Chapter Text
A Week After the Defeat of Bowser in Brooklyn ~ Luigi's POV
Luigi walked outside to the mailbox, nodding and smiling at the little toads walking around.
Heh. Mario was right. I’m slowly starting to get used to this.
And it was A LOT to become used to. Pneumatic green pipes that would take anyone anywhere, including other dimensions? Check. Magical floating boxes that contained power-ups which changed a person’s body? Check. A new house that looked like a toadstool, so Princess Peach could legitimately date Mario? Check, check, check.
I’m glad she found that law. Otherwise, Mario would have taken her up on us living inside her castle, and that would have reduced her dating pool by two.
Not like she was attracted to him. Only his elder brother.
I don’t think I’ll ever find someone for myself here. Princess Peach is the only other human, which leaves my dating pool to be toads, penguins, and kongs. New York winters are terrible enough; I wouldn’t want to live in the Snow Kingdom. The same goes for New York summers and how hot I’m sure the Jungle Kingdom can become, even if they have all those rivers.
Toad Town, located square in the middle of the Mushroom Kingdom, was at least a start.
Good food, laughter in the air, and a temperature that doesn’t want to either freeze me or bake me. A perfect middle ground.
Luigi checked their red mailbox and took out flyers from the nearby Enoki Pizza.
Maybe I’ll make Mario try it first, just to see how it compares to home. There’s so much new here, I don’t think I could take it if the pizza turned out horrible.
He nodded to several more toads and toadettes who were on their way, and stepped back inside the house.
And again, princess, thank you for specially making this larger for us. I haven’t hit my head yet.
Flyers on the main table, Luigi looked around to see breakfast dishes in the sink, a dirty frying pan on the stovetop, and trash that certainly needed to go out today or it would stink by nightfall. Luigi chuckled.
“Same chores, different worlds.” He started with the dishes, snagging the pan, and when he was done with those, he took the extra time to clean out the sink’s food trap. Then the trash was taken to the curb, in a trash bin that looked too much like an oversized mushroom for his tastes, and that was it. Again.
“No friends to hang out with.”
Not like I had any back home, either. Most were friends with Mario first, then me when he made them.
“No new movies or books.”
I think I saw Toad with a book one day? But I’m not sure where to find them, or even what language they’re written in. Though we’ve had no communication problems with any of the toads, the princess, kongs, or Bowser, so that might not be a problem.
Luigi shuddered at that. He didn’t know about his elder brother, but most nights in his dreams he arrived too late, or the shield didn’t hold, and he woke up with Mario’s name on his lips and the absolute certainty that he was now an only child.
And speak of the devil, as mama used to say.
He sighed as Mario stuck his head through the doorway. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, a soft smirk to his face, and if they were still plumbing back home, he’d put it down to his older brother having directed a client away from Spike, their old boss at The Wrecking Crew.
That’s his “I’m going to say something you’ll probably disagree with, but I’m going to do it” face. As the younger brother, Luigi was adept at translating Marioese, and as always, his body language was the first key to whatever argument would happen next. He’s already got itchy feet.
“I’m heading out to the Great Ring of Kong with Donkey Kong; we’re going to test a new power-up he found.”
Or you could use the training course here?
Luigi played with his cap. “Princess Peach and Toad left early this morning for that meeting with King Penguin about trade rights between countries, remember? They’ll be gone for about a week.”
And you have a horrible time keeping record.
“It’s no big deal that I’ll be heading out too,” Mario said. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets and took a few steps into the room toward Luigi. He then rocked on the back of his heels, looking like mom was going to come out of the kitchen, hurling sharp Italian words only end up sighing that “boys would be boys.” Luigi had never gotten away with anything; their mother shoved cotton balls into her ears when it came to hearing negative things about her favorite child.
That would leave only me, Mario; come on. Even if I wasn’t the only one taking care of our miniature enemy.
“No.” The next few words slipped out of his mouth. “I don’t want to be alone here.”
I don’t want to be alone anywhere, but specifically in this strange world for days while you’re off having fun.
“Think of it as strengthening the bonds between our two kingdoms,” Mario continued, hands now pocketless and held out in a pleading motion. “The kongs know me as being part of the Mushroom Kingdom.”
Luigi shook his head and sighed again. “You think about it, Mario. If you leave, then the only person here with Bowser responsibilities is me, and that’s not fair.”
“I promise,” he said, holding up his hands, “I’ll only be gone for a several hours.”
... I might as well let him go, he’s not going to stop asking about it. With my luck he’ll ask Donkey Kong to come over and then I’ll have to deal with two pleading sets of puppy dog eyes.
“Do you promise you’ll be home tonight?”
“Tomorrow?”
So much for a few hours. The thought must have crossed his face since Mario stepped closer and squeezed him tight.
“I hate disappointing my younger brother,” he said, squeezing and pulling Luigi in to bump foreheads. “If we set it for tomorrow, then it’s easier for me to be back on time.”
“Yeah... I know.” Luigi returned the hug. His older brother pulled away after a few seconds, and he was left hugging air. “I’m not going to convince you otherwise, am I?”
“Nah.” Mario flashed him a grin, and Luigi could feel himself mimicking it. “But if there’s an emergency, you can always contact the kongs.”
“Or the penguins.”
Though the princess might get angry at you for leaving. He sighed. Not even two weeks into a brand new world—one with crazy laws of physics—and Mario was already hanging around with his friends.
“See you later, brother!” Mario jogged over to the door, waving goodbye.
See you much later, brother.
“And that’s that,” he whispered to himself, dusting off his hands.
Maybe, if I visit Bowser early, I can leave and relax enough at that lake I found yesterday to remain nightmare free.
The New Yorker wasn’t optimistic about the idea. Heck, just thinking about their miniaturized enemy brought back memories of being captured, of his mustache hair being plucked, and of dangling over a pit of lava.
No... I don’t think a few hours at the lake is going to cut it.
With that cheerful thought dogging his heels, Luigi locked the door behind him, steeled himself, then ran and jumped onto a yellow brick, bouncing from there onto a brown brick, then one more yellow before entering the tube that would pop him out nearest to the castle. Even if he wasn’t dating the princess, he’d gone there enough times with Mario that he could probably make the journey in his sleep.
Maybe that’s why I don’t know the area yet?
The thought came to him right as the light disappeared, and it traveled with him as he ping-ponged up, up, down, down, left, left, right, right.
“Possibly,” he acknowledged to himself aloud, entering the main hall.
Then again, the last time I went exploring, I was chased by skeletons and captured by little guys wearing red robes and creepy white masks.
Past the first door, with a wave to the guards who recognized him now. Repeat for the second and third doors, then keying in the picture combination that only he and the others knew.
Smart of Princess Peach to make the password look incorrect.
He pushed the roulette button with the correct timing to give Toad’s grinning face a star crown. Anyone who thought the princess would choose the ice flower she’d used at the wedding, or the star that had ultimately taken Bowser down, would find themselves locked out and surrounded by unfriendly guards.
“Hello?” he called out, shutting the door. The room smelled a little musty, and there wasn’t enough light to see anything. “Um... did you want it this dark in here?”
The castle had been gloomy, and so had the woods. Is this more comforting than the bright sunshine?
“... Doesn’t matter, does it?”
Luigi chose not to answer that defeated sounding voice right away. Instead, he drew the curtains, opened the windows, and went about making the room seem less... ignored.
That’s the better word.
“Um, I’m here to change out your food and water.” Luigi specifically didn’t mention cleaning out the tiny toilet the new cage had been equipped with. The small gilded cage they’d used in the beginning hadn’t lasted a night when they realized there was nowhere for Bowser to sleep.
“Okay.”
Luigi waited at the top of the wrought iron cage.
I don’t think he’s drunk or eaten anything since yesterday. And he’s staying under the covers on the bed instead of insulting me, or insisting on revenge for this insolence.
Silently, he refilled the water bowl and replaced the food, yesterday’s mushroom pizza swapped out for mushroom soup.
If it was anyone else, I’d say he’s showing signs of depression. His inner voice scolded him immediately. Anyone else? Why can’t the “villains” of the story be sad or have a change of heart? If it was me in here, I think I’d break a little too. I might not have my books or movies here, but I still do things. Interact with people. Listen to the radio. What can he do all day except talk to the walls or stare at the ceiling?
“Are you okay?” he asked, locking the cafe after replacing the water and food.
The answer was a cross between a laugh and a cough, and Luigi frowned.
“Hey. I meant that.” He looked around a chair, and upon finding a footstool, the New Yorker dragged that over to the side of the cage that held the bed. “Really. Are you okay?”
“Like you care.”
“I do.” Luigi paused. “I mean, I’m happy to listen, if it would help.”
“It won’t.”
“How can you be so sure if you’ve never tried it?” He winced to hear his mother’s words in his voice.
Then again, she raised me and Mario, so it’s a good thing to mimic her.
“I aimed to barbeque you!” snapped Bowser. “You don’t care about me!”
“Well, maybe I don’t mind when I’m not currently being threatened with fire!” Luigi stood up and glared at the...
I know Mario called him a turtle, but I don’t think he is one?
And with that thought, he let out a long exhale and sat back on the stool again, bringing his knees up to his chest.
“At least... if you’re missing home... I can understand that.” Luigi couldn’t help sniffing and wiping at his eyes as they burned. “I know I miss mine.”
There was a snort.
“... Yeah. Fine. I miss my castle. And the Dark Lands.” Bowser reached out and rattled the bars. “Not like I’ll be allowed back anytime soon.”
Luigi wasn’t sure what to say about that. No one had mentioned how long this was going to continue, but he didn’t think keeping him in a cage was a lasting solution.
Mario’s already bored with his responsibilities. The princess has other things to occupy her time, and Toad forgets every other day when he’s distracted by something shiny. He sighed again. No one mentions this part of what happens when you defeat the bad guy and there’s no jail cell to put him in.
“What do you miss about those places?”
“The dampness in the air’s one thing.” He took a huge breath, and Luigi could hear a slight wheeze at the end. “And the broken moonlight through the trees.”
I don’t know what the others do, but I open the curtains during the day and close them at night. He didn’t say anything as he hopped off the footstool and darkened the room, leaving a sliver of daylight so he could still see.
“Is that better?”
“...Yeah. Actually is, thanks.”
The silence settled in the room again, but this time, it didn’t seem as oppressive.
“You know, you can go home. You don’t have to be here.”
“Not really,” said Luigi, looking at the carpet. It was pink, white, and gold, mixing in splotches here and there. “Mario wants to stay, so I’ll stay too.”
“You’re not your brother.”
Memories flooded him, that same phrase said by so many people, but usually in the same sad or underwhelmed tone. They wanted him to be more like Mario, and he’d never been able to accomplish that.
“No, I’m not.” He agreed, the words soft enough to be whispered. “But everyone else wishes I was.”
“What’d you say?”
He shut his mouth and shook his head.
Nothing that hasn’t already been said to me a hundred times over.
Bowser made a noise. “I was saying that neither of you need to stay here. You can go back to whatever that place was called.”
“Brooklyn?”
“The one with all the gray bricks on the ground and red-bricked buildings.”
“Brook-lyn,” Luigi let a slight pause build up between the two syllables. “And like I said, Mario’s staying here.”
“Do you always do what your brother does?”
Luigi grinned. “If that was supposed to be an insult, it wasn’t. Me an’ Mario have been together like, like... PB&J.”
“... What the hell’s that?”
“Peanut butter and jelly.”
“Not helpful.”
The next several minutes were spent describing the saltiness of peanut butter, how he liked the crunch but Mario preferred smooth, and that the jelly came in many flavors; raspberry, strawberry, grape, and more.
“Between two pieces of soft white bread, it’s an easy fix for lunch.”
Great. And now I’m hungry.
“It sounds...” Bowser shrugged. “I dunno. It sounds at least interesting. I’d try it, though I’d want it to crunch between my teeth.”
“Anyway, my brother and I are like PB&J. Good separately, but best together. Um... You said you would try some?”
They were still trying to figure out what worked here (radios did, but televisions didn’t, for example), and the last time the two of them had pipe-popped into New York, Luigi had gone on a bit of a shopping spree, buying basic bread, two containers of peanut butter, and a few smaller jars of jelly.
“I made a PB&J, smooth with grape, for lunch,” he explained, the words coming out quickly. “I don’t mind sharing it, if you really want to try it.”
“... You’d share your food with me?”
Are there tears in his voice?
Luigi hopped down off the footstool again and grabbed his backpack.
Originally, I was going to bring this to the lake and have it there, but I’ll feel a lot better about leaving him here if I know for a fact he’s eaten something.
He tore his sandwich in half, then poked the one part through the bars and waited until Bowser grabbed it with both hands.
“I just eat this?”
“Yep!” Luigi took a bite, chewed very obviously for a few seconds, then gulped it down. “It’s best with milk, I think, but make sure you drink water afterward. The peanut butter can sometimes be pretty thick.”
Bowser arched an eyebrow at him, then took an enormous bite. Luigi watched from the corner of his eye as he devoured it, and within a few moments, he was chomping into it again.
“Issagood!”
Luigi couldn’t help laughing as Bowser tried to say something, and the words just jumbled together into one large glump.
“Water, swallow, then talk,” he instructed, taking a small nibble.
“I was saying this is good!”
“I’m glad you like it.” Luigi popped the rest into his mouth and enjoyed it, even as he wished he hadn’t impulsively given some of his lunch away.
I can always go straight home and make some more if I want.
“Um... Thanks for sharing.” Bowser coughed. “With me. I mean.”
“You’re welcome.” Luigi returned to the stool and took a seat, this time letting his legs dangle off the sides.
“... You really meant it earlier, didn’t you? When you asked me if I was okay.”
So he was paying attention.
Luigi nodded.
“Heh.” Bowser turned and looked through the cage bars to the window. “I’ve been better. Do you... actually want to listen?”
He crossed his legs underneath him and leaned forward. Those actions, probably more than the words, were enough to convince the captured king to talk, and Luigi listened, interjecting a few times to clarify something, or ask a question, but mostly just listening.
I have a feeling it’s been a long time since anyone’s done that for you.