Chapter One: Reunion
Mario Mario looked silently up the path that led to the little house. He wasn't used to coming to others for help, and for once he had to muster the nerve to do what had to be done. Taking a deep breath, he started toward the door. When he walked, it was with his usual swagger that boasted confidence, but he felt more fear than he had in a long time. Though he wore a sword at his left hip, a gun at his other, and a variety of daggers were hidden on his person, he knew that this was one challenge with which weapons would offer no assistance. He held up a fist to knock, his heart pounding, but at the last second he turned away to leave. Three times he tried and failed to knock, but the memory of a promise he had made kept him from fleeing, and on the fourth attempt, his fist struck wood.
He stepped back with his hands behind his back and waited with the air of someone used to being obeyed. Sure enough, a light came on in the house and then the door swung open, revealing a man in pale green nightclothes and a conical nightcap with a pom-pom at the end.
Mario waited as the man rubbed sleep from his eyes and focused. Then the man's eyes grew wide.
"Mario?" The look of incredulity was quickly replaced with annoyance accompanied by a yawn. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Sorry for dropping in unannounced, but I've got a bit of a situation on my hands, Weegee."
Luigi stared at Mario, who stood awkwardly in the doorway. It wasn't every day that Mario apologized, or waited for an invitation to enter a house, or called Luigi by his childhood nickname. It wasn't every day that Mario looked so lost.
Luigi opened the door wider. "You know my door is always open, Mar. Come in."
Mario gratefully stepped inside, taking off his red fedora as he did so. It seemed impossible, but the house appeared even smaller on the inside than it had on the outside. The clutter was enormous; even Mario, who wasn't the neatest person, felt a little claustrophobic.
The light above was dull and flickering, and newspapers lay strewn across the floor. Mario noticed that some newspapers seemed worm, as if they had been reread many times, while others had clippings carefully cut out, and still others had been torn up. Besides that, there were stack of untouched newspapers lining the walls. The second most notable part of the mess was the beer cans. Big and small, every brand, every strength—beer cans lay in a layer like a carpet on the floor.
The sight of such disarray made Mario freeze in his tracks. He knew Luigi better than anyone, enough to know that the way he kept his house was a clear indicator of his mood. The mess spoke of desperation and hopeless dismay.
The two men stood in silence for a long while, neither wanting to meet the others' eye. It was Luigi who finally couldn't stand the suspense any longer and asked, "Why'd you come?"
Mario turned to face him, and Luigi stuttered, "Oh, I—I didn't mean it like that. You're welcome anytime; you know that. I just blurted it out. Because it's—it's not like you've come around much lately…and I understand, of course. I know you've been busy with everything…"
Mario waited patiently for Luigi to stop rambling, and when Luigi had fallen silent, he answered softly, "I know I haven't been around, and I am sorry for that."
"It's no problem!" Luigi protested at once.
Mario's reply was a slow pointed look around the chaotic mess, but he didn't verbally pursue the subject. "I need your help, Weege."
"Please sit" was Luigi's reply, in a quiet attempt at normalcy.
Mario didn't want to be rude and draw any attention to the sad state of the living room by asking where he was to sit. He waited to follow Luigi's example. After a second, Luigi crossed to a pile of junk and sat on it; after some close examination, Mario recognized it as an old sofa. Mario picked his way to a misshapen form that looked like a very large pile of trash that vaguely resembled an armchair facing Luigi.
"So you need my help?" Luigi said, as if in serious doubt of his own hearing. "What for? What can I possibly do for you? If it's money you're after, then I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. I ain't the richest guy in the world, and I've got to look after myself."
Mario shook his head, both in negation of this assumption and in dumb amazement. "Have you been reading all those papers you've got lying around?"
Luigi stiffened, as if until that point he had assumed that Mario hadn't seen the gigantic clutter. His face turned bright red and he feebly tried to rearrange the things closest to him. The small effort to straighten up made no significant difference.
Keeping his eyes on the floor, Luigi said, "I haven't read the paper in months. It got too depressing. It's just sort of a habit to go out each morning and pick it up."
"Then you should cancel your subscription," Mario said. The words were a suggestion, but his tone made it sound like an order. "You've said you're hard up for money, so you shouldn't waste any of it."
Luigi's eyes slid up to meet Mario's. In a careful voice, Luigi said, "I wish you wouldn't advise me about managing money."
Luigi wasn't quite brave enough to voice the resentment and bitterness meant by those soft-spoken words, but Mario understood it well enough anyway. He frowned, looking away, trying to emotionally distance himself from Luigi.
"So I suppose you don't know," Mario said, "that the Princess has gone missing."
"Oh." There was a discouraging lack of surprise or concern in Luigi's voice. Mario waited for him to say something else. When the silence wore on, Luigi said uncomfortably, "Again?"
Mario flinched.
"Who kidnapped her this time? What was the ransom? Did you save her yet?" Luigi went on, his voice infused with the perfect, rehearsed inflection of polite curiosity that showed that he was honestly bored.
"I don't think you understand," said Mario, his jaw set. "I have no idea where she is. I'm asking you to help me find her and bring her back."
Luigi stared at Mario. Mario stared back as the minutes ticked past with excruciating slowness, feeling stupid for having come. He wished Luigi would do something other than stare.
Then, to Mario's surprise, Luigi did do something different—something even worse. He laughed.
It was a great big genuine belly laugh, not just a polite chuckle, and it went on until Mario's patience had just about reached the end of its fuse. Mario half expected tears to start rolling down Luigi's cheeks.
Stiffly, Mario stood. He felt cold inside and out. It wasn't as if he had really expected help from anybody, but Luigi knew how difficult it was for him to reach out and ask. He had bared himself, made himself vulnerable, only to be laughed at. He looked down on Luigi and said, "I'm glad one of us is amused. You should know that you were a last resort, but I'll manage just fine alone. I'm very sorry to have disturbed you."
He was prepared to exit with his dignity, but Luigi stopped him. "Wait." All mirth had gone from his voice. "You're serious."
"At least one of us is," Mario replied.
"God, Mar…I'm sorry." Luigi twisted the bottom of his shirt. "I thought Daisy put you up to this. Is Peach really missing?"
Mario replied with a curt nod, hope beginning to swell inside him once again. Then he asked, "Daisy?"
"Daisy Sarasa. You know, the province princess? You saved her once when the Scorchers captured her." Luigi bent down, grabbed a beer can, and took a huge swig.
Mario had a vague glimmer of recollection. "I see."
Luigi looked hard at Mario. "How exactly do you expect me to help you? You're the one who saves people left and right. You expect me to just drop my job and put my life on hold so that I can run up and down the country on a wild goose chase for the Princess?"
"No," said Mario.
"Good, because I—"
"Not just this country," said Mario.
"What?"
"It might not be just this country we'd have to search," Mario answered. He was so quiet that Luigi had to strain to hear his words. "In fact, I'm fairly certain she's been taken out of the country. We might have to search the whole world, tear every country on every continent apart, but mark my words, Luigi, I will find her."
The silence after Mario's words was like the silence after thunderous applause or a charged, energetic symphony piece. The paradox of perfect silence in which one could still hear the ringing echoes of noise bouncing around inside one's head. It was like the calm after a storm. Luigi found himself shivering, and not because he hadn't had enough money to pay the heating bill.
Luigi had some trouble organizing his thoughts into a coherent enough response to that. Lucky for him, Mario saved him the trouble. "Look, it's late. I'll explain everything tomorrow, but for tonight can I stay here?"
"Sure. No problem." Luigi leapt up to show Mario to his room. "Just answer one question now." He waited until Mario nodded in acknowledgement, and then asked, "You must have tons of resources at your disposal. Why did you come to me?"
Mario stood. "Because I didn't know where else to go, Weegee. It seemed to make sense to come back home."
Luigi thought about this for a moment, and then his face lit up in a smile. "I'm glad you came."
Mario lifted a brow. "Are you?"
"I am!" Luigi nodded his head fervently. "Aren't you glad to be here?"
Mario was surprised to learn that he could come up with no honest answer to that. His tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth, physically preventing him from lying, but Luigi didn't wait for an answer. He plowed his way through the layer of garbage that was the living room floor, went down a surprisingly clean hallway, and led Mario to a very familiar room.
Mario opened the door, with an eager yet hesitant hand. Everything was as he remembered, except for a fine layer of dust coating everything. Evidently, Luigi hadn't touched anything since Mario had last been there. Mario's gaze swept over the sports trophies on top of the bookcase, the heavy metal band posters on the wall, the small bed with a red comforter, and finally came to rest on the framed pictures on the dresser. Wordlessly, he looked at Luigi for an explanation.
"I figured, it was still your room," Luigi answered the unspoken question. "I hope you don't mind it. It didn't feel right moving anything, and I always thought…" Here his voice lowered and he took a renewed interest in the floor. "I always thought that maybe you might want to come back."
Mario's jaw tightened, but other than that, his expression didn't change. "It's nice, Weege. I'll talk to you in the morning."
The dismissal was an order, and Luigi hurried to obey. He scuttled away, and Mario was left looking at the room he had inhabited as a child. Memories came flooding in, and with them the tiredness of age.
He had been so different back then. The three things that had mattered most were sports, dating, and his popularity. Now the stakes were so much higher. Now nothing was the same.
Mario climbed into his old bed, wincing as it creaked under his weight. He fell asleep with the paradoxical feeling of being sick with longing for Peach and equally sick with longing of the days before Peach, when things had been simple.