Inner Peace

October 25, 2019—30

Mario asked Luigi how he slept the previous night.

"Alright. Good morning to you as well."

The older brother secretly pulled out a small journal he had kept under their bunk bed. He looked at the number he wrote on the previous day in the top right corner of the page: "29." He then wrote the next number in sequence on the same spot on the next page, smiling: "30."

He felt bittersweet about it really, flipping through 411 days' worth of previous pages. All that time that had passed; his brother had never been the same since that day, and perhaps never will be: the sleepless nights, his irregular eating habits, silent crying, and general loss of interest and joy. But hope at last seemed truly on the horizon.

Day 1

Luigi couldn't speak or eat; he just huddled in a fetal position—sobbing, almost catatonic. I carried him to the party held in celebration of everything new that was coming, where I got in trouble with a couple of the others for attacking them because they kept making fun of us at my little bro's expense. I could only come back when Simon helped me calm down. I told him never held any of that hostility towards him. Kirby later told me that all the time we've been together, he's never seen me that angry. And perhaps, I have every right to be. I wish I knew. I wish I could've done something so that none of this would've ever happened. But for now, I'll just have to be there for my little bro; to help him recover, every step of the way. Luigi, if you ever read this, know that it's not your fault.

...

Day 2

I only managed to get in a few minutes-worth of microsleeps. Who could blame me? I couldn't stop thinking about him and what I could've done differently. I remembered his smile shortly before leaving—that proud, selfless look on his face determined to keep me safe after my run-in with Ridley; the look of someone who would do anything for me no matter what it would mean for him even though he well knows that I would do the exact same for him. If only even one of us had known.

This time, Rosalina brought us our food. She could see the bags starting to form under my eyes and offered to take him to her room for the night. Of course, I came with her, and we had something of a sleepover—just the three of us. I felt bad for not letting more Fighters come in to see him the days prior. I figured he'd be too overwhelmed by all the commotion, but here, he seemed to handle us socializing just fine. He even showed his first signs of socializing while we were there. It was a simple hug of the knees while I knelt down to be closer to his level as I had done many times in the past two days. And when I told him that we welcomed his action, he allowed his legs to relax as well.

August 14

I asked Mewtwo to erase Luigi's memory, but he didn't want to, saying that even if he does, someone else will inevitably bring it up and start the process all over again.

August 15

It's been a week. I was up all night again, thinking of ways to help him, then it hit me: I would stop it from happening in the first place.

"Absolutely not, Mario," said Master Hand.

"AND WHY NOT? CAN'T YOU SEE THAT HE'S SUFFERING?!"

"If time is allowed to sway at the whims of human emotion, then the whole world will suffer as a result."

"WHAT WOULD BE SO WRONG ABOUT CHANGING THE PAST, JUST THIS ONCE? WHO WOULD SUFFER BECAUSE OF THAT? DEATH?" yelled the elder brother.

"Such feelings are exactly why we have these rules in place. Besides, even if the world was free of suffering, you still would be."