T Plus 4 Days

Dr. Mario walked in to check on his patient, and what he saw touched his heart. The Mario Bros were cuddled together on the bed, fast asleep, the elder's head pillowed on the younger's chest, both plumbers entwined in each others' arms. Mario mumbled about pasta-based dishes while Luigi murmured in Italian, one hand under his bro's cap and tangling through his hair. His bruises were fading quicker than Dr. Mario expected, and he was certain Mario's love had something to do with that.

Mario stirred awake as his counterpart approached the bed, clipboard in hand.

"Hm?" he uttered.

"Hey, Mario," said Dr. Mario. "I'm gonna have to ask you to scoot, okay? It's time to check Luigi's vitals."

Mario huffed out a breath and kissed Luigi on the cheek before diligently sliding out of the bed and stretching. "I need to get warmed up, anyway," he said as he slid his feet into his boots.

Luigi awoke then, sitting up and adjusting his cap, glazed over eyes surveying the scene.

"Morning, L," greeted Dr. Mario. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," replied Luigi.

The doctor then went down to business, getting his supplies ready. "You should be able to resume fighting matches later today, but I still have to measure your vitals."

"Okeydokey," said Luigi.

His eyes met Mario's, and he nodded. "I'll be fine. Good luck with your match-ups today," he said.

Mario gave Luigi a thumbs-up before taking his leave.

Dr. Mario moved quickly and efficiently, checking Luigi's heart, lungs, vision, coordination and blood pressure. "Your readings look fine," he said, slightly surprised. "You've made a swift recovery. I'll get you some breakfast, and then I'll prepare the discharge papers."

"Great. Thanks," said Luigi.

"Hey."

Doctor and patient turned. Standing there was a woman with auburn hair and a yellow dress, holding a flower bouquet.

"Daisy," said Luigi.

His paramour smiled. "I got here as fast as I could," she said, approaching his bedside. "Thank God you're okay."

"Oh, Daisy—seeing you always makes me feel better," said Luigi.

Daisy sat on the edge of the bed and kissed Luigi. He took her in his arms, and they kissed again and again until Dr. Mario cleared his throat.

"We don't want to get him too excited, Your Highness," cautioned Dr. Mario.

"Oh, right. My apologies," said Daisy.

"Now, L, I want you to take it easy today," the doctor went on. "If you feel any discomfort, notify Master Hand immediately. Try to eat a few extra Mushrooms, as well. And don't worry about those two troublemakers. They'll get what's coming to them soon enough."

"I sure hope so," said Luigi.

Two of Daisy's guards walked in, bearing a large dish on a tray. They set it on Luigi's lap, and one of them removed the cover to reveal an egg and pancake breakfast.

"Wow," mused Luigi.

"Our compliments," said the guards before they withdrew.

"Okay," Dr. Mario said slowly. "I'll get you out of here as soon as I can." With that, he left Luigi and Daisy to their privacy.

The couple fed each other forkfuls of the breakfast. By the time Dr. Mario returned, the plate was clean, and the two were reading a magazine together.

"Okeydokey, here's the paperwork," said the doctor.

Daisy slid off the bed as Luigi signed his discharge papers. "I'm gonna watch you on TV later!" she chirped.

"I appreciate that," said Luigi. "I'm happy you could stop by."

"When I heard about what happened…" said Daisy.

"Never fear," said Luigi. "I'll get them back on the battlefield."

"I'll patiently await that day," said Daisy.

The two shared one last passionate kiss before Daisy skipped away.

"You have a lot of people in your corner, L," said Dr. Mario. "You shouldn't count that out."

On those words, he stepped out so Luigi could change back into his regular clothes.

1.1.1

"Oh, my God!" was the first thing Chad said when he saw Luigi. "I was just on my way to visit you! Are you all right?"

"Never better," replied Luigi.

"Why did they attack you like that?" asked Chad.

Luigi shrugged. "With me, they don't need a reason," he said. "I guess they were upset because I wasn't sulking, like they wanted me to."

"I'm so sorry, Luigi," sighed Chad. "I should've been there, I could've…"

"Now you sound like Mario," said Luigi.

"How's he taking it?"

"The usual way," said Luigi.

"Look—I just wanna make things up to you," sighed Chad. "I'm making you wait almost two weeks for me to tell you what you want to know, and the knowledge that I was part of it, however briefly…"

"About that—I'm sorry I gut-punched you," said Luigi. "What you did was wrong, but I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"You were entitled to a few shots at me," said Chad.

"I still wish you'd said something before the storm broke," added Luigi.

"Would you have believed me?" asked Chad.

"Judging by the tantrums in MH's office—yes."

Chad sighed. "I really f—ed things up, but I'm gonna make it right."

"I believe you," said Luigi, clapping Chad on the shoulder. "See you round."

Chad watched him go, thinking about one person he hadn't confessed to yet—Charlie.

1.1.1

All throughout the morning, the mood throughout the Smash Mansion was subdued. For some, the memory of the two Steves' behavior was fresh in their minds. For the rest, they held their breath, wondering what Luigi—or Mario—would do next.

But both brothers held it in. For the most part, there were no signs of an impending storm. Luigi, as always, released his aggression during his bouts, and Mario drew strength from spectating. He didn't see a single bruise on his skin—the swelling and lacerations and other wounds had disappeared virtually overnight. He was sparkly and flushed and sweaty and hot and not about to be a victim! Every so often, he'd pull out the new combos—the up tilt to up smash, the forward throw to sissy-fists, the down throw to f-smash. Along with something new—down throw to Cyclone. He'd find different ways to string those four pieces together, with aerials mixed in to maintain the element of surprise. And from that, he crafted a fifth piece—down throw to up smash. He'd precede the butt slam with a few pummels, too, but he was showing them. His down throw was still a useful combo tool. It wasn't as useful as it was before, but it was useful.

He saw the two Steves sitting there, fuming, knowing that he'd recovered from their little stunt and that there was nothing they could do about it. The sight of them caused cold anger to well up inside of him, but he swallowed it back, increasing the ferocity in his strikes and giving the morning's opponents little to no time to anticipate his next move.

As for Mario, he was calm and collected on the outside, but there was a slow burn on the inside. Luigi's swift recovery was cold comfort knowing that he had to be around his attackers every hour of the day. Eating in the cafeteria with them, sitting in the stands near them, and once their suspension was lifted, they'd probably do it again. They'd put on a big show about how sorry they were to appease Master Hand and keep finding more ways to antagonize the man in green. But Mario wouldn't have any of that.

He remembered their fists rising and falling again and again, the sound of the hits falling—the chaos as bystanders tried to save Luigi. He couldn't help but think that if he'd showed up a few minutes earlier, the two of them would've beaten back the two Steves together. But he wasn't there, and his little brother had gotten hurt because of it.

But his manner remained polite as always, speaking in a soft, reassuring tone and sporting a disarming facial expression. Peach and Lauren, however, weren't fooled. They saw the waves and waves of heat pouring off his body and prayed to God, high and unseen in Heaven. Not just for God to give Mario the resolve he needed to stay in control, but for Steve, Stevie and everyone else to reap what they'd sown. To let enough be enough.

The morning and most of the afternoon passed by without incident, and it was a sunny October day. But it was the quiet before the storm…

1.1.1

Luigi was relaxing after a particularly intense bout when he heard footsteps and three familiar voices talking among themselves.

Ethan was the first to appear. "Hey, L!" he called. "Anna and I are gonna play some Smash Bros. Wanna join us?"

Chuckling, Luigi rose to join him. "Ethan, you had me at 'Smash Bros'," he said.

It wasn't long before Anna, Ethan and Luigi were seated cross-legged in front of a Wii U console, embroiled in a three-way Smash battle as Vanessa watched vigilantly. Ethan played as Mario, Anna played as Pikachu and Luigi played as himself. Fingers flicked over or mashed controllers as they manipulated their chosen fighters about the stage, pounding away at the first opponent they saw. Ethan couldn't believe he was actually playing a friendly game against Luigi and having fun. He used to hate facing a Luigi player, but those days were behind him. He, along with Anna, laughed delightedly as they traded "blows" with Luigi, winning some matches and losing them. Sometime after the fourth or fifth round, Vanessa gave into temptation and joined the fray, testing her Peach against a real-life Smasher.

Hours later, the four of them set up a Team Battle, Vanessa and Anna against Luigi and Ethan. The girls ended up winning most of those rounds, and they all decided to rest their hands.

"Wow, Ethan, you're really good," said Luigi.

"And so are you," said Ethan. "Do you practice often?"

"As often as I can. And you?"

"I—yes. More than I used to. Luigi, I—I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I used to—dislike you. My classmates bullied me because I couldn't win against Luigi players, and I took it out on you. And when you won over…"

"You really hurt him," said Luigi.

"I already apologized to him and—I heard about what happened yesterday. As much as I struggled against your playstyle, I'd never wish something like that on you."

"My bro's a bit hot right now, but once he cools off—would you like to try apologizing to him again?" asked Luigi.

Ethan bit his lip. "Sure," he said finally.

"If you're more sincere, then he's more likely to forgive you," said Luigi.

"There's something else," said Ethan. "Something else I did—something very immature and dishonest." He breathed shakily. "I'm responsible—for you getting nerfed."

Vanessa walked over and rested both hands on her son's shoulders. "We both are, along with his dad," she joined in.

"Chad Wrainwright—do you know him?"

Vanessa shook her head. "We know of him. I guess he quit before we joined. Why? Did he participate, as well? Did he tell you about us?"

"He wants Mario and I to meet with him in about two weeks so he can tell us everything," said Luigi. "If you know anything about this, or if you were a part of it, then please, tell me, and atone for your actions."

"Uh—okay. The idea was floating around that you needed a nerf, so every night in September, we met in secret locations to discuss convincing Master Hand and a few higher-ups to do that," said Vanessa. "We had no idea of us until Falco approached my son."

"Falco was part of this?"

"Yes," said Ethan. "He was very nice. And after your fight against Mario, I was so angry that I joined the venture that same night."

"I didn't join in to hurt you," said Vanessa. "I thought I was helping my son. His peers were really giving him a hard time, and he needed an outlet for that frustration. It got so bad that he snapped, got into a fight and wound up suspended from school. And then we got Mr. Sakurai's attention on the matter and arranged a meeting between him and Master Hand. You know the rest."

"So—that's why you and Steve were snooping around MH's office," said Luigi.

Vanessa nodded. "We had a benefactor, a powerful benefactor, and I don't know what he'll do to us if we talk."

"Chad told me about him. Mario and I will protect you if you're completely forthcoming. Can you do that for us?"

"Yes," Vanessa and Ethan said in unison.

"I'd like you all, along with Theo, to accompany Chad to our little meeting," Luigi instructed after a while. "Bring as much evidence as you can."

"Our benefactor had us destroy it, but I kept copies of it on a flash drive, just in case," said Vanessa.

"Good going," said Luigi. "And—if you know anyone else who was involved, could you—bring them along, too?"

"Sure," said Vanessa. "I, uh, we really must be going. Sorry to spring this on you."

"That's okay. Thank you for your honesty," said Luigi. "Just remember what I said about apologizing to Mario."

Ethan nodded. "I guess—we'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'd like that," Luigi said softly.

"Even after what we told you?"

"You were manipulated by a gang of salty bullies who didn't want to buckle down and practice. I don't hold this against you."

Relieved, Vanessa, Ethan and Anna said their goodbyes and headed home, leaving Luigi to digest this newest intel.

1.1.1

Mario had decided to take a walk, enjoying the crisp autumn air, to clear his thoughts. His earbuds were in, plugged into his phone, as he strode along the pathway, humming along to the song. The trees were shrouded in shades of amber this time of year, a leaf or two floating downward every so often. These falling leaves lightly brushed his face and came to rest just inside his overalls; he'd pluck them out and stare at them for a bit before letting them go. More leaves would stick to his shirt or balance themselves atop his hat, or crunch beneath his boots. Later in the season, he and Luigi would make a giant leaf pile and then jump in it, rolling around in the leaves, just like they used to. The thought caused a peal of laughter to burst from his lips, lightening his mood—for a while.

Halfway through his walk, all of that changed.

Mario had taken off his headphones and was currently enjoying the sounds of the wind in the trees, of birds as they prepared for their migration. He paused at an area surrounded by trees and sat against one, leaning back and closing his eyes, beginning a meditation the Wii Fit Trainer taught him. He'd finished the meditation and was beginning a second one when he heard it.

Laughter.

Frowning, Mario stood up and went to investigate. That was when he saw the two Steves sitting on a picnic bench, sharing Burger King food and laughing about something. Quietly, the man in red crept closer so he could better hear their conversation.

"Hey, didn't you just love the sound he made when I gave him a hefty one to the stomach?" asked Stevie.

"Oh, yeah!" crowed Steve. "Good move, my friend. He thought he had us on the ropes. And then boom!"

Both Steves imitated the gasp Luigi had made as he sank to the Training Room floor.

"He had it coming, and I don't care what anyone says!" laughed Steve. "Say—how many licks did you get in?"

Stevie guffawed. "I punched the [bleep] out of his handsome face and then I kicked him over and over—and then I punched him some more. How about you?"

"I pretty much smashed him into paste! You should've seen him by the time I finished! That plumber was bleeding a mess all over himself—I gave him a nice shiner, too! I think I also broke something, or at least I hope I did!"

"Hey, me, too!"

And they both laughed.

"You know what I enjoyed the most?" asked Stevie. "The look in his eyes when it clicked that he couldn't take on both of us, and that nobody was coming to save him." He giggled.

"Not as enjoyable as the little whimpers we managed to get from him!" chortled Steve. "And the way he started curling up into a miserable little ball to try and get away from us—oh, baby!"

They laughed even harder.

"Too bad we got suspended over it," snorted Steve. "I wish he was here right now, so we can both give him second helpings. He deserves it, and that's the honest-to-God truth."

"Yeah, maybe next time he'll think before he—oh, hey, Mario!" Stevie's demeanor instantly did a 180 the moment he saw the red-clad plumber. "How's your day been?"

"Hm. Can't complain," Mario said casually. "How about yours?"

"Better than we expected, being suspended and all," said Stevie. "We have another sandwich in here if you're hungry. It's still pretty warm."

"I'm not really in the mood for burgers today," said Mario.

"It's a chicken sandwich," said Steve.

"Chicken sandwich, huh? Well, don't mind if I do," said Mario.

"All right, that's what I'm talking about!" crowed Steve as he reached into the bag and pulled out the sandwich, handing it to Mario.

Carefully, the portly plumber unwrapped the chicken sandwich and took a nice, big bite. "Hm. This is a tasty sandwich."

"Well, yeah. It's Burger King," said Stevie.

"Nothing like a little fast food to celebrate your recent achievements," Mario said pointedly, taking one of the sodas the two Steves hadn't yet gotten around to drinking and knocking it back.

"Oh, yeah—that hit the spot," said Mario.

Microseconds later, he crammed the chicken sandwich into Steve's face. Steve spluttered and clawed at his visage, attempting to clear away the bun, meat and condiments obstructing his vision.

"Oh, my God!" was all Stevie had time to say before Mario hurled the soda into his face.

Stevie screamed. "What the Hell?!" he roared.

"Did you like that?" asked Mario. "Did you?!"

He stepped forward and threw a vicious punch at Steve, sending him to the floor. Steve tried to sit up, blood dribbling from his mouth, but Mario coldly straddled him and drove his fist into his face over and over, his anger finally rising to the surface.

"Was this what you did to my brother?!" screamed Mario, face twisted in hatred. "It doesn't feel so good now, does it?!"

"Why, you little…!" Stevie tried to yank Mario away, only for the little man to turn his attention on him, doubling him over with a kick to the stomach and pelting him with more kicks and he lay writhing in pain.

"Stupid plumber!" hissed Steve. "We should've made you watch us break your dear brother's face!"

That sent Mario completely over the edge. He proceeded to violently beat them both, landing blows and kicks wherever he saw an opening—just like they did to Luigi. The rest of the white-hot anger he'd kept inside for days—since Falco's tirade, even—began to snap loose, casting his vision in a red filter. He knew or didn't think about anything else. The only thing he could see was his little brother, bloodied and nearly broken, on the Training Room floor. The only thing he could hear was Luigi's quiet sobs when he found out he was being nerfed. The only thing he could remember was Luigi struggling to hold on and put on a happy face. He wanted the monsters who did this to him to pay, starting with Steve and Stevie. A dull roar was in his ears, and he was flushed and hot and pushed as far as a human being could go.

He didn't remember the strong arms restraining him. He didn't remember Remy and Rory marching him toward Master Hand's office. What he did remember was that he was crying now, crying so hard that he could barely breathe.

1.1.1

"Do you understand the can of worms you just opened, Mario?" asked Master Hand. "Those two are gonna have a ball playing the victim card! And exactly what in God's name made you think you had the right to attack them like that?"

"They were gloating about what they did to Luigi!" hiccupped Mario. "I couldn't just stand there and let them do that!"

"What they did yesterday was abominable," agreed MH, "but I'd already punished them. What were you doing there, anyway?"

"I was going for a walk to clear my head when I heard them laughing about something," explained Mario. "As I got closer, I was able to find out what. I just—lost it."

"Mario Jumpman, I'm astonished at you. I know how much your brother means to you, and that you want to defend him. But a line has been crossed, and acts of vengeance won't be tolerated in this tournament. You are suspended for two weeks."

"What? Are you serious?!" gasped Mario. "I'm not the bad guy!"

"You could've just walked away," MH said evenly.

"Walked away? I failed Luigi twice before, and I wasn't about to fail him again!" Mario said hotly. "I just—I didn't—I didn't know what I was thinking."

"No, Mario. You weren't thinking at all," huffed MH. "You don't think. You never think. You always have to be the hero all the d—n time and save the day."

Mario blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Could you for once in your life just stop for a moment before skipping off on your next adventure?" MH went on. "Maybe that's why you got stuck in that painting—it's because you don't think! 'Oh, look—my bro suddenly won a mansion; nothing suspicious about that!' And Luigi has to come in and risk his life to bail you out and save your sorry [bleep] from the mess you made!"

Mario's fists clenched. He couldn't believe what he was hearing!

"You know perfectly well that it wasn't like that," he said.

"Oh? Then what was it like?" challenged MH. "You get a little cake in you and you think you're invincible and impervious, and the consequences don't matter to you, is that what it's like? Or do you just think Peach is attracted to impulsive men?"

Mario's mouth flew open.

"You could've walked away, but you just wanted an excuse to treat those two like the bad guys so you could be the hero. You're always the hero, and everyone else is the villain, and anyone who suggests otherwise can drop dead. Well, guess what, buddy? Those days have come to an end! You're on my turf, Mario, so you'd better start following my rules!"

"Oh—so all of this is my fault?!" snapped Mario.

"You bet your [bleep] it is! It's your fault you got stuck in that portrait and subjected your brother to that trauma, your fault he got brainwashed back in '07, your fault he had that Negative Zone in Brawl! And if those two Steves decide to go after your brother in revenge after they recover, then that's gonna be on you, too! This is all your fault—all of it! I've got better things to do with my time than sit around trying to clean up your mess! If you took a second to actually be Nintendo's mascot and Smash's unofficial spokesperson, then I wouldn't have to do it myself!"

"You S.O.B," Mario said tightly.

Snatching up a paperweight, he hurled it at MH, who dodged out of the way just in time.

"How dare you bring that stuff up?!" yelled Mario. "How dare you insinuate that it was my fault?! Do you know how many nights I've spent wide awake, kicking myself for not paying attention to Luigi's concerns?! Did you actually believe I intended to traumatize Luigi when I ventured through the forest that night?! I was guilt-ridden—I still am! Not a day goes by when I think about what could've happened to him and how I could've been responsible! And another thing—what makes you so much God—m better than me?! What do you do? You invite people to beat each other up, and you advertise it for entertainment. Oh, that's wonderful, Master Hand. A real contribution to human history."

"Mario…" MH spoke in a softer tone, reaching for the plumber.

Mario flinched backward, fist raised. "Don't. F—ing. Touch. Me." He hissed, tears rolling down his face. "I can't believe you brought that up. I can't believe you actually said those things to me. All this time, I defended you. I honestly thought you had our best interests at heart. But now, I don't even know who you are anymore. See, the MH I know wouldn't have dreamed of going off on me like you just did. You want me to do my job, huh? What kind of a job do you think you're doing now?!"

"Now, you're out of line, Jumpman!"

"No, you're out of line! What gave you the authority to throw that junk in my face—just when I was about to recover from it?! Why can't you see that I did what I did for my bro?!"

"Regardless, you still broke the rules, and you're being punished for it," MH said firmly. "I want you to retire to your room and spend these upcoming two weeks thinking about what you did and why you did it. You'll still be allowed to spectate others' matches and use the Training Room, gym facilities, the pool and the Lounge Area—but you're barred from fighting in any kind of matches, Multi-Man Smash and Smash Run. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master Hand," replied Mario without even looking at the glove.

"You are dismissed."

Mario stomped out of the office, slamming the door after him, and stormed straight to his room, slamming that door as well.

1.1.1

Later that night, Master Hand remained in his office, shaken to the core over his tirade at Mario. What in God's name made him lash out like that? One moment, he was calling the plumber out on his rash decision, and the next, he was railing at him over—he remembered what he'd said, and it made him feel queasy. He made several valid points, but the rest of his diatribe was uncalled for. The Hand of Creation promised himself that he'd apologize to the man in red once he'd calmed down.

What if he told Luigi about it? MH thought. Luigi was shy, awkward and an all-around nice guy, but let someone threaten, harm or upset his brother—MH didn't even finish the thought as he contemplated how he'd explain himself to the man in green. He hoped he'd understand that Mario attacked two people unprovoked, and even if his intentions were chivalrous, it went against decorum. It was these mitigating circumstances that had propelled MH to give Mario only a two-week suspension.

Jimmy and Timmy walked into the office.

"Are you alright, MH?" asked Jimmy.

"We heard that you and Mario had a fight," added Timmy.

"I'm trying to figure out what set me off," said MH. "I blamed him for what happened in 2001 and 2007, as well as Luigi's first Final Smash."

"Maybe you're just under stress," offered Timmy.

"That's no excuse, just as Mario had no excuse to go after Stevie and Steve," said MH.

"What happens to Mario?" Jimmy wanted to know.

"I suspended him for two weeks," replied MH.

"Hm. I hope he learns something from this," said Timmy.

"Me, too," said Jimmy. "Do you need anything, MH?"

"I could use a cup of tea right n…" Suddenly, MH doubled over and convulsed. Timmy and Jimmy watched in horror as the giant glove threw up something black.

"Holy mother of God!" shouted Timmy as the black—thing writhed on the floor.

He and Jimmy sprang into action, slamming a jar over the black—thing.

"Where did that come from?" Jimmy asked.

MH pulled himself back up. "Put that in a secure area," he commanded, "and get me that tea, posthaste."

Shaken, the two Miis obliged, leaving MH sitting there, just as shaken.

"J—s," he said.

1.1.1

Mario was also awake, nursing a glass of wine, eyes red, nose runny and face sticky with tears. He still couldn't believe how MH tore into him and threw events he almost gained closure over in his face. What had he done to deserve that? Rough up two guys who deserved it? Taking another gulp of wine, Mario thought back to the day the patch went live, when he felt like he'd let his brother down. It wasn't the first time he'd felt like a bad brother. The first time was when he'd found himself in the clutches of a madman worse than Koopa, banging in futility on the invisible wall of his artistic prison, knowing that this madman wanted Luigi's blood and there was nothing he could do to help. The second time was when that deranged jester turned Luigi into a monster using his hidden envy and resentment. And the third time was when he discovered the sources that powered the nightmarish Negative Zone in Brawl.

"Maybe he's right," he murmured to himself. "Maybe my drive for adventure put Luigi in these situations. He had to face down his worst fears because of me—twice. And the second time, I couldn't even move. It's all my fault. All of it…"

He drained his glass and refilled it.

"That stupid glove. After everything I've done for him," he continued, a sob choking him. "I've never really trusted him, but now I hate him! And I swear I'll make him pay for this!"

He jumped at the angry knocking on his door and immediately knew who it was before he heard the voice.

"Mario!" called Luigi.

"D—mit, L, I got it from Master Hand, I most certainly don't need it from you!" he called back.

"Well, you're getting it whether you like it or not," snapped Luigi. "Now open the d—n door."

Cursing under his breath, Mario set down his glass, crossed the room to the door and opened it.

Luigi stood there, his eyes searching Mario's before beginning to speak in a calm, steady voice.

"The news is everywhere—that you went off on the two Steves this afternoon. Is that true?"

"Luigi, I was minding my own business, and then I came upon them talking about what they did to you. They were remorseless and celebrating it, and then…"

Luigi understood instantly. "Dio," he gasped.

"What do you mean? They deserved it, didn't they? They put you in the hospital."

"You promised me," said Luigi. "You promised me you'd let this go. You stood there in my hospital room and promised me."

"Honestly, I didn't know if I could keep that promise," said Mario.

"So—you just said what I wanted to hear."

"Wha—no! Luigi, I tried to keep that promise. God knows I tried. But hearing them gloat and joke and laugh about it…"

"How did MH react?" asked Luigi.

"He suspended me," huffed Mario. "Two weeks."

"Mario, how can you support me through this if you're in trouble?" Luigi wanted to know. "I need you by my side. And if you're suspended…"

"I'm still allowed to spectate."

"That's not the point, Mario. Think about Peach. Think about your fans. Think about the other Toads. What kind of example were you setting for them when you attacked those two?"

"What kind of example were you setting when you burst out crying over a nerf?!" The words spilled out before he could stop them. He was just so angry and irritated and wanted to be alone.

Luigi's sole response was an arched eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?" he asked softly.

"You're a grown man, Luigi. You shouldn't need me to hold your hand anymore," huffed Mario.

"That wasn't the attitude you showed me when I told you about Falco," said Luigi.

Mario looked at his feet, grumbling something.

"Is—something wrong, Mario? Did something else happen between you and Master Hand? Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I'm sick and tired of always cleaning up your mess," Mario said simply.

"My mess?" Luigi's tone all-but screamed "Tread carefully, Big Bro", and it pulled Mario slightly out of his funk, as he chose his next words cautiously.

"I mean, every time someone hurts your feelings or takes a crack at you or whatever, you always come running to me," shrugged Mario. "I wish you'd realize that I won't be around to bail you out all the time. I've got other duties to perform besides acting as your bodyguard and crutch."

"And what makes you think I need a bodyguard?" Luigi asked crisply, his tone so calm and collected.

"Everybody's ganging up on you, and you treat it as some sort of war crime," said Mario. "And then, you're ranting and raving about how you never get enough credit and that you should get a 21-gun salute each time you walk across the street. So, I have to carry you around on my shoulders and chase away the people giving you problems and patch up your wounds—like someone's…"

"Like someone's what, Mario?" Luigi asked, daring Mario to complete the sentence.

"There's already one person in my life who needs rescuing, and I don't feel like dealing with two."

"Mario—I didn't ask you to go over there and beat the two Steves to a bloody pulp," Luigi said evenly. "All you could've done was ignore them. Why didn't you ignore them and walk away?"

"In your eyes, everyone who lays hands on you is a villain. Do the math."

"We talked about this in the hospital. I could've handled them."

"And just how were you gonna do that? Sit around and cry until someone listened?"

"Wow. You must really think that's all I do, even though you've seen otherwise," Luigi said flatly.

"Yeah? I bet if I wasn't there, you'd run away."

Time froze.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mario wished he could take them back. Luigi's eyes flashed, and his mouth was a dangerously taut line as his jaw clenched. The elder bro expected shock, hurt and disbelief, followed by a brief storm that would end in tears. What he got was slightly different.

Inwardly, Mario braced himself for a well-deserved punch. Instead, Luigi yanked his cap over his eyes, stretched his overall straps before snapping them back and then did the same to his moustache.

"Oof!" he grunted as he pushed his cap back up and readjusted his stache. "I hate it when you do that!"

"MH must've said something to set you off, and believe me, I'm gonna find out what," Luigi said, his manner remaining composed. "In the meantime, I think what you need is to turn in for the night. And when you wake up tomorrow morning, I expect a better mood. Whatever's going on with you, you have no reason and no right to take it out on me."

"C'mon, L! I didn't mean—see, this is what I'm talking about! Someone says something mean to you, and then you act like they broke a few hundred laws and demand that they be punished!" Mario railed in frustration as Luigi turned and marched toward his own room. "All right then, go ahead. Trudge to your room and mope. It's what you do best."

Luigi gave him the finger and kept walking.

"D—mit!" Mario flopped back onto his bed and began crying in earnest. Me and my big mouth! Leave it to him to make things worse. He was a screw-up. He always was a screw up and he'd always be a screw-up. Luigi would probably never speak to him again, and it was all on him.

Where did it all go wrong?

In his own room, Luigi poured himself a frosted-over glass of sweet wine, reeling over the worst tiff he'd had with Mario in—years.

And he, too, began to cry, softly and silently.

Oh, no! Will the Brothers work things out? And what exactly did Master Hand barf up?

Only one way to find out...