cavaliers to kill the monk quickly, they’d sustain the damage the tower gave them while killing the idiot monk… or maybe he should have half of them retreat…

“Phew!” he sighed out loud, when he got to destroy most towers and the stupid enemy monastery. He needed a pause, he was sweating.

That was the point of the game. He couldn’t think too much about the stupid detective when he had to develop his city and his army as quickly as possible before the enemy attacked. A game could last hours too. And he loved management games…

He drank a glass of soda and sighed.

Luigi knew where his bro had come from. He’d thought Trompette had come to protect his bro, to catch whoever had kidnapped him. He hadn’t thought Trompette would deem Luigi a primary suspect and then start to insult him. 

Ah… and he'd had such a nice streak of happy days… 

His headaches spiked, and he squeezed his eyes in pain.

From then on, his mood and his health fell apart.

Gone was the feeling of humiliation after Mario saved him twice in a single day. It was to be replaced with physical misery. Too quickly, he fell sicker and sicker, wondering at some point if he actually had a fever. No medication worked. And weirdly enough, he was restless, frustrated, his body wanting something he couldn’t fathom. Maybe it had been the head bashing, though he hadn’t thought going too far. He did hurt himself as some form of ritual contract – “I hurt myself, I’m due to some peace afterwards” – he needed that promise to keep going sometimes – but it hadn’t worked like this before. Usually, the physical pain would distract him from the internal one, and bashing his head convinced his brain to stop thinking so hard, so indeed, he would have some peace. The afterward self-care helped too. Never had a simple head-bashing given him a happy week before making him feverishly ill.

Maybe he should check for a doctor, if he could be getting sick from brain bruising. That was dangerous.

Didn’t you wish to die? he noted ironically. Here’s your opportunity.

Painful way to die, that was…

The nightmares appeared, which he mostly attributed to the fever. Once, he awoke with a groan, not really knowing if it was pain or something else, though it definitely felt… forced. That time, he didn’t know clearly why, but some tears had to glide down his blank face.

To distract himself, when his eyes were too puffy to look at the screen of his phone, he toyed with the green mask that rested on the bedside table. Such beautiful piece of artwork, and he liked rubbing its solid, wooden texture between his hands. Sometimes he dreamed of it too. 

The detective’s intervention, the fever, the pain, the summer heat and his usual shit mood, finally got to him. Too often, he found himself snapping at his brother or getting very irritated at small things, like milk tasting too sweet, or dust slipping inside his phone case, or a crooked, badly cut piece of bread. He found himself getting immaturely spiteful about whatever happened to the Warios, thinking that whoever had done whatever they’d done to them, had been the good method to deal with these kinds of creeps. Yes, Luigi hoped that they wouldn't attack him, his brother, Moshi, or the few other people he remotely cared about, like Peach, Yoshi, Toad or Toadette, Kong or Petey, or Mario's friends, since that would make his brother sad. Otherwise, the others could stuff it… or so he told himself. And if that so-called maniac had trashed the Warios inches to their deaths only because the two pigs had provoked them, then there wasn't any need to worry. Heck, if Luigi ever met them and they weren't truly evil, he might thank them for a good service rendered to society.

Not soon enough, the sickness eased thanks to a thunderstorm that broke the summer heat. He was outside, deeply breathing in that smell of wet country soil and grass, tasting the droplets, until rain finally started to pour with fury. God, he’d needed this. He’d taken the green mask for the occasion, wanting to know why his brain kept tingling whenever he thought about it. Why he kept having deja-vus, why he was sometimes dreaming that he’d worn that mask’s face and done something that he felt he was afraid to remember. Maybe his brain had turned his fever dreams into fake memories, with all of Trompette’s unfair accusations. Under the sickness and the slightly traumatizing experience with the detective, everything was getting foggy in his mind, as though he was losing track of time. He couldn't remember when this dream-memory of a mask was supposed to have taken place. He couldn’t even remember what had happened the days before Trompette came. He was unable to pinpoint when he’d discussed with Morton, when he’d watched Godzilla 2019, when he’d come home and told Mario he was ‘done’, when he’d eaten cake, when he’d seen a deplorable article about him in the Koopa Kronicles, when he’d been drinking from the city fountain, when he’d stood and basked in a wet storm for the last time.

Thunderstorms had such a way with him, clearing up his mind. He wasn’t the only storm-lover, but he’d met no city dwellers who weren't freaking out when lightning struck too close. Maybe that wasn’t fair to blame them for: unlike them, Luigi had mastered galvanism… with the unfortunate side-effect that he’d become a walking lightning rod (and he would forever cherish Mario’s many shrills of momentary terror that side-effect had offered him). That afternoon, the thunderstorm made him cry a bit. It was the good kind of crying. The rain was almost crying in his stead, placing its tears onto his cheeks. Luigi licked some of them out of the corner of his lips.

Mario’s footsteps on the gravel and the mud halted at his right. He was a shadow at the corner of his vision. 

“Hey Lu!” his brother started, a little louder to cover the rain, and a little closer to his ear. Luigi concentrated hard to understand what he’d say. “Toadsworth wanted me to check out some weird stuff they found in the city sewers!”

Ouch . Stupid brain.

“But I promised to help with the city’s reconstruction! Could you do it instead? Helping with the reconstruction? Just this once? I think it’ll make you feel better too!”

It wouldn’t, but Luigi gave a thumbs up nonetheless. He wasn’t even sure why, he wished, right after the fact, that he’d protested or even refused. 

His big bro patted him between the shoulder blades. He did not like the sensation of a cold, wet cloth getting slapped onto his neck skin .

“Thank you! They’ll need you at 9 a.m tomorrow in the castle! I’m getting inside now!”

Luigi stayed several minutes longer. It wouldn’t be ideal to check the sewers with that much water pouring in. But Mario was afraid of nothing, and he’d always been a fan of the frog suit…

Thunder rolled through the unbound sky. 

The clash between the cold torrents of water and the burning of his skin ought to have produced sizzling fumes. Yet the thunderstorm was far from enough. He wished the rain could dig under his skin, wash away that other sickness of his. The one that had slowly been killing him over the years. The fever and the storm left him raw.

Craving.

__________

Rick had lived tuned to the rise and fall of the sun. It was still true to this day, away from his ex-home village and now inhabiting the Kingdom’s capital. And so, he awoke early on a bright summer morning, ready to contribute to the city’s rebuild. It was a great start, he’d felt the beautiful day coming: the thunderstorm of the day before had ended on a lovely red sunset.  And so today, the temperature would finally begin to ease, thanks to the lowered pressure. Rick was tolerant of heat, but the house was not, so… he welcomed the break. Old, half a ruin, the little mushroom-shaped house on the outskirts of Toad Town had been all he could afford as a rent. Still, he mentally asserted again, it was worth it. Thanks to King Bowser’s regular wreckage of the city, he was sure to have a regular, well-paying job. Even if it wasn’t his dream to be a construction worker in the long term. 

Two weeks ago, King Bowser had struck the city. The local superhero, who also happened to be the best superhero around the world, had prevented much of the damage. Unfortunately for many, fortunately for some, there was still work to do to repair the damage. And with Bowser's immediate second assault, the castle had to be restored as well. 

In summary, lots of money to get. His current condition was only temporary. 

He poked his tongue at his reflection in the mirror. 

The only problem Rick had encountered thus far when trying to get to work was that… no one seemed willing to cooperate with him. Fair enough? No one knew him, he came from the countryside and he'd just arrived at the capital. It would take time before he made some friends. He was a bit shy as well, and he didn't have enough money yet to hang out often. It would surely come in time, he bet. Rick had met a nice guy named Morel who'd tried to introduce him to the construction team, so maybe he could meet him again later. 

It was almost 9 a.m when Rick entered the castle to get Toadsworth's instructions. Most of the minor destruction in the palace had been taken care of. There was the roof to reconstruct, probably the job that currently paid the most. When Rick met the chancellor in the throne room, he asked if he could work on it.

The others stared back at him. 

"Oh!" Toadsworth exclaimed. "My apologies, Master…"

"Katharos, Katharos Rick." 

Katharos Toad Agarick, to be exact. But he wasn’t Toad Rick anymore. That was the nice thing with being born in a region that gave the children both parents' names, and moving to another where no one knew you by your other surname. He’d tweaked his identity without anyone noticing, anyone bothering him for it or anyone insisting to call him by a name he disliked. And it had been surprisingly easy to do that!

"Yes," the old chancellor said, "Master Katharos! I am deeply sorry, for the roof's reconstruction has been halted after the tragedy that befell Masters Wario and Waluigi." He glanced towards the rafters right above him. The ceiling was very high – but maybe it wasn't far enough for the chancellor, as he bore an expression of distress. "On the roof of this very castle! Thank heavens that monster did not come down to prey on the princess as well!" Toadsworth clutched his heart in dramatic fashion. "Oh, the very thought is unbearable! My poor heart! One day, those evil beings will get the better of me…!”

Well, the chancellor was an old shroom…

“So we’ll just be doing some cleaning work then,” Rick said. 

Rick did not, in fact, do some cleaning work that day. Jobs were assigned to each one but him. He called the boss, who ignored him. The Toad did not insist too much – he could get a clue. He went to ask Toadsworth for some extra job (though it was unfortunate that he likely wouldn’t get a fee for hard work). He found that the old Toad was in no state to speak: he was currently the center of attention of two poker-faced guards and a sweet smiling nurse encouraging the old Toad to go easy. There was a bespectacled blue Toad holding a notepad and standing where Toadsworth had been, and because he looked important, Rick asked him.

“Oh! Well, let me see, let me see… Well, you could help Master Luigi carry the castle’s delivery to the orphanage on Meadowls. It is due at 10 a.m. You can wait for him here.”

“Sir,” a guard interjected, “he has already arrived. I saw him… sleeping in the East Wing.” 

“Well that’s great news!” the blue Toad said, surprised. “He usually tends to be late. Well then, Mister Katharos, you can join him there and come back to get the bag you will carry. You’ll find the East Wing behind this door, then on the third door on the right. You cannot miss it, the entrance is wide open.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Rick was gaping a bit, more excited that he would let on. Master Luigi from the legendary duo? Oh dear gods! The Mushroom Kingdom – and the world’s – finest hero after Mario. And here Rick was, casually meeting him in person barely a month after moving to the capital!

Ignoring the argument that started between a guard and the blue Toad – something about someone not getting fired after all this time because they didn’t work here – he followed the blue Toad’s directions and entered what he guessed was the East Wing, readying to meet the green-clad celebrity. 

He wondered if that was the right room; at first glance, it was deserted. The soft blue-white place was very calm, though since the palace wing was tall, wide, well kept, subtly decorated and adorned with large windows to the royal gardens, it did not bear the oppression of a dusty old home. There were streams of sunlight turning the windows off white and casting rectangles on the polished marble floor, making for an almost blinding scenery. A window had been opened, allowing for a lively breeze that carried the fresh smell of flowers and the sun’s gentle morning warmth. Listen carefully, and you could hear the chirping of the late birds, the rustling of bushes and tree leaves, and even the soft sound of someone breathing. 

The Toad walked between the pillars, searching for the body of a human. Rick couldn’t recognize him at first, though his curiosity was picked the second his eyes landed on him. The man, who had to be the youngest of the brothers, appeared quite eccentric, laying uncomfortably at the foot of a cool marble pillar, in a quiet, shadowed corner of the castle. He was wearing nothing of the usual green plumber attire. A white tank top, a black pair of shorts and ankle-high, gray trainers. No cap: all messy, curling dark hair, and a pair of sunglasses in his gloveless palm.

Rick approached and waited, expecting that the human would notice his presence. However, when it appeared the man had deeply dozed off, he decided to insist. 

“Bad night, sir?”

And sure enough, when the man startled and looked up, he could tell it was the Luigi of the Mario Bros. How exciting to meet him in the flesh! There was the unmistakable moustache – a very impressive one, though it definitely could use additional grooming – and the trademark big nose that, somehow, fitted among everything. He hadn’t expected the eyes though. Big, wide, baby-like, yes; but they weren’t the ocean blue pair he’d seen on photos of the red brother. Instead, they were a rich, stunning forest green with a brown core, reflecting the brown of his hair. He wondered what they would look like, shining in the sunlight. It was slightly unsettling how being devoid of a glare made the Toad feel like he could get sucked into the wells of darkness that were Luigi’s pupils.

Oh, but he’d really had a difficult night. There were dark bags under his eyes, the rim was slightly swollen, and they were rather pinkish. The man loudly inhaled and exhaled through his nose from being forcefully ripped from slumber. He raised his head and stared , wide-eyed, at the Toad, who took a step back. It was a rather startling sight. For several seconds, Mister Luigi blinked hard, as if making sure there really was Toad standing in front of him and it wasn’t just a remnant of his dreams. When he’d woken up enough, he gulped and straightened up.

“Hi… Yes, I had a bad night.”

His voice was deeper than Rick could have expected, gravelly like someone who was not a morning guy. 

“Sleep issues,” Mister Luigi explained, gulping. “And I’ve felt sick these days. I’m not contagious… I just have lots of headaches. Must be the heat.”

Now, that, Rick was not surprised. 

Mister Luigi had finished sitting up properly and making himself a bit more presentable. There was a brief moment of silence.

“Oh yeah, I should introduce myself. My name’s Rick. I’m honored to meet you, Master Luigi.”

“Hi, thank you” the man answered, awkwardly shaking the hand that the Toad presented him. “I'm huh… Luigi… um…"

Rick smiled, benign, as the green man's face flushed. Being quite shy himself, he could relate.

“I suppose that's Rick for Toadrick?" Mister Luigi said, to make up for that awkward moment.

“It's for Agarick .”

“ Oh . Sorry…” 

The Toad almost wanted to chuckle. Mister Luigi's face actually became the color of tomato, which he tried to hide by rubbing the sides of his nose with both his hands.

"Adding Toad before the actual name,” Rick reflected, “my parents always found that of poor taste. Imagine you were named after the fact you're human. Humanuigi."

Maybe he shouldn't have said that. That did not make the green man feel any less embarrassed. 

"But then," Rick promptly added, "you'd wonder why some guys around here are named Toad and Toadette."

That made both of them smile. Mister Luigi rubbed his arms, chilled in the marble castle. Though the way his shoulders raised on each side of his head suggested he was also trying to soothe himself from the embarrassment. Poor dude, he'd scored three awkward moments in a row.

"And my last name's Katharos. So I’m Agarick Katharos. But you can call me Rick." 

The man nodded.

“You can call me Luigi… just Luigi.”

"What's your full name, by the way?" the Toad asked, not remembering any mentions of them in the games that he'd gotten or the few newspapers that mentioned him.

"Me? Uh, Luigi Mario. And yes, my brother's full name is Mario Mario. That's why we're named the Mario Brothers, by the way, if you didn't know…"

Rick was perplexed.

"Must have been hard for Mario to have a name like that at school." 

Luigi flinched, visibly taken aback. Rick had been a bit stupid, casually talking to the man as though he was the everyday village neighbor. Oops.

"Y-yeah…” the man said, “well, he got over it."

Huh . Rick didn't want to assume too much, but Luigi's silence, the intense aura of uneasiness he radiated – coupled with his shy personality and awkwardness – made him strongly believe that school was not a subject that the superhero would like to talk about. To put it plainly… it wouldn't be hard to deduce that while Mario had gotten into some trouble, Luigi had been the one who'd gotten bullied.

If that was the case, then Rick was so sorry for the job they were required to do today. Though maybe that would be okay, since it wasn't a school and they weren't required to stay there for too long. 

After reflexively rubbing his eyes again, the man looked at him curiously, cocking his head to one side like a puppy who was paying extra attention.

“Mmh. You’re different. Not to offend you!” He blushed. “It’s just that… I don’t think I ever saw you round town...”

Yes, Rick had noticed he was standing out of the lot in this town. For one, he had legs . He was taller than every Toad he’d seen so far in Toad Town, and he’d even discovered he was almost as tall as the average Koopa. Some would say he looked like a mix between a human and a Toad. His spots were different: not the 5 regular, conventionally located, perfectly circles like they kept depicting in the news, but weird, merged round shapes located wherever they wanted, like yellow birthmarks. He was trying to ignore the looks of those ignorant city dwellers. He had a guess that people weren’t warming up to him yet for a very stupid reason, but such was life. He couldn’t get rid of his humanoid body now, could he? Besides, he only needed one good impression and no trouble to correct that problem. 

“I’ve recently moved in!” Rick said. “I come from Corncheese Valley in Corksides.”

Luigi rubbed his chin, thinking.

“I know Corksides, I think... Never heard of Corncheese Valley though.”

“Yeah, it’s just a remote village. With lots of farms and pastures. We’re not very connected to the capital.”

“Hmm.”

The slight echoes of their voices died down in the marble hallway. Rick studied the man a little more. His sly mustache, his messy curly hair and his thin, slightly angular face made him think of a ruffled fox. But what shocked him was the faint stubble he bore. 

“You know, I always thought – I never imagined you with a beard!” 

Luigi rubbed his jaw self-consciously, looking somewhere on the floor.

“Must have forgotten about it. It grows slowly, so I usually don’t have to worry about that…”

Another awkward silence. The Toad felt that Luigi was getting very uncomfortable and wanted Rick to leave him alone. Oh but, of course. He hadn’t told him yet that…

“Anyway, I came here because they told me I should find you to help you out.”

“Who?”

“The blue Toad with glasses, in the throne room.”

“...Toadbert?”

Rick shrugged, not really knowing.

“Okay…” Luigi said.

“It’s…” Rick looked at the watch on his left wrist, “9:17 a.m, we’re due at 10 a.m at the orphanage at er – Meadowls,” he repeated, hoping he’d pronounced it right, “so…”

“Excuse me? Th-the orphanage?” 

Rick had guessed right. He cringed in sympathy.

“Wait,” the Toad said, “they didn’t tell you? I thought you knew.”

Luigi shook his head.

“I’d just agreed to come here at 9 a.m because my bro… told me he’s got something important to do and he can’t do the job today.” He mumbled something afterward, but Rick didn’t press him to speak louder, guessing he wanted to keep his remark private.

“Well, we gotta fetch the bag they want us to carry,” he said. “You know where Meadowls is, I suppose?”

“Err…” Luigi’s face started to turn red yet again. Rick didn’t think he’d seen in his life a man blush so many times in a row.

“I hope it’s not too far or we’ll have to hurry… Let’s ask someone.”

Life could not be easy for the man as they were experiencing several awkward moments in a row. Even the Toad’s face started to feel hot, when Luigi stood up and apparently waited for him to lead the march. So Rick took a step forward, at the same time the man had understood he was supposed to be the one taking the lead, and they both halted brutally to let the other walk first. There were some “oopsies” and “sorries” and nervous chuckles, until Rick decided Luigi might be too shy to even ask the other Toads for the baggage and he had to be the one asking, so he should go first.

“Let’s go!” he said, chuckling.

It was impressive how tall that superhero was. He was taller than the Toads Rick had met thus far, and other creatures like Birdos, Penguins and Koopas. Though of course, there were lots of people and creatures who were taller than a human like Luigi, and other humans who were taller than him like the princesses. But it was curious how everytime Rick looked back, Luigi did not make an impressive figure, yet when he looked away, the man’s shadow seemed so imposing.

He was so aware of the shadow that he knew precisely when Luigi stopped following him. 

“D’you think… D’you think I should… shave, before… there must be a pillow around here… I mean ,” he shook his head, “a mirror…”

Was this a question, or was he talking to himself?

And now, the man was looking left and right, fidgeting where he stood, unable to decide between following Rick or go shave his stubble.

“Go on!” the Toad said. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Luigi blabbered something like a thanks before walking to a corner, taking something out of his pocket, dropping it onto the floor and leaping into the pipe that had sprouted up. 

This was going to be a complicated morning…

Rick went to fetch the bag and dragged it towards the castle’s exit, asking the guards where Meadowls would be. He’d just managed to carry the heavy bag down the steps without slipping when the not-green-clad superhero swiftly landed next to him from who knew where. 

“Woah!”

“Sorry. Just… wanted to…” 

Rick never understood what Luigi muttered as an explanation.

He’d made a cut on his jaw. His hair was still wild, but not so much as before. Luigi would probably never look into his eyes, instead always looking somewhere slightly off it or, as he was currently doing, the floor. Rick could see him wringing his hands hard like he’d been doing in the East Wing and shifting his foot on the smooth marble alley. 

"No problem,” Rick said. “Nice shoes, by the way. Where did you get those? I never saw anything like that before."

Luigi threw a quick glance at his own shoes.

"Oh, they're uh… from the real world. I mean, the human world. The one where there's no magic."

"But they can produce their own kind of magic alright," Rick smartly answered. He hoped it wasn't as corny as it sounded. "They look good on you."

"T-Thanks." 

How could a human blush so much? He’d known Mario’s little brother was shy and clumsy, but not to that extent!

“Alright then. Let’s gg-g-go…” he growled, as he pulled the bag forward to balance it better on his head. Just as he was about to walk forth, he was drawn to Luigi’s facial expression, a very uncanny one. He wasn’t smiling or being embarrassed or anything, he was very neutral. Yet, he was staring with such intensity, such concentration, that it pushed Rick to ask, in a strangled voice:

“...yes? Anything the matter?”

Luigi’s eyes did not blink for several seconds, but when they did, his face stopped being so still and regained some composure.

“Want me to help? I can carry this. I want to.”

“Okay! You do you.”

Luigi’s smile was small but genuine.

Holy shit. This wasn’t mere shyness or clumsiness. Mario’s younger twin brother was incapable of maintaining a “normal” social interaction. It was very embarrassing to be on the receiving end of it, although Luigi was for sure the most embarrassed of the two of them. He was so weird, Rick didn’t know what to do and not to do around him. And although he knew Luigi was innocent, he was radiating so much creepiness. He gave the impression of being a little… crazy, or maybe… retarded. He looked a bit queer too, making for an eye-catching persona. This was the second best hero of the world? He’d never thought he was like that in person. So much for being a celebrity, he now understood it better, why he’d heard people make fun of him.

Normally, Rick would have insisted on carrying the bag. It was quite the honor to be given a special task with such an important guy, and besides, it was basic courtesy. But Luigi’s behavior had been so weird, so unpredictable, that he couldn’t dare telling him no.

The strange superhero took the baggage and swung it over his shoulder without batting an eyelid. 

“Where’s Meadowls?” he asked.

And so they marched.

__________

The awkwardness of their first encounter faded as they walked together. There was no pipe linking the town to the orphanage, so they had to travel by foot. It was the morning and way cooler than the preceding week, but the superhero was squirting his eyes under the light reflecting from the bright path sand and his skin was getting sweaty under the bright sun. While Toads were protected from the sun with their natural padding on their heads, it wasn’t surprising that a human like him, who only had a layer of hair to protect his scalp, would suffer a lot from the sun rays if he wasn’t wearing his hat. He was quite pale too, despite the summer months, of course he would suffer under the UV rays: he could see his face and his shoulders getting quite red. Rick wondered why Mario’s little brother was not wearing his iconic green L hat on a day like this, but he didn’t ask. There was a simple explanation for that: It should be obvious that, unless the Mario Brothers had several sets of the same clothes, they would look different than on TV, the magazines and video games. They would have to wash their hats from time to time…

Besides, if he started to ask why Luigi wasn’t wearing his trademark hat, he would start to sound like an annoying fan. Why not remark how he’d never thought Luigi’s voice was so deep , that his eyes were truly green rather than blue, that he had hair on his arms and legs though it looked frail and left patches of clear skin for no reason, and that while he looked slender, there was such strength in his legs that it made his thighs, hips and behind look quite large compared to the top of his body? How he’d never noticed how the thing in his human throat really stood out, how his hands were so large that they looked like bear paws, and how soft his thick mustache looked? How he'd expected Luigi to have that Italian accent he was meant to be famous for with his brother, not – whatever his accent currently was? It would start to be questionable how Rick couldn’t help but study the celebrity next to him in such detail. He really wanted to ask what it felt like to have hair on one’s head though… When it wasn’t sticking to the back of one’s neck with the sweat…

“So…” Luigi suddenly said. “You’re handling the kids… right?”

“...Yes?” Rick's instincts shot up. Touchy subject, kids were, wasn't that right?

“...I’m not comfortable with kids,” the man offered as an explanation.

The Toad’s conclusions seemed even more likely.

“Oh, no problem! It’ll be quick anyway, don’t worry, we’re just passing by,” he affirmed confidently.

As Luigi looked at him, he answered Rick’s smile with a grateful look and a shy smirk of his own.

“Alright!” the Toad said. “My turn to carry the bag now!”

“No.” 

Several seconds passed before Luigi seemed to remember it was best to say something unless he wanted to sound rude. 

“I can do it. Doesn’t weigh much…” 

“You seem – exhausted – though!”

“I’m not. I can handle it, no worries.”

"I know how – heavy that bag is,” Rick argued, “so – you tell me when – when you want to switch!"

Luigi smiled. "Don’t sweat it. I can maneuver a 2-tons hammer when fighting. I certainly can carry a ton of stuff in a bag…"

He didn’t look like he was joking or lying.

"... Oh! "

"So I don't think you'll need to carry it…"

Luigi then halted, a confused look on his face, as thought he'd forgotten something. Rick thought on his own, and found the problem.

“Didn’t you have – a pair of sunglasses back there?”

“Oh… Oh, yeah, forgot it in – in… my home…”

Was it what Luigi was really concerned about? He didn’t sound like he cared about the sunglasses. Maybe he’d guessed wrong.

Rick looked at his watch. It was 9:49. If they’d left early enough, then they would arrive in ten minutes. They were quite far off the town already – though Luigi seemed unwell, he was walking fast, as though he wanted to get this done as soon as possible. He had way longer legs, so Rick often had to jog back to his level. But of course. This was one of the bastions of the Mushroom Kingdom, and an even better jumper than Mario. He’d traveled the world, crossing miles of land by foot. Farm work had strengthened Rick, but that was on another level: if he wasn’t accompanying the man, he bet Luigi would have reached the orphanage fifteen minutes ago. 

It would be so exciting, if Luigi’s eccentricities weren’t intimidating Rick so much.

"Were you…” Rick was struggling to catch his breath, “were you serious… about the hammer?"

"Yeah. I'll show you when we're arrived, if you want."

"You got it on you?!"

The man shook his head. "No, but I can call it."

Rick was almost jumping now. 

"That's so cool!"

Again, the man blushed and chuckled nervously.

“Thank you.”

Fame hadn’t gotten to Luigi’s head either. He remained shy and humble. Maybe that was due to being overshadowed by his super brother, and being irreparably awkward and timid, but that was still great to admire! He was the opposite of someone like Bowser. He didn’t need to boast himself to be great.

Stars , Rick was fanboying.

They could see the big mushroom house in the distance now. They were nearly there. After that, they would probably part ways. Quick, that was his last chance to ask him questions… Something – something important he’d thought about these days… Oh yeah!

“So… have you heard the news?” he panted. “I just arrived in town! so – I just heard it yesterday!"

"...About what?” A pause. Luigi spoke before Rick could catch his breath. “About the masked guy who beat the Warios up?"

"Yeah! So – you’re – you’re gonna catch them! Right?”

“I don’t know. They might not be a real bad guy.”

What?!

“What do you mean?!” Rick exclaimed. “They beat – Wario and Waluigi – half an inch to their death!”

Now that was getting a bit unfair – Luigi was walking even faster, as though trying to put distance between him and Rick to avoid that conversation, or maybe trying to exhaust the Toad so much that he wouldn’t be able to ask any more questions.

“Yeah, but maybe they… just messed with the wrong person. And they reaped what they sowed.”

“Is that – really – what – y’think?”

"It’s obvious. Whoever attacked Wario and Waluigi must have had a vendetta. And I wouldn't blame them…”

“Could you stop walking so fast please!” Rick’s side was starting to hurt. “I need a pause – I can’t…”

He stopped, putting his hands on his knees, gasping like he’d just been snorkeling and had reached the surface. It made him feel a little stupid that he’d asked to carry the bag: it had been so heavy it had taken him five whole minutes to reach the bottom of the stairs in front of the castle, while the superhero over there could not only carry it continuously but also sustain such a fast rhythm for more than half an hour. It wouldn’t have taken thirty minutes to reach the orphanage at Rick’s pace. It would have taken a whole day. 

“Sorry,” he heard Luigi say. “I wasn’t – I didn’t realize I was walking… too fast.”

Didn’t he?!

Rick threw his head upward and put a hand where his heart would be, currently beating at 200 a minute. He needed a shower too, now. Why did that guy in the throne room give him that job? Apart from giving a superhero company that wasn’t much needed, he was pretty much useless. What would they pay him for? Sports? Or giving the guy some talk?

“There’s a big tree over there," the tall man muttered, "we could… cool off under it…”

Rick opened his eyes and searched for the tree, stumbling in its direction when he found it. There was no bench but he didn’t care, he just fell on his butt under it. Luigi laid the bag down and kneeled like a cat would sit. As they waited for Rick to catch his breath, he could see the Mario brother looking left and right, spotting how red his shoulders had gotten, and rubbing them as though he could sweep the burns off. Rick’s mouth was getting quite dry, he wished he’d taken something to drink with him. He hadn’t caught his breath yet, but he thought to fill the silence by asking some questions and have Luigi answer, since he wasn’t so exhausted. Provided that the shy guy was willing to talk a little more than he’d done so far.

“What did you mean… you wouldn’t blame them? Did they…” Rick panted a little harder before continuing. “Did they do something?”

Luigi opened his mouth and closed it, appearing to think through what he was gonna say. It was the first time that Rick could see loathing on his face, which scared him a bit, since that meant he’d said something wrong. He’d seen anger – he remembered how terrifying Luigi could get when playing Strikers – but never hatred . The man’s version of hatred was not the explosive kind they could see in Bowser, but a cold, controlled, cruel one that allowed him to say, in a very soft voice:

“Well… for one… They tricked me into a manhole and locked me down the sewers.”

…Really? Was that it? Luigi’s face had gotten all scary for a stupid prank that he could easily get out from?

“Hum… No offense, Luigi, but… that’s not a reason to trash them like that.”

And had that been enough to instill such palpable loathing for them?

“Isn’t it.” The superhero sniffed in disdain. “I’m not saying that’s what they did to whoever attacked them. They’re bullies. They've done worse. They keep causing problems to the Mushroom Kingdom. So let's not be surprised if we learn that they pissed someone off enough that they snapped and went berserk on them."

Wow . Now that was a harsh judgement. Surely why he hadn't wanted to talk about it.

Rick was starting to breathe better. He cleared his throat.

"What do you mean, they've done worse?"

Luigi did not talk for a moment, though the Toad could clearly perceive low-burning hatred. Because of the bright landscape behind him, and because of the way his face clenched, the plumber's eyes seemed to reflect red light. 

"Let's just say…" Luigi uttered, "there's a reason they've been banned from entering the castle, and that they cannot approach… important figures anymore."

Oh.

They let these words settle for a moment. Rick took the opportunity to think this through. The guy seemed convinced that the Warios had done something to explain it. Maybe, just like Luigi could understand if someone was pushed to the edge and committed crimes against troublesome ones, Rick could understand if Luigi chose to believe the Warios had messed with the wrong people and only got what they deserved, if what he said about them was true. And given the Warios had attacked him recently…

It shook Rick a little. He, who staunchly refused to judge the victim as someone who asked for what they'd got, whatever bad thing they might have done in their life… he, who had become outraged hearing how a villain was lurking about targeting people who looked like they could have gotten bullied for their – well – hideous faces… How was he to say that to a victim of the Warios? He had no legitimacy. And given their bans from the castle, the situation may be way more complicated than he might realize. He better not give any opinion on it unless he wanted to risk making a fool of himself. His mom had always told him how naive he could be, how one day he would regret assuming the best of people and that it would serve him right… Maybe she wasn’t that wrong here…

“So you’re not going to try to catch the one who did this? Because you think that…”

That they deserved it?

“I don’t know… I don’t think so. Mario might. Not just because of what happened to the Warios… He thinks they might have attacked me.”

“Who? The guy who assaulted Wario and Waluigi?”

Luigi hummed to confirm, adding “Yes” anyway.

“Oh my Stars.”

“I’m okay!" Luigi smiled. "I’m not hurt. I didn’t even realize it – if Mario’s right on that one. That’s what I mean, too. Nothing bad happened to me. Only the Warios were really attacked. Why would a bad guy focus on the Warios and spare me? I’m… I’m an easy target for most… why not do it just for the pleasure of it?”

Was he? An easy target for most? Rick didn't know what to believe. Luigi was strong, he was a superhero like Mario, but at the same time, the Toad knew he could have it hard, and his personality would be enough to be a target for teasing… but he could defend himself from bullies, couldn't he? How could a superhero like him be tricked by the Warios…? Enough that it would still make him upset the following day? How could the Warios dare pick on him, when they weren't nearly as strong, even they outnumbered him? But maybe they'd always done it, so they didn't fear Luigi’s retribution – but then, why…

…

No.

No, that couldn't be.

“Maybe – the one who attacked you – they like you?” Rick suggested.

“A brutal lunatic that beats the Warios inches to their death but likes me? Who would that be? I’ve got no one to beat them up for me. Mario likes me, but he wouldn’t do that. Peach wouldn’t do that either. Mario’s friends…” Luigi shrugged, disabused. “So that can’t be someone close to me. Maybe it was… a fan? Meh. I don’t know…” 

Rick gulped.

“Why not?”

The man scoffed. He didn’t give an answer. Nevermind Rick’s bubbling suspicion on what could explain the strange attacks – he had a strong suspicion of why Luigi didn’t bother answering. It was kind of pathetic. Not that he wanted to call the man pathetic – the situation was sad for him. He had a feeling Luigi was not nearly loved as much as Mario. They didn't call him the overshadowed brother for nothing. 

“In any case…” Luigi continued. “I’m not… really interested in pursuing them. If the Warios want revenge, that’s their problem. They’re gonna need to pay someone for the job. If they wanted me to care, then maybe they shouldn’t have harassed me… the other day. I’m not gonna risk my butt for people who treat me like trash. I’m done doing that. See if the Toad guards can help them…” he trailed off with a mocking sneer.

In the pause that ensued, Rick was coming to an important conclusion. He kept that thought to himself, but Luigi’s reasoning could only point at him being the culprit. Even if he’d said the maniac had attacked him – Luigi had immediately admitted he wasn’t hurt. Didn’t they say the quiet ones were the most dangerous? That human could sweep the mighty king of the Koopas, he could very well teach a lesson to the Warios, and he would have a motive. That would very much explain why Luigi wouldn’t care to search for the culprit… why he didn’t want to talk about it… Luigi already knew who that was… 

The Toad didn’t feel so safe next to Mario’s twin anymore. 

He tried something.

“But what if they attack again? What if an innocent is harmed?”

“Then we will intervene, I guess,” Luigi answered. “For now, I’m letting that pass. But honestly, I don’t think there’s much to worry about for now."

Rick deciphered the man’s expression carefully. If he said so…

Neither had anything to add. Wind disturbed the leaves over them, helping to cool the Toad off, who felt way better now. He could walk again for the orphanage delivery. He looked at his watch.

“Crap! We’re late!” 

“How late?” Luigi sounded tense himself.

“It’s 10:15! I’m so sorry, I really wasn’t the Toad to call for the job –” 

Luigi smoothly rose on his feet, giving him a hand that he accepted (although his heart skipped a beat at first). Rick was preparing to run, or maybe tell the superhero that he could go on deliver the bag without him, he was useless to deliver it anyway, however –

“What if…” the man half-muttered to himself, rubbing his chin. “What if you… went inside that bag for a moment, so I can carry you to the orphanage? It’ll be quick.”

Well, Rick didn’t like being thrown in a bag like one of the dolls it contained, but he was a boulder to the superhero’s foot right now, so he couldn’t complain much now, could he? (And he better make himself little, not bother him too much, if Luigi had indeed been the one to go rabid against the Warios. Better safe than sorry.) So he complied, taking refuge among the toys, plushies, books, clothes and smaller canvas bags he’d been told it contained. Carefully, Luigi grabbed the impractical bag and lifted it on his back. 

Rick had expected Luigi to jog or even run to their destination. But no – instead, he jumped . It was like taking a lift, except he went both slightly up and down, and very behind . He saw the landscape switch in a matter of seconds, and he could hear the wind rushing on the sides. Rick yelped – in his head, he was screaming. Though they didn’t get very high, that was a lot of acceleration at once. He felt himself tremble as Luigi hit the ground and decelerated by grinding his shoes against the sand and gravel.

“Shouldn’t have done that…” the superhero muttered, whereas Rick was once again trying to soothe down his frantic heart. 

The bag laid down as carefully as it had been picked up. 

Ten seconds. It had taken five seconds to cross what would have taken them ten minutes by foot. Without any power-up. He’d grossly under-estimated the Mario Brothers – that guy was a machine. Rick would always remember the strength he’d felt in that propulsion. Holy crap.

Why had Luigi bothered walking with him? He hadn’t needed Rick whatsoever. It was a wonder the superhero could get sunburns. Koopas like Bowser were strong, but humans? They were from another world. 

Luigi slithered his hands under a very stunned Toad’s armpits and lifted him out of the bag, patiently indicating that he should unclutch the rim. That Toad too, he laid down carefully. 

“We’re arrived,” the man offered with a smile.

Of course they were. Luigi was like a high-speed train. We have arrived at: Meadowls’ orphanage, Toad Town. Please don't forget any luggage and personal belongings on your way out.

As Rick started to come to his senses, he saw that Luigi was inspecting his grey ankle-high shoes. Oh oh, they hadn’t resisted the jump. His toes weren’t poking out either, but the canvas had been torn where it met the rubber soles on both sides. The superhero did not look very proud of himself. 

“Oh yeah, you’ll want to buy another pair,” Rick remarked, still not very there .

Luigi gave him the puppy eyes. Then all of a sudden, his head perked up, as though he’d heard or seen something from the orphanage behind the Toad. And sure enough, the door opened and someone stepped out.

“Here he is!” a Toadette’s voice said. “OH!”

Rick turned around and he may have looked as surprised as the Toadette did. No way…

He knew her. That was Toad Lily! What was she doing here? She didn’t live in Toad Town last he knew!

She too was looking at them both as though she had expected none of them.

“You!”

That one was directed at Rick. Oh oh.

“What are you doing here?” she said in a stern voice. Rick raised his hands, innocent.

“I didn’t know you lived here! I’d just tried to get a job at the castle and they sent me to the orphanage at Meadowls. This is the one, right?”

Toad Lily inspected him, testing him, judging if he was speaking the truth. She must have found that he was, because then she simultaneously closed her eyes and raised her eyebrows in contempt, not deigning to give him an answer. When she succeeded in erasing his image from her head – that was what it looked like at least – her gaze landed on the man standing beside him. 

“Hello Mister Luigi! I wasn’t expecting you! Not that I am complaining, of course! You are as welcome here as Mister Mario is!” 

Well, she better?

“Did something happen to him?” she asked.

Luigi started to stumble over his words. True, he was very, very shy. 

“Y-ye-yeah – no! No, nothing’s happened… He’s just – they – he’s needed f…… ”

“Pardon me?” Toad Lily said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the last words – with my children around, I can get a bit hard of hearing,” she laughed. 

Her children, huh. She still hadn’t changed.

Luigi, being his usual awkward self, muttered something unintelligible. Thankfully, Toad Lily did not insist, going with a generic “Yes! I understand!” ( No you don’t , Rick thought, because I can’t either .) “And I suppose that foul Bowser has not made things easy for you both. I hope you both taught him a good lesson while you were out there in his ugly castle! I’m sure you both did, you always do!”

No way Toad Lily was such a fan of the youngest of the Mario Brothers. She’d never mentioned him, always speaking about Mario. She wasn’t fawning over Luigi for the sake of it, she was only trying to make Rick feel unwanted here.

Luigi didn’t know that, and frankly, the Toad wouldn't tell him the truth either. Better he blushed and squirmed under the praise than realize it was all fake. He blabbered his humbled thanks.

“Well! Why don’t you come over, have some tea here, you deserve it after such a hard journey! I’m so sorry they haven’t constructed a warp pipe to make the travel easier.”

“N-no problem, madam...”

Little did Toad Lily know, Luigi hadn’t suffered from the journey at all – Rick had. So he took the soothing words for himself. 

Toad Lily did not spare a second to look at Luigi’s companion when she said: “Come on in! Tea or coffee?”

“...T-tea. Tea would… do me good.”

“One cup of tea for mister! You can carry the bag to the main room, then we can go to the kitchen.”

Well, the message was clear: Rick wouldn’t be accepted inside, only the man. As Luigi turned to grab the bag, he met Rick’s eyes.

“Well, bye Luigi,” the Toad said, extending his hand for a hand shake. As expected by now, it took a lot of hesitation before Luigi dared to take his hand and let Rick do most of the shaking. “It was nice meeting you!”

“Y… you too… Thank you…”

Rick smiled, Luigi smiled back, and they parted ways. The Toad watched the man swing the bag over his shoulder (nearly tripping), enter the orphanage (hitting the top of the Toad-sized door frame), before Toad Lily closed the door – almost too firmly. 

Rick was happy to have met the guy. His family at Corksides didn’t have a very high opinion of the greener, leaner, gentler, weirder, queerer brother, but it wasn’t everyday you met celebrities. He was a sweet guy, if quite complicated to get around with, and if for the little detail that Luigi of the Mario Brothers might be the Mushroom Kingdom’s mysterious criminal on the run. 

__________

End Notes :

• Thank you Ashes for beat-reading! 
• Generic background musics: New Super Mario Bros DS OST
• Intro music (before Luigi wakes up): Belaf's Lullaby, Made in Abyss Season 2 (only the singing)
• Rick introduction: Springtime Breeze, Mario & Luigi Paper Jam
• Music for Agarick entering the East Wing: Relaxing Ambience 17th Century English Countryside, from The Fellowship of Chill (but muffle it since they’re not right inside the gardens either)
• Music for Agarick & Luigi’s dialogue: Nice to Meet You, Madoka OST
• cHapTer 2 wiLL prObabLy nOt be 10k worDs-loNg
• My hand SLIPPED (accidentally wrote the triple amount – FOR SEMEL, NOT EVEN THE FULL CHAPTER)
• Hey, at least it compensates for eight months of waiting :')
• I'd originally planned to release only two parts for Chapter 2, but several problems arose. One: the crazy part of my studies is in a few days and progress is soon going to be under some form of “hiatus”, because basically I won’t have any time to write chapters properly; I realized I might not be able to write the full chapter part in time, so I decided to release at least the first half, thus splitting Chapter 2 in three parts. Second: it’s been eight months since the last chapter I released and I don’t want to make you want to wait any longer. Three, well, that chapter part’s already long enough! I thought it would be okay to post it already. And four, the document was getting so long it was tedious to work on it from my phone. There will be lots more notes in the next part!
• You can still see me active on my Prinscar tumblr account, so don’t worry, you can send me asks and whatnot. I’ll also be still on Ao3 of course, and always glad to answer some comments!
• I must say though, I do hesitate making the third part of Chapter 2 belong to Chapter 3. It would fit pretty neatly, especially given what I drafted in there. We’ll see when we’re there.
• What I can say is that the second part of the chapter is 85% complete, except that each percent takes lots of time and energy, so I don't guarantee AT ALL being able to release it before the start of the school year. But... I had inspiration, and I'm pretty satisfied with it so far. It's 18k words long right now, I expect it to be 25k words long when completed and polished.
• It's gonna be tough to keep the logic of the story, since I forget over the months what I previously wrote. I might want to write those DBZ-style reminders for myself lol.  
• I retcon and forget elements I put in previous chapters, so, sorry if there are inconsistencies. I'll correct them if I spot them. 
• I thought about the thing of linking photos in the notes, and you know what, I think I should put in more effort. I'm quite strict about art theft–you can make mistakes, but then you gotta correct them and not do them again. I pondered over the fact I was linking art in the notes, and after a while, yeah, I did consider that this might be some kind of art theft. Sure, I'm not receiving kudos for them, and it's in the end notes, but this is still an indirect way to illustrate my fic. The least I could do is link the original post. One of my fears, of course, is that the post gets deleted, so I'm still hesitant about only linking the original post (if I can find it since many photos are found on Google Images). I really don't want to lose the illustrations (I already had my share of fics and YT videos that were lost forever). Also, sometimes the link is unaccessible because it requires registration. So while I think I'll still post a link to the photo itself, I will make the effort of finding the original art link and adding it. I'll edit the notes in the previous chapter(s) to include them. But bear in mind, I might miss some of them. You can tell me if I forgot to link to the original work. For art I found without finding the original artist's post, I'll mention it. 
• I’d like to write in UK English when in the pov of MK characters, and in US English under Mario and Luigi’s pov. Unfortunately I may have corrected UK English into US English by mistake, thanks to Docs’ correction system.
• The title is a slight nod to Nintendrawer’s Luaisy comic, “I’d Like You To Meet”.
• I don’t know how to write a TV news sequence. This fucked me for months. That's where I had the stupid writer's block.
• Luigi knows how to pinpoint his emotions, which name to put on them, but if he had taken more time analyzing his reaction at the journalist claiming they have tried to interview Super Mario, he’d have found he was feeling helpless too. It’s not just that he “already has enough”, it’s that he wants it to stop already, but it won’t, and he can’t do anything about it. Because of this helplessness, the rage he feels is kind of desperate. 
• “Dunno. Maybe he likes me? Or maybe he took pity on me and decided to give me a break. God knows I could use one.” // It had to come out (nintendrawer comic, deviantart).
• “With huge, quivering cocks…” // This is a reference to a post I found on Tumblr (and can’t find it anymore) about someone who restored an old computer that had been very well taken care of, they went to check its data out of curiosity and 20 minutes later they were reading extensive, professional critics on gay porn videos, one of the paragraphs beginning with “huge, quivering cocks are everywhere”.
• Luigi’s wide hat looks like this: https://www.deviantart.com/themeisterart/art/Luigi-607319320 (Luigi, by themeisterart, deviantart)
• Remember, Luigi doesn’t wear his green L hat.
• His water bottle is thermos-like. It’s made of aluminum and probably has large flower patterns on it.
• I originally had Mario find the Mask in Luigi’s hand and wonder if it was evil because it looks like a Phanto, while Luigi would argue it can’t be since Phantos only exist in Subcon. Then I tried to change it to make it more coherent, having Mario freak out and link the Mask with the incident that happened at the Warios’ and in his own home. But then I realized I could not write a believable scenario of Luigi getting his hands on the Mask again if Mario intervened. He’s too prudent, and more clever than you’d imagine. So I killed a darling there, removing any interaction between the Mask and Mario at this point in the story.
• Likewise, I removed a huge chunk of the dialogue between Rick and Luigi, completely revamping it.
• “tension energy” // Luigi thinks a bit weirdly, he uses neologism and weird word combinations, so "tension energy" was purposeful. It's meant to indicate that Luigi's anxiety and electrokinesis have a link. (Which is made more evident in the orphanage, as Luigi fights off a panic attack and electricity sparks from his arms.)
• Fun fact I found: Galvanism is a term invented by the late 18th-century physicist and chemist Alessandro Volta to refer to the generation of electric current by chemical action. The term also came to refer to the discoveries of its namesake, Luigi Galvani, specifically the generation of electric current within biological organisms and the contraction/convulsion of biological muscle tissue upon contact with electric current. While Volta theorized and later demonstrated the phenomenon of his "Galvanism" to be replicable with otherwise inert materials, Galvani thought his discovery to be a confirmation of the existence of "animal electricity," a vital force which gave life to organic matter. (Galvanism, Wikipedia)
• I tried changing writing styles to fit the point of views of different characters. It's very hard as it has me go out of my comfort zone. I hope I haven't screwed it up too much. 
• I’m not sure what a chancellor is, nor what its functions are in the UK. So don’t sweat it if you think I’m misinterpreting Toadsworth, it’s not important.
• You'll forgive me for not knowing lots of British folklore vocabulary. I know Toadsworth is very polite and comically anxious about the princess (though he probably should chill out or see a therapist for it), yet I don't know anything that could make him express this character in a Toadsworth way besides "hocus-pocus". Forgive me, I am too lazy to watch hours of video games for a few Toadsworth expressions to copy-paste, notably when my fic's new chapter is long due and it's not even about him anyway. 
• "Agarick Katharos": I kept the Rick and wanted to turn it into a mushroom name, so Agarick + Katharos because Kathy from the original Mask comics. Plus weirdly enough it makes him sound Greek, and why not.
• Toadbert might turn out as a mix of TLP/PiT Toadbert and the 2023 movie’s Toadbert-like Toad. I don’t know why I imagine him so serious, so far. I might decide to make him the (Prime) Minister of the Kingdom, although he would be subordinate to the Princess. It would be coherent anyway given how long he’s been there.
• Rick looks like the Toads in the anime Mario movie. Remind me to link a drawing of my own in here if I haven’t done it.
• “Corksides” is inspired from Ireland’s Cork county, apparently reputed for being the county with the most farms.
• Rick thinks that Luigi gives the impression that he's a bit of a retard – now, I know it’s a slur, and I wasn’t writing this to portray Rick as a bigot. More like, he adopted harmful language from his social circles/society, and his use of the term stems from ignorance. Think of old SMG4 using “retarded” as a joke (not anymore). He doesn’t even use that to openly insult someone, from what I “know”. Wanted to give a bit of realism to Rick.
• the thing in his human throat // his Adam apple
• I like this imagery for the moment Luigi’s eyes seem to flash red in Rick’s pov: https://www.deviantart.com/loyproject/art/Angry-Luigi-470079371 (Angry Luigi, by LOYProject, deviantart) (archive link)
• The meeting scene between Luigi and Rick is written in Rick’s point of view, so I couldn’t put it above, but here is Luigi’s inner rambling when his future friend asks if he will try to catch the criminal who preyed on the Warios: 
  • Didn't you know, Luigi thought bitterly, one of the detectives leading this case thinks I might be the criminal that caused this. All the more reasons to stay out of it. He wished those detectives good luck in finding the criminal, because they wouldn't get any help from him. He wanted to thank even harder whoever attacked the Warios, but since Trompette's questioning, Luigi was also coming to resent the true suspect. Even if it wasn't their fault, they could have timed the attack better so that Luigi wouldn't be branded as a criminal immediately… just because he'd been a recent victim of another of the Warios' 'pranks'.]
• Toad Lily is both a reference to another character, and a pun on toad lilies.
• Strong spoilers will be added when relevant chapters are released, either under the chapter it's about or under the chapter that makes it okay to release them.

Mild Spoilers :

• Dear me, I forgot to say one important thing in the last chapter's mild spoilers! I used several references to imagine what Luigi's transformation felt like the first time: LeaF's Marenol, Optie Animation's 太鼓の達人, as well as Asuka's mindrape. Not to say his transformation was pure torture like in Marenol, but the story behind it inspired me. It features great head-splitting and fetus position imagery. Asuka's mindrape is what made me imagine the Mask would say "You want to die?", "Is this what you want?" and "These are fake desires". Though not included in the fic (would Luigi even be aware?), I like to link the sounds of porcelain breaking at the end of the video with Luigi's mind barriers snapping and breaking under the Mask's merciless intrusion. As for the japanese titled video, that's where the "TV white noise" thing came from. I wanted to describe something like what's happening in the video, when Luigi is trapped at the deepest level, with ideas, feelings and memories pictured, but how the hell do you put that into text? So I gave what I could, without sounding too confusing, notably because Luigi retains a bit of sense. He's not under full drugs either. It's not such a bad thing, because I don't want to make a compilation of other people's hard work, it's too edgy for my story, and after reflection, the animation wouldn't fit properly anyway. Too trippy, long and violent, when Luigi is supposed to be forced into a sedative trance. It isn't a goal of the Mask to hurt him.
• If you watched closely, the separator bar between Luigi realizing the Mask is the intruder and the transformation is "... _ _ _ …" which is SOS. The next bar is ________ which is a flatline here. This was the beginning of Luigi's "psychic" alarm call to Mario before the Mask managed to shut it down (which is an achievement in itself). Imagine Mario "hearing" frantic and loud SOS SOS SOS then nothing. I might fully explain later how Mario and Luigi's canon psychic link works in my fic. In any case, you might want to listen to BotW Medoh or BotW Ruta themes to get an idea of how it can sound like for Mario. Luigi too could “hear” that. (I associate the Medoh theme with Mario saving Luigi from Bowser, and the Ruta theme with Luigi saving Mario from King Boo. And yes, the brother on a mission would be sending "SAD" at some point. "Seek and destroy.")
• his applies to all parts under Luigi's point of view: he is very paranoid. He tends to expect the worst of others. So whenever it says that "he knows…" or that "he is aware…" about what a character would think/do/have done? They might be accurate suspicions/guessings. They might also be wrong. 
• “sirkmish–skirtmish–skichkt–s-sPearers”: Luigi is having problems pronouncing “skirmisher”. I'd like to write a dyslexic Luigi, which became a problem at a school where that condition wasn't brought to mind to explain his difficulties. So when he tries to read Skirmisher, he can't. He's got other difficulties like saying "raspaberries" instead of raspberries, and in chapter 1, he must concentrate hard to read what the pharmacist wrote on the box of St John's Wort. Earlier from the “skirmisher” excerpt, it's implied it's quite a feat for Luigi to be able to read a grimoire of magic for 1h30 before getting cross-eyed. It's not merely due to dyslexia but it does tire him.
• Luigi has a confused look on his face after telling Rick he can maneuver a 2-tons hammer with ease because it feels so unlike him, and yet he knows it's the truth. It's more than just not remembering…
• EDIT 09/03/2023: After reading a valuable book, I finally understood why I wrote Luigi a certain way. You could ask, later, how is it that he got captured by Bowser and seemed totally helpless, when he is not helpless. I had invented something to explain it, that relied on *magic*, but it turns out I don’t need to at all: it can be explained “naturally”. This book also helped me re-write the orphanage scene, which seemed a little cliché in my original version. It finally explained Luigi’s “fantasy scenarios” where he imagines, in a dramatic and almost Wattpad way, confessing what he’s feeling so that people sympathize with him (like with Mario on the last chapter); only to realize that real life doesn’t and cannot work that way. Some parts of this story may lack research or true explanation; others are meant to be deep but in a way you can’t easily perceive.
•  EDIT 06/04/23: Just watched the Mario Bros movie in French, I still have a big smile on my lips! SPOILERS: I love that "Lu" is an official nickname for Luigi! TLP got it right years before! And maybe that's a movie plot shortcut, but he seems to have a talent, or he's an incredibly fast learner (faster than Mario who needed a whole day of training to get the gist of parkour in the Mushroom World). I think he's got talent and he's just hindered back by his constant anxiety. I love that Mario officially hates mushrooms so much they make him puke (poor man), and that he's a short king with insecurities of his own, notably due to his father. I love this Peach, though I wonder how they will make Daisy a tomboy considering Peach seems to take some of her character traits. Animation-movie Luigi is super cute! (example: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8c/6e/0a/8c6e0a00eed864423f94a14cecd2d55a.jpg) and I like the fact he's got "bad knees", adding a reason as to why he's so cautious.

Chapter Text

Something stirred in the back of the plumber’s brain, something squirming, teasing, pushing against him.

Mario & Luigi: The Mask, chapter 6, by TimeLordParadox

"Put me on the suspect list."

Face-off.

"You don't understand."

“You heard what my bro said. And he’s right. I’m a suspect too. You know nothing of my intentions. Just do it.”

Trompette looked much more submissive than when he’d confronted Luigi. Funny thing, that.

"You are an important symbol for this kingdom,” the detective argued. “I hope you realize, master Mario."

"Well I didn't ask for it. Put me on the list."

Trompette was lost for words for a few seconds.

"You may not have asked for such responsibilities, but –"

"I don't care,” Mario asserted. “If you're putting Lu on the suspect list, you're putting me in there."

Trompette looked, thought, judged if he could change Mario’s opinion. But the famous hero in red stood his ground, never flinching. The Toad released a shaky sigh and, obviously disapprovingly, fetched a template document, filling it with Mario's name under a clumsy hand. 

Motives: avenge brother for Warios prank. 

“I hope you realize it doesn’t change anything…” Trompette said. “You cannot be the criminal. No one can even think you might be the criminal.”

“They wouldn’t believe it even if I was,” Mario shot back. “And if there was proof I did it, they’d say I didn’t commit a crime because the Warios deserved it.”

“Which is just as well…” the Toad continued. “Otherwise, your brother would have to be incriminated.”

“And why is that?”

“The Kingdom needs to believe that there’s a hero who’s there to protect the innocent and punish the villains. Your power is not just stored in your being, but in the symbol you represent. Your very presence  –”

“A hero based on lies, yeah. Disgusting, if you mind my opinion.” Mario sneered, fully contemptuous. “Luigi is… You can’t put the blame on him just because it suits you. If you’re imprisoning him when he’s innocent, I’m breaking the cell bars in the next hour, and I’ll make sure everyone knows why.”

“You wouldn’t be the only one trying to save him…” Trompette noted. “And we wouldn’t be so foolish as to think a mere prison cell would be enough to keep your brother sealed.”

The Toad looked unwell. Probably surprised by Mario’s relentlessness, or even scared by him. 

“Well then,” the oldest of the Brothers said. “I hope we agree that you’ll leave my brother alone. Capisce?”

Trompette frowned, vexed. “Is that a threat?” he didn’t really ask.

“You betrayed my trust. You’d said you’d help my brother out. Stop acting like you’re so upset I’m angry with you, you should have seen this coming. So I don’t really care which way you’re taking what I said. Until you have proof that my brother’s involved in the crime, you stop picking on him.”

“That was not my intention…” but the Toad didn’t want to argue anymore. Discreetly, maybe unconsciously, he gulped.

“Bye,” Mario growled, walking down the corridor to meet today’s emergency clients in the throne room.

Trompette wasn't finished with him.

"I suppose your brother was precisely right. You don't look like you're the one who attacked the Warios. Yet you look like someone who would have done it three times over for your brother's sake.”

Maybe.

“But… if I may, ma-master Mario?"

He looked… more unwell than before.

"Please keep an eye on him. If he does turn out to be the culprit… then please ensure he does not go on another rampage." 

There was no contempt or hatred for his little brother in his voice. There was more than genuine concern in his fevered eyes. There was…

…

…fear?

By the time Mario could put a word on it, Trompette had left the castle. 

__________

Was this the right decision? Maybe he should back off. Maybe he should have said no. He wasn’t interested. And just because she wanted tea with him? Luigi could have tea at home. 

He should have refused, but already she was beckoning him inside. 

Well… it would be rude to cancel right now… Not to mention the stupid heavy bag… if it hadn't been so heavy, he could have let the lady carry it inside on her own, without making an asshole of himself…

By reflex, he breathed in deeply and exhaled, in an attempt to soothe himself down. There was that cold-electric feeling creeping down his arms again, and he definitely didn’t want to enter the orphanage, but… he hadn’t much of a choice now, did he?

He marched on, hit the top of the doorframe, bit into his cheek to swallow down the momentary rage. Toad Lily didn’t seem to notice, closing the door behind him so loudly it made him wince in pain. He waited for her to squeeze her way between him and the corridor wall to take the lead, but after an awkward moment of mutual staring and chuckling, Luigi scurried to the end of the corridor to let her through.

Faster down the road of hell. Hopefully it meant faster to the way out.

"I'm so glad you came." the Toadette said from behind the bag. "They'll be so excited to see you! A hero of the Mushroom Kingdom in the flesh! How super!"

Luigi hated that word.

He hurtled through a second door, into a very large living room. There were a bunch of people on the table, the smell of cereal, chocolate, milk, jam and crusty toasts. Breakfast time.

Oh no. He hated being present when people ate. The smell was so familiar it made him queasy. 

“Children! Look who came!” Toad Lily exclaimed as though no one had noticed the two barging in. There were so many stares and unfamiliar smells, Luigi wanted to hide behind the bag, or better, just leave already. But nooo, he had been so spineless and stupid he was now forced to have tea time in here. Oh please, not at the table where the Toadpoles were eating…

“Who…”

“Who’s that guy? Wait –” one of the kids said, spitting food on a girl’s face, who screeched. Luigi hated kids so much for that.

“That’s the green loser!”

“That’s Mario’s brother!” Toad Lily said at the same time. “Oh sorry dear, what did you say?”

“Same thing.”

“Oh, okay! Well, say hello to Mario’s brother Luigi!”

What if I lost control right now and in a fit of delirium, beat that kid to death?

“He was kind enough to come in Mario’s stead –”

“What?! But you said Mario was coming! Not him !" Ouch. 

And ouch for his ears too. He didn’t like how loud the Toad had shouted.

“Now now, Travis, don’t be ungrateful –”

Luigi hated that word as well.

“Mister Luigi here is our guest, and you’ll owe your gifts to his services,” she explained, coming to lay her hand on his forearm –

He yelped.

The bag fell harshly onto the ground. 

“OH! I’m sorry! Are you hurt?”

“No,” he said, rubbing his arm where she’d started to grab him. Don’t touch me.

He blushed in shame, down to his neck, when he saw that the kids had been witnesses to that weird incident. Some were chuckling already. 

It sent an echo to the hundreds of similar memories and sensations that were forever kept fresh in his brain.

He knew what was going to happen. He had enough experience to predict how that was going to end, and the most likely scenarios were all bad.

Bad. Bad.

He had to leave, now . The headmistress would understand – he had stuff to do – he was a plumber – mostly out of service but he still held the job –

“Anyway!” he heard her say, while he was unable to utter a word, though he’d started to step back. “I want you to treat him your best. Understand?”

She didn’t wait to hear their confirmation. They didn’t even bother pretending they cared. 

He hated kids, couldn't anyone understand? Mochi was the only exception. He hated kids, but of course he couldn't say that out loud, could he? They would call him heartless and a danger to children if he did. That he didn't understand because he'd never had a (human) child of his own or raised a baby sibling. (He would never want to have a kid – only pets.) That later – anytime now – he would get that baby-craving fever, wanting to raise some with a lover, or else it meant he was sick in the head… Come to think of it, he wasn't married at his age? He was still a virgin too. Those teens in front of him would like to know. They'd like to know if Mario's loser of a kid brother was still a virgin pretty boy. That was one of the reasons he hated kids. Those were not just kids . They were a fucking danger to him. Couldn't they understand he just wanted them to leave him alone? Couldn't they accept that he wanted to have nothing to do with kids? Why did they expect him to love kids just because he was softer and more empathetic than his brother, and because he was the youngest one? 

They think I behave like a kid, so of course I should be able to handle them well.  

They didn't know shit about him. They'd scream if they knew how much loathing he bore for them. 

When he wasn't hating them, he feared them. Hilarious, he knew. He felt nauseous.

Not him! echoed in Luigi's head. Not him!  

He would remember for a good while, and probably till his death, as clearly as he could remember the most embarrassing bits of his life in a bout of insomnia. 

Toad Lily found it an excellent idea to introduce each of the Toadpoles, as though Luigi would be able to remember their names in his current state. All of them, he would forget, but the horrible impressions they’d leave on him. In a blur, a horrible mix between a dreamy state and an overwhelming world, his brain somehow managed to pick out two boy Toads who looked too tall, too old – thus, unusual to find in an orphanage. One of them had a mocking, predatory look. 

He felt naked in front of them all, with his loose summer clothes. A white, semi-transparent tanktop ? Gray canvas shoes that were now ripped off on the sides? A tasteless pair of ink-black shorts? Jesus. He was –

The second biggest Toad looked up and down Luigi's form, licked his lips disgustingly, opening his mouth enough that one could see the food inside, making what Luigi always called the “pig noises”. It made him want to scratch his brain out. The Toad snorted – ever more pig-like. 

"What are those?" he said, jerking his head towards Luigi’s shoes.

Hell. Nightmare. Call it whatever you wanted, he wanted out of it. 

Toad Lily was the devil who dragged him down. 

"Kitchen's over there, sir!"

But at least she would offer him a virtual reprieve.

The Toadlops surrounding him began to snicker, and there was that horrible, horrible mixture of electricity and ice that traveled from his solar plexus to the tip of his fingers. Luigi controlled it. His throat tightened, his heart beat erratically, his face felt weird in a bad way, his brain screamed that he was making a dreadful mistake, and he wanted to rip to shreds everything that was around him, with the way the Toad’s tongue kept obscenely swirling round his pink lips, as though no one had taught him how to close his mouth while eating, or maybe as though he found it sexy to emulate a cock-sucking little bitch. 

Still, Luigi looked to the side and smiled at Toad Lily.

She’d lied.

He couldn’t look for long, with all the horrendous slurping, tongue-clicking, lip-smacking noises happening right next to his left ear (it may just as well be happening deep inside his inner ear ), but he did spot them. A little Toad playing on his own quite far off to the back of the room. His cap was a spotless, dark and dusty brown, his skin a light brown, and all he needed to wear was a cozy pair of white baggy pants. He wasn't the smallest kid of the lot, though he appeared less 'big' since he was so lonely. The Toadlop had been observing him: for a split second, they were staring at each other. 

The sight felt… familiar… and comforting.

He was taken by some overwhelming instinct, that they understood each other without words, in inexplicable ways. That he and the Toad were of the same kind. They'd finally found their kin. Everyone else might think the Toadlop was weak and pathetic, but Luigi saw strength and dignity in that Toad who could suffice on his own. Such a shame the Toad was so young, while Luigi was a grown adult, otherwise, he might have loved having him as a friend, forced together in their inextricable misery. That might have been totally pathetic, but they would have had no other choice.

He followed the headmistress to the kid-sized kitchen, sitting mechanically on the chair she presented. It was too small for comfort. He wasn't as large as Mario, but he had a bigger butt than Toads for sure.

"What kind of tea would you like?" she asked pleasantly. 

"Mint. Thank you."

"I'll see if we got any!"

He wished he'd brought his earphones to protect his ears against her loud clattering of cutlery on the ceramic counter. She looked like a mom with too many children, the kind who was running everywhere, never laying down for a break. Why did she have to be so loud for tea time?

Thankfully at least, she'd closed the kitchen door…

"Ah HA! We found it!" the Toadette said, grinning widely at him, waiting for him to return the smile. He did so, slightly confused that she needed a smile from him to continue. 

Next, she opened a cupboard and fetched a cup.

"Would you like this one?" she asked, displaying it. 

It didn't make any difference to him.

"Yes," he answered, once again quite confused. Was she expecting him to possibly refuse? What would have happened if he did? Was she giving him a choice or was this just for courtesy? Or maybe to show off her tea cups? Her question was stupid… 

And so Luigi awkwardly waited, silent, looking to his right, through the window, wishing the sun wasn't so bright on the outdoor gravel, internally begging to get out of this prison disguised as a big home, or that the lady wouldn't ask him to participate in a conversation. He wouldn't be able to understand her words over the loud racket here anyway. 

Toad Lily had put some water to boil in a saucepan when she started staring at him with a big smile on her face. Luigi wasn't sure he was meant to smile back. 

"You don't talk much, do you, my dear?"

He shook his head. 

"Oh, that's so cute," she cooed. 

No, it was a horrible life-long experience. He wished he didn't grow to be the anxious fuck he currently was.

"But there's no need to be shy with me!"

Well he was with everyone. Couldn't do anything about it. He'd like to see her remove his shyness with a snap of fingers. 

But the plumber understood the message. 'Talk, or you're rude.' He found it rude of people to require him to talk when they knew he was timid, for their own fun or just so they could pretend having a friendly moment, even though neither of them was interested in being friends with the other. For a second, he considered talking as little as possible, just so she would find him so annoying she'd leave him alone during tea time and cut to the part where he left to go home. However, he guessed he was expected to give a little bit of conversation as she was kind enough to offer him tea. Luigi felt like he'd been tricked, forced, to have tea time with a stranger – and wasn't that a worrying thought – but maybe, if he did as expected, it wouldn't be too atrocious. 

So he smiled in a way that he wanted grateful. 

So he tried. 

“Is this new?" he asked, rolling his head to indicate their surroundings. "The orphanage.”

That was something he'd noticed when entering the building. The interior felt less like a typical orphanage and more like an old, rehabilitated house that had been converted into an orphanage just by throwing some orphan kids and a headmistress in it and completing administrative forms. He'd never heard of an orphanage near Toad Town before. 

“Oh no," Toad Lily said, confirming his suspicions. "We just moved out, about a year ago. There are far less orphans to take care of – thank the Stars! And that meant we could take a proper and tinier orphanage. We decided to move close to the city!”

She rested against the counter, toying with a biscuit. Luigi prayed she didn't eat it in his presence. Let her forget about it, concerned about her diet for instance. 

"We used to live in a refuge in the inner regions of the far-Mushroom Kingdom. It was a modest castle, from one of the ex-Kings – those who betrayed the Princess and tried to take over her land, a few years ago, you remember? You and Mario took them down," she almost squealed, so excited she grasped her hands and grinned ear to ear.

Oh, yes. When they'd come and saved the princess for the first time ever, they were given many, many new assignments. Before falling under the Koopa Kingdom's command, the Mushroom Kingdom had shrunk a lot. Peach and Toadsworth had lost so much money and power with Bowser's relentless attacks, they had to sell some of the royal lands to a bunch of newly self-assigned Kings. And though some remained loyal enough to accept fusing their lands with Peach's and become local governors later on, most of them had become tyrants and helped Bowser take Peach down, with many promises of wealth, glory, pleasure and power. When it was Bowser's turn to see his kingdom shrink – to the point large patches of Dark Lands were now free of his tyranny – the traitors and enemies of the Princess were dismissed, their lands re-taken. 

One of the Kings had gotten the great idea of transforming Luigi into a dog when he'd come to dismiss the king by will or by force, on the orders of Her Highness. Dogs on a mission were not harmless. 

The Mushroom Kingdom had reconquered its lands, grown back to its original size, and more. If there was to be a royal family in charge, then the sweet and fair princess it was. 

"Yes, I remember."

He and his brother had been so young.

"Well!" Toad Lily continued. "There were less and less orphans, and families were finding houses of their own. The Princess came in a few months ago and offered us a deal: if we left the castle, it could become a hospital; and in exchange, she offered us to live near Toad Town, on the royal crown's money. I have to admit this life isn't so bad, so far! I'm just worried about school. This town's school will be new for them… I hope they can make new friends there…"

Mmh. It wasn't as though all of them were to be enrolled. Besides, it wasn't hard for others to make friends. There was that one kid he could worry for, though…

“But our Princess has offered us everything they will need for school! It's in the bag you carried here. Thank you, again."

"No problem."

"You might have wondered,” Toad Lily added in a voice rich with glee, “why we called on you for such a small job. I had this idea to cheer the children up! They always wanted to meet Mario!”

This was fun in its own miserable way. Toad Lily really acted like a mom. The kids had asked for Mario, and she’d answered that they already had Luigi at home.

He grinned in a cringing way, which Toad Lily misinterpreted for embarrassment.

“Do you know why Master Mario –”

Again with ‘Master Mario’ –

“-- not come? I heard he had an unexpected but important task –”

– Master Mario this, Master Mario that – they were not ‘Masters’, also it was funny the Toadette who was blabbering in front of him had referred to him as a mister but when the oh so saintly cape-wearing red-clad hero was mentioned, suddenly lots of Master ’s were thrown at his feet.

“Master Luigi?” Toad Lily repeated. “Are you alright?”

Luigi looked at her as though surprised she was still around in her own home.

“Wha–? S-Sorry,” he shook his head, “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Oh dear, I can tell you, you are not the only one! The thunderstorm forced the children to stay at home when they would normally play outside, so they were restless during the night – and poor Truffle was so upset! He’s the sensitive kind, the weather affects him a lot. At least that storm eased the temperatures! Truffle was getting a bit sick with the heat.”

Huh. Luigi too.

He pulled his lips back to show his teeth. It would have to settle for a sympathetic smile. He wasn’t feeling like giving it genuinity by making it reach his eyes.

Toad Lily seemed to throw a closer look at his teeth. He'd brushed them, earlier this morning, while going to shave. He hoped nothing was stuck there. Just in case, he lowered his grin. 

"Oh that's so cute!" she said. "You've got a chip on your tooth!"

Oh yeah. That. Almost unconsciously, he was rubbing his tongue against the rough edges of his tooth.

"And – oh dear – you're all red! You should wear some sunscreen."

That could explain the cooking heat he felt on his shoulders, neck, face and ears. 

“I… It’s okay, I just – I tend to… forget it, sometimes. But we weren’t outside for long, so…”

While Toad Lily used the subject to play-scold him, Luigi’s overthinking brain focused elsewhere. He didn’t just forget about the sunscreen. It was the coldness, the texture and especially the all-pervasive smell that made him ditch it the few times he remembered he should use some. Instead, he liked to think that one day, after enough natural exposure, he would be able to sustain the UV rays without the stupid product. It was true however that he always got very bad burns at the beginning. And… at some point, his capacity for being stubborn on sunscreen made him feel like an idiot and a kid. 

Extreme environments could be unforgiving: hot desert, but also mountains, snow mountains, lava lands, island beaches… space. God forbid he forgot sunscreen and proper covering clothes in space, where cosmic rays and little suns could fuck him over. He'd been taught a right lesson over there – he still remembered the huge blisters he'd gotten on his thighs, toes, shoulders, where he'd been severely hit. 

He could also half-remember how much of an idiot he'd been that time he'd thought he and his bro could finish crossing the desert during the afternoon. Granted, he'd been half delirious. After a few hours in the realm, he'd started to feel a bit cold, reasoning he must have gotten used to the heat exceptionally well. He'd thought he could keep walking and walking under the hottest sun. He hadn't felt thirsty anymore either… His heart had started beating very very fast though, and he couldn't really understand what he was seeing… he was nauseous, but it was normal… 

When he next woke up, it was with great splashes of fresh water on his head, and he'd crawled to nearly drown in the fresh oasis, adding shock on top of heat stroke. Mario had to drag the top of his body out of the water before he drowned. It took him hours before he could remember how to speak. His breath could have rivalized Bowser's fire. He'd nearly died and taken his brother with him in the desert.

But in the lush green lands of the Mushroom Kingdom, he was lazy. Besides, he hadn't expected to get sunburns, especially after a thunderstorm. He was still an idiot. 

Whatever Toad Lily just said, he nodded. She looked as though she’d seen right through it, but she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she ranted about the monster of the other night. 

“Frankly, I don’t have much sympathy for those Wario and Waluigi. They’ve always been such a troublesome lot. But did they deserve what they got?” She put the lid on the saucepan. “Absolutely not!”

He had enough of that subject.

“That can only mean there is yet another villain in the town to be wary of now, another lunatic or beast or ghostly apparition... I hope you and your brother are ready if it ever returns before the agents find that menace… First Bowser, and now that beast? Are holidays too much to ask for?”

Luigi had agreed to give his brother a service, doing some stupid job at the castle in his stead. He hadn’t expected to be given the job of carrying a bag of stuff to the nearest orphanage – an orphanage! full of kids! – and then to be half-forced to actually have tea there to please the owner. If it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have set a foot inside it. And now, he’d wasted his chance to invent an excuse and scatter away. Too late. 

The green brother wasn’t very surprised that Mario had taken up such a job, though he would have preferred being warned of what it entailed. Mario loved helping Peach out, even if he technically didn’t have to work anymore: they had enough coins for over five lifetimes, and his incredible services to the Kingdom ensured him a fine, early retirement, though he’d likely never quit being the hero and saving the day. 

“It is the least we can do,” he remembered the Princess saying, years ago, gifting his brother with the medal of honor of this world, laying it down his neck. “Please, accept this as our thank-you. You saved us all.”

Mario had had to insist on giving Luigi a medal of honor of his own. Nowadays, Luigi didn’t remember where he’d thrown it. Probably lost in a dark corner of his furniture, or between two planks of the house’s floor. Or maybe it was rotting under a forest's soil or a lake's surface. 

At the time, he’d hung on that medal like a lifeline, even if he wasn’t supposed to have it. After one too many disappointments with his never-changing condition, he’d thrown a fit and had decided he would never look at the stupid reward anymore. It was fake and worthless, and a reminder of who he was to the eyes of not only the Mushroom Kingdom’s people but the Princess herself: the – ah, what were the exact words? – the Eternal Understudy . 

Luigi could remember what the true medal of honor looked like: a big white Star on a thick rainbow circle. Mario’s medal had looked shinier and polished. Luigi’s had felt like a dummy medal, one you could find in supermarkets selling kid make-up and cheap fake jewels. It didn’t shine, it was rough to the touch, some edges cut, it had no value, no life. He’d learned it when he’d gotten his hands on Mario’s own medal. His Star could spin and even be slightly pulled away, it was a live Star on an actual mini rainbow road. Luigi’s version had a back where the star and rainbow were encrusted, where Mario’s had none. It was made – not even out of silver to make it as though Mario had gotten HeartGold and Luigi had gotten SoulSilver – but out of raw tin. 

Luigi had focused on the meaning of that medal, he’d refused to blame the Princess for it, and he’d felt less deserving of the medal anyway, but it had always tormented him and, on his worst moments, it had hurt him. His own medal oughtn’t have been made with a sparkling white Star and a happy, almost-smokey rainbow. It had to be a Star switching colors like a night light on a black-gray-white rainbow. But how could he hope to have a personalized medal when no one even remembered he existed?

But the medal he’d gotten – it had been worse than forgetting about his contribution to saving the Mushroom Kingdom alongside his brother, worse than giving him a mere replica of Mario’s medal after the fact – the worst was that the replica was obviously shit anyway. 

Oh, it had cut deep. Very deep. He would have preferred getting nothing . 

Mario’s intentions were pure. Unfortunately, it had often backfired on Luigi even more than if he’d just ignored him.

“...ster?”

“Huh?!” he startled. Toad Lily, the Toadette owner of the orphanage, half-sighed, always that smile on her lips. The man noticed something smoking under his nose – tea had been served.

“H-Oh! Thank you… sorry…”

He grabbed the tea, took a sip. 

What a nice idea to serve hot tea in the middle of summer heat. 

Pissy mood.

Luigi smiled, showing her he liked it. He was so impolite, he knew…

I wished I’d gotten sugar cubes.

“You remind me of one of my boys there”, the Toadette supplied. “He daydreams a lot too! That’s very cute.”

What? Luigi didn’t understand and didn’t know what to make of what she said.

“...thanks?”

Toad Lily smiled in a way that cemented hos much she was getting annoyed with his eccentricities. True: he wasn’t one of the Toadpoles, he was a grown adult. But she oughtn’t be surprised – she must have heard how he was called Mario’s kid brother.

He still felt incredibly ashamed of not being able to listen to her more than a minute and having her repeat herself several times in a row.

“His name is Truffle,” she went on, serving herself tea and blowing onto the cup. “It’s the boy you saw playing on the other side of the room. Nothing too serious but,” she sighed, “he’s got some trouble fitting in with the other boys. Too shy, too engrossed in his inner world – he’ll grow out of it, eventually. It’s not his fault, poor dear’s only five years-old, but it is true that…” 

Luigi’s head perked up when the Toadette wouldn’t finish her sentence. She appeared stressed, conflicted. Her silence sounded as though she couldn’t admit something, as though… there was a lot of trouble, frustration, disappointment , with the kid. Luigi knew that look personally.

Toad Lily shook her head, with something between a chuckle and a sigh. “Nevermind. I just wish he didn’t make things so hard for himself. The other boys don’t understand him, they’re children, so of course, they’ll be drawn to pick on him a bit, but it’s understandable, they’re just as confused. I’ve brought him to the doctor but they don’t know what he’s got.

Truffle, huh... Such a cute name. Such a dangerous name to have.

“He’s sick?” Luigi asked, willing to do some conversation for once.

“Well obviously there’s something wrong with him. I mean – woo! What am I saying?” she laughed, fanning her flushing face. “He’s – he’s, hum, uh, not like the other children, and quite difficult to manage! I’m pulling through! But I really think he’s… maybe a bit… slow? You know what I mean?”

Yeah. Yeah, he got the gist of it. 

It was… very depressing. 

He nodded and observed the light froth of the infusion swirl on the surface in graceful curves. 

So that's what they were thinking of me, on the other side. And they don't even see I am of the kind they would reject. How can they expect me to agree with them?  

He grabbed the cup and drank, willing the tea to burn his throat if needed. It drew some tears out of him. 

Luigi would ask if he could talk to the little Toad, or just share a moment with him, but he knew the other kids wouldn’t let them together in peace unless they go play outside. 

“I’m going to see how the children are doing,” Toad Lily said. She was done trying to talk to him. The door was clicked open. Luigi buried his head between his shoulders when the loud yells broke through. 

You’re too sensitive.

Unfortunately for him, his moment of reprieve was short-lived. Someone else entered, someone quite bulky and brutish, judging by the sound they made. Luigi bet that it was the…

Yeah, it was him. 

The bulky Toad wouldn’t move until Luigi met his eyes. Then the Toad moved on, searching through the  cupboards for food. A mind-game had started – Luigi’s mind was especially honed to deal with these situations. 

If he stayed, the Toad could decide to eat some biscuits right where it would drive the plumber mad, not to mention, under surveillance. If he left, the Toad could decide to “conveniently” follow him. 

If he left so soon, he would send the message that the Toad could make him flee. But if he didn’t move, he would send the message that the Toad could easily trap and torment him. Better to show that he was comfortable moving anywhere he wanted.

And better yet, Luigi could find a “convenient” location, in the middle of the way to the livingroom, forcing the Toad to continue his path unless he wanted to obviously out himself as hunting Luigi on purpose… at which point Luigi would be in the right to confront him.

So, unable to stay put any longer, and his legs screaming to walk, the plumber casually rose from the table, cup in hand. 

Toad Lily chose that moment to enter the kitchen.

“Travis! What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. There was the crackling of a box of biscuits, and before Travis could open it, Toad Lily had stepped in to yank it away. 

“If you want to eat, you have some fruits on the table!”

Oh, the fool glare he sent her. But Toad Lily didn’t step back.

Luigi did, but she wouldn’t.

Travis strode out of the kitchen and slammed the door. 

“TRAVIS!”

Toad Lily’s voice got softer when she saw the green plumber covering his ears, head buried between his shoulders once again. 

“Dear! I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to startle you. He’s just in a fool mood today. I guess he really wanted to see the true Mario!”

At that point, he’d understood how much Toad Lily had lied. And his stupid, appreciation-craving self really had thought that she was a fan of him? It hurt. He probably deserved it for being so naive. 

The plumber nodded and agreed to whatever the Toadette said to end the discussion as soon as possible. When she was done trying to talk to him, focusing on washing the dishes she’d gathered, he opened the door to the livingroom. Between the urge to leave, the paranoid mental image of Travis emerging out of nowhere to slam the door on his nose, and the knowledge he ought to finish his cup of tea first, he caught sight of someone sitting on the outsides of the main room, near the chimney. 

The kid was obviously the outsider – no wonder he filled his head with dreams instead. Was it the daydreaming of creativity and obsession with fantasy worlds, like with his own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles after a tedious day? Was it the daydreaming of loneliness, imagining someone was playing or talking with him, because he needed it, to preserve a little bit of his sanity? Was it the hardest daydreaming, like Luigi had these last few days, relentlessly assaulted by these obsessive, intrusive thoughts and that omnipresent voice commenting on each bit of weakness, shame and righteous self-hatred? 

What if I stepped in and took revenge on this kid’s behalf? What if I eliminated all of his siblings so that Toad Lily only took care of that kid? Wouldn’t everyone be happy?

He shook those violent thoughts off, but more came. It was disturbing and made him slightly scared of himself. 

What if I lost control? What if my body acted without my command? 

It made him very aware of his limbs, how he clenched his fists and held on. 

His heart beat faster when he heard the other kids – their loud, brutal interjections, he couldn’t understand a word but all of them sounded like insults.

Not him !

Don’t panic… he told his body. His legs were turning to jelly and static electricity was shooting through his arms, making him itch; he couldn’t help it, but… he would have to endure. No wonder the little Toad was so easily upset in such a loud and chaotic environment. It would have driven Luigi insane long ago. Truffle, well, had no choice but to endure it. Toad Lily did not seem the kind to truly understand him, that he needed a bit of a special treatment compared to his ‘siblings’, like Mochi. 

He felt deeply sorry for the Toad. He knew many pains and tragedies were to befall him. The plumber wanted to help him out. Make the Toad understand that he is not alone in the world, that there was hope because they were people like him or accepting of people like him outside – like Mario had been. Teach him the ways of survival, things Luigi would have wanted someone to tell him before he learned things the hard way. Maybe they could play together and talk, he’d only have to sit on the ground next to him, speak a few words, and patiently, silently, observe. Maybe he could come over another time, to play with him and ward him from danger. Who knew, Luigi might be able to offer him a foster home. He knew how lonely the Toad must be. To be so lonely, so young… when all the kids of his age were playing silly games outside? It was such a shame… But… He could make things different.

And if he wouldn’t be an available parent, he could still help the kid out. Advocate for some special tuition for him. Offer him a better foster home for whenever the kid wanted it… He ought to think about it… check for the administration files… do something for that kid…

You’re being way too generous… he told himself.

But I could make a difference. Someone has to do something. I want to be a hero… and heroes don’t always save the princess. They save everyone else. The forgotten folks who give up asking for help.

Many people had tried to convince them, before, that it wasn’t worth it to be altruistic and heroic. He’d been guilty of the same when he’d tried to force Mario away from danger.

If not for The Real Mario, the Superstar, the Superhero… the Mushroom Kingdom would be a living hell, just like the Dark Lands.

And they wouldn’t have made it out of New York either.

Helping – what was his name? – Truffle didn't involve putting his life and sanity on the line either. And it would be oh-so gratifying. 

At least give him a “hello”, to make sure the Toadlope didn’t feel entirely casted out.

“Oy! OY !"

But Luigi was a special kind: he always knew how to fuck things up very badly. He’d never learned, never changed. What was it that he didn’t understand?

"Where’s your cap?”

"Yeah, where's your cap?"

He'd always been taught to ignore bullies, otherwise they'd relish the attention. That if he ignored their insults enough, then they would stop. Instead, it had gotten louder, and even physical. They hadn’t been fooled: they’d known he could still hear them, that their words hurt. That it was because he could do nothing about it that he stayed silent and forced himself to tank it. It took him raising Mochi to ask why the adults hadn’t done anything, and why they’d forced him in such a vulnerable position, on the excuse that if he attacked back, he’d be deemed the aggressor and punished, threatened with expulsion. They couldn’t be that clueless, they had understood all along the dynamics at play. 

They had been… complicit.

So why… why him? Why had they done this to him? Why had they all turned against him?

Along the way, he’d learned better on how to react to bullies targeting him; though of course, it changed little to the situations he had to face.

“I only wear it when on missions now.”

“Oooooooohhh,” they jeered, some of them failing to contain their giggles. 

“What mission?”

“Saving the world,” Luigi cut in, before anyone suggested anything else. 

They were looking at each other, grinning in that way– that way that always made Luigi want to rip their grins apart, claw their eyes and scar them for life. 

He shouldn’t have come in. He hated kids for a reason.

"You shoulda come with the cap. The L suits you," the ferret-faced Toad said while gesturing an L with his fingers. 

Though obviously tense, Luigi stayed weirdly calm, including when the teens started to giggle openly, because at last he'd gotten solid evidence it was purposeful bullying. 

Evidence? For whom? Who's gonna listen to you? Who's gonna care? You got plenty of evidence before. It never served you for anything. Because no one cared. They were only painful reminders.

Stupid little inner 'voice'…

Well, he had nothing to answer back to them. But he had an idea of what to do. He wouldn’t alarm them beforehand, or they might get smug, pretend they didn’t care and ready themselves. He’d talk to Toad Lily about their behavior, for a surprise comeback. She was the responsible adult, she could serve the punishments and make them regret what they’d blurted out. He’d ensure she’d especially protect the lone Toadpole from his temporary 'siblings'. He’d need someone, or he’d be screwed over. There was no guarantee that the oldest fucks would take their own house and leave the orphanage anytime soon, which would mean more bullying and isolation for little Truffle. He couldn’t save everyone, but he could try to make a difference for him.

For all the good that did.

Because a few minutes later, here they were, chanting –

“Wedgie and Truffy sitting on a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G! Wedgie and Truffy sitting on a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G!

He’d have preferred being called an “Ince-L” over whatever that mockery implied. 

Images of him and Ludwig together in the room back in Bowser’s kingdom flashed in his mind. But–no, it was different. He had done that to scare the Koopa away or, if bad came to worse, be ready to give some form of consent so that he would cope better with the aftermath. So that he’d remember he’d had some amount of control over the situation and, most importantly, his own body; that in some way, he had been willing, even if he hadn’t had much of a choice in the first place. But he hadn’t been willing in the sense that he’d wanted Ludwig, only, he had been ready to “accept” for survival’s sake. He hadn’t felt attraction, least of all for Ludwig Von Koopa. If anything, he had almost been a victim–or, well, “forced”. Besides, Ludwig was of sexual majority and he’d been the instigator.

Forget that no one would believe him, when he could hardly understand why he’d made this decision rather than try to fight or flee. No one but Ludwig knew what happened anyway, and unless Ludwig revealed he was a gay Koopa who’d been lusting after a green sneeze stain, no one else would know.

Luigi hoped, at least, that the Koopa would be honest enough to admit the whole truth.

Oh, who was he kidding, if Ludwig wanted to ruin Luigi’s life even more, no one would care if he lied.

“K.I.S.S.I.N.G! – K.I.S.S.I.N.G! – K.I.S.S.I.N.G!”

He’d been bullied countless times in his life, and this was no different. It didn’t matter, or at least, Luigi had the habit to try and convince himself so. 

Except that now, an innocent child was getting bullied too... because of Luigi’s unpopularity. This, he could not stand. 

A hero would tell the kids to stop laughing, that they should be ashamed of themselves. But Luigi wasn’t used to acting like the hero; he’d always presented himself as Mario’s goofy sidekick. He wasn’t making lots of efforts to preserve an image worthy of respect most of the time, because it was so tiring. 

Perhaps this, along with the awful night he’d just had, were the reasons he didn’t show... a good example. 

As the chanting got maddening, something seemed to misfire in his head. Something squirming, teasing, pushing against him. Like a raw, primal part eating him from the inside, wanting out.

He had to keep control of himself. Luigi was a veteran soldier, his hands were weapons on their own. With difficulty but determination, he sought the memories of his brother Mario learning to master his emotions under Luigi’s guide. If he didn’t…

Mario raged like a fire, constantly, but expectantly. The few times Luigi had lost his cool, he’d thundered , so to say… tearing the very air apart, relentlessly, until he made sure his enemies were nothing but cinders and scars. A blinded force of nature, a…

"Only a retard like you could buy into that!"

He was drowning in the waves of rage he feared. Fighting against the memories and the pain, the very idea of violence in a situation that had a million peaceful ways to be resolved, the jolt from hearing that insult, that… slur. And how the other Toadpoles either smiled or snickered…

Oh stars, he loathed those smiles…

He breathed, he breathed, cool, cool…

"Hey, excuse me – I'm right here? Could you not call him that?"

He could have been standing furniture for all they cared. 

What the Toadlops were saying, he couldn’t pick apart. Paralyzed with rage, the effort of self-control, fear of the kids, fear of himself, fear for the underdog, he was lost. But what followed was clearly heard through the orphanage. 

“It doesn’t mean loser,” the fool exclaimed. “It means Legendary!”

Truffle grinned at him, only to find, he bet, horror on his superhero’s face. 

The Toad kids looked at each other again, and after a quick silence, roared in laughter . 

Pain. Pain in his eardrums, pain rattling shards of glass in his chest. His entire body quivered under shots of adrenaline.

Figli di una troia morta . They were loud, so loud , and couldn’t they stop!? He was just an awkward kid, like he’d once been, couldn’t they–

“Leave him alone! He’s done nothing to you.”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“ You shut up and listen,” Luigi shot back, barely registering the Toad’s insult.

“ Oh, oh Bowser, you’re so deep inside me! ” 

He wasn’t alien to obscenities, aimed to be mentally scar him. He’d suffered a lot of them, throughout his adventures. He was only half-surprised that those teens were uttering such things, nevermind the 7 year-old behind them.

Yet it was enraging how sharply they still cut when coming from that population. 

He, truly, hated kids. 

He was done thinking. He could only rely on his senses and feelings. For instance, the feeling that things were escalating very quickly and entering dangerous zones.

The feeling he was losing control.

He forgot how to speak, and his closing throat didn't help matters. He was, quite literally, choking on rage.

His very sense of judgement was getting corrupted. By a bunch of kids and his own scars. His body knew the punk was asking for a fight, and his body was sprung to deliver. 

Travis, the bulkiest of the Toads, walked till his and Luigi’s chests were almost touching. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Luigi finds Travis ridiculous. He’s so short compared to him. 

But his eye was an expert at spotting danger, and it didn’t take a genius to know it was degenerating. Travis craved to punch the Mushroom Kingdom’s loser, and his siblings were salivating at the prospect of a fight. One of them had locked the door to the kitchen, two of the other oldest were surrounding the brute, ready to help him win this fight and have a go at the little green brother themselves. Everyone was watching… even Truffle.

…

He heard the call.

…

His body sent it – a reflex developed after years of brutal fighting. Dimly, he could remember why he’d started to shut himself away, tried to forget everything. The horrors he’d suffered, and the horrors he’d inflicted. Fighting to the death for the sake of the world had changed him into someone he wouldn’t have wished to become. Desperate to prove his worth, he’d traded self-preservation and cowardice, for violence and rage. He’d started to crave for fights as a way to vent, a game where he could take pleasure in his talent, his overwhelming power. But you couldn’t win everything with fighting, could you? There were many things you could lose with it. It wasn’t right that being a superhero had become a way to convert violence into his sport, like a villain. 

Luigi shut down all the flashing thoughts of all the ways he could win a fight against those brute punks, how he could make them suffer, how he could prove them in the flesh how he very much was a great fighter – 

No.

It would be stupid to get so worked up for a few kids –

But he hated kids. And they were begging for a beating. 

He should get out of there. There were far greater dangers than a few Toadpoles. There were other ways he could help Truffle out.

He didn’t know why he was holding on. Why he would rather shake or freeze. He just knew that was to be done.  

It was okay to flee.

He sucked in his pride and stepped away from the so-called Travis. 

It was okay to flee.

Even if it took a toll on his ego and his reputation – he didn’t have much to start with, did he? 

How odd that he could both feel the assault from Travis – the taunting and mocking and spitting – but not really feel it either.

Leave him–

Leave him–

He’d never been able to kneel and play in silence with the little Toad. They would, probably, never bond. And the young Toad would never learn that there were healthy people who functioned like him in this difficult world. 

It was so violent and so unexpected, so unreasonable, he wondered, for a few centiseconds, if his own body had decided to spasm and throw itself forward. It took a few centiseconds still to realize there was the ghost of pain on the back of his head. He blacked out. 

In those few moments, he was set. 

Those were enemies – he'd already met their kind.

His hand reached out to the kid Toad’s throat. 

At once, he was raising and throwing the kid onto the ground, with all of his might, splitting the planks and perhaps some junior vertebrae with it. 

That wasn’t enough, far from it. 

He grabbed the leg, pulled him out, repeatedly bashed him through the parquet. 

The house trembled with it.

Oh, the thrill!

“Woa – WOAH !”

“HOLY SHIT!”

A girl screaming, and a laugh.

Luigi didn't have to judge whether or not the other boys were going to attack him, because he knew he was going to attack them. Lifting Travis by the same leg like a stunned chicken, he threw a look at his state – yes, an unrecognizable face – then he spun and threw the body in the chimney’s hearth, a doll to be broken against the stone bricks. A girl screamed again – she too was a menace. 

The orphanage was pathetic, and the people inside it were either clowns or public nuisances. Luigi clung onto his hatred like a lifeline, both fighting and embracing the storm of emotions that had sprung in that establishment. He'd already lived through this situation. He knew what was awaiting him, what was awaiting the odd Toad kid. He felt it deep in his bones, a visceral kind of deja-vu. Danger, helplessness, humiliation , he'd tasted them all. History had an uncanny way of repeating itself, always targeting the most innocent: he lived the same experiences over and over and over, even in his adult years. And he had enough, hadn't he? He wanted to break free of that. He wanted to be someone else, and if he couldn't be reborn, then he would at least make things different for himself…

And for the little Truffle. 

NEVER AGAIN.

So today… Today, he would rage, and this time he would win. This time, there would be no regrets. 

The kitchen door opened and the Toadette headmistress entered the room, asking hurried questions, throwing a glance at the chimney, looking back at him in confusion or shock. Whatever she saw, whatever they’d tell her, she would have to taste it herself.

His teachers, his caretakers, had been enablers: bullies in their own right. That bitch of an orphanage director was no different.

She must have felt pierced by his eyes. He wondered how she felt the impending danger. He wondered if a slow-minded Toadette like her could feel the pain before she was knocked up. Luigi bounced upon her, a strike of a slap that ought to have cracked her head against the wall. 

This time, the screams were utterly terrified. The Toadlops were scurrying to flee. 

Luigi snarled.

He could, he guessed, leave the other Toadlops be. But they were bullies too, right? They’d mocked him, salivated for a fight. They’d take up the job of picking on Truffle, destroying his life.

His duty was to destroy theirs before that.

Bullies, he thought, as he leaped towards the first in line to the exit. Bullies were not rational except on their terms. Bullies understood violence; violence was the only thing that could teach them well.

Today, Luigi was the predator.

Everything became sort of a dark blur from then on – he wouldn't be able to know what was happening with his body, so he just kept doing what he had to do, attacking, attacking relentlessly , pushing through the confusion and the buzzing in his ears. Everytime he hit something, he could feel the force of it jerking his brain, making it bounce round the walls of his skull, creating more confusion, more fog, more dizziness. He needed that, because he hated the memories attempting to breach the surface, and if only he could forget them forever, so that he wouldn’t be affected by them anymore… 

If he didn’t intervene, who would protect the little Toad? He had lived hell, but god forbid that anyone else went through that as well. He knew what would follow if that Toad… If that kid Toad didn’t have a hero to protect him... 

And so he struck to save the kid from a life of ruin and pain. 

Blind, his hand grappled something that felt like a Toad face, then slid down. His fingers retracted like claws. Luigi forced them to close, a rage beyond his comprehension backing his strength. He didn’t let go for what seemed like an hour. Chocking, chocking that miserable waste of space, forcing down on its throat as though trying to pop his head out like the seal of a bottle of champagne. 

These hands had torn kingdoms apart. Ruined dictatorships, broken warlords, forced countless enemies on their knees. He’d like to see the Toadlops try to resist when so much greater had fallen before him!

To whoever the little arm trying to claw his face belonged, it was not to bother him. Luigi snarled some more, bit through the Toadpole’s arm, sectioning it clean off the body it used to be attached to.

He was not afraid, he thought, blind, spitting the limb to the floor. Not anymore. These kids could not break his body… but he could break theirs. That idea made him want to laugh. They may hurt his soul, but then he’d take his rage and throw it back at them. They would stop laughing when they’d realize he’d caused them life-changing damage , from a confrontation that never had to happen. 

Mental scars to remember him by.

Who was going to save them from him?

It was a memory that would likely etch in his brain, tasting like victory. A kid fell on the side and shrieked in terror. The Toadlope covered his head with his arms, retracted his legs against his belly, curled into a ball – shaking in expectation of the blows to come. Luigi laughed at the sight, empowered. He’d won.

But that wouldn’t stop him from making them suffer more.

Luigi bet on their disabilities driving them to suicide. They’d have the choice to either suffer unfathomable pain over the next hundred years of their lives, or die by their own hands…

Luigi's own hands…

He’d won. They’d lost. They’d painfully regret that day he’d crossed his path, and not even the afterlife could save them.

He’d stained them, forever.

Luigi laughed some more.

It was so easy. Stronger, healthy, outnumbering him, with the school teachers in their pocket – that was how cowardly they’d been against him. But now, kids of those kinds were weak to him. He could hurt them all he wanted. He was grown up now… He was a dangerous man, never one to piss off ever again.  

Oh, it was so funny. He had the upper hand, now. He could do whatever he wanted to them , he could abuse and beat them as much as he liked.

“You… You sick son of a bitch…!”

And Luigi grinned, hearing the confirmation of their helplessness. To insult him was all they could do, a futile attempt to symbolically fight back, and it was pathetic .

He crouched and slapped the insolent one. So that he too learned to remain silent. 

More abuse for trying to defend themselves from him. He could do lots more.

And so he did, with volleys of slaps on the cowering, screaming Toadpole. 

He’d read that once. How children of abuse were more likely to turn into abusers themselves.

When the screams became too annoying, Luigi took the walking wart by the other leg and hurled it through the other window – it exploded in shards of glass. 

The piece of rot had stopped screaming on the other side.

He laughed, because he found it funny, how Travis had been thrown like a doll each time he’d tried to resist him.

And now, he was standing in the middle of the orphanage like he’d stood in the middle of cold wastelands, ruined cities, bloody battlefields, of which he was the champion. 

(The Warrior of Mistletoe, in his clothes of red and green.)

He’d done his duty. He'd done what was right. He’d put himself in trouble for the life of a child.

He’d done it all for him .

The young Truffle. 

So that he could see there was a way out of there. That he could take control of his life. That justice existed in this world, carried by those who had the strength and courage to stand up for the weak.

It was the difference between a superhero and a hero.

The superhero had lost all the value of his duty, while the hero saved the unimportant.

Just like that, Truffle's fake siblings were out of the way. They would never be able to even look at him again. Truffle would be the orphan who succeeded the most in his life…

…But was he seeing things right?

He couldn’t understand.

What was that look on the kid’s face?

Luigi couldn’t understand what a part of him suggested. How could it be that the kid did not appreciate his intervention? He’d saved him, protecting his dignity as well. He didn’t want to think the kid was ungrateful – that could make him fume against him and Luigi wanted that even less – but how else could he interpret that face? 

And why was the kid crouched inside the chimney? That was dangerous, if the ashes were still red…

Luigi had only taken a step forward before Truffle erupted in a blood-curdling scream. The hero was not heartless – he could feel it, the terror, the plea for help. A plea for help, against him . The anguish he sensed in the hysterical sobs was the nail in the coffin. 

Luigi blinked again, and again. Surely, he wasn’t seeing right. He had protected the kid from bullies. He had done what he’d prayed and begged that someone did for him, in a school and orphanage where he'd found no mercy. 

And yet, the image remained more of the same: an expression of starking terror… instead of what Mario would have gotten. 

But then, would Mario have done what his twin brother just did?

He hadn’t realized it until then, how he’d been overlooking things like an outside observer all along. When Truffle broke down, it was as though his spirit found the way back to his body again. The landing was brutal. Luigi choked as if he’d unwittingly taken his first real breath in over a year. Blood fled from his head, electricity and coldness zinged all over his skin. His chest felt so tight, his legs started to turn into jelly, his stomach constricted violently…

He breathed, breathed harder, trying to take in the scene. 

Why was the Toad crying?

It made him want to cry as well. He’d done something bad, hadn’t he?

You idiot. Of course you did.

He looked down and saw the bodies of unconscious Toadpoles on the floor. Unrecognizable. One of them had a split lip, eyes on the verge of popping out, a face ruined in a plethora of bruises and a thin mixture of saliva and blood.

It was weird, because in his memories, the Toads had appeared so large, almost as tall as him. Here, in the silence of his head, where Truffle's sobs played as a muffled background, he saw how tiny these bodies were. These kids were so young. So small. So thin. It was even weirder to see them in gore. 

They were so fragile.

And he… had done that. 

But he too had been fragile. How could they have done this to him?

How could he dare doing this to them?

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" a shrill voice shrieked through the room. 

Luigi jumped, scared to the bones. 

"YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!!! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!" 

And now Luigi was really shaking, shaking violently. Adrenaline, of course. But also shock. 

"GET OOOOUUUT!!!" the Toadette cried. 

He'd been angry, yes. What happened, it had been unfair. 

But he’d gone too far.

"I’m sorry," Luigi blurted out to Truffle, his voice strangely raw. 

I wanted to protect you. I thought you’d like what I did. Showing I wasn’t the weak fuck people take me for. I wanted to make you proud, as you shouldn’t be ashamed to admire me. I wanted to show you that if I could become a hero, you could become one as well. I wanted... 

Truffle was crying so hard, he was coughing. He heard none of his apologies.

The fire and electricity in Luigi's veins died out. Actual panic began to settle in his heart. He didn't say anything else. It was useless anyway, he’d gone too far. 

He'd gone too far.  

Saving that kid from a life of ruin and pain? He’d just destroyed his life with his madness. Those were the mental scars Truffle would remember him by.

Legs shaking violently under him, he stumbled back. 

“I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT!!! HEEEELP!!! " Toad Lily started crying out. "SOMEBODY HELP US!! MARIOOOOO!!! "

– It felt like betrayal. –

Luigi backed off, wondering how he was still able to walk. He had to lean over the inner doorframe for a second to avoid falling, before facing the corridor and running out – a criminal caught red-handed, leaving trails of blood on the hallway’s walls and floor. 

He didn't stop running when he burst out the door, spotting the shadow of a broken Toad body on the front gravel. He didn't stop because he could still hear Truffle's sobs, warding him off. He ought to have collapsed a hundred times on the way back to his home, his legs felt alien, his arms swinging during the run felt alien. He ran, because all the while, memories of the other day were flooding his sight. From the moment the dam had broken, he knew they were coming. He knew he'd learn the truth.

He had a hunch on what he would find. And because he wasn’t fast enough while running, he bounced , nearly splitting his tongue when he landed the first time. There were still traces of blood on his teeth from when he bit off a limb, he deduced from the metallic taste on his tongue. 

Why had he done that? What was wrong with him? Why had he beaten kids to a pulp? What would the orphanage say – no – the town, the princesses, his brother? 

He’d just blown it all. He’d lost his only fan, all by himself. 

Why had he done that? he asked himself repeatedly. Why... WHY?!

Everything felt so vivid, yet he must have lost his sense of time, lost awareness of everything but what had just happened in the orphanage and where he was currently fleeing. To his home yes, he reached it, but hiding in his room wouldn’t be enough. He would feel so exposed there, and he didn’t want his brother coming to his bed and scolding him for what he’d done – how could he ever stand in his presence ever again?! What if Mario decided his brother needed a beating – 

He was shaking on the sandy alley of their house, unable to remember the entrance to the one room that could allow him to truly hide (and perhaps never getting out again, lost forever, and everyone would be glad of it). His face was as white as a sheet of paper, he bet, except for the smudges of kid Toad blood on it. He felt so faint, so incoherent, and nauseous, blood pounding in his ears, making it even harder to think. Was he breathing? He couldn’t know if he was breathing, he was about to faint. 

His… his secret pipe. This time, he’d remembered to carry it. With jerking hands, he retrieved it from his chest storage, threw it down and jumped. 

His secret room no longer hid below his bedroom, but between the walls, in a dark, void space that was not supposed to exist. It had no window, no entrance, merely a pipe glued to the wall and which led nowhere. The only way in was the pipe Luigi carried, as unique and precious as a password. It had a bed, cupboards, lots of pillows and blankets on the floor. Though it remained in the dark, it was lit with soft green neon tubes and a blue moonlight hue that shouldn’t exist. 

Entering there was like cutting oneself from the world. No temperature, no sound, almost no light, no connection to the outside world – time was undefined – the perfect place to get lost in and die, without anyone finding him. 

Luigi stumbled onto where he knew the bed was laid, pulled off his shoes with his feets, hid under the fresh blankets, suffocating under them but unable to pick his head outside. He was scared. He was having what he called yet another of these “emotional crises”. 

It took him hours before being able to nap, and when he woke up, he sobbed. 

__________

He takes the Mask from his shorts’ pocket and throws it against the wall, somewhere dark, where it cannot look at him.

He should have known. It had the face of a Phanto. No – it had the face of – of –

He collapsed on the floor, shaking, his knees against his chest, his arms protecting his ears, eyes closed, as though it could make the outer world disappear, protect him from anyone who wanted to reach him.

You loved it. You loved every second of it. It always sends a thrill up your spine to hear screams of pain and terror. It is not your fault, it is just how you were born.

It had been unlike him, because it hadn’t been him .

It has been precisely like you. 

You, where you won’t even look.

He was shocked by his own violence. His knuckles were bruised, he could still feel them splitting the Toad's face, the momentum of his swings and that one time he hit the parquet.

What would his mother say if she knew what he'd done?

He broke into more sobs. It had been so violent, and he’d taken pleasure in it. He shouldn’t be allowed to walk anywhere. He should be sealed away, in a cell, forever.

He’d just wanted to help.

__________

"What do you mean?" Toad Lily broke down. "What do you mean, you can't heal them?!"

From theory to practice, Doctor Kinesine had dreaded announcements of bad news. She could deal with most patients. This case was an unwelcomed exception. 

"Nothing seems to work. We are–"

"What do you mean!?" she half-sobbed, half-yelled. "Why won't you heal them!?"

They'd tried though. They'd done everything they could. It made no difference. They didn't dare using the 1-ups for a full restore, since the other power-ups didn't work. The only reason the Toadpoles were still alive was because their attacker had wanted it. Their afterlife would have been gentler than being trapped in their ruined bodies, and it was decided they didn't deserve a happy ending.

"The man who… did this, you say it was Luigi Mario, right?" The lady couldn't answer in her current state. Kinesine briefly searched for confirmation (and support) on her colleagues. "He is… not to be underestimated. We have had to heal many patients who had fallen to the Mario Brothers, and they…"

What could she say that wouldn’t send the lady further down her distressed state? Kinesine suspected that the only thing that could help was to heal the children, which wasn't successful so far... Maybe she should offer a sedative to the lady…

"They’re going to spend their lives in a wheelchair!” the madam screamed. “They won’t even be able to speak! Or to think!"

"W–we uh…"

The two other doctors stayed silent.

"HE'S KILLED THEM!" she shrieked, collapsing at the foot of the chair. "I invited him to my home, and he killed all of my boys!–"

Kinesine and her colleagues looked at each other. She was not far off from the truth. If Luigi Mario had wanted… 

"There may be a way, madam… We have always managed to heal the bodies of those that the Mario Brothers defeated –"

"HE'S KILLED THEM ALL!!!"

Kinesine cringed, wishing she could stuck her fingers in her ears. She could feel how hard her eardrums vibrated under Miss Toad Lily's scream. 

"Madam!" she tried. "Please calm down!"

But it was no use. Miss Toad Lily had a complete nervous breakdown; she couldn't be reasoned, no word could get across. After she flung herself against a door and a bench, Kinesine figured she was psychotic enough that she could be administered a sedative by force. Which they did, with the help of the hospital's security guard. The doctor hoped she wouldn't sue her. 

As security transported the lady to a warded bed, Kinesine’s Boo colleague, Doctor Bees, sighed. 

“Well then, it happened. He snapped at last. Told you it was him.”

“You thought Mario did it,” she pointed out. 

“He or his brother.”

Anyone could have guessed, Kinesine was about to argue, but her head throbbed too much to allow her. She closed her mouth and hummed. 

Lyza the Piranha Plant, who’d been guiding security to a free box, approached the both of them.

"Do you think we could ask the Mario Brothers to heal the children? If they can bypass the power-ups, maybe they can force them to heal."

"Do you volunteer?" Bees half-joked. 

"I've never heard of them developing healing powers," Kinesine added. "If they'd wanted to become doctors then I'm sure they would have excelled, but they're not. They're fighters . They always relied on the power-ups to get back up. When they needed them, that is.”

“So what do we do?” Lyza asked. Kinesine looked at her, lengthily, in silence.

“Pray that he comes over for a check-up?”

“No, I meant – for the children.”

The Toadette raised an eyebrow.

“No idea.”

The only thing they could do was pray to the Star Sprites to heal the boys. Oh, and heal the lady herself. 

The day went on, the team watching over the children and the mommy stand-in, analyzing the last spinal MRIs and taking care of the wounds as much as they could. This time, Kinesine thought as she rubbed a local anesthetic on the left side of the girl’s face, Luigi Mario had gone too far. Yet whatever that lady would do, Doctor Kinesine doubted it could work. And she suspected it was only the beginning.

She couldn't understand people. Mario and Luigi had killed . Couldn't they get what it meant, that the Mario Brothers had long crossed the line? They were only lucky these men were on their side. How people could still treat the green brother as a joke, she couldn't fathom it. Ignorance had no bounds, but this amount was frankly criminal. The only guy who could stand up to Luigi was the oldest of the duo, Mario himself, and even then, if they were to fight, who could say the population would survive the clash? 

She prayed that Luigi would not break under the pressure again, that no one would push him over the edge. Or all of them would be doomed.

__________

The Warios were scared of him. Though Luigi wasn’t hitting them, he knew – his mere presence hurt them. If it kept going on, they’d die. 

He had to get away, but his body refused to obey him. He cried out, trying to reach over, to protect them – 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

The more he advanced, the louder their yells became. 

His hands. His fault.

Luigi tried backing off – he was only thrown forward.

“Why am I crying over them?” he felt the uncanny voice strangely loud in his throat. 

“After all,” he told himself, “haven’t you always wished they keeled over?”

Black, dull silence. The cries had stopped.

Now the men lay, bruised and broken, a few feet before him. Motionless. Pathetic. 

"Finally," was his first thought. "Thanks God they died so soon." 

His heart, hard as steel, indifferent to their anguish, and to the wrongness of celebrating someone's death. 

They weren't the Warios anymore, but strangers . All the panic he'd just had seemed worthless. He shouldn't have wasted his breath. There was no need to care about them. Only that, mayhaps, they'd got it coming.  

"I am avenged."

Disgusting, deceitful, dangerous men, who'd abused him so much. Now, they were old and dead on the floor. He'd only have to leave the scene to get away with it.

He was unreachable to their filthy hands. 

"I am free."

But…

Luigi took a breath, took another – another – another –!

He gasped, emerging from his violent sleep, immediately urging himself to calm down… 

All in silent horror. 

Was this who he truly was? Was this who he'd come to be?

He was stained, but he never shed a tear. 

From then on, he would be alone in this world. 

__________

It was the way of things. He’d been sort of ready for it. He’d been glad to see Luigi momentarily get better, thanks to the St John’s wort. Now, it was time to dive back.

(He just wondered whether it had been a battle won in a losing war, or the opposite. Better it be the opposite.)

Walking up the corridor to meet Toadsworth in the conference hall, he’d found it so weird he hadn’t known if he’d misinterpreted her expression – a look full of scorn from a Toadette. She didn’t look like she belonged to the sort of Toads that’d frequent the castle often, like the elected governors or the lords. She was quite obviously a commoner. And commoners used to quite adore him. Was she a spy from Bowser? Had he done, or not done, something a Toadette wanted? Or was she just in a bad mood? Either way, he’d made a mental note to be on the alert, then moved on. It was upon opening the great doors and entering the hall that he was informed of what had just happened. There, he met an incensed Toadsworth ranting and brandishing his cane all over the place while Toadbert tried to calm him down.

“Master Mario!” the elder exclaimed, walking towards him with uncanny speed. “I cannot believe – how dare she! How dare she! ”

Between Toadsworth’s exclamations and furious pacing, Mario heard words that he couldn’t have imagined. The elder told him how a Toadette – the Toadette that Mario had just crossed – had come for a complaint against his little brother Luigi –

“--for assaulting the orphans!” 

Mario raced back and caught up with the woman.

“Do not – don’t you dare – stay AWAY from me!”

“Easy there,” Mario frowned. The woman – mama mia  – half of her face was hidden behind a bandage. “I just want to understand. Why did you tell them my bro… attacked your orphans?”

The Toadette laughed almost crazily towards the ceiling. There was no joy in it.

“You… You knew… Fucker –”

“Excuse me –”

“So, is that how it goes in this kingdom? You save our lives, so you get the right to attack us, HUH?” The Toadette had tears in the corner of her black-bruised eyes, her face reddening. “YOUR BROTHER IS MENTAL!” 

(No. He was unwell.)

“Please don’t say that.”

“OOOHHhh…! Right! Hero’s privilege! No words must come out! Well I’m telling you this –” she spat, pointing a finger at him – “I’m not going to stay there and let you get away with this! I’ll do whatever I can! BECAUSE IT’S NOT FAIR!” She gasped a sob. “And may the Stars pray upon you – because either I will make your life hell, or THEY WILL! BECAUSE THEY KNOW THE TRUTH! THEY KNOW I’M TELLING THE TRUTH!”

If Mario understood something, it was that something had assuredly gone very wrong. Was this even real though? Was it really Luigi who–

“CHILD-BEATING LUNATICS! ”

She broke into tears outside.

The Toad guards looked at her then at each other, raising their eyebrows in mockery of the hysterical lady.

It’s true, Mario thought, not exactly knowing what to do. Luigi had been uncharacteristically down. It had to be expected that one day, he'd break. 

So he went to look out of the window, in the faint, hushed protests of the elderly steward, thinking, thinking, remembering. 

Mario was not as oblivious as Toadsworth. He knew very well what Luigi was capable of. 

Amidst the numerous flashes of their troubled past, he came upon the memory of that day, in high school, where his little brother had been pushed around one time too many. It had been like a switch. 

By the time Mario had arrived at the scene, it had been too late.

His bro had been unrecognizable among the melee, and it was with a silent gasp that Mario had realized–for once, Luigi was the one wiping the floor with them. 

He'd smashed the school's glass pitcher on the back of the idiot's head the moment he’d turned his back. Zach had collapsed on the floor, knocked out, his skull cracked and oozing blood. The other–Luigi was still bashing his head repeatedly against the lockers. Amongst the screams of pain and excitement, Mario had remained frozen in the crowd, unable to know what to do between restraining his brother, trying to take the beaten boy away, or just letting it be. Luigi had stopped, eventually, when the other had collapsed on the floor. Mario had walked towards him and laid a hand on his brother's arm. 

"It's okay, it's over, you can let him go, he's down"--soothing words that Mario wasn't sure were entirely directed at his brother only. 

It hadn't taken a second before the brute–Christopher, he remembered the jock’s name–had gotten up and proved him wrong. The memory was hazy on the edges, but he could still picture him–the pink face, the exploded nose, the blood dripping from the boy's hand, the tears, the upper teeth strangely displaced, and of course, the insults and the swears. 

"I'm gonna find you, you FUCK!" he'd yelled. "Me and my mates, we're gonna find you, you just wait–you'll be sucking our cocks tonight, and when we're done I'm gonna fucking kill you–"

"Oh do it! I'll be waiting for you–we can have another round if you want, right now–"

Luigi hadn't been the one asking for trouble. Trouble found him, wherever he went. This time, it came with guns and threats of murder and rape. Mario would not put that above Christopher. It was the first time he remembered being genuinely afraid that one day, he'd find his brother dead.

His brother looked a little too gay . Mario spotted the gang hip-thrusting and making lewd faces to his brother, or simulating a blowjob and making noises too, and there surely was more to it that Luigi had managed to keep secret. Of course it was bound to end this way. 

Mario had been unable to do anything about it. He’d chosen his side – he’d always got his best friend Luigi with him, but he’d also been his only friend for all those years.

“Poor guy,” he remembered a girly voice saying.

"I mean, he had it coming." 

“I know–that’s what I meant! That boy taught him a lesson, but I fear he’s just gotten himself in even more trouble than he already is…”

The only decent group he’d crossed. The dozens of other students had started to call his little brother savage or crazy, were laughing about the event, or even re-enacting it in evident mockery of Luigi’s distress. Inevitably, some had recognized the red twin. 

…Mario guessed it was a comfort to know that he’d shared part of his brother’s pain. They were in this together .

The school dealt with the issue swiftly. Luigi was expelled. While Christopher’s daddy was rich and probably enjoyed a regular suck on the principal’s dick along with his son, the Italian Brothers had fled from Angel Guardian Home just a few days ago and found the local shelter. It didn’t help that Mario couldn’t concentrate in class and that Luigi was a “stupid, hopeless student who read like a 5 year-old". 

Officially, his bro had "started it" by answering to the verbal teasing ( boys will be boys ), from which he should have walked off (nevermind that he was getting assaulted on a regular basis and that Christopher and Zach stalked him if he tried to get away). He was summoned by the principal, and when he wouldn't apologize (saying instead he was proud of what he did, that in fact he should have done worse), he was deemed a threat to the students of the establishment and thrown out. 

Ironically, that had given Luigi courage. A desperate kind of courage, maybe. After losing his ability to get a school diploma, Luigi had gone on a streak of beating other bullies, those at the orphanage. There too, he’d refused to apologize – he knew their apologies were fake, as they had always been. Worse, Mario – who'd joined the melee – had gone above and beyond, taunting their guardians by blaspheming God. Proclaiming how God was fiction, and if he were real, they would fuck him up anyway because the God that made this world couldn’t be as good as his cult pretended he was, the son of a bitch. 

He could easily remember the pain of the whooping the adults had given him for that.

(Since the day he was conceived however, he knew he’d take anything for his younger, green brother.)

They failed bringing Mario back to reason. Luigi hadn’t seemed convinced enough either. Mario’s teen self had expected to take yet another round of beating, or worse... But things didn't go that way; they took both the best and the worst turn. To prevent the Italians from corrupting the other children, the priest had advised the orphanage keepers to kick them both out. The orphanage had added the flair of burning the stuff they couldn't carry. 

And so they were locked out and when Mario tried to enter, tried to get their stuff back, not only they’d found out about how it was burned away (Luigi cried for their toys and plushies), but some guys had started to come over, and then the church's people, ready to lynch them, by all appearances. Mario would have fought them until he went to the hospital, but Luigi had been his priority, Luigi couldn't get hurt. They’d run away, off Brooklyn, for Queens. 

He wouldn't cry, there was Luigi to comfort already. If he cried, that would upset his brother even more. He let Luigi do the crying for him.

Neither of them had graduated high school. Instead, he and Luigi had learned how to survive in a urban jungle. How to avoid encountering his bullies again in the streets–even sleeping under a bridge for a night or two if he got a bad feeling that they were waiting for him inside the shelter – and in turn, Mario had been on edge, looking out for anyone targeting him or his brother – mostly, the orphanage or the church. They’d found little jobs, lying about their age – 17 instead of 15, their facial hair had helped. 

By miracle, Mr Zullo had not only got them out of the streets but had been kind enough to give them plumbing training at Scapelli's before funding his own modest plumbing company to employ them in. Zullo had been the closest Mario could think of as a surrogate dad. Three years later, the Twin Towers fell. 

They hadn't been able to sleep for two days. They'd had to at some point though. Mario had stayed silent about the nightmares, just as Luigi had when it was his turn to stand guard, though the looks they shared told everything they needed to know. 

Their employer had gifted them the company's van and nearly all of his savings. Mario knew what would happen when they'd take them, though it was, frankly, nothing to be helped for. They'd packed up and driven the fuck away from New York, away from the danger of being shot down by a stranger when crossing the street, or being crushed under a pile of warm flesh and concrete. Away from the dead plumbing company. A year later, they would be dragged to the Mushroom world. They would move out there, and never look back. 

Mario had remained vague about his and his brother’s past, however much the media had poked him about it. Though he knew sweet Princess Peach wouldn’t blame either of them, he didn’t want the bad looks from the others, and certainly not their pity. They’d survived , goddammit. They’d been 15, orphaned, and homeless; they’d dropped out of school, bought weapons before everything else–but he couldn’t bear the thought of newspapers making money on their old pain. Nobody had fucking cared–even today nobody could know how to care–and the few who did at the time hadn’t been able to do anything about it. The one person who had understood and given them hope had off'ed himself. He wasn't asking for people to try to comfort them when it was all too late. As if they could even relate . It was a shame of their past, he only asked to leave it behind. He’d made himself that promise, the day of their official departure, and had forced Luigi on it. It was all in the past , and never to surface again.

Sometimes though… it had to haunt him back. He could lie to himself all he wanted… what happened back in Brooklyn, it had shaped them, probably forever. 

(It had been haunting them, in fact, in more ways than one. He clearly remembered Luigi telling him how he'd seen his own shadow hanging from the ceiling of King Boo's Mansion. It was easy to deduce who the shadow truly had been, when Luigi added much later that the phone had rung at the same time and a man had ordered two pizzas. His bro may have finally had the answer as to why their employer had been… so generous the last day.)

He guessed he could be proud, to some extent. The skills and mental resilience they’d needed to acquire in their teens had come very useful when it'd been time to save the Mushroom Kingdom. The new world had saved them from Brooklyn, it had only been natural to return the favor. Bowser’s army hadn’t met regular Italian plumbers… they hadn’t seen it coming.

So yes. Yes! He knew his brother. He knew that innocence attracted baddies, and it was to be ripped away for one's own sake. Though Luigi may have simply snapped from the mere contact with high schoolers, Mario doubted it was the full story. He was lucky, oh so very lucky, that he was respected enough to hopefully convince Toadsworth that the Toadette must have lied. Regardless if she told part of the truth or not.

They wouldn't understand. Everyone thought they knew their full story when they hadn't a fucking clue. They wouldn’t be able to fathom why Super Mario's sole concern right now was not how bad the orphan kid got it, but if his brother was doing okay, and if he could manage to sweep everything under the rug for his Luigi’s sake. Only then would Mario try to learn his own version of the story. 

Not that he planned to scold him. He knew how things went. The little shit got it coming. Mario hoped he learned the lesson well. And if his suspicions were right, he hoped he suffered . 

Just like the Warios. He understood better now. 

Mario wasn't stupid. It was too convenient for something to happen to Luigi and the Warios the very night they bullied him once more (and hadn't that been a good while since they last did that), resulting in the Warios being found in a tell-tale, meaty state, while Luigi was relatively fine and in fact pretty happy for a while. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

But it was okay. His brother was deeply unwell. With the recent kidnapping, the public shaming, the walls that had acted too strongly on his brother than initially planned, the fainting, the bullying from the Warios, the tension between him and his brother, the pills – following months of mental dysregulation – Luigi had snapped and hadn't even remembered what he'd done, or perhaps he'd wanted to hide it from his brother out of fear and shame. He was a very good actor when he wanted to, and he was comfortable enough to lie to his Mario, so he could have very well misled him on purpose. If he was the culprit behind the Warios' trashing, then he'd been smart enough not to attack the Yoshi madam as well… With the Warios as the only ones attacked, people wouldn't care as much, and they'd rather suspect they'd messed with the wrong people. 

Let his brother rest assured: Mario would never betray him. He'd keep the secret. It was okay: the Warios had asked for it anyway. They shouldn't have bullied Luigi. If his little brother hadn't paid them a visit, then maybe Mario would have done it himself. 

He ought to check the Toad that sold those St John’s Wort pills though. Maybe that Toad hadn't given him the correct medication. Just in case…

Between the teen Toads and the Warios, it was sad, the red plumber thought, walking down the corridor decisively, that he was risking his life and everything to protect dickheads. Though he guessed it was to be expected and that it could hardly be helped. Eventually, he knew he could count on Luigi and the Princess to be proud of his efforts, and happy for them. 

It was too easy to make Toadsworth gobble down what Mario wanted. He could thank Toadbert too. 

"Yes, the usual?" the blue Toad said with a knowing smile. "She wanted to trigger bad press against you and your brother so she could get herself a name."

Mario had jumped on the occasion.

"Yeah, yes… Though… I guess, I always wonder why they'd do that. Popularity… it's not always easy…"

"Money." Toadbert rearranged his glasses, suddenly serious. "The root of all evil…"

" Money?! " the elderly Toad bellowed. "She was given half a million coins just a few days ago! That's more than enough!"

"It's never enough," Toadbert answered. "The temptation was too great, with your brother around. He's not doing great lately, is he?"

"No," Mario muttered. "But I know that…"

His little brother had grown and matured so much, yet the reasons had hardly changed.

"He would never… beat a child … just like that."

__________

“Come on,” said mummy sadly. “Pray with me, Truffy. Pray for your brothers and sister.”

__________

Luigi's head hurt so much. He could feel veins on his forehead and temples, swollen, pumping painfully hard. He groaned in agony, his eyes searing, unable to open them. Auras. 

You must let it go.

It isn't working. 

The stress is killing you.

You made a mistake. It happens to you, mortal beings. But you cannot suppress yourself forever. You cannot pretend to be someone else any longer.  

"SHUT UP–!" 

Each time the malevolent voice spoke, his pain tripled. No matter what position he took, or how much ice he applied on his head, it kept hurting. 

"What did you do to me–!?"

That was all you.

"I would never have done that – if not for you…"

You would have. Because that is what you wanted. And you knew, deep down, that you could do it. 

It does not ask you to accept this object. It asks you to accept yourself. 

"I should have – let you rot in the sewers –" he choked as his head seemed to explode again. "I should throw you away right now –"

It is not preferable...

"And I will – when my head stops hurting so m-much –" he was going to puke.

…someone else will find that Mask, inevitably. 

It only wishes you good. 

You did well. 

You are doing well. 

Luigi threw away the covers with vicious force – rushing down the pipe – running towards the Lake between the nearby mountains. 

Blind with pain. 

Nature would do him good…

Time away from that thing would do him good. 

Stupid fucking little naive mistake. 

His life was ruined.

It is not… It is only the beginning. 

This Mask promises you rebirth, and you will love it.   

He would tell Mario, at the earliest opportunity. 

…

Even if it was an admission of his inferiority and weakness compared to his brother… he had to do it for everyone's sake. May Mario be able to help him. 

__________

He could hide under the blankets of the secret room’s bed, or live like a hermit in the Mushroom countryside, but his conscience would follow him wherever he went. As would – maybe always – the memories of that day’s scandal. 

Or the other night’s slaughter.

He wasn’t that stupid – he could connect the dots. It was him, who put the Warios to the hospital. It was him, who’d violated their bodies in unspeakable ways. The criminal to be arrested. The stupid idiot who’d worn the magical mask that turned him into a blood-thirsty maniac. 

It was him.

And from what he learned through his dream, it shouldn't have been so unexpected. That he turned out to be a horrible person.

He choked. 

What would they do if they found it out? Right after pulping an orphan child?

The world was crumbling down all over again.

The Mask. He had to get rid of that cursed gift if he didn’t want to get spotted, and if he didn’t want anyone else to suffer the same fate.

Coward , he called himself, however. You’re the culprit. If you truly regret what you’d done, then you should report yourself to the police and accept justice. 

He was so afraid. And it was unfair. What had he fucking done to deserve this shit? It was unfair to require him to always be patient and kind. Kindness hadn't saved him. Compassion hadn't bought him justice. Good intentions wouldn't have saved the little Toad. It wasn't fair, because he hadn’t worn the Mask voluntarily, it had jumped on his head and possessed him. He still couldn’t exactly remember what happened that night. Nevermind that he might be found innocent – if the Warios learned that he was the one who beat them up, they wouldn’t think twice before making him pay twice as much. He couldn’t endure it. He just couldn’t.

Coward. And you call yourself a superhero? You fucking coward.

They’d know. They’d track him down, eventually. Unless he moved out to another state, he’d get caught. The game was already over. He’d fucked up. 

He just hoped his brother wouldn’t resent him too much when he’d learn what he’d done.

…

If you let them learn the truth.

__

There was yelling in the countryside; if Luigi hadn’t been armed against hearing loss after years of war and fighting villains, his eardrums would be bleeding right now. The intensity was heightened tenfold and twice more by his hypersensitivity. Funny how a near-harmless citizen such as Toad Lily could incapacitate the local superhero with her mere voice.

He’d wanted to appreciate doing the right thing whatever came at him; but in the face of such anger, such rage that made him shake like a leaf, on the brink of passing out, there was this voice in his head, relentless, blaming him for being so stupid as to even hope it wouldn’t get that bad, a mocking voice for having the heart of a child at his age –

She slapped the safe off his hands. Money for the orphanage, from him?

"You tried to kill me," Toad Lily slurred near the end. "You hit me, you… you – I…"

To teach her a lesson. 

"I didn't want to kill you! I never tried! I don't know what overcame me –"

"And you killed my boys, and my little girl…"

Luigi looked up, beyond the Toadette. He saw a pair of faint little lights where the corridor would be; a second later, they blinked out, and he could hear hurried steps. From the whiff of their unique body odors, he knew it couldn't be Truffle. 

No, they weren’t seriously dead. Luigi wouldn’t allow it…

He’d wanted to make sure they’d live to feel the pain.

"I'm suing you”, she continued. “Doesn’t matter if you’re Mario’s brother. I'm gonna track you down until you pay for what you've done. I'm gonna destroy your life… just like you destroyed ours. If you wanna be the hero…" she laid on the doorframe, "then… you know what to do…" 

SLAM

Luigi’s eyes filled with tears, his throat tight, his voice wobbly: "Okay.”

He walked away from the orphanage.

Stopped.

And sobbed. Hard. 

He thrust his fist into his mouth, biting to the blood, his eyes squeezing tears out, as he tried both to contain and to release a long cry of pure agony. 

From bad to worse. And no one to save him. 

Except…

He turned around.

Stood before it.

A man in the countryside's darkness, staring at the mushroom-shaped house a few yards afar. 

There was light from the windows; voices and noises coming from it. Crickets, owls and little mammals, a soft wind on his back, leaves shivering.

Hiccuping, sleeves wet with mucus from crying and his face a mess, he listened; watched; made a decision. Because he knew exactly what his options were.

And if the brave way hadn’t worked, he always knew the coward’s path. He took it more often than not.

__________

The Toadette closed the door and lay her back on it, scared to the death. Poor she.

Toad Lily required Truffle to make the wish to the stars along with her, so that Travis and the rest can be healed.

Truffle makes the wish then, but it is insincere. The Stars see it, and refuse to heal the boys.  

Not that they had the power to anyway. What had cursed them was beyond their reach. 

A super-bending curse enacting symbiosis with a god-slaying, fate-breaking entity! The Greater Ones had yet to answer their message. Klevar was deep in his books and travelling through time to know how to handle this crisis. Mamar kept swinging between the reassurance that the Greater Ones, as the ultimate beings she knew, would have no difficulty overcoming this potential threat, and the fear that they'd already seen what was happening but had remained powerless. 

Poor, foolish man. There was still hope, but it may already be too late. If the Star Sprites had known of this menace, they might have kept a watch on this horror, but the civilizations of erstwhile had erased all knowledge of that thing to protect the world… an attempt that was condemned from the start. 

Sealing all knowledge of the Mask condemned history to repeat itself. But letting anyone else know of this curse of legends was the first step into temptation. Whatever choice had been taken, and however weakened it had gotten over the centuries, the Mask would forever be a menace that would bend the threads of destiny to get its way. It should never have been thrown into this world in the first place.

The accursed object had forced fate to meet this boy, either taking advantage of his vulnerable state or being the cause of it. None of them could fight against its super-bending powers, so even if they were to survive direct intervention, it could be for naught. And if that mask was untouchable by the Greater Ones… 

May the Unknown Gods protect them all. 

__

Truly, Luigi felt like a little boy all over again.

Alone.

Afraid.

Despairing.

And sorry for his weakness of mind.

His current reputation was that of a crybaby cowardly loser fuck. If word got out of what he'd done, it'd be over for him. He'd already lost most of the hope to be appreciated as the hero he was trying to be… but to end with a criminal record against a Mushroom Kingdom orphanage… 

No one would ever forgive him… 

No one would see him as a hero, ever again. 

They'd only focus on the deranged, violent man he'd been when losing it with Toad kids.

What would Peach think of him. What would Toad, Yoshi, Donk or Rick think of him.

What would Mario think of him. 

…What was Truffle thinking of him right now.

The Star Sprites wouldn't help Luigi. They'd see his wish as selfish. They'd want him punished. They'd never helped him, never sympathized with him, only pointed out how unperfect he was. 

He was already punished for the very act of existing . He couldn't bear anything more. 

Dear God… he had enough of being bullied and hated every step he took in this hell world.

Luigi sneaked a hand in his leg pocket and retrieved the large wooden object. His eyes slowly detached from the sight of the orphanage, sliding downward, facing the back of the Mask. All background noises muted. In the night, strange emerald symbols softly glowed in the wooden columns, slowly running like little rivers towards the top and the bottom. It looked so ready to be worn. 

He'd caused this mess with that cursed artifact; he would repair it with the Mask. 

This time, the green plumber was prepared. If it truly could do anything to change the course of events… then he had to take this chance. He would wear that thing, and force it under his will, so that there wouldn't be other Wario-like casualties to declare.

Or maybe there would be… whatever way to keep what had happened a secret.

A deep breath before the leap of faith.

It was a shock. First, feeling the intrusion. For a split second, it made him freak out – he almost wanted to tear the Mask off. And then, a jolt – he kept his throat closed with the back of his tongue, or else he would yelp in surprise and pleasure. Tingles all over his body and the sensation of being hugged, of uniting with someone else.

Of finding himself. 

Symbols were important to protect. Today, he'd met a fan. He'd seen a little kid who, against all odds, used to look up to him. If Luigi could give some people the strength to keep on fighting… then 'Luigi' was still a symbol worth protecting, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

He kept himself rigid as the Mask shifted and became his own skin, as the threads locked into place, trying to make as little noises as possible. 

It was his duty to the little Truffle. He wouldn't stop considering suicide just for that kid. But he would repair and preserve the Luigi that Truffle admired, so that Truffle would keep fighting on. 

“Truffy?” 

Mommy was crying. 

He was scared too. 

“Come here,” she begged, falling on her knees and opening her arms.

Truffle hid against her chest.

His eyes were rolling to the back of his head.

It felt… so good…

Everything… everything was alright in the world…

Maybe —

he –

had a chance in life.

That Luigi never had. 

“I love you, my dear.”

And maybe it was up to him – 

to give him the opportunity – 

not to have him suffer the same fate 

not to do the same mistakes 

To send Truffle where Luigi could never reach. 

He would prepare the road at the cost of himself.

Truffle closed his eyes.

Author’s End Notes! ✍️

• I don't know why but there are weird typos in the fic that I'm noticing in the PDF version. I wonder if they sprung when copy-pasting from my docs to Ao3 or when downloading. (Yes I keep a PDF version everytime I post a new chapter in case there's a glitch and my fic gets deleted. The Ao3 version is the final version, not the Docs.) I hope it doesn't spam your inbox when I edit the chapters to remove the typos.
• Will you be able to tell why the chapter’s title is “To Feel Its Warmth”?
• Tadpoles because tadpoles.
• Trevor the Toad.
• A list of the Toads’ names in the orphanage, by age: Toad Lily (headmistress, 32 yo), Travis (22 yo), Trevor (19 yo), Licorice (15 ¾ yo), Caesar (13 yo), Bolette (11 yo), Mario (9 yo), Portobello (8 ½ yo), Truffle (youngest, 5 yo).
• Yes, the Toad Mario was named after Luigi’s brother, when Mario was becoming quite popular. Probably someone who named their kid after the hero who saved them. There are quite a few other little kids named after Mario in Toad Town. I do think there is at least a family out there, in another territory, who named a kid after Luigi. There is at least one who’s named “Mario Luigi [X]”, who probably has a brother named “Luigi Mario [X]”.
• The Mushroom Kingdom’s medal of honor: bruh I swear, I’d just made up a medal that combined a star (for “superstar”/”invincible”) and a rainbow (since it’s actually above the star in RPG and Mario Kart games), and because a rainbow Star didn’t look very pretty in my mind, I went with “a white Star on a rainbow circle.” I did NOT expect that it would look like the actual, real-world US medal of honor, as you can see here. (Even the French Légion d’Honneur looks like it.) Well, let’s say I imagine the Star upward, with living eyes like other Stars, and sparkling a lot.
• Fun fact: while Luigi was supposed to snap violently, the decision to make him lose it and have on his mind the goal of "crushing his enemies" due to being hit on the back of the head, comes from a dream I had. I was violently projected forward and at first I wondered if "that was just the dream doing weird things" (I seem to have been semi-aware), if I had been projecting myself forward just because, but then I thought about how it wasn't normal for it to have felt like I was hit and for there to be pain. So I thought "someone hit me". I don't remember what happened next. I just know that when you're hit, well, you can radically change mindsets. 
• "Radically change mindsets?" Well, think of it as switching trauma response tactics, while going all-in. You go from denial/freeze or appeasing/fawn, to attack/fight. At this point you can even not care about the pain, you have clear goals in your mind and that's what counts. This is what I tried to convey through Luigi. From the moment he realized he'd been hit, he realized he was now allowed and justified to hit back; he went from 75% of freeze response to fight response on overdrive (120 or 200%). The fact he went all-in instead of having a measured response, that he gave up any limits or control of his actions, reinforcing mindsets where he would determine anyone who opposed him as an enemy to strike down, is what backfired at him. There was influence from the Mask, of course, that had fragilized his mind and inhibitions; where Luigi's subconscious would have "dissociated" from his fight reaction so that Luigi rather looks like having a freeze reaction, the Mask hijacked his subconscious' "preventative" maneuver and thus led to Luigi going overdrive (imagine a cursor navigating between "fight flight freeze fawn flop"; Luigi's subconscious would have "pulled" the cursor upwards so that even if it was technically set on "fight" it couldn't proceed; the Mask disturbed his subsconscious to the point that function didn't return yet). But there was also himself. Not wanting to spoil you, but if you know, you know… 
• However sadistic Luigi appeared in this scene, you must realize he reacted in a situation where he felt helpless, in loss of control, in danger and was eventually assaulted. Luigi lashed out like an animal and there was nothing stopping him so he didn't stop until most of his goal was accomplished and he saw Truffle's terrorized reaction. That's where he started losing up the selection of pro-violence thoughts and put his actions, his mindsets, into question. Here is an illustration of what I mean: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=bR2Uon5BWC0&pp=ygUWT2YgbWljZSBhbmQgbWVuIGxlbm5pZQ%3D%3D (Of Mice and Men, Lennie Fights Back). 
• In the end, three things pushed Luigi to react so savagely: the Mask; his response modes to danger; the "if you know, you know" element that will get properly revealed in a few chapters (probably the 8th). 
• Although I have to admit, I hesitated to write that Luigi beat Travis up then threw him out – and only that. But I had already written the rampage, which I found meaningful, and when writing the scene, I had in mind compensating the horror of Luigi’s reaction in TLP’s version. I didn’t want the reader to think “well Luigi was completely right to do what he did, the punk asked for it”, which would happen if I only had him beat Travis. I wanted to have him go way too far to show the Mask’s influence. 
• This might be an accurate meme for what Luigi did to the orphans: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XivDpslZX74 (Yoshi Slapping Baby Bowser for 10 minutes straight)
• And this one too: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIcUgyLxNBA (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia - Mac and Charlie beat up kids)
• Someone made a nice edit about it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQ4Jx8XfP_w (It’s Always Sunny in Mushroom Kingdom)
• The scene is a bit reminiscent of this.
• I might join a drawing of how I’d imagine the Brothers at 15 yo. I think they look like foxes, a bit.
• I hadn't planned to write a part of the fic under Mario's pov so soon, let alone briefly summarize the trouble he and Luigi encountered during their childhood. Nor had I planned to write Mario with his own share of PTSD due to the threats and assaults Luigi endured or the bullying he got as well, Mario realizing he was in danger too, or using his high-standing to cover-up for his bro. It fits him though, and writing that fits the narration.
• I hadn’t planned on dancing on the verge of triggering myself while writing a bit of their backstory either oops.
• Mario’s pov “style” is more frenetic and crude on purpose. 
• I found a fun list of all the jobs Mario held according to all kinds of sources. Of course, I think most of them aren’t canon, and if my fic, he certainly never became a doctor etc.
• You could in fact symbolize the Brothers' troubled teenagehood by the Twin Towers. First, a green tower and the other red, then both black on a red background, then… smoking and crumbling. Finally, the two would be gone, and the Brothers as well.
• I keep thinking that what I wrote for the Brothers' background is too miserable or edgy (to compile school bullying, fleeing a christian orphanage, dropping out of school and homelessness at a young age). And then, I remember plenty of people are going through this, something similar… or worse.
• I’m not sure I’ll ever release it, but I have a few docs on what I imagine the Brothers’ childhood, teenagehood and early adulthood unfolded.
• Toad Town must count a few thousand inhabitants... They say a town has at least 50'000 inhabitants, but I don't see so many Toads living there… Let’s say 20’000.
• Unless he moved out to another state, he’d get caught // It is no mistake. Luigi thinks in terms of states rather than countries because he's having flashbacks of his life in the US where he was in a similar situation of wanting to flee to avoid getting caught but it being useless because he couldn't escape in the first place and they would track him down. (Who's they, you ask? Mmh, I might tell you later…)
• When Masked Luigi opens his eyes fully and starts grinning, you must imagine the scenery as very silent. Camera blurry (except for the eyes and grin), slightly shaky and as though there was a weird "opaque" filter on it. Maybe the resolution is lower? And the camera view is narrower. 
• I wish I knew how to make a Mask-like grin in text. In the meantime, you can take inspiration from this for the visual, except you have it with Luigi's darkened silhouette on a countryside setting: https://www.deviantart.com/kuleshovevgeniy/art/Grin-version-2-478469380 (https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1063229162913017940/1127721054433980559/xKzZnlJ000QnNxHKQM-AWsQ-gq_Ed9ecaMY1HNFhbBE.webp)
• There's a difference between "bending" and "super-bending". You can bend reality, time, space, etc. Super-bending is almost meta-bending. It gives the ability to bend the courses of fate at several “knots” (that the super-bender creates), bypassing regular bendings and twisting them to have them fit certain objectives one way or another. It’s almost like constantly enforcing prophecies to be fulfilled, whatever way it can take. Where bending is like constructing the ways to globally aim for one’s objective, super-bending is making an objective "already fulfilled in the “future which forces fate to adapt its events to reach this scenario (“future” in quotes because super-bending is above the dimension of time). A bit complicated, you don't have to think this through. 
• The Unknown Gods are hypothetical beings. Maybe myth, maybe fairytale, maybe fanfiction. Mamar is praying that something they know nothing about and might not exist at all, could save them if the worst became reality. 
• Funnily enough: the day I wrote Mario & Luigi’s childhoods, I got assaulted by a gang of 4 girls (they got pepper sprayed don’t worry), and the day I wrote about Luigi basking in the thunderstorm that breaks the summer heat… there was a nice thunderstorm that broke the summer heat where I lived. This was also the first time a lightning bolt scared me lol, it was way too close, way too loud and I’d just opened the window. Oh but it was glorious, there was A LOT of thunder and lightning that night. I was so excited.
• The bullied Toad from the orphanage is called Truffle here, but you might see "Timmy/Tim" popping up by accident. It's the same Toad, I just forgot to change the name. 

Mild Spoilers:

• About the orphan-mangling scene: However bad an anti-Toad slur might be, it wouldn’t have scared or shocked the Toadpoles like it did in TLP’s version (though Luigi would have felt very ashamed of having said that). I think it would only have enraged the Toads and put Luigi in a position where he can only take the hits… even though Luigi had received bigoted insults himself. Besides, it would be weird for Luigi to say that partially due to his inhibitions being lifted off, because that would imply he’s prejudiced against Toads but only hides it. Sure, you could make the argument that Luigi would say this because he basks in human/Toad inequalities, but the racism filter doesn’t apply in my fic’s world because Luigi never grew up or lived in a society where Toads suffered prejudice like real-world POCs. There is anti-Toad prejudice from Koopas, but there is also anti-Goomba prejudice from Koopas and Toads, prejudice from Toads against Koopas and prejudice from one kind of Toad/Koopa to another... In summary, the Toads’ situation is like in Europe I guess (which is fitting since the MK is the Mushroom World equivalent of the UK), where people can be xenophobic and sort of racist against those who come from this and that European country, but never like anti-POC racism. So however serious Luigi’s insult might have been if I’d written it, it would at worst have emulated Koopas. And on the other hand, if Luigi had said this, well, this would have to come from somewhere that can’t be explained by living in an anti-Toad environment. It would have made little sense because Luigi’s reaction to being triggered by threats is either to shut up and make himself small, or physically lash out because he doesn’t have the words to defend himself. And however bad it is to call the Toadpoles “a bunch of athlete’s foot on legs” , it is far less incriminating and horrible than mangling them for life. 
• Also, something was bothering me in TLP’s story: Luigi is unpopular, but having insulted the Toad kids with what’s more or less defined as a slur never caught up to him in the story (so far; maybe Toadlop will?), and on the other hand, he doesn’t feel particularly guilty… for something that was supposed to be shocking – not just because Luigi swore in front of children, but because he threw a “fungist” insult. In TLP’s fic, he even thinks to tell Rick to “go back under the tree he grew from”, and yeah, it’s the Mask putting those words in his head, I guess, but on the other hand, Luigi doesn’t feel particularly horrified for having those thoughts, which uh… welp. Having Luigi beat the Toadpoles up in my fic gave me the opportunity to explain how the orphanage issue never leaked out and raised suspicions on who attacked the Warios. I could have written that Luigi wore the Mask again because he wanted to shut the Toads about what he’d just said, but it would have felt less legitimate than wanting to shut the Toads up about what he’d done and how that made him to be the likely culprit of the Wario mystery. Insulting the Toadpoles wouldn’t have broken him down to the point of daring to wear a cursed object that had mindraped him and made him do horrible things. It wouldn’t have been worth the risk. 
• Finally, this passage illustrates a crucial difference between TLP’s Luigi and mine. TLP’s Luigi wants to have a superhero arc. My Luigi already had his superhero arc, he’s a worn-down veteran, a broken toy soldier. This chapter lays down the groundwork for Luigi’s characterization in this fic. TLP’s Mask turns a gentle, well-meaning person into a dangerous and morally-dubious maniac who does things that the original person wouldn’t have done. The Mask in my fic is a danger because it unravels another danger that Luigi sought to seal off: himself. The Mask isn’t the only “plague” to be released into this world. The “philosophical” questions raised by wearing an object such as the Mask will thus be radically different. Like, the perpetual, never-answered anguish to know if what Luigi’s doing when wearing the Mask comes from it or himself. (Attempts at answers will be given through events and other characters.)
• In this timeline, the Brothers were raised in a christian orphanage (a fictional Angel Guardian Home). It went terribly wrong there. Still, they firmly believed guns were not the solution. But lack of protection by the authorities, hostility from the authorities, and the threat of finding themselves with a gun at their (or their brother's) temple without any "fair" means of self-defense, forced them to carry sprays and firearms at 15 yo. With experience, they have learned far more effective ways to defend themselves (always pepper sprays), without the risk of killing someone or, you know, allowing kids to handle guns and cheese their peers (cough Christopher cough), but since they had their fair share of fights to the death, they (secretly) don’t really follow the Kingdom’s rules against weapons whose potential lethality is extremely high. "BANG BANG :D" They would rarely use guns in the MK though, because no one produces ammo there, and they don't like going back to the real world to buy magazines. No, better use Fire/Superball/Ice/Gold Flowers.
• I read that the 3rd generation of Glocks were released in 1998, and that they include the Glock 17. That’s what Luigi chose. Mario took a SIG Sauer P226. The spare gun is, uh, let’s say, a Smith & Wesson 5946. (Apparently, the Glock 19, SIG Sauer P226, Smith & Wesson 5946 and 3943 were used by the New York City Police Department.) The Bros are diligent about gun safety (always consider a gun cocked and loaded, never raise it if you don’t plan on shooting, never put your finger inside the trigger’s ring if you don’t plan on shooting either, put the safety on…).
• Luigi saying he was 17 when he was in fact 15 is an allusion to the first Mario game being released in 1981 (Donkey Kong) but choosing 1983 as the Brothers' true birthday (Luigi's first appearance + the Brothers finding all kinds of tiny jobs)
• The Bros never worked as carpenters. 
• Mario & Luigi had days of genuine joy during their teens. They did live through serious, traumatizing stuff and they were severely affected by it, but they had each other and they were finding their ways through their premature adult life. So don’t think it was all tragic. Life doesn’t work like that.
• Mario is right: however much Luigi changed over the years, he would never have attacked a child, or anyone else for that matter, unless they were being a genuine threat (like the Koopalings). If he were in his right mind, he would have talked to Toad Lily about the bullying, in private. Though if that hadn't been enough, he would have dearly paid to get a round with the thugs. 
• Mario is very powerful in this fic, and even more agile than in the games. I just finished Ori and the Blind Forest (maybe I’ll complete it one day, though never the One-Life Mode), and I like to think that Mario moves like a fully-upgraded Ori. Luigi, as you know, would jump higher, run on water, flutter to reach farther distances, but also slip lots more. Which he could use to his advantage (cough wavedashing cough). Problem is that he used to bump into things whenever he tried to go fast. I think Luigi would have had a harder time getting used to his own new strength, speed and agility, so lots of oopsies would have occurred. 
• Luigi doesn’t watch TV also because in the US, it was filled with politicians using it to convey hate speech, notably against Italian immigrants, who they still associated with the Italian mafia during Mario and Luigi’s childhood and teenagehood (although it wasn’t always said on TV, it was deep into the discourse).
• The Mushroom Kingdom is meant to borrow elements from the UK. The SMB trailers showed that there are Toads acting like governors/advisors, neatly clad like lords. Toadsworth is described as very British, according to the Super Mario Wiki, and I mean, he does look like a noble. Furthermore, I sensed in TLP’s universe that there were notions appealing to British culture, which took time for me to understand as such. For instance, Luigi refers to himself as a “commoner”, and it would be far-fetched to imagine a commoner dating royalty. Daisy is described as acting more like a commoner, with a bit of slang in her language, something the high social class doesn’t like (notably her father). The fact she does not follow princess etiquette is a huge deal, and merely wanting to be called by her first name instead of “Princess” is supposed to be rebellious. The scene with the orphanage reeking of poverty–again, this has significance in TLP’s universe. He has referenced HP quite often, a series written by a (bigoted) British author, and of course, he loves Doctor Who, the pinnacle of British culture (the phone booth is quite telling). Later, I was informed that the UK has a huge problem of class divide and, as expected, classism. All of this explains the emphasis on the commoner/princess perspective between Luigi and Daisy. Or Le Toadley’s scornful behavior towards Yoshi and Luigi.
• Here’s the problem: I only got a glimpse of British culture. I know it even less than American culture. I will not have the time, energy, interest or money to travel over to the UK just to know how to write the MK in a fic. So, I will do my best to retranscribe what a UK-like culture might be, but it will be far from perfect. Another thing: as you saw, the Mario Brothers are Italian-Americans, so even if they lived in the MK practically all of their adult lives, they won’t have a British way of seeing things (as an example, this Luigi wouldn’t consider himself a commoner, though he’d feel how the governors and the lords treat him like one). Beware that I don't know how Americans consider the UK nowadays, so whatever the Bros might think of the UK-like culture in the MK from their Italian-American perspective might actually borrow from my own perspective as French (and in France, we celebrate beheading the aristocrats, so…). Let’s hope it turns out well-nuanced, despite my limits.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Beginning Notes:

- I love how TLP's Toadrick and Green Thunder pretty much embody the meme:
          "Please stop saying dumbass things, you're not even making sense! 😭"
          "🤪🫡🤸‍♂️🤸‍♂️🤸‍♂️😵‍😁😈🔨🪚☠️☠️🪦🤣🤣🤣😀"
- The visual by TLP here is very well done.

- Don't mind it if I keep editing chapters

Warnings: graphic/gore descriptions, suicidal ideation, psychological horror

The nightmares had come back with a vengeance. 

Unwanted memories of tearing through flesh and blood, of grinding shattered bones, the crushing of shells, of the smell of cooked pork and hair, war gases and flaming tare-like oil, of ash and dust and fish, shrieks of metal and wheels and living beings, of failure to save, of the soulless eyes of those who’d reached out to him without success. Of mirrors and lakes reflecting him at his worst. Combat suit, the colors of mistletoe – green scarf, red gloves, black boots, shredded cape – a cross pein hammer twice his size – His face spoke back through the surface:

The reason I’m so kind all the time is because I know precisely where to hit the day I’ll get mean.

The eyes flashed green.

Skies open, wheels in motion

No going back, no, I've chosen

The worst part is there's no one to blame

Just me, myself and I

This ain't a video game

Up, Up and Away, Rare Americans

“Are you taking the medication I gave you the other day?”

Luigi was in pain. Deep, paralyzing pain. Shrieking wouldn’t appease it, not even convey its true magnitude. (He knew because he’d tried before.) It was like open wounds everywhere on his body, with a particularly big one starting from the top of his head, through his brain, his throat, down his torso. By all means his organs should be exposed, their flesh fragile under the rubbing of clothes, his (broken) heart flapping, his lungs inflating, exhaling, his intestines pulsating, blood oozing a little bit everywhere.

But no one could see it, could even IMAGINE it. All they saw was a lazy stinking fuck who hadn’t taken a shower for three weeks or bothered to brush his teeth regularly or even shave. His sideburns were now lining his entire jaw, he had a stubble, the beginning of a goatee, and his overgrown mustache was a horrible mess. Not to mention his hair… 

Luigi didn’t know if he didn’t care to try to make himself acceptable or if he was punishing himself for his failures, showing himself like that, showing to the world, his brother, how unloveable and worthless he was. Proving it. Even if he did want to try, he was incapable of speaking – staring blankly at the wall of the main room and blinking were all he could do. And even if he could move his mouth, what could he even say? what would there be to say? would it even matter? he wondered with a hysterical cry, in silence. 

His head was a prison. Tartarus. He was sick, he knew it. Everyone knew it. So why didn’t he try to get help with a psychiatrist or some shit? Well, he’d tried. In the human world, even in the Mushroom world. 

Useless. He was resistant to poisons. Of all kinds. Or near it.

He couldn’t even get drunk or high. Except if you counted the Super or Power Stars but that wasn’t the same thing, they were some types of combat drugs sure, but no one could use them as actual narcotics. It already was an exploit that the Mario Brothers could harness their powers, and an outright miracle they’d found an application to Ztars, where Bowser had failed – letting himself be overcome by their all-empowering madness due to lack of self-control until the damage was permanent. His eyes were naturally red, judging by Bowser Junior’s own eyes, but his son’s never had shone that piercing crimson red in a fury like Bowser’s would.

“Bro…” Mario shook his shoulder with a gentle hand.

The stupid herb was just as ineffective. That was evident. So why did his brother ask? Or did he just want to hear, “Yes big bro, thank you so much, I’m feeling so much better!” just because his brother had enough of having him around rotting in the house? He just wanted to be left alone. If no one had the power to save him from himself.

He closed his eyes. His bro seemed to get the message. Mario was about to shake his hair when he noticed how oily and entangled it had gotten over the weeks. He decided against it, wiping a hand on his thigh by reflex. 

“...Don’t give up, Luigi. We’ll make it through. We always do. Someday it’ll be over and you’ll feel better, I promise.”

Truly, only one thing had succeeded at making him feel better for a tiny little while. Something his brother wouldn’t approve of at all. He waited until Mario had left him alone in the living room, slowly gathering the remnants of his mental energy.

“I’m not wearing you”, he whispered to the cursed mask in his pocket. 

He didn’t care if that mask had saved his ass from a trial and vicious revenge from everyone in the nearby towns, for what he did to the Toadpoles – the Mask had been the one putting him in this mess in the first place. And he didn’t care that he’d gotten just what he wanted – temporary happiness and fulfillment, revenge against the Warios, revenge against the kids, revenge against the inspector –

Trompette was intelligent. All his outcomes indicated that if he was ever caught by the criminal, he would pay the biggest price. His only hope was to appeal to the man's goodness. Since Mario wouldn't listen to him – or protect him even if Luigi truly was the culprit. 

Trompette, pale, shaking, tears in his eyes, afraid for himself, his family, his friends, everyone else, totally helpless and unable to protect anyone, pleaded and begged for a lunatic Luigi to spare him. There was no hope. 

There were limits to what grounding techniques could do.

He was afraid to sleep.

It was the Mask’s fault that the dam in his mind was now broken.

October. 

Fresh air, yellow trees and crimson leaves. Smell and crackling of burning wood in the chimney. 

Mario was shaking his leg, stressed. Next to him, his twin brother was dozing off on the couch, back to the TV.

“The case will be given to someone else. We weren’t able to learn who would be in charge of this series of attacks. I feel that if we had, we would be forbidden to communicate it, for the investigators’ safety…”

The case of the monster attacking the Warios was starting from zero: all the documents and evidence had been destroyed. The other cases had been stolen and were, Luigi discovered, lining the wall of his secret room. In his frenzy, he had wanted to play the hero: taking charge of all the crimes currently investigated. Detective Trompette and Pitahaya were out of play. Luigi has impersonated the fallen detective, with his trench coat, gaiters, smart shoes, formal trousers and belt, shirt and sleeveless tuxedo, bowtie and fedora hat. The feather? He’d taken it from mister detective himself. Pictures of him, the green abnormality, were being shared on social media, as he had taken care to let himself be known, except that for some reason, no one was able to clearly comprehend the shape of the creature nor his face. It could be seen but something was preventing everyone from truly grasping the nature of the enemy as though their brains suffered from selective prosopagnosia. Even Mario began to truly worry. 

Luigi found himself unable to tell the truth to his big brother – his best friend, his soulmate. His brain refused, mentally shackled and gagged. Losing weight over the weeks and falling ill, that kind of bug-free illness that never went away, he was tortured with the burden of knowing he was the wanted man and so much of a spineless coward that he wouldn’t do the right thing. Patently knowing his brother would help him out.

He regretted wearing that Mask to attack the orphanage – another proof of his lack of morals that every true hero should have. Just because he didn’t want his popularity to go down further into the negatives. The only one who'd been rescued was Truffle… and had he truly been saved in the end?

Miss Toad Lily had shouted all kinds of threats and insults at him… “Sue me,” he’d answered before cackling like a maniac. There was, of course, no way she could sue the masked guy. He’d worn the Mask precisely to stop her after her threats.

Even the doctor that took care of Travis had had her share of trauma. He's sawed her mouth shut, for some reason. Travis was lobotomized – he wouldn't be able to ever tell why he landed there, nor would he live normally ever again. As for detective Trompette, and Pitahaya who’d been with him…

It scared him. The Mask. Himself, under the pretenses. He was shit-scared of the Stars' judgment. What had he done…

Piles of secrets, piles of lies. 

He had another silent panic attack.

Why did these sorts of stuff always happen to him? Why always and only him?

He hated the Mask.

That wasn’t all of course.

He used to be the disfranchised Italian victim stealing away through the streets of New York, watching out for policemen trying to take away his only way to protect Mario and himself from good-looking boys that could target him from anywhere. Now, Mask or not, he was a man who'd beaten up orphan Toads in a fit of violence, but was getting away with it because he and his brother had good standing with the princess of the country, so the authorities would hush everyone and let it pass. 

He couldn't find comfort or any sort of karmic justice in that. 

And to think that he was supposed to uphold justice, order and goodness in this city? He was nothing but a scam. Not only was he not acknowledged as a superhero in Toad Town, but he could get away with delinquent shit because he was Super Mario's disturbed little brother. A dangerous, violent, mentally insane loser who should be locked up in a cell or an asylum right now. 

This whole affair was disgusting. 

And he couldn't completely disagree with what he'd done. Deep, deep inside, in a shameful, hidden part of his mind, he agreed with the megalomaniacal delirium he'd had at the orphanage. And he had to admit… he felt relieved and avenged, knowing the Warios were stuck at the hospital, almost having it just as bad as him.

He was fucked up in the head. It was one thing to be a pathetic scum of the Earth. It was another to know he was as rotten to the core as the villains he’d defeated. Not just out of necessity either. He, and the others…

"How dare you tell me how much you suffered, how you can relate to me?! I want to rebuild a world of no pain and no evil, and all that concerns you is losing the ability to harm anyone! You don’t want real change, you only want to play the hero. You never were against them! You, and the others, you’re all selfish–You are all the same! So let me–GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

He'd blown that lost soul to bits when all other methods of reaching a truce had failed. And yet, there was that knowledge that he couldn’t shake off… She’d been right all along.

How could he ever call himself a hero? Those guys who'd been hunting him. Who'd gotten away with every despicable thing they'd done or threatened to do to him. Now, he and his brother… they weren't any different than them. Thanks to Mario. Whom Luigi was dragging down in his own mess.

He was so, so, so tired of being who he was, that thing , of leading that condemned life of his. 

Carrying those secrets on top of his pre-existing problems… Truly, it was a lonely experience. And he had so much enough of being lonely. Of being shut down whenever he tried to fit in, no matter how many times he was begging for companionship. It wasn't so much the enraging event that hurt. It was the void you met when you tried to get support. It was the reminder of what it meant to be alone in a world filled with 7 billion people who talked to each other. 

He’d fallen back into an old addiction of his: slicing his limbs repeatedly. There was something curious about being the intermediate of the hatred that they threw at you, that hatred you internalized, and deciding you should off yourself because you were just not meant for this world. He didn't care to dig into its explanation, because that too could be attributed to a simple thing: he hadn't been meant to be wired this way, but now that the mistake was done, he was to be thrown in the bin like a broken toy. 

When enough of his blood had spilled the towels (it was never enough), he ate a Shroom. Mario had never found out, yet.

He couldn’t die. No matter how many times he tried, breaking his promise to his brother not to do stupid things, he couldn’t end it all. He’d eaten too many 1-ups, it seemed. He could kill himself, but never stay dead. Not that it mattered now, right? not that it would make a difference given what was now waiting for him on the other side.

The dark green grimoire of junior magic clapped on a stack of discontinued books on the nightshelf. A shaky sigh.

A particularly fierce headache just wouldn’t cease and never could he concentrate on anything more than a minute. He was sick of those circling obsessive thoughts, of what happened and could ensue – he couldn't change the past, he couldn't do anything about it, in this world where time travels had been destiny, and surely the future. But his brain didn't care about that kind of logic, or the simple fact he wanted to think about something else. No. It was just… stuck on loop-mode, and God knew how long it would last. He knew how these things went, it had plagued him for the majority of his life. Well, he'd never found anything that worked to make it stop. Except painkillers for the headache. 

It fucking sucked.

And now, the Toad he’d met when going to the orphanage, Agarick (“Please just call me Rick,” he remembered), had managed to contact him through Toadsworth, the old fool. When Mario had told him Rick wanted to hang out next Thursday, have some tea in the town, Luigi had frozen. Mario had assured him the Toad wasn’t a threat, he’d checked it himself. 

“...do you really think… I’m anywhere in the mood… for a walk in town with… someone I just met.”

“It’ll do you some good,” Mario had replied. “Break your shell for a while. Please? You’ll like it. ‘Least for the tea, yeah?” 

“...My phone’s broken.”

“You just got a new one. No – don’t even try. You have to go. It’s important.”

“...why don’t you just tell me you have enough of having me around.”

Mario sighed, shaking his head. “I’m worried for you, and I wanna help you. I told you, we’ll get through it. This is how we do it.”

Luigi had to be pulling one of the ugliest faces ever, he didn’t have the energy to argue. A sick move from his brother, taking advantage of his vulnerability to force him into interacting with people he barely knew when that was against his nature and all he wanted to was to be left alone in peace. If he couldn’t even say no, his brother should guess he was even less in a proper state for a cup of tea outside. But that would start from the presumption his opinion mattered when it didn’t. 

He tried one last time.

“...I still can’t risk it.”

“Bro, I can assure you nothing was off with Agarick. He’s just a friendly Toad who just moved in and wants to be your friend. Actually, I think he’s a fan. Big fan of you. And me I guess.”

Luigi scoffed.

Still can’t trust you.

“You know that…” he sighed. “...if the Warios see him hanging out with me, they’ll bully him too.”

“Luigi, the Warios are still stuck at the hospital. They won’t get out for weeks, if they even manage to make it.”

Right.

“The townsfolk then… He’ll be made an outcast...”

“No he won’t. Besides, that’s him to decide, he’s a responsible adult, he can make his own decisions. And that was to reach out to you. Come on, why don’t you give him a chance? to be your friend? That’s what you wanted for sooo long, right? someone to reach out to you!”

“Ok I get it, I’ll go.” He had enough. “Please leave me alone now.”

Mario did, informing him dinner was ready soon.

Luigi’s head slumped backwards and softly hit the wall.

"You're not eating enough."

He didn’t care. He deserved it, probably. Besides, he’s always been low maintenance, or fast metabolism, whatever they called it – always lanky, bones protruding from his body, no matter how hard he exercised. Absurdly fast metabolism, as a matter of fact. Luigi was the only one allowed to use the Snack Basket. From a 2 tonnes ravioli to a 200 pounds leek, in a matter of seconds – Mario had been in shock, and Luigi was not sure he’d ever been able to recover. “That’s not fair,” Mario had muttered, rubbing his own belly subconsciously. 

So what was his brother hoping for? Eating more would never change that. Precisely because he disliked it, it had to remain like this. Life was a bitch like that; not everyone was born with the right genetics.

“You should eat, Weej. Oh, don’t you think I didn’t see how much your belly’s caving in.”

He ticked. Filling that caved gut of his wasn’t worth the bother of eating in the presence of his brother, who made too many disgusting noises to bear. No matter how hard he tried, Luigi could never get used to the sounds of people eating. 

“You should stop neglecting yourself like that. You’re not fainting on me again. Hey, are you listening to me? Hello!”

Luigi stayed very silent.

Mario would have none of it. He approached, waved his hand in front of his brother, snapped his fingers, laid a hand on his cheek –

“ENOUGH!”

Mario didn’t budge; his eyes pierced his brother’s with anger, the kind that surged when he was frightened. Luigi was scared, deep inside him, but the rage overrode it. 

“You wanna talk about weight, huh?!” he yelled, practically spitting on his brother’s face – a wild animal. “I’ve had enough of you always bringing it to the table!! Always telling me how ugly I look, how much I look like a skeleton, or whatever – thing – you compare me with!”

“This is for your own health, Luigi,” his brother said as calmly as he could.

“THAT IS RICH!” Luigi leaped from his bed, towering over his twin. “I’ll give you some ‘it’s for your own health’! Just look at you! No matter how far you run, you always look like a big fat lump!”

“Don’t you dare .”

“Oh right! You’re the only one allowed to call me names in this house! You get to call me whatever you want, scold me over my weight however you want – but I don’t – why? because I’m younger than you by a few minutes?!”

Their faces were a few centimeters apart. And yet, Mario was not moving an inch. Luigi caved, as usual, to his own disgust – backing away from the imposing stature in front of him.

“You’ll stop behaving like a child, right now.”

“There it is! Calling me names again! I’M A GODDAMN ADULT !” 

He was losing the argument. He hated himself more, craving to do nasty things to himself. His voice was wavering, tears were prickling his eyes, just as he screamed that. He coughed, his vocal cords stinging horribly – he always spoke softly, like a whisper, yelling wasn’t his thing.

“You’re not my father, you’re just my brother. Who d’you think you are?!”

“A mentally stable adu–”

Luigi was having none of it.

“ YOU’RE the one always complaining about your weight! I’m just repeating what you’re always telling me. And I’ll be honest now – I am done with it. I’m always listening to you complaining, always trying to be kind and understanding, always trying to comfort you. Because I care, because I know the most important is how you feel about yourself, not a few pounds over the norm. Did I ever tell you you should go to the gym or – tell you in any form what you should do? Did I, Mario?”

His brother didn’t respond. It was terrifying. Still, Luigi rose his voice again.

“No, I didn’t, and you know it! Did I ever make you feel bad about your weight? NEVER! I always defended you, even from yourself when you started listening to those idiots! And how do you repay the favor? huh?!”

He sliced the air with his arm.

“Exactly what you shouldn’t do! Trying to control my life – what I eat, how I look, what I do everyday – but that’s not your problem!? This is MY BODY, MY LIFE , and you have NO RIGHT to pretend you’re trying to help me when you’re always RUINING my mood with your OBSESSION on body weight.”

The green brother wiped his eyes with an arm. He’d started outright crying. That was why he always hated losing control like that. Nobody took him seriously, with that habit of snivelling every time he got overwhelmed and tried to make himself heard. His opinion stopped mattering by the simple fact he looked like a kid having a tantrum.

“Now, you sh-shut up ‘bout when I – when I should eat or not,” he sobbed. “And you can k-keep your whining to yourself! If you’re – s-so much of an adult – then you can deal with it – on your own!” 

He hid his reddening face. Luigi had broken into tears. “I have enough…!” he blurted out, falling on his bed. “I can’t with you anymore! I l-love you bro! But I can’t do it anymore!”

There was a long pause, broken here and there by the unceasing hiccups and breaths and sobs.

Finally, Mario spoke.

“The same goes for me.”

The younger brother didn’t look when he heard footsteps receding to the door. 

“You’re coming to eat with me. Whether you like it or not. Thanks for your blunt honesty, by the way, I really appreciated it. ‘Specially the part where you called me a big fat lump.”

The door was left open as he left. 

The man behind it was defeated. It was easy like that, for Mario to win an argument.

He felt the Mask on his chest, with his never-ceasing grin.

Maybe it was the terror of hanging out with that Toad and the memories involving him that made him tip over the edge. Surely it was the fact they had that argument an hour ago and his big brother wasn’t too happy with him. The brothers were eating pasta – something that Luigi had long enough of – with the TV on – something Luigi hated, but that wasn’t his place to tell his brother off, even less when the alternative was haunting silence. He usually was a good liar, but taken at his weakest, by his own brother, who could almost literally read his mind, it was futile. 

It started when Mario asked him:

“Do you… really, have no idea who might have attacked the Warios?”

Upon which Luigi’s eyes widened in doom. His fork ceased its movement on the plate. He almost choked, swallowing his meal. 

He looked at his brother, pleading.

Then back down when he couldn’t sustain Mario’s own stare.

“No.”

Coward. Selfish. Loser. 

Silence.

“What happened with the Toad kids back there, really?”

Luigi ceased eating. He looked towards the stairs, anxious to leave.

“I care about you Luigi. You know that. You’re safe with me. But I need the truth.”

“What do you think happened.”

Mario’s own fork laid on the plate as he put his elbow on the table and his chin on his fist. 

“A woman told us you’d beaten up some kids. I didn’t want this to blow out of proportion, and I know you wouldn’t attack anybody just for the pleasure of it.” Fool. “So I covered up for you. But I never got your side of the story, and I need to know what I’m getting involved with. Especially given what the doctors told me.”

Hold it. Resist. Do not --

Luigi broke. 

It was too much.

Try as he might, he slumped on the floor, hid his ugly face in his hands and started sobbing. He was done with everything. 

“I’m so sorry –!” he hiccuped as Mario kneeled next to him and took him in his arms. He couldn’t speak properly through the saliva and the snot congesting his nose. Instead, he exhaled longly, as though a strangled scream, in the crook of his brother’s neck. 

“T’was all my fault”, he croaked, voice too high, coughing, taking a shaky breath, sobbing again, louder this time. “I don’t know – what’s wrong with me…” More sobs. “I was the one who attacked the Warios! –”

Mario rubbed his back, pressing his cheek on his brother’s dirty messy hair.

“I was the one who attacked the kids! I’m so sorry!”

Luigi howled in agony, dropping the facade entirely. 

“I know,” Mario assured him.

“I didn’t want to!” It was that mask! Please help me –!” shaky breaths. “I-I’m scared –!” 

He hugged his brother for dear life. 

“Show me.”

Luigi dared to reveal his face. Pink, wet, hairy, spasming, desperate. There was a trail of tears on his brother’s cheek. Their foreheads touched and Mario’s gaze delved into his own.

They didn’t need the Pi’illows to know each other by heart. They were one soul, two feathers of a kind. 

Mario fell and Luigi couldn’t not provide safe landing in the cord waves of his mind.

Heart wide open, defenses long shattered.

And any touch on his wounded soul was lived through the both of them as one.

“Is it… your depression?” Mario whispered when he was out. “Did you do that yourself? Or is it… that Mask?”

“What?” Luigi gulped, unable to focus. He winced, headachy, rubbed his eyes, wiped out saliva from his lips, shook his head in a futile attempt to reassemble his thoughts. Mario’s invasion had done it – he was losing his mind. Memories after memories, flashes, clouding his vision, losing his grip on reality. Absolute chaos. 

It was the Mask’s fault, wasn’t it. He feared talking more – ignorance was a blessing. What was real, what were dreams, he wanted to know, but he was never ready to face the truth. The truth that Mario had discovered in his soul, he was afraid of hearing it. 

“Help me –” he was about to faint, hyperventilating, blind – “help me –”

“I got you, Luigi. I got you.”

He tried to stand on legs like jelly.

“What’s that Mask you told me about? Where’s it?”

He delved a hand into his front pocket and revealed the source of all evils. Because he needed help, because he needed out any possible way. Because everyone’s lives were depending on it.

Mario’s eyes widened in a kind of horror that Luigi had rarely seen. He was visibly trying to keep his composure, not to freak out. 

The Mask looked like a Phanto, he knew.

“I’m sorry… I know I should have talked earlier, but – but I couldn’t,” more tears, sobbing again, “because I’m a big slimy coward –”

Mario shushed him. The Mask was now in his hands.

“We’ll need the Star Spirits’ advice,” the green man almost didn’t hear amidst the assault of incoherent memories. 

Who was he, truly? Why was the world making no sense anymore? 

The red brother took his hand and –

but the other resisted.

He resisted because he didn’t want to face the local demi-gods, the shame would be too grand.

“Please don’t –!”

“I got you Luigi. I told you. I’m not letting you go. Let’s go together. You know that, right? that you’re safe with me?”

They contemplated each other.

“They’re on their way!” Misstar chanted. 

“We got him!” Klevar added, as all watched from far above, sweet, wonderful, reliable Mario leading his sick little brother to Starborn Valley’s Shot-High Starlift, the culprit secured away in the crimson hero’s hand.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Mario said. 

“It’s gonna be alright, “Eldestar approved.

“Is everything prepared?” Skolar called a little far back. 

The solution to all this mess was simple, really. The Mask’s weakness was the light of the Sun. Stronger on new moons and in a starless sky, probably more potent than what the Mario Brothers had named “Super Star at Planck Time” – but absolutely useless in the presence of one. That included the Star Guardians themselves. Mario was absolutely right to bring the cursed object to them.

Luigi could still be saved. His very nature was that of a Star too, like all Star Children. 

“Everything’s ready, sir!” the star inhabitants confirmed.

“Let’s end this.”

It was punishment for their underestimation of the fiend, that the unimaginable happened.

Mario slipped and fell onto the Mask.

Ending Notes :

• Much shorter chapter part this time. I want to actually progress in the story and get to the key messages I want to convey. Chapter 3 was hard to “fill in”, except I don’t want to write fillers, so I skipped the amount of slice of life I would have written before. 
• The title here is directly inspired from Trauma Center: Trauma Team: Rosalia’s mystery message is “Beginning” because of… well, spoilers ;) (ref: Carpet of Blue Death 2/2) Rosalia theme
• Fun fact: the Mario Brothers, being resistant to most poisons (only Poison Mushroom are guaranteed to poison them), cannot get food poisoning or drunk... by vomiting instantly in most cases. 
• “the green abnormality” in reference to Lobocorp, LoR and LC’s Abnormalities. The Mask would easily be an Aleph level abnormality, triggering a Fourth Trumpet or beyond.
• Image’s sound effect and visual at the end, roughly: Mob Psycho 100 Opening Fight (1:30 of the video)

Chapter Score:

• Trompette’s downfall theme: Sherlock Holmes Game of Shadows, Moral Insanity
• Theme of the beginning before the lyrics: Fury Drives Into Camp (Fury) by Steven Price
• Theme of Luigi being depressed: sweet dreams (Chainsaw Man) by Kensuke Ushio

Mild Spoilers :

• I am not sure of this choice, but it is coherent with my story, so: the Mask will interact more as if it were its own person. Not just as if it were a lifeless tool (which it used to be). The Mask is a bit like Venom, though of course, on a different scale of power, a different "personality", different goals, abilities, story… and a different nature of relationship with the "host". 
• Something weird I realize is that TLP's Luigi doesn't just use a pride surface to hide his low self-esteem, he actually is proud: except on the very first part, he never relapses into self-loathing, depressive thoughts; he comes to bully Wario and Waluigi for the fun of it rather than justice/revenge, he despises Toadlop ("there were things he could teach to athletes foot"), and he considers himself braver than Mario, thus more deserving of praise. His problem is that he doesn't get credit or fame. Whereas my Luigi is so depressed, so much of a victim, that he doesn't want fame as much as not to be bullied and to have a taste of what it feels like to be someone else: to be happy, even if he doesn't deserve it, neither hope to have a chance at (lasting) happiness. 

Chapter Text

Beginning notes:

The last chapter before the start of a new college year 

Omg I keep editing it.

Warnings :

Bullying, mild violence

He is the Sun and Day, and you are the Moon and Night. Do not ever let your brother get hold of me again.

Luigi shook.

Let’s try once more.

Chasing over happiness

I have travelled all the way to here

Until I discovered

Being happy means to eat, and grow, and sleep

Do you see?

Do you see?

Life We Sow, Mili

The Mask was vaulted in his secret room. If Luigi had been able to find that – thing – in the sewers, anyone else could find it underground, or at the bottom of a lava lake, in space… and judging by what he’d experienced, the Mask was vicious enough to trick benevolent people and jump on their faces if needed. His secret room could act as its coffin. Though honestly, the green plumber wasn’t counting much on it. He had attempted to break the Mask, but try as he might, it remained intact. Something that had never happened before, and that too scared him to death. The Mask was either a godly blessing or a world-breaking curse. The latter, absolutely. Not even the Shrooms were working to heal the victims of “the green abnormality”. It was scary to know that the cursed mask had been able to entirely bypass the Shrooms’ power. However convenient it could be.

And then, there was that damn booked hanging out with the yellow Toad. He was assaulted with visions of all the ways it could go wrong, and what to do in most cases. If the Toad wanted to attack, Luigi could retaliate; he had a few weapons on himself just in case, including the 2-tons hammer and the 500 kg one, and he'd take care to take a strategically-located seat. Two meters away, face to face, hopefully the tables would allow that. At some point he realized he had to remember how to behave in society, with a semi-stranger, instead of just throwing the dice in the hope it wouldn't go too badly. He was too exhausted to perfectly watch over everything he did, he couldn't be perfect at all, and the Toad would for sure sense that something was wrong with him, but he could perhaps control the damage. He could at least let the Toad know he wasn't utterly hopeless. No need to gloat at him too much, even though he guessed it was hilarious to think about how much effort Luigi had to do just for a pretend tea hour. 

What would a normal person do? he asked himself. He'd have to act casual, as if having tea with someone he hardly knew was not that extraordinary, that he'd done that often and that it definitely didn't work him up. He practiced looking and smiling in the mirror until he looked genuine enough. It wasn't perfect, he looked uncanny with his neglected facial hair and overlong head hair, and he hated pretending to be happy, but it would have to do. 

You'd think I'm preparing for a date… he thought shortly before leaving, as he was brushing his hair, judging his clothes, ensuring his weapons were easily accessible but out of sight, and checking he hadn’t forgotten anything. For the hundredth time, he checked his messages, making sure he hadn't misunderstood the date, hour or place of meeting; it would be typical of him yet still humiliating. He closed his phone, then checked again, because maybe he'd memorized the wrong hour, closed his phone again and immediately re-opened it, because he wasn't sure about the place. They were talking about the same cafe in the same city, right? It must be. 

Luigi didn't close his phone, as he knew he would be compulsively checking the instructions more, and at some point, he just wrote them on his arm, proof-checking what he wrote and then spending way too much time to print the damn sms anyway because he couldn't trust what he wrote. And he still wasn't sure he was seeing right when the paper came out – but at least, he could have those stupid directions under his nose at all times. 

He left an hour early, but not without some… difficulties. 

He was stuck on the landing. He locked, unlocked and locked the door five times in a row, but it wouldn't feel right when he forced the key…

"The door is locked, brother", Mario came out to say, "You gotta stop or you'll wear out the lock. Now go! I'll be watching the house, and don't worry about that door. Here, I'll close it – see,” he emphasized with light punches against the wood, “I can't open it!"

Luigi sighed in exhaustion and defeat. What was he doing? Totally freaking out…

"It'll be alright!" Mario shouted from the other side. 

In town, he used the backstreets to avoid people and their oppressive looks. They still all thought he’d called Peach a bad word on purpose… and god save him if anyone knew about the orphanage incident…

He found a hidden spot to wait until the Toad arrived. This way, he could check if he was coming with his friends or other contraptions – he'd see the true Agarick and know what he truly planned to do. 

His doubts were still not satisfied when the Toad arrived and showed no obvious sign of a scheme. Normal people did know some basics of covering their tracks… that must be why…

Moving in the capital had been a shock; not all due to the change in lifestyle, but to the treatment reserved for the human he’d walked alongside with a few weeks earlier. Frankly, it was no wonder that the green man would lose it.

In the periphery of the Mushroom Kingdom, word travelled like gunpowder about local heroes, and the most preferred tale of legends was that of the Super Mario Brothers. The heroes who, by age 17 (or 16 maybe?), had discovered the common world (or “Mushroom World” as the humans called it) and waged war against King Koopa. From innocent talentless human teens, they had become the world’s most renowned champions, Superstars. They had learned at incredible speed the mechanics of the world (far more merciful than those of the human world, or so they heard), how power-ups worked, invented martial art techniques and brought in, from their home, human knowledge of warfare. They’d first started freeing the Mushroom Kingdom’s central lands, saving the princess, together with local heroes who fell, restoring the Toad Resistance to its full glory. Then, as Bowser made them primary targets, “Alive or Dead”, they’d been relentless, more so than the Koopas’ King himself. Castle by castle, land by land, they’d taken back in months what Bowser had conquered over a decade; sabotaging his retaliation by liberating their neighbours. The war had culminated three years after their arrival; some spoke of the whole of Bowser’s army falling, decimated, by a mini army of Marios and Luigis who used power-ups together with self-made war machines, conquering his main cities both on the enemy’s land and from the deep of Peach’s kingdom. Bowser had tried to trick them, pleading for armistice and a treaty of peace at his home – planning an ambush in his biggest castle; however, the clever Mario Brothers had come prepared and prevailed, subdued the Koopa, terminated his reign of terror. Any time Bowser tried to return to his golden age, he was quickly brought back to the reality that as long as the Mario Brothers were there, he would always lose.

Led by a sense of justice and love, the Super Mario Brothers had taken the role of heroes, at the risk of their life, sanity and moral integrity – a test of virtue – for complete strangers, for a world they had nothing to do with. They’d taken the immeasurable task of winning against a kingdom of fascists, at the darkest hour; saved Princess Peach from a borderline rapist (trying to force her into a relationship), restored hope, answered the prayers of countless. The whole world was grateful.

Except it wasn’t. 

Agarick couldn’t get his head around it. How dare they? How dare they publish libel after libel against the other half of the world-famous duo, using him as a joke, making him a scapegoat. It left him unrest, hurt on the green hero’s behalf. Rick had needed to use an anti-ad stick on his mailbox against the freemium delivery of the Koopa Kronicles. As if the fake news weren’t enough, he couldn’t stomach the ambiguous treatment of Mario – from established hero to covert psychopath – the absolute disaster that was the Luigi treatment, not to mention the lowkey anti-human sentiment. Other newspapers weren’t that much better, but at least Mario was spared and humans weren’t branded as a species of biologically-designed -to be power-hungry apes.

And then there was social media. Rick quickly uninstalled those apps. How could the Princess allow such blatant display of cyber-harassment? Let alone against one of her saviors? How wasn’t there a moderating team against all this slander?

TV was the only medium that he could tolerate. At least the green hero wasn’t mentioned at all, and barely even visible next to his elder brother. But it was a shame that ads were slowly taking over the majority of the programs. Buying a TV to broadcast brain-numbing commercials inside his own new home for hours – Rick had convinced himself not to get a refund in the hope of playing video-games and watching movies on a large screen like cinema one day. When he had more money. For now, he was contending himself with old Star Trek and Doctor Who episodes.

Speaking of which, shortly after questioning Toadsworth on the gratuitous libel everywhere he looked (“Freedom of speech”, he’d answered, “and the right to parody; but do not fear, for our Princess has agreed to enforce restrictions at Master Mario’s demand”), he’d asked if he could meet the green hero again. Of course, his colleagues Toadlop and Toamas had been at ear’s length; Rick was mocked for wanting to meet the “green freak”. Thankfully, it was much more accessible than to meet Mario. And ironically, asking for Luigi had allowed the Toad to meet the hero in red, skipping a never-ending waiting list. “Why do you want to meet him?” had been the hardest question to answer, because frankly, Agarick didn’t know precisely why, he just felt compelled to. For several non-fully formed reasons? Whatever test Mario had set up, Rick seemed to have passed it. Today he was taking his seat at a nice outside table of Koopa Koffee as the wind of a bright cloudy morning brushed the reddish fallen leaves against the pavements.

It was another shock to see the human posted in front of him.

Here was Luigi Mario. Mustache thicker than ever, near goatee-bearded, jaw darkened by a stumble of a few days; neck-long nearly-black hair in crazy-looking curls, capless; wearing a black T-shirt with a 1-up imprint, white gloves, black trousers and emerald green ankle-high canvas shoes. Eyes of green and brown. He’d overdone it on the perfume; thankfully it smelled good. He looked sick, terribly sick, and like he hadn’t slept for a week.

“Are – are you – you’re Luigi, right? Yeah of course you’re Luigi, I almost didn’t recognize you. Come on, let’s take a seat!”

There it was, the characteristic mumble, which Rick guessed was a thanks. 

They both looked at each other, not knowing what to say. The Toad blushed, but it was nowhere as intense as the man in front of him. 

They tried to have a friendly conversation. Tried was the key word here.

Whenever Luigi tried to put a bit of his heart into it, both cringed. He wanted to hide his head in the sand and never come out again. At the end, it was Rick who did most of the talking.

His face was red and hot all throughout their tea time, having realized how odd it looked from the outside; it felt even more like having a date, like those coffee shop fantasies, and his mouth twitched at the idea; it left him near mentally unhinged. And as promised by Mario, the Toad was a bit of a fan, congratulating him, nearly adulating him, for his feats in the war, the Rise of the Mushroom Kingdom. It had him babbling and squirming in his seat, unable to imagine how Mario would have handled the situation.

Overall, the tea was a bit of a torture, caught between the rushes of anxiety whenever someone walked near or looked in his general direction, the sounds of people eating (Rick mostly), the uncomfortable feeling of being out in the open and so easy to target, and the constant expectation that at some point, the Toad would reveal his true colors and attack him the moment he lowered his guard. What he didn’t know was that under this innocuous attire Luigi was armed even in the case the Toad knew that Luigi knew an attack was incoming . The moment Rick would try something funny, the streets would need to be evacuated.

None of that happened, to Luigi’s later relief (and shame). Why did he make up all these catastrophic scenarios when they were just having goddamn tea? 

Rick told him how he came from a village in the deep countryside of the Mushroom Kingdom and had settled here a few weeks ago. How he worked directly under Toadsworth as Luigi must know, and considered applying for a second job at a grocery store for more money. How he hadn’t managed to connect with anyone here, except Toad Lily.

Luigi tensed.

“But she was too absorbed by her job, and the kids…” Rick frowned. “They were – urgh . Little… shites…! Sorry for the swearing.”

How many people had they bothered?

“We had a fight over it, just before we went – you know – to give all the toys and stuff. I tried talking to her after that, but she doesn’t want to hear from me. According to her, I’m the problem.” This time, he sighed. “Broken up in two days… I might have set a new record.”

Bitterness clogged Luigi’s throat. At least Agarick had been able to hang out with someone in the first place, and very early too. He could easily find another girlfriend again. Lots of shrooms in the forest. He had little to complain about.

In the end, Rick’s temporary loneliness, for the time of his settlement, explained why he’d need to resort to using the green guy as a filler until he met his true friends. Why did Luigi even bother? He hated that bubbling hope in his stomach, knowing how he would torture himself some more over the excitement of his wish being granted and all of this to have been a set-up or worse, that Luigi would ruin a genuine friendship.

“I’ve been trying to make friends around here, but except for Toad Lily, I haven’t got any luck so far. I thought I could chance it with a guy called Morel, but he wasn’t too interested. Welp, I guess that happens.”

So now they were bonding out of necessity. A forced, miserable friendship. 

“So, do you have any hobbies?”

He wasn’t sure what to answer. He used to have a few hobbies but apart from working out and practicing martial arts or adventuring, they would seem too childish.

Rick went beyond his expectations.

“I like Doctor Who, and Star Trek, and historical stuff. I’ve started reading about the Titanic, recently. I don’t know why, but I find this stuff fascinating.”

Luigi found the story of the cruiser humorous, if the casualties weren’t taken into account. 

“The unsinkable ship that didn’t make its first trip,” Rick recounted. “The shipwreck that exposed the disparities between the poor and the rich during the English Empire. Two years before the First World War in your world of origin.”

It was a surprise.

“How do you know all that stuff?” Luigi softly said. “Did you go to the human world?”

“Not yet. I just read an encyclopedia in the Ruin Library. And then I read more stuff about it on the your world’s net.”

The Ruined Library, as the townsfolk called it.

“What about Doctor Who?”

“A friend gave me his DVDs. I like having an episode or two running at the end of the day, while I’m preparing food and stuff.” He leaned closer. “And if some episodes are missing, I acquire them… legally.”

Luigi gave the tiniest smile.

“What about you?” Rick asked. “What’s your favorite series?”

“I - I uh… I…”

He couldn’t think under all this pressure…

“I – I used to watch TMNT. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

The Toad looked confused. “Mmh, that doesn’t ring a bell, sorry. Is that a Koopa show in this town?”

“No. It’s a human thing.” Luigi cleared his throat. “About four mutant turtles with – with Italian names and who love pizza, who were raised by a mutant rat in the sewers and who… trained them to become ninja superheroes?” He cringed, hardly daring to make himself heard. “S-Sometimes… we were allowed to watch TV and that was our favourite show. We play-pretended the Ninja Turtles… Mario was Leonardo and I – I was Donatello. We found a few toys on the streets… sometimes. They were cheaper than Saint Seiya toys, which was basically a rich kid’s thing, so lots of people had them...”

He was too tired to continue. Luigi wanted this hang-out to end so that he could catch up on his sleep. Usually, it would require him immense effort to stop right there, as he’d never stop talking about TMNT once he was started, which freaked people out. Right now he had a fierce headache.

“It’s getting cold,” Rick said. “Maybe we should leave now?” 

He stood up; Luigi did the same, almost flipping the table and falling backward on his chair. He took the hand offered to him hastily and let it be shaken.

“It was a pleasure having tea with you!” The Toad smiled. “Why don’t we share numbers, so that we can see each other again one of these days?”

Oh god no.

“Okay.”

“I’m free lots of the time,” the Toad chatted as they found each other’s contacts, “till I get this job at the grocery store and the last castle repairs are done. Maybe we could watch Doctor Who together, or play on my Gamecube? Unless you got a Switch and you prefer that?”

They parted, awkwardly, as always, Luigi not knowing how to end their meeting, not knowing when to stop saying goodbye and thank you and waving his hand. He looked down at his feet as he departed to avoid the stares of the surrounding crowd. He fetched for a warp pipe in his pocket and then re-considered the trouble. Instead, he hid in a dark alley and teleported to the front of the Marios’ house. He couldn’t bother anymore to let potential spying enemies know one of his martial secrets. Teleporting behind an enemy would always be a surprise attack even if they expected it.

He craved for the blankets and the shut blinds.

As far as hanging out with a stranger could go, this wasn’t so bad. But he knew it couldn’t last. Not only because Rick might learn at any moment of what Luigi did, but because he’d soon find someone else to be pals with and then he’d leave him behind. On the fifth time this pattern had occurred in his childhood, he’d well learned the lesson. Send a message and meet again? Who was Rick kidding… Luigi was no fool. He wouldn’t let himself be ghosted once more… even if that meant wasting the unlikely chance of growing a friendship with the rare unbiased Toad life had to offer.

“So how did your date with the freak go?”

“Must have been real nice hanging out with one of your kind, loser.”

They laughed. They talked over him as Rick meant to reply.

“I’ve said that this waste of space would have more luck with a Goomba, but look! He found worse !”

“And what’s wrong with dating a Goomba?” Rick spat.

The two Toads looked at each other with disgusting smirks, then laughed. Laughed and laughed and pointed fingers at him, and “Wait till I tell the others” and other jokes that Rick didn’t care to decipher through their babble.

What was going on with this town?

He forced himself not to regret answering back, forced himself not to step back from a friendship with Luigi, however dangerous it may get. He wouldn’t be bullied out of it. It was just in Rick’s blood. He couldn’t stand injustice and always tried to make a difference. By no means did he pretend to be a hero, but he was inspired for sure. He was not fit for combat; it didn’t matter how long he spent working in the farm, he could never gain strength, only endurance. So he did the only thing open to someone like him, a commoner: defend the underdog of everyday life and help those who could do the heaviest work.

He hadn’t expected to be harassed over getting friendly with the lone and awkward and terribly timid green lad, but he sure wouldn’t back down. The very pattern disgusted him. Who did they think they were?

As much as he could, as he marched down the castle-palace, Rick paid his bullies no heed.

I dearly hope you didn't forget about this Mask. 

Luigi scoffed. “How could I?”

Now that was great. The Mask could speak in his head from the secret bedroom vault. 

You are the one who chose to wear it to cover your tracks. 

“I didn’t choose to wear you to attack the Warios. You jumped on my face and – you used me. You invaded my privacy and made me feel like my mind was splitting in two, just so – so what? Why would you do any of this? You pretend to help me out but all you’ve done is forcing yourself on me. And now you’re harassing me in my own home. Fucking leave me alone. And find someone else to jump on. Or, well, on second thought, don’t you try finding someone else. Why are you evil?” Childish question, Luigi flushed. “What’s your goal? If you’re so kind as to be honest with me…”

It needed someone to survive. You cannot blame this Mask for trying to survive.

“You’re a mask, how are you alive?”

It didn’t answer. Instead, as though Luigi hadn’t spoken:

You tried to break it the other day, did you not? It would say that you and this Mask are quits. 

Yes, he’d tried with everything he could think of. Except for the Power Star yet, because he always wanted to keep a spare one just in case a more pressing matter emerged. But maybe that hadn't been such a bad idea, not to insist.

“How is forcing yourself on me making you alive?”

It never forced myself on you. Inside, you wanted it. You were begging for it. The Mask answered your call for help.

“This is disgusting . You sound like a rapist. Maybe ‘cause you are, right? You mind-raped me. Go kill yourself. I’m not someone who wishes ill on others like that, but I don’t care anymore. I hope you die horribly. You and whoever you’re helping out.”

Luigi washed off his razor in the sink, checking for patches of facial hair he may have missed. Hardly content with the result and spotting a cut on his chin, he splashed his face, scrubbing the shaving cream off his skin. He turned off the tap and looked at his hands, weary. Horrific visions were blinding him.

“The Warios didn’t deserve this. There… I said it. And the kids… the detectives… I wanted to… I didn’t… I wanted to make up for what I’ve done. I wanted to make what happened not count. I thought you could help me out. But you made it worse. I wanted them not to tell anyone… and to leave me alone… not to ruin their lives. That wasn’t me.”

That was what you desired.

“No.”

And you are not alone. 

“Shut up.” The man rubbed a towel on his jaws aggressively, unstable. 

This Mask knows exactly what you were thinking beforehand… You wanted Wario and Waluigi to be dead or crippled for life. So they could not hurt you again. You, and anybody else. Everyone knows they deserved it. Everyone knows that the others deserved it as well. 

Luigi was about to speak out.

They have, and will, target people like you. 

The words died in his throat.

Kind-hearted, naive, sensitive, lonely and weak…

“Weak?!”

People who will let them do what they want, with minimal retribution… you know their kind. You know how they work. You know it was the only true solution. 

“NO!”

“Luigi?” he heard from the other side of the door where Mario was preparing pancakes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Don’t worry, I just… dropped my razor in the sink. Three times.”

That was one of the poorest lies of his life.

“Okay? Breakfast’s almost ready!”

“I’m coming!”

He threw a filthy look in the direction of the Mask, counting on the radio to cover his waspish voice.

“Don’t try to convince me that was the only way, or what I wanted, or whatever bullshit you’re coming up with. I may be a coward… but I know that wasn’t the way to make things right.”

If that was the case, you would not have worn it, when you knew what it was capable of.

Luigi gulped.

"What's with you referring to yourself as an 'it' anyway?"

That is what best suits this Mask. It used to refer to itself as an 'I' because that is what you would best accept and understand, when you first found it. It knows that even now, you are hesitant to refer to the Mask as an “it”. Rest assured that it isn’t an insult in its case. 

“Sounds stupid if you ask me.”

Would a tolerant hero say such a thing, human? 

“Why not, huh?”

Some living beings refer to themselves as an “it”. 

And now he was blushing, hard. 

“...Lots more of those living beings would throw you in the pits of hell for what you did to me. What you made me do.”

Nearly all of them would have done far worse than you.

Luigi had nothing to say to that. Except –

You are a perfect match for this Mask. This is why destiny chose us to meet.

“Oh my God you just can’t ever shut up, can you.”

You are the only wearer who has brought goodness to this world.

He cackled, at the end of his rope, covering his face and tightening his throat to keep himself as quiet as possible. Next he was crouching, trembling, on the thin line between laughing and crying.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? I never wanted you in my life. You’re ruining my life.”

Why would this Mask ruin your life? 

“Because that’s what villains do. You’re evil.”

It can only be as evil as the wearer is. 

“Sure.”

And you are a good man. That is why you control us so well. All wearers before you did not care about what they were wishing for. You have worn this Mask twice, and yet you remain uncorrupted by your own desires. Or shall it say, never let yourself astray, always telling right from wrong. You can undo anything you did as long as you truly wish it.

The headache was fiercer than ever.

You are not in your normal state, and yet, behold what you are able to do, in your weakest form. You had forgotten who you truly are. This Mask reminded you, for your own sake. Reminded you of your basic needs, as well as who you are striving to be. You are familiar with Freud’s works, you must understand me.

“Freud was a fraud.”

You made yourself your own tormentor. This Mask is saving you. 

“What’s the price?”

…The price.

“There’s always a price. Other people never do something without interest, and a cursed object will always tip the balance to the disadvantage of the subject.”

Your soul.

His hand dropped. Luigi’s face was a blank slate. His eyes, entirely soulless. 

“What do you mean.”

It needs life.

“...What happens then?”

You die once and for all, and we will be bonded forever.

“...Any other detail I should know about?”

All your wishes will have been fulfilled. You will die happy.

“And what will you do then?”

Live as the shadow of who you once were.

An irresistible smirk. A chuckle. Excitement glowing from deep within.

“Is that it? ‘Cause you must know… That’s a win-win for me. You’re not lying, are you?”

And yet you would not care. You know you need it, just as this Mask needs you. 

Luigi thought, and pondered, and looked at it from all angles. Leaving the bathroom, having breakfast with his brother Mario, secretly thinking about the proposition.

The Mask had hit the spot. Luigi may have found his way out. The only way out.

He would live happy, and then he’d die, for real. Free of the consequences.

Life is unfair. Take advantage of it.

He couldn’t tell apart what was the Mask speaking and what was himself thinking.

The day went in a blur, and though the Mask had ceased talking, its words wouldn’t leave him.

If only…

Here is the secret to wearing the Mask for good: Let yourself be free. If you do not, you will turn more and more violent, more and more destructive, deep within… only to explode later, inevitably. Allow yourself to make mistakes, allow yourself to fail, but never give up on yourself. Allow yourself to be happy without guilt. This is the correct way to wear the Mask. This is how you allow us both to live. You will be the hero who harnessed this Mask perfectly, for the sake of everyone, most importantly your own.

You let it live tonight, and you won’t regret a second of it. 

Luigi felt ashamed. Deeply ashamed.

But he was too entranced by the possibilities. 

He was craving.

The cupboard of the secret room opened, the Mask shining a mesmerizing green.

“Let’s go then.”

You want to speed up the process. 

Luigi ignored that. “Let’s try again. But promise me: you will leave me in control from then on,” he said as he brought it to his face. “Promise me that at the end, you will kill me once and for all.”

The Mask grinned.

The Mask doesn’t make promises.

“Oy, asparagus! Hey, you hear me?! Yeah it’s you I’m talking about! Whatcha doing here? You lost? Or you’re looking for that green-sneeze-stain you got a crush on?”

Toadrick had frozen in his tracks. After a long day of renovating the castle, finishing inconsequential details on the Lords’ orders, he’d decided to cut through the city to go back home. In his village, roaming after dark wasn’t a problem. He hadn’t wanted to assume otherwise for Toad Town. He may have been right if he hadn’t made enemies out of the two Toads who seemed too interested with the friendship he was building with the green superhero. 

The other Toad was laughing. “Asparagus”, because he was taller and thinner than the inhabitants of Toad Town, who were all short and chubby. He was getting bullied for being too tall .

But then, Rick saw. Figures in the shadows, walking under the light of the full moon, flanking a huge Koopa – an Ankoopa . 

The terror made Rick step back, knowing, oh so patently knowing, that he couldn’t escape, and that in a few seconds he would feel great, great pain, for minutes that would feel like eternity. He would live something no one should experience. He’d never thought he’d get fleeced for so little. It made no sense at all. There was no need for violence. 

But that didn’t matter to the Toads smiling at him. They weren’t here for justice, but for amusement, retribution, assertion of power. They were the kinds of Bowsers and a significant part of his minions before they were taken out by the Mario Brothers.

And he wished for a Mario Brother to rescue him right now. 

As soon as he pulled out his phone, Toamas gripped his arm while Toadlop was wresting it out his hand, before throwing it to the floor.

The beat-down started. 

There were people around them… and no one did anything. They threw a quick glance and looked away, they walked faster, they started hushering between themselves, commenting and sighing and bearing mocking or sympathetic faces… and nothing got done. 

They wouldn’t have needed to be heroes to intervene. But he guessed Rick wasn’t worth the trouble for them.

Luigi strutted along the lantern-lit streets of Toad Town after rain. Tonight, he wanted to stroll in his comfort clothes. Purple overalls, thick black turtleneck pullover, a large and nice-smelling silver-colored bandanna loosely hugging his shoulders, long black stockings, solid black and white ankle-high leather sneakers with silver linings and a pink heel, ready to spring as he loved, and a purple hat, for a change. It was less sleepy in the town than expected: many were partying, having a drink and whatnot. He stopped in the middle of an alley, the bright windows of a restaurant piquing his interest. The smell was wonderful, his stomach growled.

"I want to eat there!" 

ZOOOOM

“I wanna try everything!”

“Sure darling, you got the money?” 

The Goomba family running the place raised eyebrows and smirked and rolled their eyes. Luigi rummaged through his things.

“Huh-oh! I don’t!”

“Then no meal for you, my lad.”

“But I know who got it!” He slammed a clock on the counter. “Wait a sec!”

He shot an arm through the door. He knew exactly where he could get the money, and how – the place had been hidden under the streets because “that was the right thing bla bla bla”, but it’d never ceased to exist, to his great amusement. He dug through the dirt, underneath the pavements, made his way down the warp pipe. On the other side, he found himself in King Bowser’s guts.

Luigi winked. “I’ve been craving to do that for so long! Now Mario’s not on the way anymore!”

He tried to shush the questions that made their way to the surface again to no avail – had they really pumped Bowser full of adrenaline in the general area of his kidneys or had they really ended in his ass where they were tasked with hammering his prostate shooting “adrenaline” to make him grow big huh~? Was there a way to his privates that they’d never found? Not that either of them would have searched hard for it…

So instead he tried to focus on finding Bowser’s secret vault of god. Luigi had money, lots and lots of it, but this would ruin Bowser and tip his kingdom ever closer to an economic crisis in the long term. Banks would flee a lord that forced them to give him money without condition nor any plan for refund. Bowser wasn’t so weak anymore as to let himself be kicked around by banks like a puppy. To his own detriment alas. 

The intruding hand tried to find the command center in Bowser’s vast, empty head. It really was dark in there. At last he found the room, protected by a password consisting of a baby block puzzle to complete (he put them all in the square hole, the biggest of them after Bowser himself). The computer waiting behind it was broke. 

Luigi distorted space-time, allowing for seconds to pass in this very limited space. Next, he fetched for the emotion team.

“Oh Joy!” he signed. “It’s a displeasure to see you there. Can you help me sort that out? I need the memory of the code to Bowser’s money vault before the Warios find it.”

“What? What is this place? What am I doing here? Is that Riley?”

Nevermind – he pulled Anger out of thin air, or should he call him, Wrath. He was huge and spiky and reeked of corruption. 

“Anger! I assume you’re the one ruling this place. Could you –”

Wrath roared at him like a wild mini-Godzilla. He wouldn’t let him speak so Luigi flipped him the finger.

“Yeah no, no need to turn this place into actual negative space, who knows what would happen.”

Luigi had a BRIGHT idea. Hehehehehehehehehe

He pushed the red Godzilla out of frame. “You better make a true Godzilla X Kong movie next time.”

Or else the fandom would take care of it.

“YOU! Oh shit Bowser has a conscience? Oh nevermind, it’s dead.” He threw the cricket away. "Look, I found Nemo!" and he threw the fish as well. “What’s that? EWWW .” He shook his hand out of the piles of peach, glove sticky with juice. “Wait, how would that even fit? WOAH!” He hid the panel of Bowser anatomy. “Have you thought about the kids – hold on. Lmao. Yeah it’s kid-friendly alright” – he presented the Koopa anatomy that seemed to lack a conspicuous part to the human eye. “That explains everything! What? You put yourself in my shoes! Attempting comedy when you got the nature and joy of life of a Yamask!”

“Disgust? Sadness?”

“That would be me, ma'am.” 

Luigi dug deep, deeper, and deeper again, in the vain hope of finding something useful. What he retrieved next had him overjoyed.

“Oh my God! We have found Bowser’s one brain cell!”

“Affirmative. Correct.”

“Now,” Luigi asked as he was getting scanned by the blue Napse being. “Could you search for the memory code of Bowser’s private vault please? The one that contains coins, thank you. Assuming he didn’t shove coins up his a --"

“VIRUS ALERT!”

"Wha?"

"VIRUS ALERT! VIRUS ALERT!"

“Huuuh… Negative, incorrect?”

“DATABASE BACKUP COMPLETE!”

“Not that there’s a lot to save.”

“DATABASE HAS BEEN COMPROMISED. IMPOSSIBLE TO LOAD THE REPULSION PROGRAM. LAUNCHING A NEW REPULSION PROGRAM!”

Luigi waited, and waited, and was making his fingers walk on the railing of the ruined computer when the Napse transformed.

It was a hand. 

A copy of Luigi’s hand.

“Yeah! High-five my guy!” and he executed. 

But the copy hand flopped on the floor with a big SLAP that shouldn’t have been possible to hear with its glove on. Luigi approached it, trying to convert the hand’s fish impression into a crawling spider impression. 

“No no no –!”

Hopeless. The Napse flapped the wrong way and fell into the abyss. 

Even Joy was standing speechless next to him. 

“You know,” she said, “maybe you’ll find your answer elsewhere.”

“Or maybe there’s no answer.”

...

He had an L moment. 

Of course! he thought as he hand shot through one of Bowser’s nostrils. If there was no memory of the vault’s code… that meant it probably didn’t exist!

“0000 0000 0000 0000 000” was the code he typed on the very secret vault that everybody knew about. The vault clicked and creaked open – all its gold for Luigi to take. 

“Now,” he said as he was back in Bowser’s bedroom, “before I forget…”

He conjured his war hammer and swung it to the space between Bowser’s legs

And slapped his butt cheek for the sheer hilarity of it. Good boy. (Or did Bowser prefer to be called a Bad Boi?)

He grabbed the bag of gold again, forced it through Bowser’s nose, and Luigi’s arm 

zipped 

zapped 

all the way back to the restaurant, where time was passing so slowly it appeared frozen. 

Tick , the second had passed. The distortions of time unwinded to its natural order.

Many people yelped and fell on their butts, trying to to catch up with whatever had shot past them at lightning speed.

Thousands of miles away, Bowser Castle was shaking under the king’s hysterics. Now for the world to see what surprises anti brain matter held for them. 

SLAM

The Goomba family gaped at the huge stash of gold that crashed onto the creaking wooden counter. A client spat water to his partner’s face in surprise. (“Thanks honey, but I didn’t mean I wanted a facial in public .”)

“Where did you get that?”

“I took a trip. Inside Bowser, if you know what I mean ;)"

The Goombette blinked.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it. You can’t steal the stuff a thief stole. I think? What do you think?”

“This table, sir?” the younger lady pressed him on, saving her mother from an unusual client. She pointed at a dark corner of the room.

“Actually!” Luigi chanted. “I’d rather get this seat by the window!”

“Great!” the lady squeaked. “I’ll bring you your menu. P-Please have a seat.”

He'd never been able to enjoy restaurants or diners. Too many people, too many lights, too many noises, and too many things to worry about. It was a challenge to navigate in the social crowd. He still had so much to learn.

Fighting had been, in a sense, easier and more comfortable. No words were required, and the intentions were clear. Sure, it had been hard to learn how to read his enemies… at the beginning. He didn't even need to think about it a lot now; he now just felt what was about to happen, and what were his best chances. 

He didn't need the Mask to know how to knock down enemies… but there were other things he was incapable of doing well. Finding balance, remaining human… engaging in social settings that involved other people than his brother. 

Or simply, eating at a restaurant. Something Luigi Mario was unable to do. 

He licked his lips with an audible slurp, overjoyed. It was meaningless for the Mask. But to Luigi, it was a sweet little miracle. And the food, delicious.

His ear twitched as he heard the Warios’ name on the restaurant’s TV. They were making a recovery, though it was accepted that they would never remember what had happened exactly and who had attacked them. Wario and Waluigi, the anti- Mario Brothers, would be ready to leave in a few weeks. Luigi would need to fix that.

He heard people talking about it a bit, unnerved by the so-called "disease" that was afflicting the Warios. He couldn’t believe the amount of excitement he got out of it; he cackled loudly in the restaurant, startling everyone in there, hearing the concerned silence that followed, but he didn’t care. He grinned like a kid – he truly didn’t care! 

After midnight dinner, he strolled more downtown, cleaning his teeth with a toothpick, considering going to the theater and playing a movie for himself only. Or even enjoy a massage at a dedicated shop! – not the very adult ones , you perverted minds! He just wanted to feel hands on his skin, pressure and caresses in heady scenting oils, free to moan under them – still not sexually. Or not too much anyway, hah!

If that weren’t for the Mask, he would never have dared – but this night was different, and he better enjoy it to the fullest!

But then, he heard weird noises. 

“Huh?”

He put his hand next to his ear, cartoonishly, as though trying to amplify the noise. Hushed, quick-spoken, tense, harsh, loud ones, oppressive ones…

"Uh-oh! Someone's having fun over there! Oh no actually, that must be four of them! LET’S GO LADS! YOU CAN DO THIS!" and some Toads jumped away from the drunk/high-sounding maniac yelling in the street for no apparent reason. 

"That reminds me, does Dolores -- not that bitch -- the one in Encanto! -- if she hears everything from miles away, does she hear people having sex? Did she hear her own parents making a miracle? You're welcome for ruining your childhood, fellas."

The child he was talking to -- a few inches from their face only -- started crying. It sounded like the siren of a fire truck. Out of his mind, Luigi turned into a siren version of himself, an emerald Primarina, and this Masked siren that had appeared out of nowhere sang along the kid in fire truck noises. 

"What’s the matter with you?!" the mother said, pulling her kid away. "Shroomy! Come on now!"

The father did as told... throwing a look back at the siren, silently whistling. His wife bore a face of disbelief.

And the worst was that Luigi winked back at him. 

He was still hearing the voices from afar, but this time, the yelps and groans didn’t sound like they were having sexy fun. There were kicking and slapping noises, and Luigi didn’t believe it was a new form of BDSM. 

There was a beat-down going on.

...But why should he care?

Tonight was his night. The inhabitants were dicks to him, why the fuck should he bother? A little more misery to the townsfolk was well-needed. Back into his human form, he froliced amongst the crowd. 

The only thing Rick could do, was laying in a fetal position, protecting his head with bruised arms, body crushed by the Ankoopa, ripped back from unconsciousness by the Toads’ kicks. 

They were filming him. Mocking him as he took the beating. Punches and kicks that would have broken his nose if he had one.

This was happening. 

All his stuff – money, phone, diary – were in their hands now.

It almost felt like he was going to die. 

The beating ceased at some point. Rick was done by then. He fell into unconsciousness for good.

He only woke up to a sleep demon before it was morning.

Was that all a bad dream? he pondered, as he awoke on his bed, stuff by his side. It was when he saw the ridiculous pajamas he knew that unless he’d gotten badly drunk, somebody must have saved him.

Somebody with the face of a demon and the heart of a hero.

Ending Notes:

• You thought I was going to skip that fight too, heh? 
• I get it. You’ve been robbed of two Masked scenes by now. 
• Maybe you think this is lazy writing? Biting more than I can chew? 
• Rejoice! This time, you can bear witness to the full extent of my power! 
• The power of imagination! and materializing it at will too, I guess.

At the last minute, I, Luigi, had been too curious and too aware of a perfect opportunity at hand. Luigi wanted fun, and, true enough, drew it from fighting as well. Past the fear and first exchanges of blows, the rush of endorphins took over, driving me into a frenzy. We called it fighter’s high. Why not spice up this wonderful and exciting night out with a little beating of people who deserved it?

Luigi, the new Mask wearer, watched as two hateful Toads, Toadlop and Toamas, who’d already caused him trouble too many times, were picking at his new friend.

They won’t bully Rick for befriending me… my ass. 

They threw a blow at Rick’s face, who stumbled and hit the low wall of the house behind. Luigi, being extremely empathetic by nature, felt that punch, a blow at his heart, and his grin faltered into a mere row of teeth. 

WHΛ† ΛЯΣ ᛉOU WΛ|†|ИG FOЯ? 

…

Indeed.

What was he waiting for.

He grinned, obscenely, teeth gaping slightly open.

When the Ankoopa did as ordered and threw Rick’s body, the Masked man caught him in his arms like he’d carried Princess Peach before. Poor Toad was making uncanny gurgling noises, choking on his own blood. Ribs must have gotten broken, piercing the tiny lungs. He’d been beaten to a pulp, almost literally. 

Luigi rolled him into a ball and struck it. Toadlop’s neck cracked under the frontal impact and teeth flew from his not-so-smiling-now mouth. Defying all odds, ball Rick ricocheted, struck the back of Toadlop’s head when he’d rightened himself, made a hole in Luigi’s corrida red cape, made a perfect strike at a nearby bowling club, won the Waluigi Pinball race, pushed Mario away from the Pachinko Game’s center hole (the Game Grumps panicked), cracked Bowser’s nuts once and for all, broke the last of Toadlop’s teeth, was taken for a Stricker ball, landed in Morty’s hands, who threw him away like ads newspaper – and finally, finally, he was dropping into his bed, deploying, ready to sleep like a baby. 

“I’d have him hit Toadlop’s nuts,” Luigi told you, “if he had any.”

“You son of a bitch!” the second Toad said. 

“You son of the Mask!” the green guy shot back.

“Hey!” the Ankoopa added. “What’s the Witch of the West doing here?”

Luigi looked at his reflection on the Toad house’s window to see the resemblance for himself. He waved his hand at the mom and little girl standing behind it, watching the scene unfold, before Luigi focused back on the gang. 

He… honestly had nothing to say. But fate was on his side.

“Wait… Toadlop, it’s that – that –”

“What?”

Ah, finally. Luigi’s grin widened, taking most of his face. 

“Y-You’re that guy!” Toamas said in sudden terror. “Th-the-the…”

“Now isn’t that bold of you to assume the Masked person is a guy.”

Luigi licked his teeth, savoring the cowering Toads’ fear. They didn’t know they were scared to the death of Luigi Mario. The Warios’ doom, Truffle’s green avenger, willingly possessed by the Mask of Loki.

Someone from the surrounding crowd screamed.

“HE’S THAT GREEN LUNATIC!!! EVERYBODY RUN!!!”

It was a shame, Luigi thought. He’d wanted to humiliate the thugs publicly. He’d have to clean his name one day to make them all enjoy it when he was taking revenge. 

The insufferable Toads attempted to flee themselves, and it was Luigi’s delight to see their faces flatten on an invisible wall. 

You can’t go any farther.

Their faces, Luigi saw as they looked back at him, had drained out of blood. Perfection. He walked towards them as the Toads tried to make one with the mushrooms on the house wall.

Luigi knew exactly what he looked like at that moment. A lovecraftian entity, red eyes and big white teeth floating on the area of a ghostly shadow’s face – the Cheshire Cat, only evil.

“WHO ARE YOU?”

“That is what I’m discovering myself. Also I’m NB. You’re welcome.”

“NB?”

“--tious. God I love pissing people off with dad jokes. Anyway, you can call me… mmmh…”

“Let me help,” Ankoopa said. “The Green Git. You’re welcome.”

RAGE

And the worst… was that he had nothing to say. Like at the orphanage, the humiliation and conflict paralyzed him. While the Mask made him able –

“I wasn’t asking the opinion of the local Koopatard.”  

While the Ankoopa was trying to understand what had been said and the Toads were gasping, Luigi found himself shocked. How did that come out of his mouth? 

How was he able to grin so proudly like he currently was?

He had to regain control of the situation. 

“Good. Now, being a god versed in the ways of war means I can imagine a hundred ways to make you suffer for what you did.”

And he demonstrated as the thugs screamed in horror and pain, in flashes of what amounted to casual torture. Agarick was avenged.

“Hundreds of ways to die I’ve experienced myself to save your lazy asses. And frankly, the sheer idea is absolutely tantalizing,” he slurped. Rapey grin.

But….

He wanted a challenge. Fighting was no challenge. Not being his rotten self was. 

Who did he aspire to be? Who was he truly destined to be? Who was he inside? Did our deepest wishes really indicate who we truly are? 

And who would he turn out to be? 

One thing was for sure: he was sick of dying in the dark. He wanted to flare at the dusk of his life. 

To rage at the dying of the light. 

The anti-him and his true self, was quick and witty and funny as hell, kind only as far as it was reasonable to be.

Although…Well, he had a feeling he did crave for the taboo. To be the bad boy for once.

His eyes were stars, his grin dreamy. 

The coolest, badass-est bad boy in the world! That would be it! A soft-hearted innocent green-eyed guy at day, hiding a naughty identity, wild at night, where the underdog turned into his rivals’ secret idol.

“But you are lucky,” Luigi murmured, less than an inch to the Toads’ ears. “Very lucky that it is full moon tonight, my dears. Or I wouldn’t have been so merciful on your poor souls. You’re lucky it is me who dons the Mask. That I’m merely doing this!”

In a flash he was behind the purple Toad, pulling his underwear on his head, it ripped. 

“You know, when they say ‘let it rip’ you don't have to take it literally.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE YOU HYPERACTIVE MANIAC!!!”

“Bipolar.”

His eyes narrowed on the Koopa that had offended him.

“Now let’s try with you , big boy!”

Extending his arms to snap his knuckles at once, he searched for a way under the shell where he could pull out a pair of underwear. The Ankoopa’s eyes widened.

“How did you do it?

“Don’t worry about it.”

And yet, try as he might, Luigi could only come to the conclusion:

“AW GOD NO – I forgot Koopas go full commando in there!”

Only Bowser seemed to retain some decency under his shell, as he’d discovered in his first adventure of rescuing Mario before King Boo became obsessed with wanting a live Mario painting. And vored Luigi to hell and back. 

There was a silence as everybody expected Toadlop to be the next victim.

“What? Him? No thank you! Not until he’s washed his pants!”

And indeed, Toadlop’s face reddened furiously as he noticed the yellowish stain in his soaked pants.

“Time to change your diapers! And as a matter of fact..."

There was a mini tornado as Luigi had fun with the Toad. The result was a Toadlop in pink baby clothes, a huge pacifier in his toothless mouth. 

Now that was quite a sight! He had to immortalize it. 

The green devil took out his green phone and swiped, and swiped again, and then took his glove off by the teeth so that his finger could actually swipe the screen. 

“Say cheese!”

“MMMMMHHH!"

But the selfie was taken. Luigi couldn’t wait to get his revenge…

“There! Online for all to see! That’ll teach you! You know you deserve it!” he growled through his teeth in a sudden bout of rage. 

Conveniently, the thugs’ phones short-circuited and shut down for good. None of their photo or video of what had happened that night would escape. 

And then, he noticed something… even his hand was green!

“Let’s hope I don’t get cancelled for wearing greenface. Or for suggesting such a thing exists if it actually doesn’t…”

“Good luck trying to be funny and staying politically correct!”

“Challenge accepted,” Luigi grinned slyly – trying to forget his earlier stunt. 

“My phone!” Ankoopa whined. “My photos! Noooo-oo-ooo…”

“Oh, but you want some souvenirs? Be my pleasure!”

In a tornado of chaos, the setting was ready. 

“Say cheese!”

The thugs’ lips were parted above and below their teeth like smiling horses. Except for Toadlop, who had no tooth left. The Ankoopa, curiously, only had four back fangs to show. Seriously guys, how are you able to eat?

“I mean,” a Koopa passerby said, “you might as well start wondering how Goombas are able to drive.”

Plot armor?

“And why Dry Bones –”

“Hehehe.”

“-- and Dry Bowser –”

“Oh so he’s Wet Bowser the rest of the time?”

“-- why the undead Koopa can move to begin with. And why is it implied that Bowser’s hair is fake, given he’s got the same haircut as a skeleton.”

Luigi looked elsewhere 👀 Bald Bowser.

“So" Wet Bald Bowser “don’t think too hard about it. By the way Toamas, you should floss one of these days.”

“HHHHRSSS-HHHRRSSSTTTT” he said.

“Anyway where were we? Oh yeah, CHEESE!” 

Snap. 

“Oh my, you look beautiful ,” Luigi said to his stand-alone selfie, brushing back his hair with a hand.

“Howww wee ‘oooing on tha ‘oto?” Ankoopa asked. 

Luigi put his phone back into his pocket.

Then, at the sight of the poor fools, he got an idea.

After all, why not? They were at his mercy… and he was being kind.

“Ever heard Hyperdontia? Allow me to DEMONSTRATE!!!” He cackled, the most insane he had been all night, at the thought of what he was gonna do.

HIS EYES FLARED TOXIC GREEN.

…and then lost their intensity.

It looked like their owner was waking up.

“Bah! Forget it!” The mouth devices broke, freeing the gang members. “Get lost! And don’t ever bother us again! I said MOVE IT!"

He threw a weapon at the Toads, who fled in absolute terror, scarred and traumatized for life. It was a DVD of Son of the Mask. 

“We found something scarier than fanfictions tagged "reader x Luigi Mangione"!” Luigi winked. “Condoms to avoid child support, he says? More like condoms not to make this a reality,” he indicated the DVD jacket. “I swear I’m going Madoka and forcing an abortion on anyone who makes chick-chicky boom with the Mask on.” Now that would be an interesting mental image, floating over each Mask wearer of all times like a guardian angel to cockblock them.

“You know what? Better check it out by myself.” A hologram screen deployed before his hands; he swiped back and forth, scanning the timeline and the second-degree branchings of possibilities. 

“Good,” he said as he clapped the screen like a pack of poker cards vanishing in his hands, “no danger in sight. Except for me,” he grinned wickedly. 

And knowingly, he left the DVD on the street, for a bigger fool than himself to pick something more cursed than Loki’s Mask.

“Nice!” he heard the Ankoopa say. “Free movie tonight!”

It was a deep kind of satisfaction, he thought, a deep kind of fulfillment; not only had he been able to defeat thugs in a fun, relatively friendly way rather than the usual mess he couldn't stop himself from making, but he'd gotten his revenge. They would be too incapacitated to bother him during the day, now; the psychological shock was well enough to force them into silence and discretion. 

If every night wearing the Mask was like that, he would wear it at all times.

The Mask was resting on the nightshelf.

“I’m a what??!”

Why. Why did that have to be him.

Non-binary? Masc? What the fuck did that even mean? 

It was one thing to hear people like that existed. It was another to realize he was one of them.

Revelation, joy, shame and fear… standard reaction of coming in. It will pass.

Luigi paced around his room. 

“And why did you let me make that joke about Bowser’s tiny dick!” he said, angry, fingers like claws near his face. “It’s not right! What about those with tiny dicks!”

You invaded Bowser’s innards and made him sterile. You murdered thousands of his crownies in cold blood yet you care about making some people feel bad. You made a whole show about Bowser’s imbecility knowing you would never dare in the case of the intellectually-disabled as you know you mean differently.

Luigi groaned. He had a lot to deconstruct. God was this Mask eye-opening about who he really was on the inside.

You’ll never cease “deconstructing”. You are imperfect. You have instincts. Repressed desires. This Mask is not about turning you into somebody you are not, but to meet and reconcile with who you were meant to be. Before you kill yourself from the inside out. 

“But I wanna be a true hero. Not a bigot or anything close. Because that’s not who I am inside.”

The Mask was full of paradoxes. 

Yet as Luigi watched the morning sun rise through his bedroom window, bathing the sky in pink and gold and puff clouds in snowy white, he did as the Mask told him and ceased repressing a dirty, dangerous thought that until now had crawled upwards like vines from the deep of his mind. The happiest, most successful, most beloved people, weren’t the good ones. And hadn’t he had enough of being a kind loser of this world? 

Life wasn’t fair. Life was absurd. The rule of the strongest always prevailed. If you wanted life to be fairer, you had to become the strongest. That was how the Mario Brothers had saved countless. Love was about turning ruthless against them . Pure kindness and unconditional love hadn’t won him anything in this world of savages. 

He wanted to stay true to who he was. The Mask had finally given him the opportunity to righten the world. His world. But did that dream matter more than the emerging one… to be in control of what happens next? 

He had the choice, this time. Altruistic or self-serving. 

He lowered his gaze. 

No matter what he tried, he couldn’t suppress that desire, the ecstasic thought of making it true. 

To be on the other side of the barrier between bullies and victims. 

Like them. Like those who’d taken pleasure out of breaking him. 

It was time to see through the lies.

Money bought happiness.

And becoming part of the predators didn’t make him a loser, but a warrior who understood how life worked and made good use of it. 

Turning into a predator was how he would force his wishes to be granted. That was how you became a winner. That was how you got yourself loved and praised. 

That was how you survived.

Red lights in the black of his pupils.

Chapter Score:

• Inspiration for the war between the Brothers and Bowser: The Beetfield + Tiger Battle, Fury (the second one would reference Koopas and the Brothers desperate to kill each other after local heroes were taken out, and they feature latin lyrics battling with german lyrics; Mario is the trumpets, Luigi the violins/cellos)
• Rick discovers injustice: Forensics ~ Forgotten Mystery, Trauma Team unused OST
• Music of the deal between Luigi and the Mask: Brother’s Gambit, Horizon: Call of the Mountain
• Several musics can be referenced for the same scenes (dunno which to choose if they’re all suitable)

Ending Notes:

• Luigi loves fictional Donatello so much that… well, where do you think Mr.L came from? Or Luigi’s passion for technology? Also, he relates a lot to Donatello. He’s never written fics about him, though, and he’s uninterested/frustrated with a lot of representations of him. I wish I knew more about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to have Luigi more overtly obsess over them in my fic.
• The Ruin Library because Library of Ruina.
• I don’t intend to write an actually bipolar Luigi. The joke is that he’s maniacal when wearing the Mask and depressed when not.
• "Shroomy" is an equivalent of "honey".
• Don’t forget Luigi’s got a crack in one of his front teeth.
• I never expected to have such inspiration for this chapter. It’s always been a difficult one to imagine. And I realized… if I want to write a punchline or a funny scene or something, I can write it right away instead of storing it in one of my brainstorm files or drafts of later chapters. (Says this after sweating blood trying to come up with funny scenarios.)
• The (final?) skeleton of the entire story is now laid out, together with the corresponding chapters. In total, without accounting that a chapter contains several sub-chapters/parts and that some chapters are drawings, there should be 14 chapters. Fourteen loooong chapters, but this time, I know what I’m doing. I won’t bother myself describing unnecessary details, especially as you must get it by now, that Luigi overthinks everything and is in great pain. He’s an overly sensitive fella.
• Writing seems easier now, and I’ve found again the pleasure to tell this story. Three months in a psychiatric hospital with constant medication for ADHD, depression and emotional/mood dysregulation, as well as vacation for (near) burnout, that does some good. And this time I won’t make the same mistake of working myself to death, literally falling ill. I have booked afternoons and the whole Sunday for rest and hobbies.
• For side stories, mainly with comedy, I might add dedicated “filler” chapters, in-between the chapters of the main plot or after all these. 
• I actually had to sit down and think hard if Toads needed bathrooms. In my fic, they don’t reproduce like mammals. But then I thought, they drink and eat like humans, so the waste must go somewhere. Thus, bathrooms. Also that allows me to remain consistent with my first chapter, where Luigi fell in the sewers and had a long thought about how disgusting it was.
• Luigi’s relflexion on the rule of the strongest has a great meme to accompany it: https://www. /prinscar/789536206144831489?source=share 

Mild Spoilers:

• The red lights in pupils symbolize the rage to survive. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” The Brothers get them when they lock in to survive or win. It’s not intrinsically evil. Anyone can get them. They must not be confused with Bowser’s crimson pupils of fury. 
• Chapter 3 BIS is also a wink at the Mario & Luigi saga.