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“With shortness of breath,  
you explained the infinite.  
How rare and beautiful  
it is to even exist.  
I couldn't help but ask  
for you to say it all again.  
I tried to write it down,  
but I could never find a pen.  
I'd give anything to hear  
you say it one more time,  
that the universe was made  
just to be seen by my eyes…”  “Saturn” by Sleeping At Last.o.oTwo stone sconces illuminated the black Koopa crest headboard looming over an enormous slab of a bed. In the center, a giant spiked green shell. The black wooden door to the right of the bed creaked open, shedding yellow light into the otherwise gray room. “Bowser? Are you awake?”“Mmh?”“I caught you napping, didn’t I?”“I was meditating.”“Oh? Why is there a drool puddle?”Bowser stuck just his head out of his shell. Wrinkles edged his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Gray overtook his hair and bushy eyebrows, leaving only some reddish-orange streaks. His horns were sharper and ridged, something that happened to Koopas as they aged.“It’s part of the mantra! Now watch, I’m gonna do yoga.” He yawned, squinting as he stretched his neck. A few vertebrae popped during his groggy pandiculations. He blinked sleepily at the figure in the doorway. She wore a red ankle-length puffy-sleeved dress and a simple gold tiara. Her olive skin, brunette hair, sapphire blue eyes and stately nose were unmistakably Mario’s, while her delicate eye shape, soft smile and heart-shaped bangs came from Peach. Freckles dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.“Cherry?” He wiped his eyes, “How did you get here?”Cherry giggled, covering her mouth. “Junior ‘kidnapped‘ me and we went out to lunch. We ate at that new place by the beach, Kasterborous. Have you tried their burgers?”At this, Bowser grinned. “They’re so messy you can’t eat ‘em without ketchup and mustard falling on the tray.”He poked his arms, legs and tail completely out of his shell and pushed himself up to sit. The long years gave him a pot-belly, which was common for Koopas his age. Surgical scars left a palimpsest of dark marks across the plastron ridges on his chest.“Where is that brat anyway?”“Trying to fix the Koopa Clown Car. The propeller broke.”“Again?”“Afraid so,” said Cherry, smiling, her lips painted as red as the fruit she was named after.“Great.” Bowser stared at her for a moment. Gods, she looked so much like Peach. He shook himself out of his funk and stood up. “I better help him fix the damn thing before he breaks it even worse.”Her smile dropped a little. She fell into step with him, frowning. “I hope you‘ll be careful. You know what doctor Neil said about your heart!”“I‘m fine!” Bowser grumbled. “I‘m the first Koopa with Crash to survive four heart attacks. A little exercise won‘t kill me.” He patted his stomach, “Besides, I could probably use it. Sitting around isn‘t good for my heart either.”Cherry shook her head at Bowser‘s stubborn posturing. Though his desire for the Mushroom Kingdom died when Peach did, he was still a bull-headed jerk at times and rarely listened to his cardiologist. Neil gave him pills for his heart and he wouldn‘t take them.“The side effects are worse than the problem,“ he‘d said.Crash, a heart condition that affected Koopas, did a number on him. Three bypass surgeries, three stays in intensive care and three brushes with death. Cherry recalled how it devastated Junior to watch his dad endure so much. He showed her the pictures and videos, they were hard to see. The trauma of it still affected him, though he tried not to let it show.Something thudded noisily outside.“Damn!” A silky baritone voice cursed aloud.Two more bangs that didn’t sound good.“Uh oh,“ Cherry grabbed her skirt and broke into a jog, her red kitten heel pumps hardly making a sound on the ground.She crossed outdoors and onto the castle drawbridge stretching out over the deadly lava below. Fans under the castle sucked away most of the heat and poisonous gasses and converted them into electricity to power everything.Bowser shoved a Goomba out of his path in his haste to get outside. He came alongside Cherry.“Junior!”More clunks and sparks. A tail with three bone spikes flailed out the top of the overturned Koopa Clown Car as smoke billowed up in black clouds. The wrench clanged again, striking metal.“You damn, good for nothing pile of shit! Argh!”A spitting image of Bowser in his youth crawled out of the smoke, coughing. Oil stained his hands and the white bandanna around his neck. Some even got onto his reddish-orange topknot ponytail, which dangled past the topmost spike on his shell.In profile, he looked identical to his dad. Only when he turned face-on did the small differences reveal themselves— a narrower snout, smaller nostrils and closer together teeth. The face of a future king. Junior threw the wrench down and flopped to sit, growling. Beside him, the Koopa Clown Car lay with its engine parts exposed.“Junior!” Cherry dashed to his side. “Are you okay? What happened?”“Oil isn‘t getting to the propeller mechanism for some reason. I think the hose is clogged, and it’s overheating so— oh!”He stopped talking long enough to notice Bowser looming over him.“Hey, dad! Uh…” His face melted into a huge, sheepish grin, “It broke. Sorry.”Smoke finally stopped pouring off the poor, abused machine.Bowser cocked an eyebrow and stuck one of his beefy hands out. “Gimme the wrench.”When Junior handed it over, he crawled into the Koopa Clown Car that had seen better days. There was gunk in the hose. He loosened it, tapped the side until the muck dropped out and reconnected it to the engine. Judging by the smell, it must have been building up for a while, kind of like the plaques in arteries. Heh, a machine had a heart attack. That’s ironic.  Bowser scooted backwards to hit the ignition switch, and the propeller sprang alive like a champ. He grinned, all teeth, and shoved the panel shut with his left hand. I still got it!  Junior and Cherry moved closer to the castle to avoid the smoke. She took a handkerchief out of a pocket in her skirt to wipe his hands, and the oil on his palms turned the whole thing grayish-brown.“I’m going to need a shower to get this off,“ he groaned.She swatted him with the dirtied cloth. “Oh, hush. A little oil never killed anybody. Besides, that was a neat landing.”“Crashing is a neat landing?”“Yeah, especially the screaming.”They laughed.Bowser rested an elbow on the rim of the Koopa Clown Car, settled his chin on his palm and sighed, watching them. The way those two gazed at each other excluded everything else like a paracosm.Junior and Cherry started out as a pair of curious kids chasing each other all over this same drawbridge. Now there they were, in their early twenties, growing into more.Bowser remembered back to his first heart attack. Ludwig was twenty when that happened, and last winter he celebrated his thirty-seventh hatch-day.Junior turned four yesterday, didn’t he? How the hell did he reach twenty-one so fast? Where did all that time go?Bowser sighed and eased the buzzing Koopa Clown Car up into the air. He had important business to attend..oPollen motes scintillated in the sunlight shining on the hilltop. In the midst of it stood a golden statue of Peach. She was posed with one hand slightly outstretched, so people had to kneel to meet her eyes.Her grave marker looked its most beautiful at high noon— it glowed and cast a halo of light on the ground in all directions like a beacon.Bowser parked the Koopa Clown Car at the foot of the hill and climbed up. His frequent trips wore a brown dirt path into the grassy hillside. In one hand he carried a rag, in the other a red rose. He panted for breath by the time he reached the statue.Two years ago he could sprint up this hill, and now he got winded just walking up stairs. It annoyed him.“Hello, Peach,“ Bowser said gently.He laid the rose with the withering ones already lying on Peach’s name plate. Then he used the rag to wipe the dust off the statue, kissing the outstretched hand before wiping it clean as well.Tears spilled from his eyes when he returned his gaze to her smiling face. “Junior broke my propeller again. You‘d find that amusing, I know. Crazy kid…he really likes Cherry. No, not like…he loves her. It‘s in his eyes. Just like I still love you.”Ten years. Ten rotten, painful years since Peach died. The day of her death, she gave him a hug after he stopped by to say he was getting too old and sick to keep kidnapping her, and that he wanted peace between their kingdoms. All part of a plan he hoped to see bear fruit, but still! Hours later, word came to him that she broke her neck falling down a flight of stairs. A foolish, unfair, unbearably tragic freak accident.Lakitu lifted footage of the fall. Sometimes Bowser wished he never watched it. But who else saw her die?He went to her funeral and everybody stared in shock when he bawled next to her casket. Breaking down was the ultimate humiliation. Mario tried to pat his arm and comfort him. He turned on Mario, Peach‘s shell-shocked widow, and berated him for not being there to protect her from her untimely fate. The tirade left the little plumber weeping. Cherry had to console Mario while Junior dragged Bowser back to his seat.For months afterward, people visited Peach‘s grave. As time passed people came less. Some still stopped once in a while to pray or pay respects. Cherry and Junior came by on her birthday and the anniversary of her death. Mario never came.Bowser showed up regardless of the weather. He made sure her statue was clean, he clipped the grass over her grave if it needed it and he always, always, brought a rose.Her death broke his heart by triggering the worst of his four heart attacks, one so severe it ripped a hole in his septum and almost killed him. The damn thing never beat right after that. As he went under anesthesia for the bypass surgery, he gave an order demanding somebody leave a rose on Peach’s grave on his behalf every day until he could do it himself. It took six months of rigorous physical therapy to climb the hill and lay a rose on her grave with his own hands for the first time, and ever since he came daily.“I miss you, Peaches.” Bowser grumbled, staring at the ground. He frowned and traced the letters of her name with his huge thumb. “I miss my left ear going deaf from your screaming. I miss everything about you.”More tears escaped. Unrelenting grief clutched in his throat. He swallowed, hoping nobody was around to see him starting to cry.“I wish you loved me as much as  I love you. I shouldn‘t have gone in saying I wanted to conquer your kingdom. You were what I really wanted. Peach.”The dam broke as intensely as it did when he saw her in her coffin. He curled up, sobbing, his voice hoarse, “I hate that I wasn‘t there! You fell, and I— I should’ve stayed!”No response, just birds twittering. The vacuum of her absence tore at his heart even more. He retreated into his shell so nobody would see him cry.People didn’t understand. They stopped shedding tears over Peach a few years after her death, as if they grew accustomed to her not being there. But he never did, and never would. Sometimes he wondered if cried enough tears to seep through the grass and fall on her crystal coffin.“Peach,“ he whispered plaintively..o“There he is.” Junior nudged Cherry and pointed.Bowser’s massive spiked shell lay just to the right of Peach’s grave.“Sitting with mom again. He goes every day.” Cherry sighed. “Poor guy.”Nodding, Junior prodded Lakitu‘s shoulder. “Thanks, Lakitu. Take us down. We‘ll take him home in the ‘Car.”Lakitu grumbled about being a taxi service and his cloud slowly descended. Junior helped Cherry hop down. They landed quietly beside Bowser‘s shell, where the sound of him sniffling was apparent.Junior hated seeing his dad like this. He couldn‘t forgive himself for something that wasn‘t his fault.Cherry knelt near the head of Bowser‘s shell. “Bowser?”The sniffling instantly stopped. “What? I‘m fine! I‘m just having…some, um, allergies.”Junior made a face. Cherry shot him a glare and bent to peer into the shell. She could just make out Bowser‘s puffy russet eyes and bushy eyebrows. His weeping was obvious.Rather than berate him about it, Cherry smiled gently and said, “There‘s a lot of pollen in the air today. My nose is itchy, too. Come on, let‘s go back to your castle. I‘ll make you a Cheep-Cheep kabob.”Bowser‘s eyes crossed as he considered the offer. He loved those kabobs, and nobody made them like Cherry. His eyes closed and his head and limbs popped out of the shell.“Make it two kabobs and you have a deal.”“Two it is.”“I‘ll take mine extra crispy,“ Junior said, grinning. It was all he could do to not feel embarrassed on his dad’s behalf.He stopped when Cherry‘s dark hair caught the light and gleamed. Five years ago she had braces and only a hint of a figure. She seemed to blossom overnight into a stunning woman befitting the role of princess. Stars, he loved her. There was no ignoring the twitchy feeling in his stomach any longer.“Junior, come on.” Bowser smacked him in the back of the head, breaking his ruminations. He pulled him closer to whisper, “Stop gawking with your mouth open. Girls don‘t like that.”Junior blinked, “How did you— ““You‘re my son,“ Bowser winked and wiped the tears off his face, “I know that look.”Cherry thought the two of them standing with their heads together was funny. They always did that when whispering about her.She glanced at her mother‘s statue and her smile sobered a bit. The love Bowser had for her mom, Cherry could not begin to fathom how deep his heart was. She had a collection of love letters he wrote to Peach.In person, Bowser was a gruff ruffian who tended to put his foot in his mouth, but his letters were passionate enough to make any woman blush. Peach kept those letters, though she never replied. He stopped sending them after she married Mario.Bowser finished saying whatever he needed to say to Junior. “…got it?”“Okay, okay, yeah.” Junior and Bowser separated, but Junior ran ahead. “Shotgun!”“No, doofus! Remember? I‘ll fly it! You take care of her.”Junior‘s eyes crossed. He rubbed a hand over his hair, which looked like fire in the sunlight.“Oh…right. Hey, Cherry!”.oThey arrived home in less than an hour, and the Cheep-Cheep kabobs were put on hold for a Kart race around the underground castle tunnels. Bowser, Junior and Cherry laughed as they sped through the dimness. Tires screeched and smoked.Bowser knocked Junior out of the lead with a blue shell. He laughed at him as he passed to win that round.“Ow.” Junior picked himself up, uninjured.Time flew. It was almost dinner hour.Mario would be annoyed that Cherry wasn’t home again, but that pesky plumber was an old fart and wouldn‘t be much of a challenge. Bowser knew he could kick his ass if he wanted to.Cherry kept her promise to grill Cheep-Cheep kabobs. Vivi, the elderly Koopa Troopa cook, hobbled around, leaning on her cane, helping her add spices and herbs.Bowser smiled proudly as Junior pulled Cherry‘s chair out for her when they sat down to eat. Cheep-Cheep kabobs were huge, each fish the size of an adult Koopa‘s fist and drizzled in some foreign cheese-like sauce Cherry called “afraido“ or something. It made them juicy and exquisitely messy. Bowser and Junior each had two sticks with two Cheep-Cheeps apiece, while Cherry only had half of one.Rather than talk, Bowser crunched his kabob and watched them.He taught Junior how to “accidentally“ brush his forearm against Cherry‘s shoulder when he reached for his napkin. The kabobs were greasy, so there were plenty of opportunities to pull this off. If this works, kid, you‘ll have what I always wanted for you, he leaned back, her love…  “I…love your hair,“ said Junior.“What?” Cherry glanced at him, blinking.“This afternoon. It was shiny, I guess I didn‘t notice—” Junior peeked at Bowser.Bowser made a pushing motion with his hand and pointed to his eyes. Junior went on, “—that it makes your eyes look really—” he glanced over again, fishing for a word. Bowser grabbed the blue napkin, folded his thumb and pivoted his hand, using Koopa Sign. Junior‘s face brightened and he finished, “—blue! And I like blue.” He checked with Bowser again. Bowser curled his thumb and index finger into an ‘okay‘ sign, grinning.Cherry‘s face flushed bright red. She giggled and turned towards Bowser. Bowser dropped his napkin on his kabob stick and leaned back, pretending to be bored. She shook her head and smiled— “You‘re so cute, Junior.”— and Bowser tilted so far back that his chair tipped over. He scrambled back into his seat in time to see Junior‘s face blush as red as Cherry’s dress.After finding himself staring into Cherry‘s blue eyes longer than intended, Junior cleared his throat. “So um…dessert?”Dessert was a huge fudge Bundt cake. Bowser and Junior made pigs out of themselves while Cherry had one dainty little piece. Their appalling table manners amused her. She finished first and stood up, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “I should head home. Daddy is probably worried already. Thanks for letting me cook your dinner tonight, it was fun!”“Thanks for making it. Good stuff,” Bowser replied.She smiled, pointing to him.“It‘s early,“ Junior pouted.“I know,“ Cherry sounded annoyed. “But you know how he worries.”“I should go down there and kick his wrinkled ass.” Bowser snuffled. Chocolate crumbs splattered down his chest when he spoke. He wiped them off with his palm. Cherry made a face at him and started for the door. Bowser blinked and waved his hand until he had Junior‘s attention, then made a walking gesture with his fingers.Junior blinked rapidly. “What do— oh!”He ran to catch up with her. “Hey, Cherry, I‘ll reverse-kidnap you home.”“Aw, why thank you,“ said Cherry with a smile. She slid her hand into Junior‘s as they disappeared from the dining hall.Bowser belched and grinned. The kid was a silver off the old shell!.oSunset turned the volcano an angrier red than usual. Despite its nacarat heat, nothing felt warmer to Cherry than Junior‘s beefy hand holding hers.She knew what Bowser and Junior intended to do. They were so funny, and trying so hard that she felt it would embarrass them to reveal that she saw their intentions.But it didn’t bother her. Sometimes she played oblivious to see what silliness they came up with next.She turned her head slightly to peer up at Junior, liking how the red light flashed across his saurian features. Koopas were works of art. Her eyes drifted to his hand, paused on the big spiked band on his wrist and followed his thick golden-orange forearm to the band on his bulging bicep. He was flexing a little on purpose, trying to impress her with his muscles.And it worked.If it wasn‘t for the white bandanna around his neck, people would think Bowser aged backwards and returned to menace the Mushroom Kingdom all over again. Perhaps marrying Junior will truly join both kingdoms together. The Mushroom Princess and the Koopa Prince. His dad taught him everything he knew about leading armies, and a Koopa army would be a great ally to help us protect ourselves against invaders.  Cherry rubbed Junior‘s palm with her thumb. And while he is a big dork, he‘s not a huge jerk like some of the other princes I met. I‘d rather marry someone I care about…not a stranger.  They climbed into the Koopa Clown Car together. Junior started the engine in a vibrating whir and lifted off.“Oh, Junior, look!” Cherry pointed east as they rose above the volcano‘s rim.Towering cumulonimbus clouds piled onto the abendrot backdrop of the horizon. Their charcoal anvil tops spread out like blurry suction cups adhering them to the upper atmosphere.“Looks like quite a storm.” Junior said. A reflection of the horizon glowed in his russet eyes. “Don’t those end up over that huge hill up north?”“Mmhmm.” She tried to peer around him at the hill, but darkness obscured it.Junior glanced down. His eyes could smile while his mouth didn‘t. They did that a lot when he looked at her. He noticed her watching him and blushed, his snout darkening, “What?”Cherry‘s face heated, “N-nothing. You‘ve got chocolate on your teeth.”He rubbed his tongue over his pointed teeth to clean them off. Cherry‘s face heated. She focused on the oncoming storm.Beside her, Junior said, “The wind might get nasty. Grab onto me if you get scared.”Less than ten minutes later, a huge blast of wind nearly blew the ‘Car off course. By then the sun was down and half the sky blackened by clouds. Cherry spun and pressed her face against Junior‘s chest. He laid a hand on her back, smiling. Invisible butterflies fluttered through her stomach, making her heart pound. They were best friends since he was four and she was five. He always made her stomach flip and her heart itch. People tried to chalk it up to a simple little crush, and maybe it was during childhood, but she wasn’t a kid anymore.The Koopa Clown Car descended towards the flickering lights of the Mushroom castle. Her room was on the north tower, its window facing west. Vines grew intricate spirals around the curved iron trellis framing her large, open window.“Um, Cherry…we‘re here.” Junior lowered his head and got a snout full of her cherry-scented hair. He inhaled like he was smelling a delicate flower, his eyes drifting shut.“Already?” Cherry twisted to look. “Huh, I guess so.”Without further comment, he helped her climb inside her window. She pulled herself into the darkness and immediately popped her head back out. There was only one way to scratch this itch in her heart, and she wasn‘t sure if she would have the courage tomorrow.“Wait, Junior! Come back this way. I forgot something.”He floated the Koopa Clown Car back to her. “What?”“This.” Cherry eyed him for a moment and went for it. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against the middle of his snout. It was soft and smooth, similar in texture to a human mouth.Junior jerked back in shock, blinked, leaned in and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Do that again?”She obliged. That time, he was ready, with his head cocked and mouth gently pressing back.Her heart throbbed in her chest. Could he hear it? Did his heart hammer as fast as hers?They held that way as the breeze ruffled their hair and stars scattered diamond dust over the half-cloudy sky. Their heads tilted and they separated at the same time, opening their eyes to look at each other in a new light.Cherry giggled. “Thanks for the ride.”Junior stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He blinked, collected himself and laughed self-consciously. “S-sure! N-no problem! Think I can call later tonight? My dad doesn‘t care what hour I call, but I know yours…eh. You know…”Cherry made a face. Mario never forgot how Bowser blamed him for Peach‘s death. That anger made him bitter and distrustful towards Koopas over the years. Rarely was he the jolly plumber she knew as a child.She beamed up at Junior. “Who cares? Call if you get bored picking up after Bowsie-wowsie.”“Bowsie-wowsie? Oh, don‘t let him hear you say that.”They grinned at each other. A breeze blew some of Junior’s reddish-orange hair in front of his curved horns. Cherry brushed it behind them where it belonged. She winked, drew back into her room and Junior took off into the darkening sky.“WOOHOO!” He whooped in the distance.She giggled, closing the window..o“…and then she leaned out and kissed me! I don’t mean a little peck on the cheek, it was like the movies. I asked her to do it again, and…yeah. There were tongues. It wasn’t awful. My heart beat so fast, and I got all tingly! I just…aaah, it was great!” Junior perched on the floor by his dad’s feet as he finished recapping his trip to Cherry‘s castle. His heart pounded as he remembered her soft lips brushing his mouth. Bowser sat slumped in his throne, listening to Junior‘s excited chatter while sipping from a spiky goblet of cactus tea. The roaring fireplace behind him outlined his silhouette and caused his shadow to dance on the opposite wall.Junior waited for a sign that his story hit home. He did not need to wait long.A toothy grin crinkled Bowser’s russet eyes. “Congratulations…you just went further than I ever did with a princess.”“I-I know.” Junior hugged his knees. “I want to marry her, dad. Not a forced one, but the kind where both want to. We could cement our alliance with the Mushroom Kingdom. Their army is weak, but if we took over as their military forces, we could protect them. I could protect Cherry. And in return they‘ll share their medicine and water-mining resources to help make us a richer nation. Imagine the trade routes we’ll open up and the parties we’ll throw for no reason other than we feel like it! What do you think?”No answer came for a while. Crackles and pops in the fireplace punctuated distant thunder from the storm Junior narrowly escaped on his flight home.Lambent firelight outlined Bowser‘s shell and glowed in his eyes. For a few seconds he looked like the malevolent being bent on destroying everything for Peach‘s hand.“That‘s not a good idea,“ Bowser said, deadpan. He drained his tea. Then he broke into a huge grin and ruffled Junior‘s topknot. “I‘m kidding! It‘s a great idea! I‘m so glad I thought of it.”Junior looked up and laughed. “Aren‘t you the one who taught me to steal the best ideas?”“Which means I‘m allowed to steal them back, too.” Bowser winked. Then he wrinkled his nose and rubbed his left arm.The joy left Junior‘s expression. “Dad?”“What? Oh, calm down, don‘t start that again. My arm just itches, okay? Can I rub my arm without you freaking out?”“Oh…okay.” Junior’s shoulders slumped. “It‘s just…”Bowser‘s eyebrows drew together, “You just what?”“Nothing.” He shuddered as the sudden adrenalin drained away.It always started like that, with Bowser rubbing his arm. Then it blossomed into gurneys, IVs, heart monitors, ventilators and worried nurses rushing around. Junior thought he was about to witness it all over again.A deep breath slowed his racing heart. No need to call Neil for help or do chest compressions. He could relax.“I‘m gonna call Cherry. Maybe it‘ll piss Mario off.”A cheeky grin curled the corners of Bowser‘s mouth. He poked Junior between the eyes, “Don‘t talk dirty yet, okay?”“I wasn’t going to. G‘night.” Junior launched himself upright. Halfway to the door, he jumped in the air and clicked his heels together, yelling, “I love my life!”.oJunior‘s spiky shell disappeared from Bowser‘s sight. The instant it did, Bowser clutched his left arm and the tea goblet crashed to the floor. Invisible fists crushed his chest and withdrew. Angina pains were only cause for worry if they didn‘t pass in a few minutes. The sclerosis in his coronary arteries turned them stiff like concrete pipes. But somehow, despite their inflexibility, the blasted things still went into spasms. They weren’t anything to freak out about. It came with the territory of having Crash.Another crushing ache slapped into him. This one shot across his lower jaw. He reached into his shell for his sublingual nitroglycerin tablets and popped one in his mouth. They were the only pills he took when he needed them.“No,“ Bowser whispered, “Not now. Let me see my son get married. Let me see that he‘ll be okay. Give me that long. Please…I need more time.”Whatever higher power was out there, it listened. Or maybe the nitro worked. The pain subsided and he leaned back, wiping his hair out of his eyes. Sweat poured down his face like tears.“Dammit!” He flicked the goblet into the fireplace with his tail.  I have to get Junior married to Cherry. He can handle everything afterward, but I‘ll have to play nice guy with that pipe-dick plumber if there‘s gonna be any wedding bells. It won‘t count if they run off and elope, which I know they’ll do if Mario ruins everything.  Bowser drummed his claws on the arm of his throne. His face pulled in an ugly sneer. The fire swirled behind him, tiny reflections of it dancing off his scales.Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the painting of Peach he kept on the opposite wall. He stole it from the Mushroom Castle the day of her funeral. Her unchanging smile reassured him. This time around, we‘ll do things the right way. If making nice with Mario is how I have to do it, I’ll do it for Junior.  Bowser uncurled from his spiked throne and headed towards the door. His bedroom was two flights up, while Junior stayed in his childhood room on the second floor. He paused on the flight of stairs when he heard Junior hum as he dialed his cell phone. Sleep could wait a few more minutes…he wanted to hear this..oCherry changed into her purple satin knee-length nightgown and brushed her long, brunette hair. Behind her, the brilliant reds and golds of her bedroom revealed themselves dimly in the glow of her white mushroom-shaped bedside lamp. She had just set her brush down when someone knocked on the door.“Come in!”Mario stuck his head in and peered over his half-moon glasses. His hair and mustache were completely white, his cheeks sagged a little like a dog‘s jowls and he had wrinkles around the corners of his eyes and mouth. Age caused his bottom lip to stick out more, making him appear to be perpetually pouting. “Cherry.”“Yes?” She sat down on her bed.He leaned against the doorframe. “You were hanging around with-a Junior again. I saw him drop-a you off.”Cherry‘s face heated when she remembered giving him a smooch. “We would have been back sooner, except the Koopa Clown Car broke down again. Bowser fixed it. We raced Karts, and I lost track of time. I had dinner with them as a thank you for being so patient with me being there unannounced.”“Those Koopas are-a trouble!” Mario snapped. “Especially that testa di cazzo, Bowser!”“Hey!” She jumped up, offended. “Daddy! Don‘t talk like that about them.” A hurt look passed across Mario‘s blue eyes. He closed them, hanging his head. Cherry’s stomach twisted. She crossed the room and hugged him.“Daddy, Bowser has a secret you should know about. It‘s about mom.”“Oh?” He sniffed.“Do you remember that tirade he went on at her funeral?”“How could I forget?” Mario‘s expression darkened. “He blamed me for-a Peach‘s death!”“I know, but the truth is he blames himself,“ she said, looking into Mario‘s eyes, “He was projecting because he was in shock about what happened. Junior and I…we went looking for Bowser this afternoon. He was crying over mom‘s grave and telling her he was sorry that he left that day. He goes there every day, and seems to have it in his head that if he hadn‘t left, he could have caught her or something. It‘s…it‘s nobody‘s fault, but you know how Bowser is, he has to blame somebody or something.”  For a long time Mario didn‘t speak. He turned towards the window, as if the lightning captured his attention. Finally, he sighed, “You heard-a what he said.”He spoke as if she hadn’t tried to convince him of this a dozen times before. It didn’t stop her from trying, she intended to say it until it stuck.Cherry patted his hand. “You guys need to make amends. Tell him it wasn‘t his fault. Or forgive him, I don‘t care what you say. But stop being enemies. The Koopas can be great allies if we could just get along.”Mario rubbed his mustache, frowning. “Let-a me a-think about it, Cherry.”She touched his arm. “Bowser isn’t well, daddy. Don‘t take too long.”He nodded, and opened his mouth to say more when the mushroom phone rang.Cherry answered it. “Hello?”“Hey!” It was Junior. “I‘m calling to annoy your old man. Is he there?”She giggled— “Hi, Junior!”— and watched Mario roll his eyes and walk out. “It worked! He just left, pouting.”That made Junior chuckle. His silky voice and musical laugh didn‘t sound anything like his father‘s deep bass rumble. Junior‘s voice had traces of a growl to it, the result of his first language being the roars, growls and grunts of his species, but this accent wasn‘t as pronounced as Bowser‘s.“Cherry…”“Yes?”“You kissed me.”Grinning, she flopped down on her bed. “It felt right. Did you like it?”For a minute he didn‘t say anything. Then, he laughed again. “Yeah. But next time, I wanna kiss a little longer. Deal?”“Deal.”“Awesome. Now…uh— huh?” The phone shuffled and Cherry heard Bowser‘s voice in the background. Coaching him again, by the sound of it. Junior came back, “Hey, um— the big Mushroom Carnival is coming in three days— and I was wondering if— you‘d like to come with me on— “ His voice faded again, Bowser mumbled something, then he returned, “— a date.” A date! Cherry almost screamed in delight. She waited years for Junior to properly ask her out. “What time should I be ready?”“Ten o‘clock on Saturday.”“Works for me!” She smiled when she heard Bowser and Junior slap hands.“Great! Awesome! I‘ll see you Frid—” Junior coughed and Bowser loudly corrected him in the background, “—I mean, Saturday!”They were too funny. Cherry covered a giggle with her hand. “Okay…bye, Junior.”“Bye.” Junior‘s line hung up..oBowser retreated to his room after Junior settled down to play games on his phone. He picked up the small velvet box always present atop his dresser and opened the lid, revealing the ring he placed all his hopes into. The diamonds glittered like polychromatic stars in the gold Koopa shell setting.He gazed ahead at his reflection, at the gray hairs working their way into his bushy eyebrows. His reddish-orange locks were half and half now.And somehow, he knew he wouldn’t see it all turn white. But I’ll live long enough. Sixty-one ain’t bad when I almost died at forty-four. Heck, maybe I’ll make it to sixty-two.  Bowser smiled and closed the box.The future he saw kicking and screaming into existence over a decade ago was finally starting to happen.He went to bed cocooned in hope, and dreamed of ascending spiraling polychromatic crystal stairs that shone brighter the higher he climbed. At the top, barely visible through the glare of infinite white, the outline of a closed wooden door.Bowser crossed the long corridor and reached for the door. He woke up instantly in the familiar darkness of his bedroom. That dream again. Bowser ran a hand through his hair. He shifted around on his slab of a bed and closed his eyes once again. If he dreamed more, he didn’t remember them..oSaturday took forever to arrive, but finally the eastern sky brightened on the fated morning.Junior jumped out of bed at six o’clock sharp, raced to shower and spent ages in front of the mirror, combing his reddish-orange hair in the dimness.If he relaxed, time would slip by him unnoticed and make him late. Go-time was three and a half hours away, an eternity waiting to catch him unaware.What if he made a fool of himself? What if he forgot how to talk? What if he said something that hurt her feelings? How much was their relationship going to change after today? Were they moving too fast?Junior swallowed the rush of spit trying to fill his mouth. Cherry was five when he met her, right after his dad’s first heart attack. She turned twenty-two last month. They weren’t kids anymore. The rules were different. What if he messed up?His stomach twisted into knots until acid came up. He bent over the toilet platform, retching.“Hey, are you dying in there?” Bowser knocked on the bedroom door.Junior couldn’t answer, so Bowser came through his room and peeked into the bathroom.“Aw, nervous?”“Yeah,” Junior heaved again.“You poor kid. BWAHAHA!” Bowser smacked the stone sink countertop. “Eat some Piranha Plant leaves.”“Can you make that tea stuff with them instead? They taste awful.”“Fine, fine.” Bowser reached out and patted Junior’s shell, his voice growing serious. “You okay?”Junior nodded, wiping the tears out of his eyes. “I don’t want to look like a dipshit.”Bowser sniffed, sticking his head back in. “Everybody looks stupid on the first date, Junior. The secret is to own it if you mess up. You trip in front of her? Make it look like a dance you just made up. You’ll be fine, kiddo.”“That’s great, dad. Tea, please. No offense.” Junior’s stomach wouldn’t stop flipping.“None taken. You poor kid, BWAHAHA!” Bowser laughed again, leaving the door wide open when he left.Junior washed his mouth out and tried to fix his hair once more. After a lot of fussing, he decided to leave it loose because Cherry once mentioned she liked it down.The second he got calm, his nerves jumped to life again.A date with Cherry! He didn‘t want to mess it up!Junior bent over the toilet and spat up bile.Bowser came back carrying a mug of Piranha Plant leaf tea. He put in sugar, honey and a dash of salt and presented it with flourish.“Here, puke-face. Slow yourself down. You’ll rock this.”“I hope so.”Junior sat on his bed, sipping it in tiny slurps. By the time he finished, his stomach settled and he felt okay enough to eat some ash toast.Bowser cooked his famous Bowser bacon by dumping pepper on the strips while they sizzled. Junior ate one and Bowser demolished the rest.He returned upstairs at eight o’clock to freshen up one last time.It wasn‘t until the sun lit up his room that he stopped dead in his tracks by the bathroom mirror. The horror of horrors stared back through his reflection.A zit on the side of his forehead! Right in a place where his hair wouldn‘t cover it! He might as well have a neon sign on his head because it was so obvious against his green scales. Wasn’t that supposed to stop by the time he finished puberty?What if this ruined his date?“Oh, no…DAD!”.oCherry stepped out of the shower at seven o‘clock sharp and went about drying her messy dark hair. Outfits were laid out on her bed, her final contenders.A flowing red sundress, a blue denim jumper dress with a red T-shirt, a purple halter top and black pleated skorts, white stirrup sweatpants with a pale yellow crop top, and a short orange shirt-dress.She tried every single one in front of the mirror. The white stirrup pants were rejected because they would get visibly dirty before she walked outside, the crop top seemed too desperate, the shirt-dress skirt risked flying up to bare her underwear, and she didn’t want to flash anybody if she bent over while wearing the halter top.Besides, Mario would have a conniption.She wanted to look like herself, yet pretty enough to capture Junior’s eye. It boggled her how much it mattered when she didn’t care like this before.Going on dates made people into fools.But she was excited. She wanted to take this next step, and maybe another.Cherry inhaled a slow breath as she pulled on the red T-shirt and fit the blue denim jumper dress over it. The long, thick skirt was less likely to fly up on rides, and it went nicely with her brown Mary Janes.She looked like a feminine version of her dad, especially when she pulled her hair back in a high ponytail.A tiara would fly off, so she used a gold barrette with glittery ruby cherries to hold her ponytail instead.For makeup, she kept it simple— a little eyeliner, blush and lip gloss.Then she saw herself up close in the mirror and froze.There was a pimple on her chin! A beast as huge as Bowser‘s volcano crater. She crashed back into her bathroom for more makeup, but nothing would cover this hideous thing! What if this ruined her date?“Oh, no…DAD!”.oAnd so it came to pass that Junior arrived at the Mushroom Castle wearing a ridiculous orange baseball cap. Cherry waited on the steps with a little white lace fan coyly covering her mouth and chin.Cherry asked, “What‘s with the hat?”And Junior asked at the same time, “Why do you have a fan?”Sheepishly, Junior took off his hat so Cherry could see his zit. Blinking, Cherry lowered her fan so Junior could see her zit.“I never would have noticed,“ they said simultaneously.Junior grinned, Cherry covered her mouth and they both guffawed until tears ran down their faces. He helped Cherry climb into the Koopa Clown Car and they sped off towards the brilliant colors and spirals of the Mushroom Carnival..oMario dressed casually— blue denim overalls and red polo shirt— and went to the carnival two hours after Cherry left. His attire sent a silent message that royal formality wasn’t necessary, so people placed their hand respectfully over their heart when he passed instead of bowing.Honestly, Mario didn’t mind when people forgot royal protocol. He was just a plumber from the outside-outside world of Brooklyn who fell through a pipe and ended up here. Becoming a king happened by accident.Toad children scampered across the carnival entrance, which had colorful ribbons festooned over a wooden white archway. Steam curled skyward as cooks prepared everything from funnel cakes to egg rolls and meatball sandwiches.Mario bought an egg roll. The cook tried to offer it for free, but he paid the five coin fee anyway.“If you’re going to feed-a me, the least I can do is make sure you can-a feed your family, too.”He munched quietly, letting the salty flavor warm his mouth while watching the multicolored Merry-Go-Round twirl.Peach used to love riding that with him. Seeing it every year was both a painful reminder and a soothing comfort.At last, a spiked green shell. Wait, no, too-long, very not-gray hair— that was Junior. Cherry laughed uproariously at him juggling three baseballs before he flung them at the row of baskets behind the counter. His throws were too hard, so they bounced back out. The poor Toad running the booth ducked and covered until it was over.Cherry shrugged. Junior faced her and the softness in his eyes looked exactly the same as Bowser whenever he laid eyes on Peach. They grinned at each other and strolled out of sight behind the booth.They acted like that before, but something about it being a date imbued their faces with a new light.Mario kept walking. He hoped to run into Bowser somewhere amid the rides and game booths, but the Koopa King was nowhere to be found.He glanced west towards the hill holding Peach‘s statue and saw a spiky shell. Of course. Cherry told him Bowser went there at noon every day. One could set their watch by it.Pushing his way gently past two red yoshis and a Toad kid, Mario made his way up the hill. Bowser knelt, clipping the grass gently with a pair of enormous gardening shears. He kept at it until Peach‘s grave looked like a perfect rectangle. Then he wiped the dust off Peach‘s statue with a gentleness that belied his fierce saurian appearance. Even more startling, he had tears rolling down his snout.“Today‘s the carnival. Junior and Cherry are on their first date. Junior was so nervous that he puked. I spent half the morning laughing at him. He freaked out. Good thing he‘s got a dad like me to set him straight, huh? I used to get nervous enough to puke before kidnapping you, heh, heh! Imagine that…me getting nervous…you‘d probably laugh.”“She-a would have.” Mario said.Bowser whipped around, wide-eyed. His eyes flashed in recognition and he hurriedly wiped the tears off his face.“What the— “ He cleared his throat, trying to sound angry, “—W-what are you doing here? I didn‘t invite you!” “Scusi!” Mario said sarcastically, “This is-a my wife‘s grave. I can-a come any time I want.”At that, Bowser‘s expression melted a little. It hit him that he wasn‘t the widower here. And, judging by his frown, he was sulking about it.Mario scratched his gray mustache while observing the aging Koopa King through the lenses of his half-moon glasses. Bowser‘s hair had thick white streaks and his eyes were a little more squinty than he remembered. It wouldn‘t surprise him if Bowser‘s eyesight wasn‘t as sharp as it used to be and he refused to wear glasses or contacts.The most conspicuous thing about him was the scarring across his upper chest. A blurry dark red-brown line ran between the plastron ridges like train tracks.“How come you don‘t come here?”The question startled Mario into a wave of guilt. His head sank into his shoulders and he shifted uncomfortably under Bowser‘s accusing glare.“I guess it‘s easier if-a I go where she-a was alive. If I come to her grave-a…” A hot lump swelled in his throat, turning his voice hoarse, “all-a I can see is-a her death. I don‘t want to remember her dead on the floor. Does-a that make sense?”Bowser‘s eyes cooled to a less menacing gaze. Suddenly, he turned away to look up at Peach‘s statue. “Tch! You married her, made love to her and woke up to her every day. I‘ll admit I went about loving her in totally the wrong way, but that doesn’t change the fact that I love her.”He said it without growling or snarling, just utter frankness. Mario couldn’t remember the last time he said anything to him that didn‘t include a taunt or threat.“This,” Bowser gestured to the grave, “is all I have. Dammit, Mario! I never got to say goodbye!”Mario dared to venture close enough to sit next to Bowser‘s hulking form. Bowser made no motion to encourage or discourage the action. He had a scent to him, like the burning brimstone of his volcanic home clung to his scales.Mario stared up at Peach‘s golden, smiling face. He could still remember finding her at the bottom of that damned staircase, her body twisted amidst the fabric of her pink gown and gold hair, her beautiful blue eyes dilated with death. The grave thrust him back into that horrible moment. Those bitter tears welled up again like a painful swelling in his chest. He took his glasses off and covered his face with one hand, sniffling.“It wasn’t your-a fault, Bowser.”“What?”“Peach…her fall-a was not your-a fault. Nobody could have stopped it from-a happening. It was a terrible accident.” He sobbed once, wiping his eyes, but the tears came so fast that nothing stopped them.Fresh silver trails blazed down Bowser‘s face. Mario’s voice cracked, “Sometimes…there are days where-a I wonder if I could have stopped it if I just came around the corner five-a minutes sooner. Oh, my Peach…my sweet-a Peach…”His eyes overflowed. He remembered when the coroner finally allowed him to hold her, how he bawled against her shoulder with her golden hair falling all over his face. She felt so small and fragile in his arms.The day of her funeral, he put her gloves on her hands after the undertakers dressed her. When he kissed her lips for the last time, they were so cold and dry.Mario wasn’t a drinker, but he gulped a shot of whiskey to calm his nerves before the ceremony. Then Bowser showed up and tore into the guilt he housed.But Bowser felt just as guilty.And they both acted like assholes about it next to her coffin.“Peach,” Mario whispered, eyes stinging.A thick, warm hand settled itself across his back. Before he realized what had happened, he was pressed to Bowser‘s side. That hand, a hand as wide as his arm was long, held him in place.“Let it all out.” Bowser said, his bass voice trembling. “We’ve been crying for ourselves for too long. Let’s cry for her. Let it out.”Mario curled into Bowser and sobbed, faintly able to hear Bowser crying as well. Him and his worst rival, weeping together for the woman they both loved. He knew Bowser laid aside a lot of pride to cry in front of an adversary like this. It was an honor, even, to share this vulnerable moment with him.They cried until they ran out of tears. Then they leaned against each other for strength.“I died three different times,” Bowser rumbled, keeping his eyes closed.“You-a what?”“True story.” Bowser sighed noisily through his runny nose. “Every time it happened, I traveled up a staircase. Gorgeous place, crystal bricks and colors you’ll never see in this lifetime. Lots of light. So bright it’s all you can see. I died three different times, Mario.”Mario stole a glance upward at him, watching him swipe his palm across his dripping nose.Bowser went on, voice husky from crying, “My worst heart attack was at Peach’s funeral. I died coming out of surgery, and I saw Peach.”He coughed a chuckle and opened his eyes, his dangerous claws squeezing Mario’s shoulder a bit too tightly.“Eh, ‘saw’ probably isn’t the right word. I perceived her. She was a piece of that light, Mario. I begged her not to go. I cried, and I begged, and I’m not somebody who likes to beg. She told me to get up off my ass and raise Junior.”Looking upward again, eyes unfocused and glimmering with tears, he continued, “I was in a lot of pain, I didn’t want to go on, but she made me fight for my life because she didn’t get the choice to.”Now he turned his sorrowful gaze onto Mario, russet eyes focusing again. “It broke my heart when she died, but I lived because she told me I have to, and I’ll do anything to be worthy of her.”“Except stop-a kidnapping her.” Mario pointed out snidely. He regretted it as soon as he said it, but there was no taking it back now.Rather than get angry, Bowser vented smoke through his nostrils and released his grip on Mario’s shoulder. His claws left pinprick holes in his red shirt.Mario scooted away from him. He pulled an old rag from the pocket of his blue overalls and blew his nose.Bowser turned his head, snorted and hocked a snotty, frothy half-gallon loogie into the bushes at the northern base of the hill. The whole bush sagged as strings of slime slid off the ends of its sickle-shaped leaves.A couple of yoshis jumped up and cursed at them in their native language.Mario‘s face went from red to green and back to red.“What?” Bowser wiped the residue off his nostrils and cleared his throat. “They don‘t make tissues strong enough for Koopas and my snot was choking me up.”“No…it‘s-a just…” Mario went from tears to laughter, “That was a mighty far-a shot! And you ruined their picnic.”“Oh.” Bowser‘s eyebrows crossed. He glanced at the bushes and laughed as well. “I just beat my old record! Yeah! Serves you right for eating there!”The angry yoshis picked up the food that hadn‘t been snot-balled and stalked off.Mario glanced past them and saw Cherry and Junior on the ferris wheel as it rotated a little, stopped and moved again to let other riders climb aboard. He put his glasses on for a better look.They were kissing, smiling and holding hands. Junior rocked their blue mushroom-shaped carriage. Cherry slapped his arm. Both of them laughed.Bowser followed his gaze, squinting.“They‘re in love. No doubt about it.” He chortled, lowering his voice. “Hey, pipe-head! Why not let those two get married? No, wait, don‘t say anything until I finish.”Mario closed his mouth.“They love each other. Look at them. I‘ve been thinking. Well, it was Junior‘s idea too, but, if they got married, we could ally our kingdoms. Open trade routes and stuff.”Bowser swept his hand to the side, gesturing as he spoke. “The Koopa army can protect the Mushroom Kingdom from invaders and your guys can share their medicine with us. We can exchange technology, improve the economy, and all kinds of good stuff. I can‘t see any better way of making the merge than by letting our brats hook up. But they‘ll hook up the right way.” He smirked. “I’ll just kidnap Cherry if you say no, so you might as well— “Mario’s stomach tightened and his fists clenched. He scowled, and Bowser burst out cackling.“—Mario! I‘m kidding! BWAHAHA! Oh, your face is redder than a spanked yoshi‘s ass!”Laughing deepened the wrinkles at the corners of Bowser’s mouth and eyes, as if they formed because he laughed a lot.Mario shook his head and chuckled self-consciously. He turned again to watch Cherry lay her head against Junior‘s bicep. Peach used to say she wanted Cherry to marry for love. Their daughter wasn’t property or a prize to be won, and she knew when she was being treated that way.In this case, a marriage between them would be a benefit for both kingdoms.“Cherry is in love with-a him. She-a tried to keep it a secret, but she-a is like her mother. Letting them marry young will mean a long reign, won’t it?”“Yeah, it will.”The possibility of the Darklands and the Mushroom Kingdom coexisting without conflict or bloodshed sounded fantastic. How much stronger could their kingdoms have been if they became allies a decade ago?Bowser was too stubborn to see what lay in front of him back then. Maybe he needed to grow up a bit more before it became clear.While Mario wasn’t sure he trusted his intentions fully, he wanted to give this new foundation a chance.“Why?” Mario asked.“Why what?”“Why the change of-a heart?”The corners of Bowser’s mouth turned up in a faint, sad smile.“I didn’t take the best care of my own heart, the least I can do is look after Junior’s until it’s in good hands, and I know it will be with Cherry. Isn’t it our job as parents to make sure our kids have it better than we did?”The sincerity in that answer caught Mario off-guard. Funny, he wanted the same for Cherry, yet never imagined it being Bowser’s youngest son to capture her heart.He saw their growing closeness when they were kids, and he remembered how cruelly he tried to break it up by taking Cherry away with him to Sarasaland after Peach died. It was a petty act meant to hurt Bowser, but the fallout did more damage than he intended.Cherry didn’t talk to him for weeks. When they did, they reached a compromise: If she still felt the same after four years away, he would leave the issue alone.And what did Cherry do when they returned to the castle after all that time? She spotted Bowser sitting where he sat now, and ran up to see him. He put her in contact with Junior again, and they picked up where they left off.It was like watching her come to life again.Ever since, Mario cringed when he looked back on how he acted. Hurting Junior to cause Bowser pain wasn’t fair.“I’m sorry,” Mario whispered, looking down at the grass where they sat.“Huh?”He rubbed his mustache, his fingertip rustling the coarse hairs. “I used my pain to-a cause you pain after Peach died, and I hurt both of our-a children.”Bowser arched a bushy eyebrow. “No kidding. You should feel like shit for that.”Chastised, Mario sighed.Bowser cooled, nostrils flaring. “I apologized to Peach for all the kidnapping and garbage I put her through the day she died. I was gonna stop trying to kidnap her, and I never got to show her I meant that apology.”His voice quieted further. “I acted like a jackass at the funeral. It’s not like you broke that stair.”Then he scrunched his face as if tasting something foul. “I guess this is where I say I’m sorry about that, isn’t it? Sorry.”Mario eyed him warily. “Do you mean-a that?”“Don’t make me say it again. I’d rather eat glass than apologize to you.” Bowser snorted, crossing his arms and looking away.Oh, he meant that apology.Mario pursed his lips, his eyes wandering up to Peach’s golden statue. The sculptor captured her soft expression so perfectly, she would smile at this exchange just like that.There was no need to think about it any longer. Mario met Bowser‘s eyes.“I want to give-a back what I took away.” He pointed towards the Ferris wheel with his thumb.A hopeful light shone in Bowser’s eyes. “So you’re cool with it? For real?”“Yes.”“Awesome!” Bowser pumped his fist in the air. Moments ago he looked deflated, and now he seemed alive again. “We’ll finalize this on the Kart track, whaddya say?”“Let’s-a go!”.oVarious dings and beeps echoed around the stuffy yellow tent. Cherry and Junior stood over the Whack-a-Mole machine, pounding away.Cherry shouted directions, “Quick! He‘s coming up again! AH! Get it!” Junior tried to hit them with the mallet. The game wasn‘t designed for his huge hands, and he had trouble swinging the mallet without tossing it across the tent. So, just like his dad, he cheated. He used his fists and racked up a large ticket pile.“Gotcha!” Junior roared triumphantly. He looked at the loops of tickets and the frowning Toads tapping their feet. “Oh, wow, I think we should stop playing now. The locals are getting mad.”“Sure.” Cherry tore the tickets from the slot, balled them up and stuffed them into Junior‘s shell. “C‘mon, let‘s go watch the Kart races!”Junior grinned roguishly, which made Cherry‘s heart do a flip-flop.She poked his arm as they left the colorful tent. He poked back gently. She nudged him a little harder. He goosed her ribs with his tail. Squeaking, she shouldered him as hard as she could, which barely rocked him. In return, he gave her a sideways shove that toppled her into the kiddy ball-pit. He laughed and took off running. She freed herself from the ball-pit and chased after him, giggling.“Ack! Look out!” Junior called.Too late. Cherry tripped on something swinging across her path. Junior swooped his arm in to prevent her from falling.It was those two muscular Sledge Brothers, Jack and Black.Jack wore thick, round red-framed glasses that magnified his dark eyes. He grew his inky black hair out since she last saw him. What used to be spikes was now a slicked-back ponytail that touched the top of his shell.“I’m so sorry!” Cherry eyed the rolling marshmallow tip of the long white cane in his hand. She managed to step right on it, and somehow the cane wasn’t damaged. Not even a mark on the iridescent reflective red strip near the tip.“My fault.” Jack laughed self-consciously, pulling his cane towards him in the pencil grip. “I walk too fast for my own good.”Black, by contrast, still had the same spiky hair sticking up off his head like the top of a pineapple.He pointed at Jack’s back and moved his hands up and down similar to a marionette on strings, signing, “He’s a klutz.”Junior stuck his tongue out at him. Black laughed, a wheezy sound like someone shaking a steaming tea kettle while it whistled.“Gosh, what happened to you?” Cherry hadn’t seen Jack in person for almost four years, and he didn’t have a white cane last time!“My retinas detached. Sometimes that happens to high myopics like me.” Jack waved the black handle of the cane back and forth. “They saved a smidge of central vision in my right eye, but the left one is only good for light perception.”He shrugged, “My eyes were already awful, so this isn’t tragic. Now I see as well as Ludwig hears.”Black loomed behind Jack with raised eyebrows, and signed, “Is he talking bad about me?”Cherry picked up a few of those signs and extrapolated the meaning. She pinched the air. “No.”To Jack, she said, “Wow, I hope it didn’t hurt.”“Nah.” Jack turned his head to look at Black when he signed close to his face. He propped his cane against his shoulder and signed something back.Junior leaned over to murmur in her ear, “Black said everything is fine because the two of them are a working set of eyes and ears.”Cherry smiled, tapping on Black’s arm. She wiped two fingers downward in front of her nose. “You’re funny.”Black grinned a huge, unhinged smile that practically split his face in two.Jack, by contrast, had a smaller, more shy smile.Black waved at Cherry and gestured. Junior interpreted what he signed.“We’re going to wreck the High Striker. If you hear dinging, it’s us.”“Good luck!” Cherry grinned and finger spelled it.Black ducked his head, brought the back of his hand forward and formed a finger spelled K, showing her the correct sign. She repeated it, and he helped her shape her fingers. When she did it right, he gave a thumbs up and blew her a kiss with both hands.Junior signed something she only caught in the corner of her eye. Black’s eyes widened. He grabbed Junior’s shoulders and playfully shook him back and forth, squeaking. Junior laughed, pretending to headbutt him.“That! That! That!” Black gestured wildly, expression bright. He signed more, but Cherry couldn’t follow it at that high speed.“Shut up,” Junior clapped Black’s hands between his without any real venom. He waggled his eyebrows and went on, gesturing, “Go piss off everybody by the High Striker.”Black scrunched his nose when he chuckled, fingers flicking, “It’s going to be funny!”“Yeah, let’s move on and see how many more princesses I can trip with my cane today.” Jack smiled cheekily in Cherry’s direction. “Nice seeing you, Princess Cherry.”“Likewise!” She clasped her hands together. “Maybe we’ll keep bumping into each other.”“We shall see!”Jack started for the north end of the carnival. He slid his cane forward and tapped a perfect two-point touch, the tip swinging towards the opposite side of whichever foot stepped forward. Toads and yoshis moved aside when they saw him coming.Black bowed respectfully to Junior and Cherry and jogged after his brother.“Black is going to clean out their funnel cakes. He loves them.” Junior took Cherry’s hand and cradled it gently. “Are you okay? Did you twist your ankle or anything?”“Hm? Oh! No, I’m fine. Just a little startled.” Heat rushed into her cheeks again. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “What were we doing again?”“We were, uh…” He hugged her, chuckling, “Karts! We’re going to see Karts!”Across the carnival, the High Striker bell rang twice in rapid succession.Cherry nuzzled her cheek against Junior’s chest. “Hey, Junior?”“Huh?”She wiggled free, slapped his arm and broke into a run. “You’re it!”“Hey! No fair!” He chased her, laughing.Their running feet carried them amid striped tents, shiny streamer festoons and multicolored speckled hats.Toads and yoshis dashed out of their path. A balloon vendor performed a spectacular pirouette to avoid getting bowled over, and the colorful balloons tied onto the thick metal ring he held spiraled around him.They arrived at the Kart track gasping, flushed and sweaty in their shared mirth.Junior tapped Cherry’s back. “Got you!”“No, the track is safe!”“You mean the railing is safe, and you’re not touching it. Therefore, you’re it!”Cherry thumbed her nose at him. He fake-pouted. They snickered and embraced.The track was a straight-away that curved into a hairpin turn and straightened out like a concentric letter B.Cherry slid to the front to see who was racing. Junior used his size to nudge people out of his way and leaned on the metal railing next to her.Two racers took their positions by the stoplight. One was massive with a spiked shell and the other wore a red cap. No mistaking them.“Cherry!”“I see them too!”The stoplight began to flash. Bowser grabbed a banana peel someone left on a nearby railing and set it against one of Mario‘s back tires.At the green light, Bowser took off. Mario spun out on the banana peel and got a face-full of dust.“Playing fair is for wimps!” Bowser roared as he sped by. He went so fast that his hair blew straight back. Cherry covered her nose so the dirt behind his Kart wouldn‘t make her sneeze.Mario finally got his Kart going. He depressed the gas and zipped down the track towards Bowser, shouting, “Stronzo!”  Their engines roared around the corner towards the hairpin curve. Bowser kept trying to edge Mario off the track. They were shouting at each other and— Cherry couldn‘t believe it— laughing. That was her dad, the man who iced over at the mere mention of Bowser. Did they make up?Smoke rose from their wheels constantly bumping together. They drifted around the curve on screeching tires, Bowser in the lead. Ten feet from the finish line, Mario grabbed a Blooper someone tossed over the railing and flung it in front of Bowser. Ink splattered Bowser’s face, blinding him. He fishtailed into the bushes while trying to rub his eyes. Mario crossed the checkered line as Toads cheered.“Wahoo!” He pumped his fists in the air.“You pesky pipe-pissing plumber!” Bowser roared, scooping the inky goop off his face.Mario stood up on the seat of his Kart with his hands on his hips. He leaned back and laughed. “Someone once-a said ‘playing fair is for wimps!’”“And it‘s a damn good quote, too! Because I made it up.”Junior turned away from their banter and stared wide-eyed at Cherry. “Are you seeing what I‘m seeing? Are they actually joking with each other?”“They must have talked about mom.” Cherry replied. “Let‘s follow them!”“I— oof!” Junior tripped over his own tail in his haste to catch up with her. “I feel like I‘m in a mirror universe where everybody has a goatee.”They followed Mario and Bowser into a bright orange tent with two pads covered in arrows on the floor. In front of them was a screen full of moving arrows corresponding to the pads.Mario focused on hitting the arrows under his feet.But Bowser? Bowser began to all-out breakdance. For such a huge, beefy guy, he was ridiculously athletic. Drops, six-steps, freezes, the turtle, air chairs, a huge windmill and he finished up by spinning around on his shell to win the game.The five-minute routine left him gasping and sweating, but he rolled back to his feet and shot Mario a smug look.Mario smirked. They shook hands.They. Shook. Hands.Whatever competition they had, it was over and they were even.“Wow.” Cherry raised her eyebrows as Mario looked her way. All he did was smile at her with a twinkle in his eye.Junior backpedaled when Bowser glanced towards him. Bowser steered Mario to a corner by grabbing his shoulder and pushing him that direction, and they resumed their conversation.“We better leave them alone to do their business,“ Cherry said, tugging on Junior’s arm. “C‘mon, let‘s go get some hot dogs. I‘m hungry.”“Hot dogs!” Junior grinned. “Big, fat juicy hot dogs with so much stuff on ‘em that they spill everywhere.” “Exactly! The best kind!”“I don‘t mean to brag, but—“ He pretended to polish his claws on his chest, “I can eat six hot dogs at once if I want.”Cherry burst out laughing. “I‘d like to see that!”“You asked for it.” Junior said, leading her to the hot dog vendor and pulling a sack of coins from his shell. “How many for you? Just one? With iced melon tea? Medium? Gotcha.” He tapped the counter until the cook showed up. “Seven hot dogs, a medium melon iced tea and a jumbo lemonade, please.”The vendor stated the price. Junior paid before Cherry could pull the coins out of her pocket.Moments later, the hot dogs and drinks arrived on a plastic tray that Junior carried to a secluded picnic table under a fat apple tree. The wooden bench creaked from his weight when he dropped himself onto it.Their drinks were easy to tell apart since Cherry’s pink tea came in a clear plastic glass, while his yellow lemonade had a lid and straw.“Just kick me if this gets too gross for you.”Snickering, she picked up her hot dog and bit into it. Relish, mustard, ketchup and even bits of onion splattered back onto her tray. She let the different tastes sting her tongue.It was hard not to laugh at how awful Junior‘s table manners could be when he decided to not care about them. He stuffed all six hot dogs into his mouth, bit down and half the condiments on them squished out between his teeth to stick onto his chin.“Junior!” Cherry almost spat out her melon tea. He chewed loud enough to hear over the susurrus of carnival chaos and shoved the back halves of all those hot dogs into his jaws to finish them off.It was disgusting and hilarious. He winked at her, wiped his palm across his mouth and gulped his lemonade.Anyone who didn‘t know him would think him an ill-mannered buffoon, but she knew better. You‘re so funny. Cherry thought. She picked up a napkin and gingerly wiped the mess off Junior‘s chin. They stopped and stared into each others‘ eyes.“You‘re a lot like your dad,“ said Cherry, laying her tiny hand on top of his huge one.“Uh, thanks!” He smiled sweetly.She did, too, and then sobered.“Junior, whatever happens in the future— if you start having heart troubles, please listen to the doctors.”“Cherry?”“Just promise.”Junior blinked and licked his fingers. “Okay, I promise, but I had stents put in so I won’t have those kinds of problems. I just had my five year echo and angio last year, and Neil said everything looks great. You, um, you didn’t used to worry.”She smiled sheepishly. “I searched up Crash on the internet. It scared the heck out of me. It went into all these details about the complications. Aortic dissections, embolisms, valve regurgitation, dilated cardiomyopathy, arrhythmias. I had to look up what all of those meant, and I couldn’t sleep that night.”“Yeaaaah, reading about Crash is nightmare material. But I promise I’m okay. Mine got treated.”“Don’t you have a regurgitating valve right now?”He shook his head. “My mitral valve is prolapsing, or being a little floppy, it’s not leaking. Neil isn’t worried.”“What about Bowser? He looks so tired all the time. Is he okay?”Her line of questioning bumbled into one of his worst fears, and he didn’t want to sit with it for long.Junior’s expression darkened. “Dad is fine. He isn‘t gonna die any time soon.”Cherry picked up on his discomfort. She sighed, wiping a dark brown lock of hair behind her ear. “Sorry. I just— I didn’t know how serious it could get, and I know how hard it is to lose someone close to you too soon.”“Aw, Cherry, I‘m not going anywhere, and neither is my dad, so—““HUZZAH!” Bowser jumped out from behind the tree.“Eep!” Cherry’s heart leapt into her throat.“GAH!” Junior toppled off the bench. He hit the ground at the same time the High Striker bell rang, and squirmed around on his back while Bowser laughed.“Bowser!” Cherry held her chest. Her racing heart gave way to laughter. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”“What?” Bowser fixed her in a hard stare.Heart attack jokes were the only kind of jokes he didn’t find funny.“Sorry,” she murmured, “That slipped out.”Bowser cooled and waved it off. “I have to talk to Junior for a minute.” His eyes were brighter than she had ever seen them, as if the weight of the world blew off his shoulders. He dumped a handful of coins into her hand. “Scram, this is Koopa-to-Koopa business. Go play some games or something.” “Are you planning a prank?”“Maybe.”“Is someone going to cry?”He grinned, “Maybe.”  Cherry playfully tossed her napkin at Bowser‘s head. She finished her iced tea and slid off the bench, taking her trash with her. “Okay, I’ll play along and disappear. Junior, come find me when you‘re done.”Junior nodded, giving a thumb‘s up. Bowser leaned over and said something in his ear. His eyes lit up and he grabbed Bowser’s upper arms.She put her trash in the bin and followed the ringing bell to the High Striker..oJunior’s reality moved at a snail‘s pace as Bowser said the magic words into his ear: “I worked everything out, kid. Mario is okay with you marrying Cherry.” “Wait? For real?”“Yup.”“Dad!” Junior yanked Bowser into a tight embrace, his face buried in his shoulder. Tears spilled out of his eyes. “We’re barely on our first date!”Bowser nuzzled their cheeks together. “So? You two loved each other from the word go. When you let go of somebody you love and they come back, they’re meant to be yours. Why waste time dating and goofing around when you know what you want?”“Do you think she wants it?” Junior muffled into his dad’s shoulder.“I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t think so. C’mon, kiddo.” Bowser lightly scratched the sides of his arms with his claws. “Hey, look at me.”Sniffling, Junior straightened and found Bowser’s expression unusually composed. Bowser reached into his shell and pulled out a small black box. In it was a beautiful gold ring. Several diamonds were set in a tiny Koopa shell frame. The clear, faceted stones sparkled like polychromatic stars in the sunlight. His eyes glistened with tears as he gazed down at it. “The diamonds were one of Peach’s earrings. She lost it the first time I grabbed her. I had it made into this to propose to her. It’s old, Junior, and I guess it wasn’t meant for my wedding. This belongs on Cherry’s finger.”“Dad?” Junior met Bowser’s eyes.Tears spilled onto Bowser’s cheeks when he smiled, his mouth trembling. “I buried it on Peach’s grave after Mario took Cherry away. I thought I was burying a dead dream, but I planted a seed instead. I dug this thing up the day Cherry came back. It’s been cried on, dragged through the mud, stepped on and forgotten about, and if it can shine like this after that, so can your love.”He closed the box and pressed it into Junior’s hands, never breaking eye contact.“Love is a promise, remember? Now you go and propose to her. Look her in the eye, get down on one knee and flip the box open. Don’t drop the ring, and don’t throw up.”Junior slapped his elbow for that. “Dad!”Bowser dabbed the tears off his face with his thumbs. “Hey, nerves are awful. Don’t let them win.”Realization dawned in Junior’s eyes. He closed the box and clutched it between his palms.“You planned this. The tulip was the start, wasn’t it?”Bowser smiled roguishly. “I’ve been looking out for your heart your whole life, Junior. Now go get her.”“What if she freaks out? This is sudden as hell, and Peach—““What if she doesn’t freak out? What if she says yes?” Bowser’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don‘t ruin it by getting drunk after you propose. Unless she says no, but she won’t. Now go get your girl.”“Dad…are you sure this isn’t too soon?”Bowser clenched his jaw, and Junior knew he tried his patience.“No. The younger you two marry, the longer you can boss people around. Now stop stalling! No kidnapping unless she says no!”Junior laughed and sprinted into the crowd..oA thick, wide oak tree shaded the picnic table by the High Striker where a princess and two Sledge Brothers gathered.Black never ceased to be hilarious. Cherry texted him random words, and he tried to pronounce them out loud. He texted her random words, and she guessed how they were signed.Jack sat with his cane folded on the table next to him. He kept almost choking on his meatball sandwich because of their antics.“How do you say it?” Black signed to Jack.Jack pulled the phone close to his good eye. He let Black press his hand under his chin while he said the words.“Funnel cake.”Jack did it again, slower, sounding out each syllable.Black tried to say it, but it sounded so much like fuck yay that Cherry buried her face in her forearm, practically crying from mirth.Jack took a bite of his sandwich. He extended two fingers on both hands and tapped them together. Black slapped the table and guffawed.“Is that what I said?” He gestured.“Yup.” Cherry moved her fist up and down like a nodding head.They cackled together, red-faced.“Your turn.” Black signed one-handed. He texted her a word.“Hmm…”Cherry held something imaginary cupped in her hand and mimed peeling it.Black pointed, stomped his feet and giggled. He lifted one finger and made the peeling motion. That was how Cherry learned the Koopa Sign for banana.  She smiled, moving her finger towards her mouth and pretending to eat it. Black grabbed her hand, laughing. He held up a finger and texted her.“Oh, geez!” Her face turned red. “Is that what I signed?”Black wheezed so loud he sounded like a train. He signed, “There is more than one way, but you did one of them!”Jack interpreted for her as he finished the first chunk of his meatball sandwich. He ate neatly, hardly letting a crumb fall.His phone beeped, so he took it out of his shell, slid the back of the neon green phone case down, exposing a bunch of tiny metal holes, and the information on the screen popped up on the back of the phone as silver braille dots. He ran his fingers over them without having to change his grip.Black looked over when Jack smacked his arm, signed something and watched him closely. “What’s up?” Cherry asked.Jack smirked, pointing to Black. “Just got a soccer score. The Tsunamis beat the Hurricanes. This smug goon owes me money.”Black ripped a meatball out of Jack’s sandwich and ate it.Junior emerged between two balloon vendors. He jogged over upon spotting her.“Hi, Cherry. I’ll talk to you in a sec. I have to talk to Black first.”“Sure.” She grinned as he kissed her forehead. “My mom used to say ‘no hurry, the day is young and so are we.’”He smiled, patted Black’s muscular upper arm and nodded towards the tree behind the table..o“Dad says he worked it out. I’m going to propose to her.” Junior signed frantically, eyes wide. “Help me, how did you propose to Ludwig? How did it go?”Black waited until Junior’s frenzied movements stopped. He gestured at his eyes while making soft peh-peh noises in the back of his throat. His hands didn’t go into motion until Junior focused fully on him. The black, diamond-encrusted wedding band on his left middle finger caught the sun in a series of streaky sparkles.“Ludwig and I proposed to each other at the same time on the night of his first symphony. I went in before the performance because I couldn’t wait until after. I lowered to one knee and asked the question. He got down on one knee with me and proposed back. We laughed until we cried. Sometimes we think with one mind!”He waggled his eyebrows and grinned, black eyes bright.“You asked me how you know it’s love. You were little, but you asked. Do you understand now?”Junior remembered Black telling him it felt like hunger, and he was right. He stood chest high to Black when he asked that. Now Black stood chest high to him.“I don’t want to look stupid.” He signed it so hard that he slapped the back of his hand into his other palm with two extended fingers rather than strike his forehead.Black took his face between both hands, stared him intensely in the eyes and signed back, “Everybody looks stupid proposing. Be yourself and she will love you for it.”He inhaled, moving his spread hands in and out over his chest. “Breathe with me.”Junior obeyed. They took three deep breaths together. In through the nose, out from the mouth. His racing heart slowed to a less chaotic pace and his whirling thoughts collected into sensibility.Black tilted his head towards Cherry, his spiky black hair flopping side to side.“Approach her with love in your heart and the rest follows. I promise,” he signed.Nodding, Junior brought his hand up to his mouth and moved it forward. “Thank you.”Black flipped his hand over against his chest. “You’re welcome. Go on. I’ll get Jack out of there.”He went to the table first and signed into Jack’s hand instead of near his face.“Looks like he’s ready for round two of funnel cakes.” Jack smiled at Cherry. “We’ll be right back.”“Sure!” Cherry sat up straighter, putting her phone away.Jack signed to Black, “You’re a wingman today?”Black tugged on his arm and signed into his hand as they walked. “Yes, and it’s important. Move.”Jack unfolded his cane. He gripped Black’s elbow. They made themselves scarce.And suddenly Cherry sat alone at the table, her wind blown ponytail glistening in the sun. The red T-shirt and denim jumper reminded Junior of the outfit she wore when they met a lifetime ago.Junior swallowed, his mouth dry, and sat across from her at the table with his hands folded on the tabletop. The box containing the ring was clutched between his palms, hidden by his thick fingers.“I love you.” He blurted it as his butt landed on the wooden bench.Cherry’s big blue eyes softened. “I was waiting to hear you say that.” She clasped her hands on his, unaware of what they concealed. “I love you, too.”His heart sped up again. He moved his fingers, slowly revolving the hidden velvet box against his palm. Its top was domed and the bottom flat. She leaned in and kissed him. “We said it. Now what?”Junior grinned crookedly because her question gave him the words he needed.“This is nuts. We’re on our first date, but we’ve known each other a long time, right?”“Feels like forever.” Cherry’s cheeks flushed. She was there, with her freckles, and her nose, and her eyes, so perfect, so right. “Back when we were kids, I, um…I had a crush on you.”When their eyes met again, she giggled. “I only ever told mom about it.”“Me, too.” Junior swallowed again, his mouth kept doing fantastic impressions of a desert. “Except I never told anybody. I didn’t know what I was feeling. But now I do.”Her hands pressed tighter over his. “Can we stay like this forever?”“Like what?”“In this feeling.”Junior smiled. There it was.“Yes.” He stood, which encouraged her to stand up, too.With his eyes locked on hers, he sank gracefully to one knee, flipped the velvet box open with his thumb and presented the ring. The diamonds scintillated in the dappled sunlight filtering through the tree leaves.“Cherry Toadstool, will you marry me so we can stay like this forever?”Cherry’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. Her breathing accelerated. Tears welled in her eyes as her fingers trembled.“On our first date?” She whispered.He grinned roguishly. “Who says we can’t go on more dates?”Her melodious laughter was music. She knelt, hugged and kissed him.Against his mouth, she said, “Yes. Let’s be like this forever.”Cherry extended her left hand, and Junior almost slid the ring onto her middle finger. She wiggled the finger next to it and he corrected himself.They kissed again, slow and deep amid shining sunbeams.Applause broke out. Junior hadn’t noticed people gathering to watch the proposal. Bowser walked out from behind the apple tree with Mario at his side. Jack and Black flanked him. Mario looked ridiculously small next to the muscular Sledge Brothers.Bowser had his phone in his hand. Junior wondered how many pictures he took. There was probably video footage, too.Cherry buried her face in Junior’s neck and hugged him tighter.“Mom would be really happy right now,” she whispered.Junior toyed with her ponytail, “She’s watching. She knows.”“The planning is going to be nuts, you know that, right?”He chuckled. “I can stage a kidnapping if it gets too hectic.”“Ooh.”“Um, Cherry?”“What?”“I knelt in somebody’s gum.”“You didn’t.”Junior stood slowly. Strings of pink sticky goo clung to his left knee.Cherry clapped her hands and doubled over laughing. “Oh, no!”Off to the side, Bowser elbowed Mario. Mario looked up at him. They smiled at each other. Jack and Black slapped hands.Junior’s phone beeped. Bowser texted him a photo of the moment he got down on one knee.Can I put this on ClawBook? Junior texted back the affirmative. He looked down as Cherry used napkins to scrape the gum off his knee.“Sorry.”“Don’t be. It’s hilarious.” She grinned up at him. “It wouldn’t work if something dorky didn’t happen.”“I’m going to dork up the wedding, too.”“You better.”They chortled.Not a second later, Junior’s phone blew up with his siblings congratulating him..oThe next five months were filled with stress and wedding plans. A mile long guest list, reception details, ceremony details, places where Koopa and Mushroom cultures could mingle and the astronomical cost of the whole thing.Cherry and Junior hired and fired several wedding planners— they figured planning the wedding themselves would be easier than having a stranger tell them what to do. Their wedding cake was going to have twelve tiers. Chocolate cake tiers alternated between Koopa shells and Mushrooms, whipped cream frosting drizzled in more chocolate with cherries around the edges. It would feed an army!Junior and Cherry talked about serving exotic delicacies for the reception, but quickly changed their plans when they realized how impersonal it would be. Plus, a lot of Koopa delicacies would freak out the Mushroom Kingdom locals, and the Mushroom Kingdom delicacies would be too small to satisfy Koopas, who were big eaters. Morton alone would destroy the entire buffet!They decided to have Cheep-Cheep kabobs and pasta cooked en masse. The exotic part would be the drinks— various Mushroom and Koopa wines, beers and punches. They added finger-foods, too, like carrot sticks, meat platters and cheese. At one point, they grabbed books from the libraries of their castles and sat down into read etiquette how-to books for both Mushroom and Koopa weddings. Both cultures contradicted each other in so many ways!“This is nuts!” Cherry exclaimed after dropping her book.“Welcome to wedding planning!” Junior threw his book across the room.They looked at each other, laughing..oTwo kings who never thought they would work together did exactly that. Mario invited Bowser to the Mushroom Castle, and they met in the study, a room off to the side of the throne room. All around them, scrolls lined shelves along the sky blue marble walls. Sunlight and a cool breeze came through the large open window that faced south.Mario and Bowser poured over paperwork. Some sheets were palimpsests of pencil markings that only got inked after both came to agreements on what they said.They created treaties, signed mergers on their land and prepared the royal marriage license.The guards were nervous, lots of shifty eyes and shuffling feet.Bowser’s noisy breathing didn’t escape Mario’s notice. The aging Koopa King looked like he outran death on foot and still expected it to clobber him at any moment.“What’re you gawking at?” Bowser caught him looking. He smirked, “You think I’m sexy, or something?”Mario wrinkled his nose. “I don’t swing-a that way.”“Does Luigi?”He paled. “What?”Bowser bared his sharp teeth in uproarious, booming laughter. “BWHAHAHA! Oh, your face!” He’s trying to ruffle you. Calm down. Mario drew a deep breath, and yet again he noticed Bowser’s breathlessness after his mirth passed.A few minutes later, Bowser took a green pill bottle out of his shell and popped something under his tongue.“They decided on dashed last names,” he rumbled.“It-a was Cherry’s idea.” Mario eyed the enormous Koopa crouched awkwardly by the table. “What’s-a with your heart?”“Huh?”“Crash. Cherry mentioned it-a once. What is that?”Bowser stashed the pill bottle in his shell again. He smiled wryly. “Crash is a nickname for a condition called Restrictive Coronary Artery Hypoplasia and Sclerosis.”“What a mouthful-a.”“Yup. That’s why they call it Crash. All it means is my coronary arteries didn’t grow right and they’re hardening up like pipes as I get older.”Bowser rubbed a hand down the middle of his face. He glanced up at the clock on his left and sank to sit on the floor. “Friggin’ nitros drop my blood pressure.”Mario set his fountain pen aside and cocked an eyebrow. Was Bowser’s snout supposed to be pale like that?“Is something the matter?”“I don’t know yet. Just sign papers and shove them over here. I’ll sign everything after I’m done being woozy.”Guards poked their heads into the door, their speckled caps almost bumping into each other. Mario waved them off and tried to focus on the scroll in front of him, but the sound of panting kept distracting him.Bowser snagged his pen in his left hand and signed what Mario passed to him. He took the time to read, first, squinting as if he couldn’t quite see the text.Finally, Mario took down the magnifying glass sitting on a nearby bookshelf. It was rectangular with an LED light across one side of the lens.“They write-a too small sometimes,” he said.“Hmph.” Bowser held it delicately between thumb and forefinger and suddenly read a lot faster.They continued that way for a while, neither speaking.As time went on, Bowser looked worse than he did fifteen minutes ago, his snout pale and his face sweaty. He checked the clock again.“Hey, Mario?”“Yes?”“Can your medics treat a heart attack?”Mario forgot their paperwork. He crossed past the table to kneel in front of him.“Of course.”Bowser pressed his hand hard against his chest, slid it up to rub his lower jaw and moved it to grasp his left shoulder. He peered at Mario through glazed, unfocused eyes limned in fear.“Call them. I’m having one.”Sweat dampened Mario’s hands inside his white gloves. Years ago, he saw Bowser collapse aboard his airship after a failed attempt to kidnap Peach, and he looked just as ashen now as he did then.“Are you sure?”“Yeah, I’m—“ Bowser grabbed his snout, doubled forward and vomited chunky grayish-green liquid across Mario’s brand new shoes. It was as hot as a shower from his body heat.Mario’s stomach turned over. He bolted for the window and stuck his head out to be sick himself. Luigi couldn’t puke without him and Peach’s morning sickness made him puke with her. Now Bowser joined the ranks of triggering his sympathy vomit.He was still heaving when he pulled his phone out to dial..o.o

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Crushing pain had Bowser toppled onto his side a few feet away from the mess he made. The musty, sour scent of his vomit threatened to nauseate him all over again. Mario hastily threw a tablecloth over the lake of puke seeping into the ornate rug, which helped control the stench.

Footsteps rushed around. Toad medics arrived, evidenced by the red crosses on their colorful caps. They looked at Bowser like he might eat them, and he bared his teeth as if considering it.

The bravest one approached Bowser and hooked ECG leads to his chest. They were tiny black squares rather than large, round gray or white cups. Three different people tried to stick his arms and hands with needles, and the pathetically tiny needles bent against his scales without penetrating.

The calmest person in the room was the green-capped Toad doctor who stared off into space while everybody else panicked about how to draw blood and inject medicine.

A nurse addressed him. “Doctor Murphtoad, we can’t get any needles into his veins!”

“Beltoada, it’s all right.” Murphtoad held up a finger to silence her. The way his eyes glazed over in thought was strikingly similar to Lemmy.

“What’re you staring at?” Bowser barked at the two Toad medics leaning over him, and they leapt back.

“Hold it! I know someplace he isn’t armored.”

Murphtoad got in Bowser’s face with a grim expression. He did not make direct eye contact or waste time with social niceties.

“I have to stick a needle in your mouth to draw blood. Open wide, please, and lift your tongue.”

Bowser complied with it because this guy knew what he was doing.

Murphtoad squirted something bitter in his mouth and plunged the needle into a vein on the bottom of his tongue.

It burned like lava. Not as painful as the pericardiocentesis he got a long time ago, but it ranked pretty close, and tasting coppery blood after wasn’t pleasant either.

Murphtoad passed two Vacutainer tubes off to Beltoada, stood back with his gloved hands clasped, and watched the tracings on the ECG.

“You have first degree heart block,” he noted with a hint of a smile.

“Not new,” Bowser grumbled. “Had it for years.”

Murphtoad turned his head and stared off into space again. His eyes came back into focus after a moment.

“The heart attack is taking place on the right side. You’re showing T-wave inversions, this is a NSTEMI.”

“Big whoop.”

“Calm down, being angry makes it worse.”

Bowser spat a fireball at Murphtoad, but all the little jerk did was step aside. The flame scorched the wall behind him.

Mario kept gagging. Bowser smirked, watching his eyes tear up.

People paced back and forth, yammering on their phones. Maids dressed in purple cleaned the puke off the floor with a liquid vacuum cleaner.

Someone gave Mario chewable pills to stop his dry heaving. He bent to speak to Murphtoad once he quit retching. Whatever he asked got a nod in reply.

Footsteps continued to pitter-patter around.

Murphtoad checked something on a piece of paper the nurse brought to him.

“Your troponin levels are very high. The artery has been blocked for at least twenty four hours. I’m going to inject TTPN now to break up the clot.”

No mincing words. Bowser liked that.

Murphtoad came forward again with a new needle and once more Bowser endured the pain in his mouth. Worse, this time, because of the injection.

The stabbing sensation in his chest shrank, but didn’t entirely disappear. His coronary arteries went into spasms, adding to his misery.

Koopa Troopas showed up. Young interns learning to be paramedics, judging by their yellow armbands.

Mario talked to them in a hushed voice.

Black trampled in pulling a gurney with a bag of equipment on top. He took Bowser’s blood pressure, gloved up and jabbed an IV catheter into his caudal vein. His needle pokes were a lot harder than Judy’s.

After he taped that down, he uncoiled the clear oxygen tubing, fit the cannula into Bowser’s nostrils and draped the rest over his horns.

“Breathe. I’ll take care of you,” he signed.

“Excuse me.” Murphtoad spoke to Black.

Black turned his head in time to see him do it and pointed to the writing on the side of his light green medic helmet stating,

I am deaf.

Murphtoad blinked, paused and whipped out his phone to type at lightning speed. He showed Black the screen. Black read it, gave a thumbs up and charted what he saw.

“Peh-peh?” He tapped Bowser’s shoulder, seeking his attention.

Bowser looked up at him.

Black gestured, “We will move you when your vitals stabilize. Is your chest still painful?”

“Ugh…” Bowser nodded once, wincing.

Black drew up something clear in a syringe and pushed it into the IV catheter he inserted. He held Bowser’s hand as he gazed down at him through confident, reassuring eyes.

“Hold on, King Dad,” Black signed one-handed. He watched the ECG tracing, signing again, “Take deep breaths. Your SATs are ninety-five.”

Bowser inhaled deeply through his nose a few times. The unbearable pressure in his chest triggered more nausea. Black got a puke bag over his snout in time for him to heave again. Only bitter bile came up.

Across the room, Mario looked green and averted his gaze to the floor.

“How is your chest pain now?” Black signed, brow furrowed.

“I don’t know yet,” Bowser signed back, mid-heave.

He relaxed, pushed the bag away and waited with his eyes closed while he processed his body’s signals. His chest still felt like a cement block. Throwing up didn’t help, but he wasn’t any worse after.

Bowser opened his eyes and signed, “The pain is less than before.”

Black nodded, fingers flicking, “Your SATs are rising. This is as stable as you can be. It’s time to move. Do you need help getting on the gurney?”

“No.” Bowser tried doing it himself.

The fatigue smashed him onto the floor as soon as he reached a sitting position. Black caught him and helped him slide over to lay on his stomach. Gray straps swished across his shell as Black fastened him in place.

“Hey, hey-hey!” Black’s shout got everyone’s attention. He waved and pointed.

The Koopa Troopas surrounded the gurney. A few looked on nervously.

“Good luck, Bowser,” Mario said as they guided Bowser out into the corridor.

.o

Wedding planning became the one of the most stressful things Junior experienced in his life— second only to his dad’s heart attacks. So it was a great relief when Cherry suggested they sneak out to run away for a while.

They took a warp zone and bolted through the mushroom forest towards the familiar vine-festooned green pipe to outside-outside. The once-verdant landscape withered as the last weeks of fall prepared for the coming winter.

When they arrived, Cherry threw a huge, hooded black cloak to him.

“Put this on.”

“Why?” Junior wriggled through the velvet until the cape covered him completely, leaving only his enormous clawed hands, saurian feet, the tip of his tail and snout exposed.

“It’s not Halloween, you’ll be recognized as not human.” Cherry replied. “I want to show you something.”

She wore a heavy red coat with fur around the hood, blue jeans and brown ankle boots. Her dark hair was coiled into two braids falling against her chest. Definitely not a costume.

They grasped each others’ hands and leapt inside the pipe. Colorful, bright light drew them across dimensions.

The sewer they tumbled into was dingier and filthier than Junior remembered. Somewhere, a rat squeaked.

“You ate a cigarette the last time we were here,” Cherry giggled.

“I remember.” He grinned, all teeth. “It tasted like crap. I didn’t know they had them in outside-outside. Koopa cigarettes are a lot longer and have black paper.”

She teasingly pulled his hood forward over his eyes and leapt over a railing to reach a ladder leading up.

Junior was much smaller the last time he came here. Not even his toe fit on the rungs, so he opted to climb by digging his claws into the concrete beside the ladder instead and hauled himself up. Koopas were natural climbers, so it was no effort to him.

Outside-outside and the Mushroom Kingdom didn’t always sync up their days and nights. Junior discovered that when he followed Cherry through the huge manhole in the street.

Black skies went on forever overhead. Frosty air stung his face. It snowed recently, judging by the wet smell and the temperature of the asphalt under his feet, but it already melted, leaving a crisp chill behind.

Decorations marked many buildings— colorful lights, a fat, white-bearded guy in a red suit sitting in a sleigh pulled by eight hoofed creatures with antlers, weird oversized red and white striped canes, and snowmen wearing black top hats. Other buildings depicted a stable where a baby lay on a pile of hay while his parents, a bunch of animals, people carrying hooks and three robed men appeared to worship him.

Two houses had white lights on their eves, and in their front windows were elaborate candelabras bearing nine lit candles. The first house used real candles on their gold candelabra, the other house had a silver one with white bulbs shaped like flames.

“Is it some kind of festival?” Junior asked, his breath steaming in the frigid evening air.

Cherry beckoned to him. “Yes, and we have to hurry. Come on, we’re taking the subway.”

“They have those here?”

“Yep!”

They had to stop to pay. Cherry exchanged green paper for tickets. Junior climbed over the turnstile because there was no way he could fit through the gap.

Outside-outside subway stations were almost identical to what they had in Koopa City, albeit this one looked dirtier and riddled with graffiti. Junior noticed a pile of feces by the wall.

The arriving train roared as it slowed to a stop. Many people disembarked. A few gave Junior curious looks, though it never went beyond that.

Once onboard, Cherry stayed close by Junior’s side. The subway car smelled awful, like the halitosis and sweaty clothing.

Junior almost leapt out of his skin when a brown hand grasped his tail. A startled elderly woman jolted back into her seat. Her salt and pepper braids reminded him of the way Sienna styled her hair.

“Oh, I get it,” She adjusted her thick yellow-framed glasses, “You’re one of those cosplayers who go to conventions, aren’t you?”

“Cos-huh?” Junior cocked a bushy eyebrow, most of his face hidden by his hood. “Yeah, sure, I am.”

The lady smiled and went back to her knitting. “I went to Star Trek conventions back in the eighties. Always as Uhura.”

“Nice.” Junior looked at Cherry for any hints as to what that woman meant, but she shrugged.

Mercifully, the train stopped and the old lady hobbled off with her canvas bag full of knitting supplies.

“How many more stops?” Junior groaned.

“One more.” Cherry leaned on a pole.

The station they arrived at was a lot more crowded. Junior thought he saw a lot of humans on Halloween. There were so many! And Cherry blended right in!

Junior tucked his tail forward as far as he could. Not comfortable, but better than people constantly touching it.

He wasn’t sorry to leave the stuffy train car at the next stop. Cherry stayed close at his side, gently nudging him in whichever direction they needed to go. He climbed over another turn style, much to the shock of an onlooking human, and rejoined the throng ascending an escalator.

Somebody smoked a cigarette somewhere. Cherry coughed on the smell.

After the escalator, a staircase back out into the city where traffic jammed the streets and buildings were closer together. It wasn’t much different from Koopa City.

Lights draped the trees like the stars fell down to sit on the branches. Giant screens broadcast something about Christmas cheer.

They passed a store displaying flatscreen TVs. One commercial showed the bearded old man in the red suit fainting while two round creatures shouted in shock that he existed.

Junior laughed, his breath fogging around his mouth. “Lemmy would hate how loud it is here.”

“No kidding! We’re crossing left here!” Cherry pointed to the crosswalk.

Yellow taxis and gray buses rumbled among the cars. Junior swiped an unattended hamburger patty off a street vendor’s grill and ate it in one gulp, and he was gone before the vendor noticed what happened.

He eyed a sign on the side of a bus stop. 5th avenue, whatever that meant.

They passed many storefronts. Nike. Victoria’s Secret. Lego. There was an elaborate cathedral across the street from a gold statue carrying a sphere.

Lights reflected off damp asphalt. An idling bus rumbled. Horns honked. Shoes clomped on the pavement. A baby cried somewhere.

Everywhere, life emitted its own susurrus.

Cherry led him around one more corner and Junior noticed rows of statues shaped like winged humans holding trumpets. The human equivalent to Koopa Paratroopas?

She took his hand, since the masses of humans thickened. He towered over all of them, so he used his size to nudge people aside.

Together, they made their way to the edge of an ice skating rink.

Music blasted. People cheered. Spotlights illuminated the branches of an immense pine tree.

“What’s going on?” Junior wondered.

Cherry smiled brightly, clasping his hand. “This is what I brought you here for. Watch the tree, it’ll be amazing.”

People in the crowd began counting down from ten to one. At one, a star topping the tree lit, followed by hundreds of thousands of tiny colorful lights. Everyone erupted into cheers and celebration. Cell phone cameras flashed. Spotlights danced against the bloated, misty sky.

And at that moment, diaphanous snow trickled down from above.

Cherry looked beautiful with white flecks dotting her hair. The cold gave her cheeks a rosy pink tint. She beamed up at him, blue eyes aglow.

He bent over, cupped her cheek in his palm and kissed her soft lips.

“The tree looks pretty, but you’re beautiful.”

“Junior,” she whispered.

Their gazes locked as their foggy breath mingled in ephemeral swirls. The lights on the tree glistened in her eyes like a paracosm reflecting the future.

In a few days, he was going with his dad to pick out a tuxedo for his wedding to this wonderful woman. Life couldn’t get more perfect.

Junior closed his eyes when Cherry leaned up to kiss him again. Then they stood together, wrapped in each other as they gazed up at the colorful tree amid the delicate falling snow.

“Thanks for bringing me here. This is nice,” said Junior.

“The perfect break from all the planning, eh?”

“Mmhmm. Nothing to worry about. Just us, here, now.”

Cherry leaned on him, small and wonderful. He breathed the cherry scent clinging to her hair. The moment became a latibule tucked safely in the treasure chest of his memory.

After a long while, they began their stroll back the way they came. Many people still dotted the streets, but less than before.

“New York is a funny place. Some say it’s protected from above and below by creatures nobody is sure they saw,” Cherry said as they walked. “They made a cartoon and movies about it!”

Right when she spoke, Junior swore he saw something lavender glide from one rooftop to another on immense bat-like wings.

“Yeah,” he remarked. “Those kinds of things are just stories here?”

“Yup, pretty sure.”

Somebody walked by playing a handheld game, its logo spelling out Nintendo DS. Junior swore he saw Mario— much younger with dark hair— jump over a green pipe on the tiny screen, but the gamer was already boarding a bus.

Outside-outside sure is a weird place,

he thought.

Cherry’s breath puffed white steam around her mouth.

They descended the stairs of the subway station and rode an escalator down. Junior wrinkled his nose upon smelling a mix of sweaty old clothes, halitosis and urine. Somebody at the bottom of the escalator exhaled clouds of the foul smelling smoke. Their cigarette looked wrapped and pointy, not flat.

Cherry fanned smoke away from her face as they crossed onto the platform. They arrived just in time to board. She sat on a seat that time, while he stood guard nearby.

People stared, though none approached. They left the subway behind after a few stops. Nobody bothered them as they skirted side streets to lift the manhole cover they arrived through.

“Uh, better let me go first.” Junior eyed the ladder he had no intention of touching.

Cherry gestured.

He jumped into the void, landing on his feet. A hard, jarring landing, but he fell from higher without injury before.

“Junior!” She shouted down.

“I’m fine!” Junior laughed.

Somebody left an open pizza box near a grate. He looked up to watch Cherry descend the ladder. A breeze whizzed past him, probably from the subway passing by.

“Check it out, somebody littered,” He pointed.

“Really, where?”

“Huh?” The pizza box wasn’t there anymore. He shrugged. “I guess it blew away.”

She burst out laughing as he doffed the cape and took a picture on her phone to explain her mirth. The static caused his hair to stand up every which way.

“Aw, man!” Junior tried to smooth it down with little success.

“Wear it like that for the wedding!” She tittered.

“Oh, that’ll look so sexy,” He made a face.

They cackled and found their way to the wide green pipe leading home. Cherry took off her fluffy coat and tied it around her waist by the sleeves. Underneath, she wore a plain white sweatshirt.

As soon as they crossed dimensions, their phones blew up with voicemails. Junior checked his first, and his laughter evaporated into the pit opening in his stomach.

“Dad had another heart attack.”

“Oh, no.” Cherry grabbed his arm. “Let’s go.”

He threw the cape on the ground and they sprinted for the nearest Darklands warp zone.

.o

Bowser rolled out of the familiar cath lab in his own castle’s medical ward. All he could smell was stinging betadine and fresh latex. Dull, shooting aches spread through his tail, but his chest felt a hundred percent better.

The grayish-white ceiling had rows of rectangular recessed parabolic troffer lights. They went by in silver flashes. His gurney swung a gentle left and he squeaked to a stop near a pale green wall.

“Don’t jump all over him. He’s still regaining consciousness.”

That smoky baritone voice belonged to Neil, the red-shelled Koopa Troopa who always wore red platform boots to look taller.

Junior, whose baritone voice was much smoother, replied, “Is he going to be okay?”

“I think so. All things considered, this was a ‘small’ one. I have to commend that young doctor Murphtoad for the sublingual vein blood draw and TTPN injection. Those tiny needles can’t penetrate Koopa scales. His quick thinking restored blood flow long enough to get King Bowser here.”

“Which artery did it this time?”

“The distal end of his right marginal branch. I pulled out what was left of the clot, performed an angioplasty and risked in a stent because the artery kept spasming shut. He won’t need more surgery, but he has to rest if he wants to recover.”

“Five heart attacks,” Junior sighed. “That’s a record, right?”

Neil clicked his tongue. “As of now, he’s the only Koopa with Crash to survive this many.”

Cherry leaned over the gurney rails while they talked. Bowser opened his eyes fully to gaze up at her when she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Hey, are you with us?”

“Mmhmm,” Bowser groaned.

“You threw up on my dad’s shoes.”

“Did I?”

“He threw up because you did. He’s a sympathy puker.”

“Oh, really?” Bowser grinned sleepily. “Good.”

She wrinkled her nose and poked the clear nasal cannula at the end of his snout. “They gave you oxygen.”

“Ugh…” He crossed his eyes to see the tube. “Black put that on me. Where’s my shell?”

“On your left. Your spikey bands are on a pillow next to it.”

“Okay. Where’d you two run off to?”

Cherry blushed, ducking her head just like Peach used to. “I kidnapped Junior and we went on a little date to outside-outside. We needed a break.”

She took out her phone, fiddled with it and showed him the selfie they took next to an enormous pine tree dripping in colorful lights.

Bowser’s eyes softened. Guilt churned in his stomach. They were so carefree, and his heart attack forced them back into worrying about him. Why did his damnable body pick the worst times to malfunction?

“Dad?” Junior rushed opposite to Cherry. His frightened, glistening eyes spoke volumes. He lowered the bed rail and hugged him tight. “It’s okay, dad, I’m here. We’re here.”

Bowser wrapped his arm around Junior. “Relax, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not!“

“Junior!” He caught Junior’s face between his hands and looked him in the eyes. “I’m

not

going to miss your wedding. Okay?”

Junior nodded, his breathing still shaky. Bowser patted his cheek and let go of him.

Cherry leaned over the rail on her side and kissed his forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll take care of him.”

He smiled at that and touched his lips to her hand. “He’s going to need you.”

Everyone reluctantly filed out, leaving behind a lovely older Koopa Troopa. The yellow ribbon tied around her head matched her shell.

“Did you miss us that much?” Judy set about smoothing his blankets and adjusting the rails.

“I guess so.”

She arched a brow. “Well, rest up. The wedding is still a long way off and you have to be in good shape for it.”

Yawning, Bowser obliged by falling asleep.

.o

The pit in Junior’s chest widened to swallow his internal organs while he paced circles around the kitchen table. Sometimes he wondered if this choking, strangling anxiety was how Lemmy felt in everyday situations.

Another heart attack. Ten years of being fine, wiped out by a piece of arterial plaque as small as a sand grain.

If there was one, there were more. How long before a heart attack ended it all?

The very thought of losing his dad twisted Junior’s innards worse than his nerves before his first date with Cherry.

“Junior, it’ll be okay. They caught it early,” Cherry said from where she sat at the table.

Their lunch— Spiny spike soup— steamed in its twin blue bowls. Junior hadn’t touched any of his.

Behind Junior’s eyes, endless images of his dad laid out in the intensive care bed with a ventilator tube in his mouth, IV’s in his tail and wires tracing his heartbeat on flatscreen monitors.

He swirled between a maelstrom of anger and terror. How could this happen now? Why, right as he proposed to the girl he loved and prepared for his wedding, did his dad have to have another heart attack? Why?

“Cherry, you don’t get it.”

Her eyes hardened for a moment, like ice. She exhaled heavily, thought better of her response and delicately set her spoon down.

“Then help me get it.”

“I don’t know how! It’s just— it’s…”

Junior grabbed his bowl and gulped his soup in three loud slurps.

“You got the worst outcome possible, once, out of the blue. It feels like that, but it happens over and over. Every time you think it’s okay to relax, BOOM, there it is again!”

Cherry’s expression softened, the icy anguish leaving her eyes. Her chair scraped. She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“That’s hard, Junior. I don’t blame you for being angry. I can’t fix it, but can I sit in it with you?”

He embraced her in return, feeling how small she was compared to him.

“Dad won’t die,” Junior said it like an oath, and his voice cracked because now it sounded like a lie.

Cherry kissed his cheek and held him while he cried on her shoulder.

.o

Bowser’s evening opened with Neil dropping by to thoroughly examine him. Auscultating his chest, pressing on all his joints in ways that were quite painful and finishing up with an echocardiogram.

“Hm, this explains the crackly chest, holosystolic murmur and swollen joints.”

“How?”

Bowser stared at the ghostly images on the sonogram screen as Neil guided the fan-shaped transducer across the middle of his scarred chest.

He didn’t know much about reading echocardiograms other than that was an apical view showing all four chambers, but he knew his heart walls weren’t supposed to look like thin, floppy pieces of paper. The mitral and tricuspid valves barely closed, the fluttering leaflets struggling to fall into place.

“You developed dilated cardiomyopathy,” Neil said grimly.

Sighing, Bowser closed his eyes. “You said something about that a long time ago.”

Neil switched to the Doppler. Amid the red and blue blobs, flashes of yellow and green jets appeared near the tricuspid and mitral valves. They were regurgitating.

“Yes. It seems my prognosis of ten years was right.”

“Okay. Where do we go from here? What are my treatment options?”

“There aren’t any, my liege. This is the end stage of Crash. If a heart attack doesn’t do it, the eventual heart failure will, and you’re in the early stages of heart failure.”

Those words entered Bowser’s ears, crashed across his skull and spun straight back out.

“What if you do the works on me if I drop? You got my heart beating again before. Three different times!”

Neil switched to a parasternal short axis view, so the screen looked like a slim, pulsating circle surrounded by static. It did not squeeze uniformly.

“Your majesty, the chances of you weaning off a ventilator the next time you’re resuscitated are almost zero. The chances of your brain surviving the hypoxia are almost zero. You have first degree heart block. Your ejection fraction is falling. Your myocardium is deteriorating. You survived with Crash beyond what statistics normally calculate, but all journeys have an end.”

“Neil—“

Neil placed his hand on top of Bowser’s and looked him squarely in the eyes. He wasn’t a touchy-feely person, so the gesture caught Bowser off-guard.

“There is no delicate way to put this. You are dying, my king.”

Onscreen, Bowser’s heart beat faster. He licked his chops, averted his eyes and inhaled. There was a strange relief in hearing the D word. He couldn’t keep his brain dancing around making excuses anymore.

“How much time do you think I have?”

“I don’t know, at this point. I gave you a prognosis of ten years, and you’ve followed my predictions.”

“Nope. I can’t—”

Neil’s hand pressed down. “Sire…”

“I can’t do this now!”

“King Bowser, how do you want to die?”

Bowser squinted at him. “What kind of question is that?”

“Your choices are to die having your chest pounded, Junior asking me to turn off your ventilator, or comfortably in your own bed with pain relief.”

Bowser wiped his free hand across his eyes to remove the tears before they welled up. Death didn’t scare him, but the idea of dying before he saw Junior get married was unbearable, almost as unbearable as being seen weak and sick.

And the thought of Junior watching a failed resuscitation effort, or having to pull the plug? He would never be able to live

or

die with that. Bowser refused to put any of his kids in such a position. They were traumatized enough by his repeated heart attacks and intensive care ward stays.

Bowser met Neil’s eyes.

“Gimme the damn DNR form. I’m done with this, but keep your trap shut.” He sneered, “Nobody tells my kids except me, you got it?”

“Whatever you want, your majesty. I’ll get the forms now.” Neil bowed, offered him tissues to wipe the gel off his chest and rolled away the sonogram equipment.

Once he was alone, Bowser sat up on the gurney and buried his face in his hands. It never escaped him that death lingered around every corner and lurked in each shadow. But it had always been a distant possibility, now it crept too close to avoid thinking about or acknowledging.

He looked upward, russet eyes glistening with tears.

I had a good life. All I ask is to see Junior get married before it’s over. C’mon universe.

.o

Vincent was the only Koopa Troopa Bowser saw in his life who could pull off a pencil mustache. He wore a prosthetic shell of deep royal purple matching his knee-high boots, and his violet eyes looked sunken into their sockets.

“You called, my king?” His smooth, low voice sounded more fit for reading horror stories.

“Mmhmm.” Bowser sat up, a gray blanket covering his unshelled back. “Neil said you’re the best of the best at embalming people after they croak.”

Vincent smiled cryptically, spreading his hands. “I embalmed his mother, so perhaps he is biased.”

Bowser folded his hands in his lap. “I trust Neil’s opinions on this stuff. I’m gonna be in that morgue sometime soon, and I want you to embalm me.”

Vincent’s eyebrows rose. “You honor me, sire. How do you wish it to be done?”

“Do the blood thing. Don’t plaster my face with makeup. Can you hide the needle marks from embalming?”

“You won’t see them if I go in through your cloacal vent. Your caudal blood vessels run across each side of it.” Vincent arched a sculpted eyebrow, murmuring, “Most people aren’t comfortable with something so intimate.”

“I’ll be dead, Vincent, I won’t know. I don’t want my kids seeing gaping holes in me when they wash my body.”

“As you wish.”

“You’re a strange guy.”

Vincent chuckled, a creaky sound. “My job is tending to the dead. That’ll make anyone strange, your royal majesty. I promise to honor you as I would my own family.”

Fatigue wore on Bowser, forcing him to lay down on his side. “Neil will call you when I need you. Thanks, Vincent, I won’t worry.”

He fell asleep before the old Koopa Troopa bid him farewell. When he woke to the empty space where Vincent stood, he realized he would be a corpse the next time they crossed paths. The thought sent chills up his spine.

Celine clomped past the privacy curtain, gold heart-shaped locket and metal cane gleaming. That poor nurse got both knees replaced two years ago, and still they bothered her.

“Are you behaving yourself?” She sniffed.

Bowser smirked. “No, that’s why I’m here.”

She bonked his head gently with the tip of her cane. “Hmph. You better start.”

He laughed while she hobbled off to review his chart.

.o

Black stopped by while Bowser slept. He left two thermoses. A silver one labeled as cactus tea, and a red one labeled blood broth soup.

The note below them read,

You were asleep and I didn’t want to bother you. The tea is for your upset stomach and the soup is for your heart. Love you King Dad. —Black

Bowser smiled, touched. He texted Black short videos of himself enjoying both and promptly went back to sleep.

Heart attacks were exhausting.

.o

Neil kept Bowser downstairs for two days of monitoring before Bowser had enough.

Junior stepped into the medical ward and heard signs that his dad discharged himself long before he saw him.

“Your majesty—“

“Can it, Neil! The shell goes on.”

“Sire—“

“No. That’s final. I’ll wear the oxygen and take the wheelchair up, but I’m not taking this shell off again.”

The wheelchair was a cushioned stool with bicycle handlebars for him to hold onto. Its large back wheels offered stability and the castors in the front allowed narrow turns. Two large push handles extended up off a bar above the rear axle.

Nurses gathered at the foot of Bowser’s bed. There was Elton, the green-shelled Koopa Paratroopa who always wore wild tinted glasses— today they were bedazzled orange flame frames. Next to him, Stevie, a Koopa Troopa who decorated her midnight blue shell with intricate designs and sparkling gems.

“Easy does it, your majesty,” Stevie’s soft alto voice permeated the silence.

Bowser snickered at Stevie and Elton failing to move the wheelchair once he sat down in it. Their faces turned red as they gripped the push handles on and heaved to no avail.

“I got it.” Junior stepped between them.

“This is easier when he’s spread out on a gurney,” Elton mused, holding the buzzing cube-shaped oxygen concentrator.

“Is that my kid behind me?”

“Yup. Hi, dad!”

“Spring me loose!”

“Sure!”

Bowser snatched the oxygen concentrator out of Elton’s hands and laughed at his startled face. “Go!”

Junior rushed him past the privacy curtain. Celine ducked into her green shell to avoid a collision. Her metal cane toppled next to her.

“Sorry, Celine!” Junior called as he passed.

“Hey! You two are a menace!” Celine shouted at their spiked backs.

“Don’t bother,” Neil’s voice faded into the distance.

Celine’s support cane tap-tapped on the tiled floor. “Hell no, they’re gonna get it from me this time!”

“Is Celine chasing us?” Asked Bowser.

“Yeah, but she can’t run anymore because of her knees.”

“Then hurry!”

Junior eased Bowser into the elevator and hit the door close button long before Celine could shout at them again. They looked at each other, slapped hands and snickered.

Bowser dropped stapled papers on the metal floor. As he scooped them up, Junior saw they were signed DNR forms.

“Dad?” He leaned over his shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Oh.” Bowser folded it up. “Relax.”

Junior moved in front of him, eyes hard and arms folded. “Start talking.”

“Really, Junior?”

Junior scowled.

Bowser held up both hands in a placating gesture.

“Fine, fine! I’m old. I don’t want to go through hell or put you through hell again if I have a heart attack that drops me. All this means is they won’t try to bring me back if I go into cardiac arrest again. I’ll get comfort measures, that’s it.”

“Dad…” Junior’s eyes stung.

Bowser held up a finger in warning. “Don’t, Junior. I’m not going anywhere. This is a ‘just in case’ piece of paper.”

The numbers above the door blinked as the elevator reached its destination. Junior tried not to let his hands shake when he grasped the handles on the back of his dad’s wheelchair and pushed him out into his bedroom.

Bowser kept his head bowed the whole time, only looking up once the reds and grays of his room crossed his peripheral vision. He slid over onto his bed, settling on his stomach with his hands folded under his chin.

Junior placed the oxygen concentrator beside the bed and laid the papers he didn’t want to think too hard about on the nightstand. “There we go.”

“Hey, shouldn’t you be with Cherry?” Bowser opened one eye.

“She’s doing dress stuff. I’m ‘forbidden from being present’, in her words.”

“Ahh.”

“Ludwig is taking me tux shopping. He’s going to show up anytime.”

“I wanted to do that.”

“You’ll be there for the fitting. That is, if you behave and don’t get up until Neil clears you.”

“Tch.”

“Dad, it’s fine. The wedding is in four months. We have time.”

“Time. Yeah.” Bowser yawned. “Go on, if Ludwig is on his way, you might as well be ready.”

“Ready for what, and how scared should I be?” Ludwig’s deep, hollow voice cooed from the door. His deaf accent sounded like a lisp.

“Hey, you’re early!” Junior protested.

Ludwig raised and lowered his eyebrows. “My new hearing aids came sooner than expected. I just picked them up.”

He swept his voluminous blue hair upward to expose the flat, circular plugs and silver rings outlining his auricles. They looked like jewelry. All his other hearing aids had domed tips for mics, so that was new.

“They have four microphones instead of two, and they keep spooking me.”

“Why?” Junior leaned over for a closer look.

Ludwig chuckled, letting his hair fall slowly into place again. “I hear a weird, intermittent whoosh-whoosh sort of noise whenever a room is quiet. This never happened with my other hearing aids.”

Junior waved his hands. “Let’s all shut up and see if you hear it here.”

Bowser turned off the buzzing oxygen concentrator for a moment.

They sat silent. Ludwig nodded his head. “It’s plain as day. It’s maddening! What

is

it?”

Bowser raised both eyebrows. “Hold on, I think I know. Let’s be quiet again.”

Again, another silent minute.

He grinned. “Ludwig, take a deep breath through your nose.”

“Mmhmm, I hear it.”

Bowser’s smile grew. “You’re hearing yourself breathe!”

Ludwig blinked. He covered his face and laughed. “You

hear

yourselves breathe?”

Junior chuckled with him. “We tune it out, but…yeah.”

“Can you hear our breathing?” Bowser flared his nostrils.

“No, just mine. These new hearing aids amplify much more strongly than my old pair.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Bowser rubbed his nose.

“Can you hear this?” Junior whispered.

“Huh?” Ludwig eyed him.

“Guess not. I whispered.”

Ludwig signed rather than speak, “I heard that you whispered, not what you whispered.”

“I see that hasn’t changed.” Junior signed back.

Ludwig elbowed him playfully in the side. He perched on the edge of the bed and gazed down at Bowser, eyebrows furrowed as he signed.

“How are you, dad?”

“I’m fine.” Bowser touched his thumb to his chest and tilted his hand forward. He switched the concentrator back on, making a face at the horrid loud beep it emitted.

Ludwig, of course, didn’t react to the tone because it was outside his hearing range.

Junior left them alone to catch up. He trudged downstairs, sat on the living room couch and stared into the gloomy void of the unlit fireplace. In the quietude there, he noticed the air whooshing through his nose and the barely perceptible thumps of his own heart.

Claws slap-tapped through the hall. Ludwig slid onto the couch next to him.

“You hear yourself breathe now. Do you hear your heartbeat, too?” Junior signed without preamble, eyebrows raised.

Ludwig tilted his head with his eyes closed.

“No,” he pinched the air, “But I feel it in my chest.”

“I hear mine when it’s quiet like this.” Junior switched from signing to imitating the sound with his mouth. “Bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum.”

A hand on his wrist ceased his noise-making. Ludwig gazed at him in utter seriousness, his thick blue eyebrows tilting up and his dark eyes showing genuine concern.

“Are you okay?” He signed.

Junior wiped both hands down his snout and gestured, “Ten years of nothing. I relaxed, I figured it wasn’t going to happen anymore. I dared to be happy, and he managed to have another heart attack.”

Ludwig breathed out as he signed, “That is the nature of Crash.”

“It feels personal.” Junior tightened his jaw and his hands moved in swift, sharp flutters. “It feels like the universe is tearing into my joy. Ten years of nothing, but as soon as I propose to the woman I love and start planning my wedding, he has a heart attack.”

He waved his hand to show he wasn’t done and added, “I’m not blaming him. I know he’s mad that it happened, too. It’s not like he did it on purpose. The timing is just…”

He thrust his thumb into his fist, “It’s shit!”

“I don’t begrudge you for being angry.” Ludwig looked upward and wiggled his fingers before continuing on. “It isn’t fair.”

“He can’t come with me to pick a tux because of it. I put it off too long.”

“You can always wear his.” Ludwig smirked as he gestured. “You’re the same size, it’ll fit.”

His attempt to lighten the mood worked.

“No, no, no, no!” Junior pinched the air several times. He smiled wryly. “That purple vest? The sequined trim on the lapels? The tophat? Not my style. It’s cool, and it looks great, but it’s not me. Besides, it doesn’t match the wedding colors.”

“What are your wedding colors?”

Junior took out his phone to pull up a photo. It showed a swatch of dark red ribbon against ivory white brocade cloth.

He signed one-handed, “Cherry saw that on a table as we discussed our colors, and she said ‘that’s it, those are the colors!’ I agreed with her the minute she pulled me over to look. She has an amazing eye for seeing things on accident like that.”

“The colors of blood and piano keys,” Ludwig signed. He tapped his fingertips together and went on, “I’ll fix you up with something that suits you.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Glitterbomb.” Ludwig’s eyes gleamed as he finger spelled it. He snapped his fingers. “I bought my symphony tuxedos there. Black and I bought our wedding tuxedos there. Trust me, you’re going to need queer eyes for this one. I’ll make sure you look smashing.”

Junior nodded resolutely. His phone alerted him to a text, so he held up a finger and checked.

It was Cherry.
How’s Bowser?

He thumbed out a response.
Okay. He’s resting in his room now.

That’s good. Are you okay?

Before Junior could reply, Ludwig swiped the phone out of his hand and his thumbs flew a mile a minute across the digital keyboard.

I’m good! My extremely gay brother is about to take me tux hunting. I want to look as sexy as possible for our wedding ceremony.

“Ludwig!” Junior laughed and grabbed the phone back while Ludwig grinned like a fiend next to him.

Ludwig took my phone and wrote that. Even if he’s RIGHT, he’s a dickheaded phone thief. I love you!

Dots bounced at the bottom while she typed.

Oh, he’s fabulous, I trust his judgment. You’ll look great in anything you wear. I love you, too! Kiss kiss!

“Ha!” Ludwig pointed at the phone.

Junior smiled and answered with heart emojis before putting his phone away. He slapped his older brother’s shoulder and gestured, dragging out one sign longer than the rest.

“You pretend you’re soooo mature.”

Ludwig kept grinning. He waggled his eyebrows just like their dad liked to do. “You’re never too old to prank your little brother. Plus, you laughed.”

“Okay, yes, it was funny.” Junior stood up, smiling. “Let’s go.”

.o

Four months ago, Toadiano, the Mushroom Kingdom’s best fashion designer, brought his entire line of wedding gowns to the Mushroom Castle. He was tall and skinny for a Toad, with a light brown mustache and a speckled cap to match.

Mario helped Cherry zip, button and lace up each gown. People kept presenting more to her, so she never got to walk down the line herself and choose.

And nothing she saw in the mirror felt like

her.

She wasn’t wowed or moved.

The dresses were gorgeous, and most of them flattered her slender figure. She knew what she wanted, and nobody listened.

Mario fell asleep halfway through the dress selection. She didn’t blame him, he stayed up all night worrying about plans.

At the end of it, she called Daisy in a frustrated fit of tears. That tornado of a woman showed up less than an hour later via a warp zone with her gray hair pinned back and flames in her eyes.

“What do you need, Cherrybomb?”

Cherry took her upstairs to the closet where Peach stored her elaborate wedding dress. It was a beautiful long-sleeved off-the-shoulder ball gown with a basque waist trimmed in pink and a portrait neckline. Elaborate tulle lace panels decorated the bodice and sides of the skirt.

“Can you find the dress pattern for this? I’m going to wear her tiara, and I want this silhouette, but with my own touch.”

“I know the pattern. I’ll draw it up. You tell me what you want.”

Daisy got out her tablet and sketched the dress using a stylus. Cherry took it when she finished and drew on her personal touches.

Daisy smiled upon seeing it. She hugged Cherry tight, rubbed her back and kissed her cheek.

“Oh, honey, this is a piece of cake! Let me take your measurements.”

It took three months because of the elaborate handmade bobbin lace embroidered with tiny intertwining cherries. Daisy wouldn’t disclose who she outsourced it to, but they did amazing work.

Cherry knew the dress suited her when Mario’s eyes welled up as she stepped onto the wooden platform in the upstairs dressing room. Daisy helped her pin her hair up in a messy bun for the sake of the tiara and veil.

Taking a breath, Cherry faced the mirror.

That’s it.

Her eyes stung, and she wished her mom saw it with her. It hurt beyond words that she wasn’t there.

The satin ball gown was ivory white with a deep red trim at the portrait neckline, ends of the sleeves, the decorative cords lacing up the front, the basque waist and the bottom of the poofy tulle skirt.

Cherry wasn’t a busty woman, but the corset bodice created the desired push up effect and gave her a smidge of cleavage.

Rather than a train, she chose a cathedral length tulle veil to trail behind her. That way she could take it off later without worrying about someone stepping on her dress. Both veils had a delicate red trim and intricate embroidery matching what was on her dress.

The gem-encrusted tiara attached to her head via combs and clamps that would be hidden under her bun for the big day.

She eased the blusher veil forward, while the length in the back trailed behind her.

Turning to Mario and Daisy with tears skittering onto her cheeks, she said, “Look at me, I’m a bride.”

Daisy rushed over to hug her while Mario sniffled into a tissue.

“I wish mom was here,” whispered Cherry.

“Me, too,” Daisy held her tight. “You’ll look gorgeous.”

“Mamma-mia!” Mario dabbed his eyes. “My beautiful baby girl.”

.o

Priscilla, Glitterbomb’s seamstress, bowed upon Junior’s arrival. She was a fat lavender Koopa with a dark magenta shell. Her fuschia hair stood up in a stylized pompadour that showed off the clear cochlear implant coil attached to her head and the earpiece in her auricle.

Ludwig took Junior to the basement section of Glitterbomb, an area rarely seen by the general public. Upstairs was all zany rainbow colors, feathers, rhinestones and flair. Downstairs, it looked serious and professional, with dark brown bricks and wood paneled floors.

“I’ll be upstairs. Ring me if you need help. Welcome to Glitterbomb, Prince Junior!” Priscilla spoke with a thicker deaf accent than Ludwig.

“Thanks.” Junior signed, already harried by Ludwig’s chaotic driving. His brother was a menace on the road just as much as the Kart track.

He barely got time to breathe between the car and the elevator, because Ludwig didn’t tell him that all of his siblings were hiding out at Glitterbomb, waiting for him. They practically tackled him, and within minutes he had clothes handed to him.

“Knock us dead!” Morton grinned. Over the years he filled out until he was broader than everybody in the room. Mostly muscle, some Koopas were built like that.

Roy broadened, too, though he wasn’t quite as big as Morton. He tipped his sunglasses like a hat and grinned.

Lemmy, by comparison, was still the tiniest one. Junior wouldn’t have seen him if not for his multicolored Mohawk poking up past Iggy’s shell.

Wendy also stayed fairly petite, though she stood over a foot taller than Lemmy. She finally grew a full head of long, pinkish-red hair that cascaded down her back in delicate waves. Her crowning glory. Now she had something to attach her bows and hats to without tape.

Iggy and Ludwig were the two skinniest Koopas, never filling out past their ‘long and gangly’ body types. They stood nearly the same height, but Iggy looked taller due to his green plume of hair.

Larry stayed somewhere in between all of them. He slouched on a nearby chair, lazily watching the happenings around him. His light blue hair was dark at the roots.

Junior tried on the first set of garments his siblings put in front of him. A loud yellow cutaway coat with matching pants and a green shirt.

“Okay, which one of you put this yellow thing in here?”

Iggy cackled, giving himself away.

Junior walked out and spread his arms with flair to entertain them. “Ta-da!”

“Sexy!” Larry howled and beat on the back of the chair next to him.

“Wow, I hate it!” Ludwig signed, grimacing.

“AHAHAHA! You look like a lime getting a golden shower!” Iggy scream-laughed.

“Gee, thanks,” Junior fake-scowled.

“It’s loud!” Lemmy exclaimed.

“And ugly,” Morton wrinkled his nose.

Roy hid his face behind a pair of shoes to snicker.

“I’m disowning all of you if he picks that!” Wendy snapped.

“What if you wore it, sis?” Roy nudged her.

“I would never! You won’t catch me dead in it!”

Everybody laughed.

Junior put the obvious joke tux aside and got serious. He must have entered and exited that dressing room two dozen times to mixed reactions.

“Who picked the white zoot suit?”

“Me!” Lemmy called.

Junior tried it, complete with the fedora. It looked cool. Everybody liked it when he modeled it.

Still not quite right. These were everybody else’s ideas for what he should look like. No wonder nothing stuck out as

his.

Not that cravat, definitely not those pants, and never that snowy white coat with the gold lapels!

A dozen rejected outfits hung outside the dressing room door.

“No.” Junior cringed at the red and white striped apron tie reflected in the mirror. He took it off without stepping foot outside the paneled door. “No way, sorry!”

“This is hard,” Lemmy muttered from far off.

“So is making bobbin lace,” Roy piped up, slurping from his ShellBucks iced coffee.

“You make bobbin lace?” Wendy balked, “Since when?”

He jiggled the cup so the ice rattled. “Past uhhh, five years? Yeah. Five years. Pom-Pom got me into it. I made the lace and veil for Princess Cherry’s wedding dress. She doesn’t know. Only Queen Daisy knows I did it.”

Iggy rustled something cloth. “Isn’t it super complicated or something?”

“Mmhmm, but it’s soothing once you get into a groove.”

Junior blocked the conversation out and thumped his forehead against the fitting room mirror. He thought finding a tux would be simple, but no. There were more styles and details, and nothing looked right!

“Let’s keep—” Ludwig stopped mid-motion and stood there a moment, head bowed.

“You okay?” Junior signed.

“I’m fine.” Ludwig half-smiled, pointing to his face. “The breathing noise is still spooking me.”

They chuckled.

“This is a nightmare,” Junior signed to Ludwig. “Did you have this much trouble picking your wedding tux?”

“No.” Ludwig pinched his fingers together. “I knew mine when I saw it. You will know yours when you see it.”

“So far, no luck.”

“Keep looking. It may be in pieces.”

Junior’s eyes landed on three different suits, and it came to him. Everything he wanted lay mixed up in different tuxedos. No wonder he struggled!

“Hold on.”

Junior grabbed garments off hangers and pulled them apart. Ludwig stood back with his arms crossed, letting him have at it.

That pleated spread collar shirt worked. So did the deep red waistcoat. The ivory double-breasted coat with red satin peak lapels and its corresponding pants fit a little loose, but were doable. Finally, a red satin straight end bow tie.

Junior had no idea how to tie a bow tie, so Ludwig doffed his shell, put on a random shirt and showed him all the loops and twists step by step. He untied the tie and tied it again with Junior.

They repeated it three more times until he had it down.

Dad should be showing me this,

Junior thought to himself.

Dad should be here yelling at me to hurry up.

But his grim thoughts fell away as soon as he saw himself in the mirror.

“Wow.” Ludwig signed in a broad swing of his hand past his mouth and turned the gesture around to aim at him. “That, that, that!”

“You feeling it, too?” Junior gestured.

“Sick!” Ludwig signed, tugging Junior’s arm, “Go out there!”

Sighing, Junior shoved the vented dressing room door open and trudged out with his head down.

Larry spread out across two chairs, yawning and rubbing a hand through his spiked up hair.

Iggy and Lemmy poked at a sequined silver suit while giggling at each other.

Roy pushed his sunglasses up on his nose while reading the price tag on a pair of shoes.

Morton paced the room, his heavy footsteps plodding on the wooden floor.

Wendy studied her phone.

“Guys…” Junior lifted his head and grinned when they all focused on him. “I’m a groom.”

Ludwig grinned proudly behind him.

“Oh, Gods,” Wendy almost dropped her phone. “Bowsie Ju-ju!”

“Yeah! That’s a tux!” Lemmy catapulted himself over Iggy.

Junior pumped his fists in the air as his siblings piled onto him in an eruption of cheers and hollers.

Everybody took pictures. Junior posed as if walking on a modeling runway, cracking them all up.

After buying the tux, Junior headed upstairs to pick out a card. Priscilla rang it up and bowed with a respectful smile.

“It’s been an honor, sire. Thank you.”

.o

He stood at the top of the polychromatic staircase, where everything was lambent luminescence beyond comprehending. Somewhere in the midst of it, he picked out the edges of a closed wooden door.

Something beeped as he reached for the handle, and then—

Bowser stirred awake to his phone blowing up with texts. An emergency? He turned on his side and dragged the screen into a position he could see.

No, just photos of Junior looking absolutely smashing.

He has to get it tailored, but we finally found his tuxedo!
Ludwig added after the photos.

A dozen more came from multiple angles. Iggy’s were hilariously blurry.

Bowser’s eyes wandered along the oxygen tubing connected to the concentrator buzzing away on its shelf under the nightstand.

He was supposed to be there with Junior, but his damned defective heart got in the way. Ten years of no problems other than angina, and now it decided it wanted to kill him?

His hand moved onto his chest, feeling the pulsations behind his ribs.

You’re not stopping until I’m ready, got it?

More photos showed up. Junior turned partway, holding his coat lapels and flashing a huge shit-eating grin. He knew he looked immaculate, it was all over his face. A mud bath, scale oil and some hair gel would improve the look even more.

Bowser smiled, tapped all his kids’ names into a mass text and answered them simultaneously.

You look fantastic, Junior. So glad you guys were all there for him. Love you.

.o

Junior peeked into Bowser’s room. Bowser kept a urinal on the ground by the bed to minimize how many times he got up to use the toilet. Most Koopas stood or crouched when using the bathroom, so the front end of the urinal had an elongated funnel for him to line up with his vent.

The rectangular green reservoir was full, so Junior took it into the bathroom, pulled the funnel off to dump the pee in the toilet and rinsed everything out with water. He put the reassembled urinal back where he found it.

Items like the urinal and oxygen were harsh reminders of past heart attacks. Junior longed to unsee them. He took a deep breath and tried smiling instead, so he didn’t look as concerned as he felt.

“You awake, dad?”

Bowser opened his perpetually tired eyes. Something in them bled immense sadness that faded as soon as he saw Junior. He was lying prone with his swollen feet propped up on foam blocks. The oxygen tubing glistened on his snout.

“You getting that tux tailored?”

“Mmhmm.” Junior sat on the edge of the bed. “I missed you being there.”

“I hated that I wasn’t.” Bowser’s tired expression brightened into a smile. “Can’t wait to see you put the tux on. That’ll make up for it.”

He paused with his mouth open like he wanted to say more, but changed his mind and put his head down. “What do you think Cherry is gonna wear?”

“Uh…” Junior cocked an eyebrow, “…a gorgeous white dress?”

They snickered.

Bowser shifted and resettled, nostrils flaring. “Go tease Cherry about your tux. I want to finish my nap.” He smiled, eyes softening. “I’m happy for you, kiddo, you’ll look awesome.”

Junior playfully noogied him until his eyebrows crossed. “Sure thing. Rest up, dad.”

He tried not to see those swollen feet as he left the room.

You can’t have him, universe. Stop scaring me. He’s not supposed to die until he’s a hundred years old.

His phone vibrated. Cherry texted him pictures of red roses. He smirked and prepared to answer.

.o

Neil insisted Bowser stay on bed rest, and Bowser did his best to follow that.

Except when it came to Peach’s grave. He took his Koopa Clown Car out to the top of the hill and left his daily roses. Each trip required painkillers followed by at least two hours of sleep to recover.

“We’re working everything out,” Bowser murmured, stroking the grass in front of her slanted gold name plate. His eyes welled up until everything blurred. “The kids are going to be fine. I can feel it. I love you, Peach.”

The wind blew the seeds off a nearby dandelion puff. One of them stuck to his oxygen tube. He delicately picked it off and let it go, watching the little white fluff drift away.

Bowser kissed the statue’s outstretched hand.

Dull aching crushed his ankles as he stood. Neil said joint pain and swelling would happen, but this was ridiculous!

He barely made it into the Koopa Clown Car, and wasn’t sorry to lay down in bed once he got home.

.o

Paperwork had to be poured over. Bowser knew he couldn’t spend long on his feet without winding up utterly miserable.

It only took him a week of waffling about it before he requested Mario come to his castle. He decided on an afternoon following his grave visit recovery nap.

Boom-Boom escorted Mario upstairs once he arrived. Bowser sat up in bed, lap tray and pen ready.

Mario tried to disguise his shock at the oxygen tubing and their work location.

“What’re you gawking at?” Bowser pinned him with his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re up-a for this?”

“Wouldn’t call you if I wasn’t.”

Mario set down a brown satchel without looking and accidentally popped the distal end of the oxygen tubing off the humming concentrator. It beeped an alarm.

Bowser coughed and slumped forward, gasping.

“Oh no!” Mario fumbled with the tubing while the high-pitched beeping continued. “Hang-a on!”

After a moment, Bowser grinned, reached down and hooked it back up to the nozzle with a twist of his hand. He laughed raucously at Mario’s frightened face.

“BWAHAHA! I really had you going, didn’t I? BWHAHA!”

“That’s not funny!” Mario glowered, his gray eyebrows wrinkling his forehead.

“Yes it is. The look on your face…BWAHAHA!”

“Stronzo.”

Mario muttered, looking away. He took his glasses off, wiped them on his blue overalls and settled them on his nose again.

Bowser coughed from laughing too hard. “Never thought you’d worry about little old me.”

“It’s not every day-a that you see-a somebody have a heart attack. I saw you have-a two.”

“Eh, I didn’t die.”

“But will you?”

Pausing, Bowser weighed his words carefully.

“Yeah, and so will you, but we’re not dying today. Lemme tell you a little secret.”

He looked Mario squarely in the eyes, king to king.

“When somebody is dying, the people around them don’t know what to say, or how to act, and they don’t know how to communicate with each other about it. You skip that part when somebody is ripped away from you out of the blue.”

Mario’s nostrils flared, which moved some of his mustache hairs. “But a sudden death takes away your chances to-a say goodbye and make amends.”

“Yup. We both know it, don’t we? That’s why you love people while they’re here. Ten minutes from now, they might not be.”

Bowser smiled wryly at Mario’s thoughtful frown. He picked up his fountain pen, which had the royal Koopa crest engraved on the golden tip.

“Pass me that land treaty, let’s work on it.”

Two hours later, Junior walked in on them as Boom-Boom escorted Mario out. His face dropped.

“Dad, you’re supposed to be resting!”

“Cool it, kiddo.”

“Dad—“

“I’m in bed, aren’t I?” Bowser snapped without real venom. “We’re planning your wedding, not my funeral!”

He grinned, eyes bright. “I got Mario to agree to collaborate on a new castle. It’ll go on top of that big hill on the east-west borders of our lands. Six years from now, you’ll be ruling in it. All kids leave the nest eventually, now I know you’ll have somewhere to land when you do.”

Junior walked away shaking his head in disbelief.

.o

Mario returned to his castle with his brow knit in pensiveness. He found Cherry coming down the same staircase that killed Peach ten years ago. The back of her long red dress trailed slightly on each step behind her.

“Hi, daddy.” She smiled, dark hair shining in the sunbeams coming through the nearby window.

He remembered how Peach had a difficult time being pregnant. She developed hyperemesis gravidarum, like morning sickness on steroids, and needed IV medication to control the vomiting for most of her first trimester.

From the second trimester on, everything was perfect. She had the cutest food cravings for shrimp Alfredo and tomato soup— and Cherry loved both of those!

The day Cherry was born, Mario stayed by Peach’s side every moment from her first contraction to Cherry’s first cry. There were many hours of walking the halls, groaning in pain and sipping electrolyte drinks. She went into labor at dawn and gave birth at dusk.

Peach screamed Cherry out of her body. Cherry entered the world with a head full of dark hair and a scream on her lips. Mario never forgot seeing his daughter turn from blue to pink in the span of a wailing cry. Even more miraculous, Cherry stopped shrieking as soon as she was laid on Peach’s chest. She knew her mother.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Peach said to her, smiling tiredly with teary eyes.

He remembered the first time he held newborn Cherry, how tiny, soft and precious she felt in his arms. A brand new human who knew nothing of hatred or sadness. He looked at her, and he loved her.

Now that beautiful baby girl stood at the foot of the stairs, a woman about to get married. Where did all that time go?

Mario walked up to Cherry, wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She was taller than him, almost as tall as Peach, but not too tall for him to stand on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek.

He said what he said to her the first time he held her, “I love you, my sweet-a Cherry blossom.”

“Aw, daddy.” Cherry pulled him tight against her and squeezed gently. “I love you, too. How did your visit with Bowser go?”

Mario told her about it over a late rigatoni lunch.

.o

When Bowser was well enough to leave bed without pain or excessive fatigue, he joined Junior at his tuxedo fitting. Junior reminded him that he needed a tux, so he chose a father-of-the-groom ensemble similar to Junior’s, save he had a red cumberbun instead of a waistcoat.

Priscilla, the butchest Koopa Bowser knew, stood by with a smile of admiration flitting over her round face. She got her claws done recently, neon pink.

“My, my, look at you! Your tux fits like a glove.”

“You fixed him up good.” Bowser beamed with pride.

Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it. His littlest one, his baby, was going to get married. And he looked handsome in his wedding tux!

Just like his old man,

Bowser thought, puffing his chest out.

“Well, there it is.” Junior turned to face Bowser fully, showing him the whole thing. Coat, shoes and all. “How do I look, dad?”

Bowser shed a tear.

.o

“This is nuts.” Junior eyed the tablecloths— ivory white with thin dark red stripes near the bottom.

The centerpieces were red bowls of various fruits and a bottle of red Koopa wine paired with red Mushroom cider.

Cherry bit into a bright red apple she plucked out of one of the fruit displays. “You knew what you were getting into when you proposed, right?”

“Not really.” He kidded purely to mess with her.

She laughed, smacking his bicep. “I can’t believe I’m marrying you, dork.”

Junior leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I can’t believe I’m marrying you, goofball.”

There were ballroom dance classes, etiquette classes and ceremony rehearsals.

Sometimes the planning got so wild that Junior and Cherry hid from their dads and the caterers. Closets were good for this, especially the hall closet on the main floor. They sat inside and giggled like children while Koopas wearing chef‘s hats and Toads carrying ribbons scrambled to look for them.

The giggling shifted to heavy breathing when they kissed and their hands began to wander.

“This is so naughty,” Cherry murmured in Junior’s ear.

“Mmhmm.” Junior exhaled against her neck. “How naughty do you want to get?”

They fell into another lip lock. She placed his hand on her leg and he hiked her long skirt up.

Then Bowser opened the door and caught them about to consummate their wedding prematurely.

“Dad!” Junior barely had time to retract himself into his vent.

“Save it for your wedding night! Get your ass into the hall and help decorate!” Bowser caught his tail and tugged him towards the far corridor.

Junior met Cherry’s eyes and shrugged his shoulders in apology.

Once out of sight, he slapped Junior’s shell and grinned. “How much did you see?”

“Uh…her bra?”

“What did she see?”

“She had her hand on me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but we weren’t doing anything yet.”

“BWAHAHA! Sorry.”

Back in the closet, Cherry buttoned the front of her dress over her pink bra and smoothed her rumpled hair. She didn’t notice Mario standing nearby until she walked out. He eyed her with his arms crossed and foot tapping.

“You are definitely your-a mother‘s daughter,” he sighed. “Let‘s-a go help the cooks.”

She smiled sheepishly, face flushed. “Don’t worry, we didn’t get very far.”

A little grin pulled at a mustache. “Was he gentle with you?”

Cherry giggled, “I had to convince him that I’m not made of glass.”

Mario’s little grin grew to encompass his face. His eyes softened with remembering. “Peach was like-a that, too.”

They arrived in the kitchen. Mario broke off to help the harried chefs organize.

Cherry‘s attention went to Bowser, who came in and sat at a table by himself. He was never quite right after his latest heart episode. She noticed he moved slower, tired faster and he seemed to have aged ten years in the span of weeks.

Bowser fit the cannula prongs in his nose and hooked it over his horns. He only put it on when the fatigue overwhelmed him. The oxygen concentrator beeped and whirred to life, its green lights becoming watchful, flickering eyes as he pushed a button on top.

Cherry noticed how much gray streaked his hair. There was a little more of it than reddish-orange now, same with his eyebrows. He looked weathered, like the side of a mountain that endured blasts of rain, wind and landslides.

“Bowser?”

He looked up and barked, “I‘m fine.”

She smiled softly and laid her hand on his huge one. “You‘re not needed right now. There‘s an empty room in the next hall over. It‘s got a bed. You should rest.”

“Cherry…” Bowser sighed. “I— appreciate that you‘re worried about me, but I‘m not some little weakling.”

He fiddled with the oxygen tubing. “This is going to ruin the wedding pictures.”

“Nah. You know what will? You

not

being in them because you’re in intensive care or dead.”

Cherry took his hand and hefted the oxygen concentrator. That was his

small

one, and it still weighed a good twenty pounds.

“Oof! Come on.”

“Cherry!”

“Bowser!” She imitated his tone. “Just lie down for a little bit. If we need you, I‘ll come get you.”

“Cherry,“ Bowser said yet again when they reached the room. He pulled her in, took the oxygen concentrator out of her hands and closed the door, leaning on it and staring her dead in the eyes.

She stopped tugging his hand. “Do you need a doctor?”

“No.” Bowser shook his head. “I‘m dying, Cherry.”

Reality screeched to a halt.

“Wait, what? But…what if you— before the— “

“I won‘t. No way in hell. I‘m gonna be here to see his wedding.” He looked away, clenching his teeth.

“That‘s why I‘ve been pushing it so fast…I know for a fact that I won‘t be here this time next year, which is the usual time it takes to plan such a huge deal. Neil— he said the next big one I have will be the killer. I could drop, or I could be sick for a while before I go.”

Cherry’s stomach clenched. Deep down she had a feeling. Having him confirm it opened the pit wider.

“Does Junior know?”

“No. Please, Cherry,

don’t

tell Junior! You can‘t. He’s so happy. I can’t ruin it with this.” His tone turned pleading, “Please, Cherry. Keep it between us for now. I’ll tell him after the wedding, or maybe you can if I have the big one that drops me. He‘ll be mad that I didn‘t tell him first—“

“Bowser…what…” Cherry struggled to wrap her brain around Bowser‘s revelation. The sorrow didn‘t fit with the joy surrounding her upcoming wedding day. “W-what about being resuscitated? What about the ventilators and all that stuff?”

“I don‘t want it. I signed a DNR, and Junior knows it. That‘s why he freaks out every time I look at my left arm funny. If I go into cardiac arrest again, I‘m going to go.”

His forehead wrinkled and he pressed a hand over his eyes. “I‘m sick of being hooked up to machines like a piece of meat, and I don’t want the end of my life being Junior telling Neil to turn off my ventilator.”

He lowered his hand and gazed into Cherry’s eyes, smiling sadly. “I lived a good life, my youngest is about to marry a gorgeous girl…I‘ve done all I can to take care of his heart. Now it‘s time to move on, I guess. And look on the bright side— thanks to this wedding, I‘ll have a snazzy outfit for my wake.”

The morbid joke didn‘t make either of them laugh.

It occurred to Cherry that he was afraid of hurting Junior.

She never saw Bowser scared of anything before in her life. Now he faced something that could knock him out forever.

Her heart swelled for him, compelling her to reach out and pull him into a hug.

“Please rest then, Bowser.”

Bowser’s arms encircled her and held her tight, His bass voice rumbling in her ear. “You’re an amazing woman, Cherry. Just like your mom. I couldn’t ask for a better person to hold my son’s heart after I’m gone.”

She squeezed him, careful not to kink his oxygen tubing. The concentrator hummed beside them.

“Um,” He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll bring a tank to the wedding. No noise.”

“I don’t care if you bring oxygen machinery that roars like Kart engines. Just get there alive.” Cherry tried and failed to nudge him towards the bed. “Please rest, Bowser. Will you do it for me?”

The aging Koopa King finally relented. Scooting over, he settled down on his side on the guest bed that nearly disappeared under his huge body. Its magenta quilt clashed a bit with his various orange-reds, greens and golds. His russet eyes— they were identical to Junior’s— drifted shut.

Cherry stayed until she thought he was asleep. Just as she opened the door, he spoke.

“It‘s not death that scares me, Cherry…I just don‘t want to die alone. Every time I go to sleep, I wonder if I‘ll wake up again. I keep dreaming about this door at the top of the staircase. I saw it every time my heart stopped. I can‘t reach it to open it. What happens when I reach it, and what if it opens?”

Cherry moved back to his side and ran a hand over his hair. “Maybe my mom is on the other side, waiting for you.”

He smiled at that.

“She kept those letters you used to write, you know.”

“Did she?” Bowser‘s cheeks turned a funny shade of red. “I— didn‘t think they got to her.”

Cherry nodded. “I think, deep down, she wanted to love you. She used to say you seemed so trapped in your ways.”

She picked fuzz off his shell. “Maybe things for you didn‘t work out because Junior and I were meant to happen. I wouldn‘t be here to marry him if my mom and dad didn‘t get married and have me. Anyway…”

A lump tightened her throat. She shook her head, giggling self-consciously despite it. “I believe in true love, and a love like that goes beyond this lifetime. If you love her as much as your letters said you do, you‘ll see her again.”

“Thank you,“ Bowser waved her away. “Scoot before I decide to get up and harass Junior some more.”

“Okay.” Cherry bent to kiss his cheek before leaving. “Sleep tight.”

She shut the door, leaned against it and cried.

And Junior, who seemed to have a radar when it came to her crying, came scampering down the hall.

“Cherry! What happened? Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh…” Cherry shook her head and wiped her eyes. It was easier to pretend she never heard Bowser‘s revelation.

She leaned back, smiling through her tears. “Just stress. I made your dad take a nap, so keep your voice down. He‘s had the least sleep out of all of us over the past month.”

“Tell me about it. He wants this to be as perfect as possible. Probably trying to make up for what he wanted for his own wedding to Peach. Sometimes it‘s damn funny.”

Junior sighed. He tugged on his white bandanna. “At least our personal touches will be there, right?”

“Right.” She led him down the hall. “So the caterer actually okayed my cherry punch fountain?”

“Yup! I had to threaten to sit on the cake before he gave in.” He grinned, offering his arm to escort her down the hall.

She slapped his arm before taking it, “What about the music?”

“Ludwig has something cooked up for us. Wendy is gonna sing our first dance song at the reception. She picked a good one.”

“What song?”

“Landslide.”

“Aww.”

Toads bustled through, followed by Koopa Troopas.

One Koopa Paratroopa stopped to ask, “Where’s King Bowser?”

Cherry stopped him. “He’s resting, can it wait?”

He nodded, and whistled loudly to call back the Toads. “My apologies for the noise, your majesties.”

Junior wrinkled his nose as the flock rushed back up the way they came.

“This is wild.” Cherry rolled her eyes, smiling. “You know the receiving line is going to be hell, right?”

He grinned roguishly, all sharp teeth and squinty eyes. “If it gets too bad, I‘ll just kidnap you and whisk you away to another castle.”

She squeezed his arm. “Ooh, go on, what else will you do to me?”

“Well…”

He talked dirty, and she laughed.

.o

Two weeks later, Mario celebrated his sixtieth birthday. Everyone he knew came to the party, even Bowser.

When he opened his gift from the obnoxious Koopa king, it emitted fart noises and sprayed silly string in his face.

Bowser cackled until his face turned red while Mario struggled to pick the green confection out of his fluffy white mustache.

“Stronzo,”

he muttered.

“You like it!” Bowser bellowed, slapping the table.

Mario wondered why he put up with this. At least this gift was slightly better than the inflatable breasts he got a year ago.

Cherry shook her head at Bowser and passed Mario the next present. “This one is from me.”

She gave him a new plumber’s snake, something he needed. He smiled, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Later, he discovered Bowser sampled the two-tiered lemon cake by sticking his fingers in it.

.o

.o

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The day of the wedding dawned cloudy and cold, typical of early spring. It cleared and warmed as the sun climbed over the horizon to cut through the Darklands volcano smoke.

Junior swore his dad had a log brought into the castle at an ungodly hour last night, and he also swore he heard his siblings banging on it. But, when he came down to check it out, he saw no sign of activity.

Must’ve been a dream.

His alarm went off, an obnoxious air raid siren blaring. He picked his phone up and put it down to stop the noise and fell into another light doze.

The snooze alarm blasted. He once more picked the phone up and set it down and went back to sleep.

.o

Bowser watched the morning come from his bedroom window. Once the sun broke the smoky clouds, he smiled and padded to Junior‘s room.

Last night, he dunked Junior in a hot mud bath, got his scales oiled and had Wendy work it into his hair. She filed, sharpened and lacquered his horns and claws.

He came out the other side of that looking like the king he would someday be.

Junior slept with all but his head pulled into his shell. Bowser stood over his sleeping son, fondly remembering when he was a tiny, beady-eyed baby.

His other children grew up and away. Junior grew up, but always stayed close. Looking at him was like looking back in time, seeing himself in his younger years.

In a way, watching Junior marry Cherry would be the closest thing he had to time-traveling to the past and fixing his mistakes with Peach.

An old Koopa proverb stated,

“The son most like the father is the one who will erase the father‘s past sins.”

Bowser reached out and tapped on Junior‘s spiked shell.

“Junior, wake up. It‘s your big day.”

“Five more minutes,“ mumbled Junior.

“Save it for when you‘re married.” Bowser tipped Junior into an upright position and patted his face. “C‘mon, up we go.”

“Ack!” Junior‘s limbs popped out of his shell so he could sit under his own power. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked up. “I‘m really getting married? For real, dad?”

“Yeah, you are. But you‘re gonna be late unless you get your shell in gear. Shower, breakfast, tux!” Bowser clapped his hands in a ‘go, go, go‘ fashion.

“Dad! Slow down, would you?” Junior balked.

He let his breath out and a smoke ring rose from his nostrils. “Sorry…but wow, the wedding isn‘t for six hours. I‘ll put the tux on later, so I don‘t get it dirty.”

Bowser drew back. This wasn‘t

his

future.

Deep down, he knew he pushed all of this on Junior out of his own desperate desire to see him marry into the Toadstool family. He wanted to ensure his youngest son knew only happiness after him, so he didn’t consider his wish to be

entirely

selfish.

It occurred to him that it could’ve gone horrifically wrong. What if Junior and Cherry didn’t like each other?

But they do. They’re in love, they’re getting married. It worked out.

Bowser glanced at his reflection in the mirror visible through Junior’s open bathroom door. He discovered he had Crash via the same happenstance responsible for where he stood now. If he never suffered through that first heart attack, Morton wouldn’t be alive, and Junior might have died young.

Maybe that’s all life was, luck.

Junior sniffed, rubbing his face. “I feel like it‘s all going so fast. The day will zip by unless we stop and breathe, dad. I want to be able to sit and watch, not just act, know what I mean?”

“Yeah. But don’t skip breakfast, okay? I‘m gonna make my famous Bowser bacon. Nobody makes it better than me!”

Bowser puffed his chest out and tried unsuccessfully to suck his stomach in. He sighed, patting his midsection.

“I‘m old and flabby.”

Junior slapped his belly. It didn‘t jiggle like pure fat. “I prefer to think of it as experienced and well-fed.”

“Great idea!” Bowser brightened. “Good thing I thought of it.”

More awake now, Junior stretched and stood up. He ran to the window, threw open the curtains and shouted loud enough to wake the dead, “I‘M MARRYING CHERRY TOADSTOOL TODAY!”

“Shut up!” Somebody else yelled.

Yes, you are, kid…yes you are.

Bowser laughed, tapped his tail once and headed out.

He hadn‘t bullied the chefs in ages. They were due for a good scare.

When he came back upstairs, he saw Junior pass Lakitu an envelope and coins.

.o

“Buon giorno,

my little-a bride to-a be.”

In the dark room, Cherry‘s eyes fluttered. “Daddy…it‘s early.”

Mario smiled softly, petting her dark hair. Just like Peach, she wasn‘t much of a morning person.

“I know. There‘s a lot-a to-a do. Hair, nails, makeup and a lot-a of nerves.”

“I‘ll be nervous when I‘m more awake.” Cherry sat up to kiss Mario‘s cheek. Her messy hair stuck out every which way. “Am I dreaming, or am I really getting married today?”

He stared down at her sleepy blue eyes and messy hair. His heart ached with memories of Peach, who also looked discombobulated when she first woke up in the morning.

Ever since he first held Cherry in his arms, he hoped and prayed that she would marry someone who would devote themselves to her. Someone who cared about her, loved her and wanted her happy. He never expected it to be Bowser‘s son.

Ruefully, he remembered not wanting her to be friends with Junior at first, fearing he would turn out like his tyrannical father. He went so far as to forcefully separate them, a decision he regretted.

Bowser changed when Peach died. Mario saw how much when they cried together next to her grave.

He also remembered watching Bowser have a heart attack right in front of him during a meeting. Murphtoad got him stable enough to go home, but Mario never forgot the sight of Bowser‘s face turning gray from lack of oxygen.

Mario shook off the unpleasant memory and turned towards Cherry again. “Your mother would be so-a proud. And I‘m going to-a say it again when I see you in your wedding gown.”

Cherry sighed deeply. She took his hand and rested her head on his knee. “I‘m really going to be a bride.”

“Si,”

said Mario. “The most-a beautiful bride.”

“I wish mom was here.”

Those five words touched something in his heart. He blinked away tears and patted her head.

“She would say that-a no woman has ever looked as-a beautiful as-a you will today.”

“I‘ll believe it when I don‘t look like a zombie.” Cherry giggled, sitting up. “I guess I better go eat breakfast and take a shower.”

She kissed the end of Mario‘s round nose and staggered into her bathroom. After freshening up, she donned a white robe and made her way to the kitchen for a hearty breakfast.

.o

A white figure stared through Junior‘s mirror. No, Junior reminded himself, that was his own reflection. That handsome guy in a white tuxedo with perfectly gelled hair was him. All he had to do was tie his bow tie. He glanced over his shoulder at Bowser, who adjusted his sleeves.

“Hey, um, dad?”

“What’s up?”

Junior smiled. “I forgot how the bow tie works.”

No, he didn’t, Ludwig made sure of that, but he wanted his dad to feel useful.

“Heh, hang on. Tilt your head back.” Bowser popped his collar up for him. The warmth of his hands moved under his chin as he tugged, looped and pulled it comfortably snug.

“There you go.” He smoothed his collar down and patted the perfectly done bow tie with a smile. “Damn, you look good.”

At that moment, his age showed in the harsh light of his bathroom. The wrinkles around his mouth, the gray in his hair, the oxygen tube glistening across his face and the collection of medicine bottles on the counter by the sink.

He wouldn’t live forever. It was easy to think that as a little kid, when the ignorance of youth made adults seem like sempiternal mountains always on the horizon.

Bowser wore his oxygen intermittently, mostly to help combat fatigue. He hooked his fingers in the tube under his chin and cocked an eyebrow. “People are going to stare at this if I wear it.”

“So what?” Junior picked it up. “Remember when I was a kid and freaking out because I wet the bed? You told me to bully anybody who gives me crap about it. Do that if somebody stares at you when you put this on.”

Bowser smirked at that. “You’re right.”

Junior grabbed his dad’s shoulders and hugged him tight, pressing their cheeks together. “I love you, dad.”

“Ah, kiddo.” Bowser rested his head on his shoulder and squeezed him with his reassuring strength. “I’m always gonna love you, too.“

“Like a blue shell on a Kart track?”

“Damn right.”

Junior grinned and kissed his cheek. “We’ll be the best-looking guys there, you and me.”

“Don‘t you forget it either,” said Bowser with a wicked smile.

“Now, for the last touch.” He flipped open a box by the sink. Inside it sat a rare red Fire Flower mixed with tiny white baby‘s breath blossoms.

Junior stood up straight while Bowser pinned it to the lapel of his tuxedo jacket.

“Looks great, dad.” Junior opened the other box on the counter, which contained an ordinary rose. He pinned it to Bowser‘s coat lapel.

“Awesome. We’re dressed. Now…listen because this is really important.”

“Huh? Did I miss something?”

Bowser lowered his voice. “On your wedding night, you guys can‘t just jump in bed and screw. There‘s no romance in that—”

Junior‘s face flushed. “Dad!”

Bowser raised a hand and cut him off. “It‘s the truth. Sex is rough between two Koopas…a Koopa woman can take it. But Cherry isn‘t like us. She‘s more fragile. You‘re a big boy like me and she‘s a virgin, right?”

“Y-yeah,” He shifted uncomfortably, “You caught us before we got that far. My junk didn‘t scare her. She just said ‘oh, you‘re big all over, aren‘t you?’”

“Ah— in that case,” Bowser grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Girls like it when we Koopas get on all fours. So crawl up to her on the bed with it all hanging out and

growl

to show how much you want her. But when it gets down to it, Junior, you have to go slow. You‘re going to be pushing into something about—”

He curled his thumb and forefinger together, approximating something barely larger than his little finger.

“— this big. So you should lick her clitty ‘till she‘s good and wet before you pop her cherry. Heheh, her name‘s Cherry, you‘re gonna pop Cherry‘s cherry! BWAHAHA!”

Bowser slapped his knee, laughing. “Anyhow, for shit‘s sake, give her pussy time to stretch for you, or she won‘t like it when things get heavy and you‘ll end up sleeping on the floor.”

“Lick her clitty? Pop her— DAD! Holy shit, you are the biggest pervert I ever met.” Junior‘s eyes grew saucer-sized.

He could not believe he was talking about sex with his dad like this. The wedding itself made him nervous enough! Maybe things would have been easier if he and Cherry did it in the linen closet and got it out of the way! Now he was going to be worried about hurting her, or worse!

“And I‘m damn sexy, too.” Bowser guffawed at Junior‘s nauseated expression. He grabbed his shoulders, spun him around and pushed him to the door.

“C‘mon, son, you don‘t want to be late to your own wedding. Let‘s go!”

.o

The next two hours went by Junior in a blur. Years later, when he looked back on this day, he would barely remember leaping out of the warp zone at the Mushroom castle. He went straight to the Great Hall because he knew Cherry wasn’t going to be there, and he didn’t want to accidentally see her before the wedding. Bad luck and all.

Wendy arrived in sky high sparkly red stilettos and a slinky red sheath dress with a slit reaching to her hip. It flattered her petite frame and matched the wedding decor.

Roy and Morton both wore zoot suits— Roy‘s was plain red, like his sunglasses frames, and Morton chose light gray with black pinstripes. They tipped their fedoras at anyone who noticed them. People moved out of their way when they walked by.

Pom-Pom held Roy‘s hand while they threaded their way through. Her strapless purple floral print dress fluttered around her ankles and her braided blonde hair looked immaculate with purple ribbons woven through. Roy kissed her cheek as she walked at his side.

Sienna chose a simple tea-length silver halter dress that hugged her frame and flattered her dark eyes. Her black braids were gathered in a ponytail held by a sparkly silver clasp and the line of spikes down her shell decorated with silver covers. She leaned on Morton’s arm, smiling beautifully at whoever recognized her.

Iggy‘s yellow and green tux almost needed earmuffs to look at it because it was as loud as his laugh. He picked the obnoxious number Junior rejected at Glitterbomb, and added gold spiked rings to all of his fingers. Only somebody like Iggy could nail that look with such panache.

Lemmy donned a white tuxedo— the satin shawl collar really looked good— and somehow pulled off a multicolored ascot that matched his Mohawk. His discrete white ear defenders blended right in with the outfit, and so did the plain white squishy ball he rolled between his hands.

Scott joined him wearing the same style of tux in black with a sequined gold bow tie. He hemmed his tuxedo pants at the ends of his leg stumps. His mid-wheel drive power chair had bright, multicolored upholstery on the seat, so he draped it in black like he did for concert performances to give it a more formal look. As a snazzy touch, he added a glittery red ball to the control stick. Being a Hammer Brother, the back of his chair had a white hammer decal.

Larry‘s dark blue tux kind of matched his hair, but wasn‘t the same shade. His black apron tie kept rumpling despite his efforts to smooth it. He slicked his hair to the side instead of spiking it up.

Ludwig looked like the maestro he deserved to be called, with his formal all-black cutaway tux that emphasized his long, lanky limbs. His sole pop of glitz was his signature glittery blue eyeliner.

Boom-Boom showed up in a black and white suit with the sleeves ripped out. His huge fists did not fit into traditional sleeves, so he always tore them off. He and Junior took selfies and swapped them via texting.

Black arrived by slamming a side door— there wasn’t a door he couldn’t manage to murder. He wore a black tuxedo, which he glammed up via a ruffled dark green shirt with glittery threads and a black butterfly bow tie. His black hair was styled in its usual spikes, albeit gelled to give it extra shine.

Jack walked at his side, white cane tapping a perfect two-point touch. He slicked his ponytail back with gel that made it shiny like an oil slick. His off-white tux almost exactly matched Junior’s, save his notched lapels were white instead of red. As soon as he realized what he did, he panicked, pulled off his red bow tie and opened up his collar. Junior got a laugh out of it.

Toad walked around wearing a long gold robe that trailed on the floor behind him. Glitter flecks glimmered on his speckled cap. Out of everyone present, he looked the most ageless.

The wedding orchestra consisted of Toads, Koopa Troopas, Hammer Brothers, Yoshis and a few Shy Guys. Scott hustled his chair behind the last music stand on the left and took his green piccolo out of its case with his tuner already hooked up.

“Sorry for being late. Lemmy panicked on the way here.”

Ludwig scraped his fingers through his coiffed blue hair and grumbled. Junior figured out why he was so harried when he saw the Toads without tuners on their violins.

“Hey, having problems?” Junior signed to Ludwig.

Smoke escaped Ludwig‘s nostrils. He indicated his tablet screen and signed in quick, irritated flicks, “The Toads are refusing to connect their tuners. This place is too noisy to feel it out, I need a visual cue.”

“Heh, hold on, let me deal with it.”

Junior noticed the Toads watching him and Ludwig sign. He marched up to them with his arm around Ludwig’s shoulders, keeping him against his side.

“Hey, see this guy? This is my brother, Ludwig von Koopason. He’s the best Koopa composer of our time, and this is music he composed for my wedding. Do what he says and make him proud.”

Those Toads picked up their tuners and clipped them on, and there was no more fuss about it.

Ludwig sighed, looking up at Junior. Out loud, he said, “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Junior patted his shell and walked away to sit in the same pews he sat with his dad for Peach’s funeral. In light of that, his next comment sounded crass. “Knock ‘em dead, Ludwig!”

Ludwig grinned, opening his score.

“From the beginning.” He lifted his baton.

The orchestra held their instruments at ready. On Ludwig’s downbeat, they began a gentle, flowing melody.

Junior was glad he heard that music now— it choked him up when he thought about how Cherry‘s hair shone in the sun and the cute way her eyes flashed when she laughed.

Everything felt like a whirlwind. From a first date to a proposal, and, after months of planning, their wedding day had arrived.

They were still best friends, but now it came with a little extra.

Junior watched Toads set up white pots of red roses beside the pews. They rolled out a massive aisle runner spanning from the entrance to the gigantic multicolored rosette window behind the altar in the front. Its center showed Mario and Peach holding hands surrounded by hearts and sunburst patterns.

Sunlight crept into the southeast stained glass windows, making them glisten with images of vines and pink flowers.

Cherry would be walking through sunbeams when she came up the aisle later. He imagined her glowing like stars.

“Little Bowsie Ju-ju is getting married! I still can‘t believe it!” Wendy dropped onto the pew next to Junior. Her six gold bangles jingled together on her wrists. “You look nervous. Don‘t be so scared, it‘s just a bunch of pomp and poof.”

Junior ducked his head and grinned, “Maybe to you. How many times have you been married now? Six?”

“Eight. They were all bastards.” She turned to eye the others walking around. “Ludwig wrote such a beautiful piece for the wedding procession. I guess— huh, oops! I better go, I need to rehearse for the reception. See you later, shrimp!”

He smiled at her. “Have fun, Barfhead.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, smirked and stalked off, flicking her hair.

Jack turned his head as she passed, breathing in her floral perfume.

.o

Cherry left her dressing room to observe her reflection on the full-length closet door mirror. The bodice of her off-the-shoulder wedding gown hugged her frame. It buttoned up the back and red cords lacing up the front made it fit more snugly.

Her silver filigree tiara swooped to a point six inches high and was covered in scintillating diamonds, pearls, tiny sapphires and one large oval ruby sitting front and center. She thought it was a terrible, heavy thing the first time she wore it for hairstyle tryouts, but it wasn’t awful once she got used to it.

Someday, she would be crowned queen, and the crown was going to be heavier than the wedding tiara.

The hairstylist pulled her black hair into a shiny bun at her nape to offset the high tiara. Loose corkscrew curls framed her cheeks. She shook her head to ensure the tiara wasn’t going to move. A few extra hair pins resolved the unwanted wiggling. The hairstylist attached her veil and blusher using combs tucked against her bun.

“There, your highness, it’s done.”

Cherry beamed. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

A diamond choker matching the tiara and dangly diamond teardrop earrings finished off the look.

She breathed deeply, checking her makeup in the mirror. A light dusting of gold eyeshadow, winged black eyeliner, peach blush and glossy red stay-put lipstick brought out the best of her features.

“Ma’am, there was a delivery,” said one of the Toad servants. “It’s on your dresser.”

“Thank you.” Cherry crossed her room to find a tall, cylindrical steel vase with a single yellow tulip and a white envelope.

Inside, a pink card with red cherries on the cover. She smiled, flipping it open.

Cherry, I gave you a yellow tulip when we met, and now I’m giving you another one on the day I marry you. I’m so excited to be yours forever. I love you. See you at the wedding!

Love,

Junior. OXOXO

Giddy, she set the card upright beside the vase and took a photo with her phone. Junior was so sweet.

She pulled her blusher veil forward over her face when the door swung open. A short figure in a tailored ivory white tuxedo appeared. His only dash of red was a satin pocket square.

“Oh, mamma-mia…my Cherry blossom.” Mario froze and began to weep openly right there in the doorway. “My

bambina…

Luigi, she looks-a stunning!”

Luigi plodded in, leaning on a stylish painted green oak cane with a black Derby handle. His dark green suit and white tie showed he never lost his whimsical fashion sense. His hair wasn‘t completely gray yet and he didn‘t wear glasses, but his face showed many wrinkles.

He grinned over at Cherry, blue eyes twinkling, “Cherry!

Ciao! Come stai?”

“Uncle Luigi!

Va bene cosí.”

Cherry replied, swishing over to hug her dad and uncle.

Over his shoulder, she saw Daisy wearing a pastel yellow ball gown embroidered with tiny daisies. “Auntie Daisy!”

“Cherry!” Daisy swept into the room, all smiles and not one bit self conscious of her gray hair, which she wore in a crown of braids decorated with gold beads.

“Oh, my goodness, you look gorgeous!” She clicked her tongue and gasped, awestruck. “Oh, stand with Mario and Luigi so I can take a picture.”

And so Daisy went wild with her phone.

Cherry went along with the poses, but her mind was on Junior. She thought about how his eyes smiled just for her and the gentle way he always held her hand.

They met when, during one of Bowser‘s many attempts on Peach, Junior fell out of Bowser‘s Koopa Clown Car and injured his foot. He started crying and cursing. She ran out against Mario’s wishes, pulled the band-aid off her knee and stuck it to his bleeding middle toe.

He snorted, glared with beady eyes and said, “You‘re pretty for a shrimp!” Then he ran to catch the rope ladder Bowser dropped for him.

The very next day, he reappeared alone and gave her a yellow tulip. Didn‘t say a word, he handed her the smooshed flower and ran away. She chased him into the warp pipe he came through because she wanted to know more about him.

From then on until Peach died, they played together as best friends.

It was hard to believe that beady-eyed, snot-nosed Koopa kid would one day be her future husband.

But I wouldn‘t change a thing about it,

Cherry thought as she smiled for Daisy‘s photos.

I don‘t regret any of this. No regrets, no fears, no second thoughts. So what if he proposed during our first date? This is better than walking into a room and facing a man I don‘t know. This way I can see the future. Junior will make me happy, and I‘m going to make him happy.

She blinked as the camera flashed,

We‘re going to start a new era together.

.o

Bodies packed the pews in the Mushroom Castle‘s main hall. Koopas on one side, Toads on the other and yoshis mixed between the two.

The ceremony began with Bowser and Junior. They emerged from the back in complete silence— Bowser carrying an unlit torch and Junior holding a small tray of oil. They faced each other, lit the torch with their flaming breath and set it down in a stand by the altar.

The oil tray was set aside. Koopa marriage traditions dictated that at the conclusion of the ceremony, Junior had to drop the torch into the tray and leap over the flame with Cherry in his arms. It would symbolize his willingness to protect her from all dangers, even those that risked his own life.

Koopas preferred lava for this, but Mario wouldn’t allow lava inside the castle, so a controlled fire became the substitute.

Somebody put a large stool out for Bowser to sit on if he felt the need. Beside it, a silver oxygen tank attached to a small two wheeled cart with a black handle. The clear tubing sat coiled on top since he wasn’t wearing it at the moment. He ensured it stayed turned off due to the open flames nearby.

Bowser took up his best man position next to Junior and nodded to Ludwig. Ludwig‘s eyes lit up. He turned to the orchestra, lifted his baton and began the first movement. It was the melody Junior heard earlier.

Right on cue, his brothers and sister emerged, each one with a Toad at their side. Wendy looked utterly offended at having to walk next to someone half her height.

Junior tried not to snicker. He let his eyes lose focus until people looked like colorful blobs moving through the sunlight.

Two baby yoshis, one red girl and one blue boy, came skipping down the aisle behind Junior‘s family members. They dropped red rose petals from little baskets clutched in their clumsy hands.

Then came two Goombas— one wearing a red bow on her head and another wearing a red bow tie around his neck— bearing the precious wedding bands in their teeth. They presented the rings to Bowser, who knelt to accept them.

Junior‘s ring was actually a gold bracelet— with all the planning, he forgot to get a ring sized for his huge finger, so he used a bracelet instead. Nobody could tell the difference.

Daisy appeared by herself, bearing a bouquet of yellow roses that matched her gown. Luigi‘s dreamy eyes followed her from the back of the hall to the altar.

The music decrescendoed to Scott’s piccolo, like a fire dying to an ember. All eyes turned to the double doors in the back.

“Remember this moment,“ Bowser whispered in Junior‘s ear. “Your life changes now.”

THUD!

Ludwig gave a new downbeat. His orchestral music swelled in a thrilling crescendo.

The double doors in the back swung open and Cherry emerged into the first shaft of sunlight. She carried a bouquet of red roses surrounded in white baby’s breath held together with a silver ribbon. Every glittering piece of jewelry she wore captured the sunlight like stardust, especially her elaborate tiara. The veil gave her an air of mystery. Her dress became a beacon moving fluidly from sun patch to sun patch.

Everyone gasped collectively at the sight of her.

Junior swallowed hard over the lump growing in his throat. Tears came into his eyes. He didn‘t notice Mario holding Cherry‘s arm. She was beautiful, an inamorata, so unbelievably exquisite. He saw nothing but her gorgeous form floating in outer space and the nascent future being born between them.

Cherry felt the same, all she saw was that amazingly handsome Koopa waiting for her in front of the rosette window. She did not see Bowser standing right next to him, nor did she see Toad hopping up onto the altar. In his eyes, endless tomorrows reached out towards her, and she walked fearlessly towards them without regret.

Just like the proposal, time ceased to be for Junior and Cherry. All that separated them was a twenty foot aisle.

Bowser found himself overcome with emotion. When Junior stepped forward, kissed the hand Cherry so gracefully extended and knelt down on the altar stairs so they were eye to eye, tears skittered onto Bowser’s cheeks. His mind kept replacing the image before him with himself and Peach. He blinked it away, not wanting to miss this moment.

Mario withdrew from Cherry‘s arm. His eyes sparkled and his heart weighed a ton. He couldn‘t believe his baby, his little girl, was about to get married, and it hurt that Peach wasn’t there to see it.

Cherry glanced back at him, smiled and patted his cheek. Mario dabbed his eyes with his red pocket square.

“You‘re beautiful,“ Junior whispered.

Cherry grinned, “And you’re handsome.”

He beamed at her. She was there, with her stunning hair, and her cute freckles, and her soft eyes, and her prominent nose, and her gorgeous smile. Did he dream this up?

Toad cleared his throat and looked out over the congregation. “Who gives this Princess away?”

“I, King-a Mario, do.” Mario stated. His voice remained steady despite his emotions. With a graceful bow, he sidestepped and sat next to Luigi.

In a whisper, he said to his brother, “I never thought I‘d see-a the day.”

Luigi nodded and lowered his head. The wedding hurt him slightly— he and Daisy couldn‘t have children. They made up for it by adopting Amaryllis and Larkspur, the baby yoshis that carried the rose petals down the aisle. Luigi‘s brief bitterness disappeared as the wedding atmosphere permeated the giant hall.

Junior and Cherry faced each other. Neither noticed much beyond one another‘s eyes. Toad‘s voice floated to them from somewhere far away.

“Cherry, Bowser Junior, we have come together here to witness not only your joining in marriage, but the joining of two kingdoms who were once bitter enemies.”

Toad spoke so all could hear him— while Jack interpreted every word in Koopa Sign for Black. He saw how the two looked at each other and knew this was right.

“Junior…”

At the sound of his name, Junior jerked himself back to reality. “I do!”

Laughter broke out in the congregation. Cherry socked Junior‘s shoulder and wrapped her arm around him, giggling.

Bowser slapped his palm over his eyes and shook his head. Junior‘s face flushed bright red. He mumbled an apology, but now it was impossible to be completely serious. Ah, maybe all the pomp and circumstance wasn‘t so bad after all.

“We might be jumping the fire a little too soon, there. You don‘t say ‘I do‘ until after I‘ve told you what you‘re saying ‘I do‘ to.” Toad said, his eyes twinkling.

“But I already know what I‘m getting into,“ Junior replied. Cherry cracked up and swatted his shoulder, each blow too light to hurt. He looked out to the crowd, “See what I mean?”

“It‘s not too late to run for it, Junior!” Larry shouted.

At that, Junior stood up like he was going to bolt. Then he grinned and returned to his kneeling position in front of Cherry.

“I can‘t believe I‘m marrying this dork.” Cherry snickered affectionately.

Roaring laughter erupted again, breaking the nervous tension.

Bowser crossed his arms, shaking his head in amusement. Junior never could do anything the conventional way. In a split second he turned his somewhat boring, tradition-laden wedding into a funny memorable moment.

Once everybody settled down, Toad turned towards Junior and nodded his head.

“Prince Bowser Koopa Junior, do you take Princess Cherry Toadstool as your beloved wife? Do you promise to love her through rain and fire, through sickness and health, through rich times and poor times, through laughter and tears and with eyes for no one else as long as your heart beats?”

Junior met Cherry‘s eyes and squeezed her hands. “I do.”

Toad asked Cherry to repeat the same vows. She grinned and let her forehead touch Junior‘s. “I do.”

At the appropriate moment, Bowser held out his hand so Junior could grab Cherry‘s ring. Junior awkwardly grasped the tiny band between his forefinger and thumb claws, terrified of dropping it.

“Repeat after me,“ Toad smiled. “With this ring, I wed thee forever.”

Junior slid the ring onto Cherry‘s finger. “With this ring, I wed thee forever.”

Bowser‘s hand extended towards Cherry. She blinked at the size of the ring, took it and shrugged with a knowing grin. A few people snickered.

“Repeat after me. With this ring, I wed thee forever.”

“With this ring, I wed thee forever.” Cherry pushed Junior‘s ring onto his middle finger. She had to squeeze it over the second knuckle. Once she got it in place, it would never move again.

Toad closed the scroll he read from.

“Congratulations, you two,“ he whispered happily. Then he raised his voice again, “With the power given to me by the King, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

This was the moment Junior waited for. He delicately lifted Cherry‘s blusher veil, smoothed it behind her shoulders and pulled her close. She cupped his cheek, her new wedding ring gleaming for all to see.

Their lips met in their first kiss as a married couple and the entire hall burst into cheers.

“Misses Cherry Koopa-Toadstool,” Junior grinned.

“Mister Bowser Koopa-Toadstool Junior,“ Cherry grinned back. “Let‘s jump the fire.”

“You got it,” he said.

Grabbing the torch, he threw it into the tray Morton hastily pulled up to the stairs. Then he swept Cherry into his arms and leapt over the roaring flames.

“Yahoo! I‘m a married Koopa now!”

Upon landing, he twirled around and kissed her again, giddy with the happiness bubbling in his chest. “We did it, Cherry! We did it.”

“We sure did,“ Cherry clung to his neck. “Ready to party?”

He tossed his head back, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “Hell yeah!”

Bowser sat on the stool provided for him and watched from the altar as Junior spun his blushing bride around in circles. All the times he thought he saw Junior at his happiest were obliterated by that one moment where his smile caught the light. He remained there in stillness as Junior carried Cherry all the way to the doors leading outside.

He married his princess, his Cherry. Oh, Peach, can you see how happy they are?

Bowser glanced up as if expecting her spirit to be there. Of course, there was nothing but color from the stained glass windows reflected on the ornate white ceiling.

He exhaled and watched his new in-laws process up the aisle.

Familiar shells caught his eye. Neil, Celine, Pat, Stevie, Josh, Judy, and those bead-festooned Paratroopa wings could only belong to Elton and Freddie. They chattered animatedly among themselves.

“Bowser?”

Bowser‘s eyes flicked to Mario. He hadn‘t noticed the plumber approaching. “What‘cha want?”

“It‘s a lonely moment for-a me, too.” Mario turned to the open door. “But they‘re gonna be just-a fine.”

Bowser lowered his gaze to the floor and smiled. All the pushing, advice-giving and teaching was over. Junior didn’t need any more coaching to get the woman of his dreams.

He lifted his head again, remembering the night in his throne room where he pleaded with the fates to let him live to see Junior marry.

“Thank you,“ he whispered.

In that moment, he mentally let go of his life like the dandelion seed by Peach’s grave. No matter what happened, he could die in peace when the time came.

“Eh? Bowser?”

Bowser turned to Mario, smirking. “Wherever Peach is, she’s smiling right now.”

Mario’s eyes softened. “Are you okay?”

“Tch, I’m great! C’mon, let’s go hog a bunch of food at the buffet.”

“Of course.” Mario smiled. “I’m hungry.”

Bowser stood up and snapped his fingers. Koopa Troopas came to collect the stool and oxygen tank and transport them outside.

Mario went on ahead, following a group of Toads waiting to escort him out.

Bowser snuck away to leave his rose boutineer on Peach’s grave. That time, the tears he cried weren’t sad. Reflections of her golden statue shone in his eyes when he looked up.

“They did it, Peaches.”

.o

Wedding photos took two hours to complete, but the time spent was worth it. The reception happened in the giant courtyard, where a series of white fireproof canopies kept the sun from melting the eight foot wedding cake.

Somebody set up a stage by the stone dance floor on the north side near the hedge maze. Music alternated between live bands, Ludwig at the piano, Wendy singing and Iggy DJing.

Everyone got into the food— the Cheep-Cheep kabobs were a smashing success that everybody talked about— and drink glasses clinked everywhere.

Ludwig sat at the white stand-up piano onstage after a silent cue from Bowser.

Bowser vaulted up onto the stage after most people finished their food. He roared and spat a stream of fire over the crowd to get everyone‘s attention. His flames scorched two canopies and alarmed several Toads.

But everybody shut up.

Once the courtyard went silent, he raised his enormous gold wine goblet.

“It really chaps my ass when nobody pays attention to me!“ He began, grinning when Junior rolled his eyes. “Mario, get up here.”

Confused, Mario hopped up onstage next to Bowser.

Behind them, Ludwig adjusted his hearing aids and interpreted every spoken word in Koopa Sign.

Bowser went on, “Everybody, look around. I‘m better-looking than whoever you‘re sitting next to. BWAHAHA! Just kidding! Okay, seriously now…”

His bass voice grew softer, “Junior, I‘m so proud of what you did today. You did what I could never do, and I couldn‘t be happier than I am right now. And Cherry, you gorgeous young lady, you‘re really a sweetheart. Just like your mom was. I hope my boy makes you happy.”

Turning to Mario, he said, “Now, I propose a toast to the joining of our kingdoms. To the start of the Koopa-Toadstool empire!”

Everyone cheered and raised their glasses. Bowser slapped his glass against Mario‘s before downing his entire drink.

Laughing, Mario opted to use the microphone instead of shouting. “I‘d like to-a say

congratulazioni

to-a Junior and my sweet-a Cherry. At first, I was skeptical about this wedding, but Cherry changed my mind about Junior and Bowser. This-a day means a lot to-a me. Cherry, your-a mother would be so proud. Mamma-mia, I‘m getting emotional.”

His voice cracked, but he cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “I hope for many happy years to-a come after today.”

He sniffed and raised his glass full of black Koopa wedding wine.

“Buona fortuna!”

Ludwig finger spelled the Italian. His fingers flew gracefully through each letter.

The gathering cheered in unison and took a hearty drink of whatever they had in their glasses. Then the dance floor cleared as Junior and Cherry made their way to the center.

Cherry removed her veil, but still wore the glittering tiara. Junior was so much larger than her that it appeared their dance would be awkward, but they practiced this moment for months.

Junior took Cherry‘s right hand in his left and settled his free hand on her back. She let her free hand rest on his right arm.

Ludwig faced the piano and turned on his tablet. Wendy tapped the mic, which caused the waveform on his tablet screen to shift. He nodded to show her microphone connected as he laid his fingers over the keys.

Wendy smiled and began to sing, her contralto voice suffusing the space in its low warmth.

“

I took my love, I took it down. Climbed a mountain and turned around. I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills, ‘till the landslide brought me down…

”

She signed what she sang, holding each gesture in time to the beat so Black wouldn’t be left out.

Cherry and Junior drifted gently around the dance floor like two stars bound by gravity. Once again they forgot anyone else was there, having lost themselves in their wedding bliss.

“

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above?

”

Cherry laid her head against Junior’s shoulder. “Are we really here? Is this really happening?”

Junior kissed her cheek, holding her close. “If it’s not, I don’t want to know what reality is ever again.”

“You’re my best, best, most ultra best-bestest bestest best husband.” She giggled.

He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “You’re my best, best, most ultra bestest-best of the bestest mega-best wife.”

They beamed at each other. She squeezed his hand.

“Let’s be this forever.”

He closed his eyes. “Yeah. We will. I promise.”

They kissed softly as the music swelled around them.

“

…Oh, take my love, take it down. Ohh, climb a mountain and turn around, and if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills, well, the landslide will bring it down. And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills…well the landslide will bring it down, down, ohhh, the landslide will bring it…down.

”

Wendy‘s singing carried them through their first dance. Junior finished by lowering Cherry into a graceful dip. She beamed and kissed his nose, arousing cheers from the crowd.

The reception really took off after that.

Junior and Cherry cut the cake and fed each other a piece.

Morton and Sienna tore up the dance floor with a rousing tango.

Luigi joined them and Daisy had a blast matching him move for move.

Not to be left out, Roy and Pom-Pom went for it, too, despite not being as experienced or showy.

But Elton and Freddie showed

everyone

up by performing an aerial tango as only Koopa Paratroopas could. They were practically a blur of green and yellow. Elton’s bright gold glasses kept flashing when the daylight hit them.

Larkspur and Amaryllis gave flower petals to anybody who wanted one. Everybody cooed over them and they drank in the attention.

Three Goombas managed to get squished when a serving platter fell on them.

Bowser and Junior staged a tandem breakdancing session that cleared the dance floor and got everybody cheering.

Cherry proved she could still do a backflip while wearing heels, a tiara and a poofy wedding gown. Her heels got stuck in the grass when she landed. Junior steadied her to avoid a fall. They looked at her shoes after she walked out of them and laughed. Daisy helped her put them back on.

Pat assisted Celine to sit at a quieter table and brought her fruit punch. They kissed and gazed at each other like nobody else existed.

Black pulled Ludwig into a very aggressive, bitey kiss. Both of them disappeared into the hedge maze for half an hour. When they reappeared looking noticeably rumpled, they doffed their bow ties and left their shirt collars unbuttoned. Black picked a leaf out of Ludwig’s hair. They smiled smugly at each other.

Junior spotted their departure and caught them returning. Their flushed faces said it all.

“Did you two run off and screw at my wedding? Seriously?” He signed, eyebrows raised.

Black grinned wickedly and nodded. He freed a hand from Ludwig to reply, “Isn’t that what weddings are for?”

Ludwig threw his head back, baring his sharp teeth in bellowing laughter that gave away his state of inebriation. He slapped a hand onto Junior’s shoulder and pulled him close to say in his ear, “He’s irresistible when he bites. You’ll understand what it’s like later.”

Junior shook him back and forth playfully. “Can you still play the piano drunk?”

Ludwig signed, “Yes, watch.”

He kissed Black, climbed onto the stage and played as if he never drank a drop. Black leaned against the piano to feel it vibrate and watched him like he hung the moon in the sky.

Junior didn’t realize he looked at Cherry exactly the same way when she took his hand. He smiled, playing with one of the coiled curls framing her face.

“Nobody here looks as beautiful as you, wife.”

Her eyes softened. She kissed him. “Nobody here looks as handsome as you, husband.”

They hugged each other and kissed deeply.

Lemmy sat astride Scott’s lap and they somehow rolled his wheelchair backwards into a bush as they exchanged a long smooch. They guffawed so hard it took several minutes to detangle themselves from the branches and leaves.

Neil entertained Larkspur and Amaryllis by juggling spoons until they giggled themselves silly.

Iggy ran past Junior, loudly scream-laughing with Toad’s sparkly speckled cap in his hand. Toad held his robes up as he sprinted after him, uttering every known swear word and a few new ones made up on the fly.

Boom-Boom played Koopa Hold ‘em with a bunch of Toads and a yellow yoshi. His royal flush had them throwing their cards on the table and storming off in disgust. He made the bank that day.

Mario drank Lakitu under the table. Eight shots of Whitecap whiskey was all it took. He did that

after

imbibing black Koopa wedding wine, so the full effects hadn’t hit him yet.

Stevie watched them and facepalmed. “Lakitu can’t hold liquor.”

Mario grinned at her, hazy-eyed.

Wendy charged all the single people two gold coins to kiss her and walked around jingling her purse.

Larry released a fake Bob-omb that made whistling noises and threw confetti everywhere. The shrieking jolted Judy out of her seat, and she flung a strawberry at him.

“Fiend!” She huffed.

Morton broke a chair sitting down. He laughed and stayed on the ground while he finished his wine.

“Are you okay?” Sienna peered at him.

“I’m great!” Morton raised his glass in a toast.

Roy sneakily topped off drinks until Daisy caught him. She snatched the wine bottle away, poured herself another glass and gave it back with her sweetest smile.

“The lace on Cherry’s dress is gorgeous,” she said.

“Hold on!” Cherry caught up to them. “Roy? You did this?” She ran her hand along the delicate panels on her bodice and skirt. “This is bobbin lace! It had to take months!”

“Yup! Me and Pom-Pom did it together.” He dipped his head, teeth bared in a grin and sunglasses shimmering. “It’s the least I can do.”

She hugged him. “Thank you.”

Josh caught Lemmy’s squishy ball when it rolled away and tossed it back to him.

Bowser helped Luigi do his first keg-stand ever, and cackled when the aging plumber spat foam everywhere.

“Not bad, Greenie!”

Then he did one unaided, just to prove that he still could. He righted himself without spitting anything out and belched louder than the combined noise of the reception.

Luigi wrinkled his nose while dabbing foam off his mustache. Nearby, Larry cackled while taking video.

Jack mixed drinks and served Wendy a pink “Darklands Dirty” martini, called such because of the dark chocolate cube that went in it.

“So, how much of me can you see?” She asked him point-blank as she rubbed a chocolate cube around the rim of the martini glass.

He smirked, pushing his thick glasses up on his nose. “Enough to know I like what I see.”

“You’re not gay like your brother?”

“Nope. Bi.”

She smirked, taking a long gulp of her drink. “Same.”

Bowser got a text. He grinned deviously and answered it.

Moments later, the rest of Serrated crashed the wedding. Bowser helped them set up an impromptu concert.

Sienna hopped onstage with them and sat behind the drum set. She held her drumsticks aloft and slapped them together. Blue swung his head, Paratroopa wings and blue spiked hair swishing. Crimson’s feathery red hair waved in the wind when he strummed his guitar.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Junior screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Wow!” Cherry glued herself to his side, eyes glowing gleefully.

“YES!” Daisy whistled.

Nobody knew what to do until the music boomed to life. All of a sudden a flood of Toads, yoshis and Koopas poured onto the dance floor.

Mario and Luigi ran away from the speakers with both hands over their ears. Bowser cracked up at them rushing past. They went back once they realized a bomb wasn’t going off.

The music blasted. People danced, laughed, kissed, played and drank. It was the biggest party their combined kingdoms had ever seen, and everybody had a good time.

Bowser sat alone on the side, self-consciously glancing at the oxygen tank and coiled tubing. Junior found him and helped him hook the prongs into his nose.

“Hey, dad.” He smiled. “You okay?”

Bowser gazed up at him, his russet eyes no longer burdened by worry or sadness.

“I’m alive.” He beamed, “I can’t call myself the happiest Koopa on the planet right now, since that’s you. But I’m damn happy right now.”

Cherry emerged from the throng and playfully tugged Junior’s tail. “Boo!”

“Ack!” Junior spun to face her. “Cherry!”

She pulled him close and kissed him. Then she came forward in a thunder of rustling fabric to wrap her arms around Bowser’s neck.

“Thank you for making that cute Koopa behind me,” she whispered in his ear.

Bowser touched his lips to her cheek. “Thanks for being sweet to him.”

Cherry withdrew, squeezing his hand one more time.

Junior offered her his arm and they walked back into the chaos.

Bowser sat alone for a while, resting and watching people flail about. Morton sat Scott on his shoulders so he could see the band. Whoever lifted Lemmy aloft tossed him backwards, and he landed squarely on Mario’s face. Laughter erupted. Lemmy helped Mario back onto his feet with a sheepish look on his face. The crowd shifted, hiding them from sight again.

Black came out with a tall glass of ice water, bowed respectfully and offered it up.

“Here, you should hydrate,” he signed one-handed, “I saw you drinking beer and wine, but no water.”

“Neil says I should keep my fluid intake down.” Bowser signed back.

Black raised an eyebrow, gesturing. “Yes, and alcohol dehydrates you.”

He had a point.

Bowser accepted the glass and drank it while Black watched. He ate the ice, too, relishing the cold hard crunch against his teeth.

Black smiled, bowed again and took the glass with him when he pushed his way back into the reception.

Eventually, Bowser twisted the nozzle on the oxygen tank as he took the nasal cannula off. His feet hurt at every step, but he felt okay enough to rejoin the mess.

The sky trended towards orange as the sun prepared for its descent.

Cherry faced the stage while hopefuls gathered behind her. She tossed her bouquet too hard, so it hit one of the canopies. Wendy caught it as it dropped straight down and bragged her head off about it until she saw that a red yoshi snagged the garter. The yoshi puckered his snout for a kiss. She screamed. A few Toads laughed at her.

Jack stood up as she stormed off, and she crashed head-on into his chest.

“Whoa!” He steadied her. “Hi. Sorry. Hi, again.”

“Move,“ Wendy snapped.

Jack reached into his breast pocket and took out a handful of coins. “Are you still accepting payments for a smooch?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“Because you‘re so fucking beautiful and I‘m tired of being shy.” He held out his hand, coins gleaming.

As soon as Wendy accepted them, he tilted her back in a waltz-dip and pressed his mouth to hers. Bowser took a

great

photo of the moment on his phone.

She came up breathless, flushed and wide-eyed.

Before Jack could let go of her, she snagged his shirt collar, yanked him nose to nose, and said, “Do that again. Slower.”

Jack gladly obliged. Wendy wrapped her arms around his neck, her painted red claws sliding through his inky black ponytail. A few people whistled.

Later, Bowser and Mario stood together to watch Junior and Cherry leave the reception.

All of Junior‘s brothers scribbled vulgar euphemisms for sex and genitalia around the huge JUST MARRIED banner tied to the back of the Koopa Clown Car.

“Bye, daddy!” Cherry shouted over the Koopa Clown Car‘s engines. She read one of the words written on the banner and blushed.

Mario waved to her, a bit wobbly from all the liquor he consumed with Lakitu.

Junior gave a thumb‘s up that Bowser quickly returned. Then the Koopa Clown Car lifted off. Nobody noticed a rope dangling from the back of it until a loud bang drowned out the cheers.

All eyes went to the crudely-carved, ten foot long wooden phallus swinging behind the Clown Car. The shocking sight gave way to roaring laughter.

Cherry grabbed Junior‘s arm and showed him the source of the joke. Junior stopped the ‘Car, peeked over the side and immediately looked at his dad.

Bowser grinned and guiltily pointed to Mario. When Mario noticed Bowser pointing at him, he elbowed Bowser‘s ribs. Junior almost fell out of the ‘Car laughing. He cut the rope and sped away.

“And there they go,“ said Bowser. “So, Mario…uh, Mario?”

Mario was sprawled out on his back, snoring.

Bowser rolled his eyes and bent over, “Ugh, never let tiny people drink Koopa wine.”

As he reached for the unconscious plumber, he felt a tightening behind his breastbone. It had enough punch to make him pause mid-motion and touch his chest. The sensation disappeared as fast as it came.

He forgot about it, hefted Mario over his shoulder and walked back towards the party, “Hey, everybody, check it out! Mario‘s drunk! Who wants to write on him?”

.o

Servants transformed Junior’s bedroom into a romantic wedding suite. They laid a soft mattress on the stone slab bed, draped it in the finest frictionless Koopa silk and lit the metal sconces to give the room a warm, golden glow.

Junior carried Cherry over the threshold while she giggled in his arms. They were buzzing to go after they spent most of the Clown Car ride kissing and watching the sunset.

But Junior wanted to brush his teeth first so his garlic breath didn‘t ruin their night.

Everything Bowser said to him about the wedding night came crashing through his mind. Junior finished brushing his teeth and spat in the sink.

Sex between two Koopas was so simple because their hardy bodies could take rough treatment that would shatter fragile human bones. The rules were different with Cherry. He had to go slow, make sure she felt pleasure instead of pain and be willing to let her get on top if she wanted.

What if I screw this up somehow? I might get carried away and break one of her arms if I‘m not careful.

Junior squatted down and popped his shell off. All the tests on his heart helped him get used to removing it, but it never stopped feeling naked and vulnerable without its weight.

I wonder if—

“Junior…” A bronze leg slid around the door, the foot still wearing a white high heel. “Come on, big boy. Get undressed and come to bed.”

Junior gulped and his pants suddenly got tight.

“C-coming! Just a sec! I‘m— I‘m getting naked in here…”

Oh, THAT was really sexy.

He pulled his pants and jacket off and hung them up. Then came the bow tie and shirt. He paused to smile at his wedding band. The whole day seemed like a dream until now.

He shut the bathroom lights off and peeked into the bedroom, glad to find the light low in there, too.

Cherry’s ball gown lay across the back of his desk chair, the voluminous skirt and petticoats sticking up into the air. How did she get that off by herself?

Straight ahead, she was laying on her side on the bed, naked.

Junior’s eyes grew. He got a glimpse when they fooled around in the closet, but this— he could barely take her all in.

Cherry smiled sweetly and patted the mattress. His feet got cold all over again. She was

gorgeous.

“Where’s the big growl I’m supposed to hear?”

Junior gulped. “Um…grr?”

“You call that a growl?” Cherry raised an eyebrow. “I thought Koopa mating growls were a lot more, oh, I dunno…”

She moved her legs and her illecebrous scent curled towards his nose. His senses jumped alive with a need, one he only indulged alone in the privacy of his bathroom.

This woman offered herself to him, and no one else could have her. His pupils dilated and his throat contracted in a deep, guttural growl that rattled the walls.

“Mine,“ the growl said in his native Koopa tongue, “you are mine!”

“That’s better.” Cherry licked her red lips. “Come on.”

A second later, he crawled onto the bed, looming over her with everything on display so she could see how much she excited him. Her breath caught.

“Cherry,“ Junior whispered, unable to look away from her ensorcelling blue eyes, “We don‘t have to—“

“Hush.” She pressed her lips to his and guided one of his hands to her breast. Her free hand stroked his hair, calming his nerves. Wasn‘t she supposed to be the nervous one?

If she was, it didn‘t show.

“Tell you what.” She tapped the end of his nose. “I’m going to moan and groan like something hurts once we get down to it. How about I pick a random word to tell you to stop?”

“You mean, like, a safe word?”

“Yup.” Cherry popped her lips on the end of the word. “How about ‘paper’?”

Junior leaned in and kissed her. “Paper it is.”

She hooked her fingers like claws and dragged them down his bare back. That flesh wasn’t exposed often, so he felt it through his scales.

“Ahh, Cherry!” He almost collapsed on top of her.

She pulled the covers over their heads and giggled.

A moment later…

“Wow…stretchy.”

“Mmh, Junior, that feels so…w-what?”

“Uh, nevermind.”

.o

Mario awoke in his throne, head throbbing and heavy with fading intoxication. His dry mouth tasted like a sweaty sock. He didn’t want to think about how his breath smelled.

“Here,” said a familiar bass voice, and a beefy hand shoved a tall water glass at his face. “Drink up, it’ll help.”

Groaning, Mario downed the water and opened his eyes. Something green, white and fuzzy around the edges sat in front of him. He fumbled in his breast pocket for his glasses and the blurry thing resolved into Bowser.

Bowser untied his red bow tie, letting its loose ends hang freely next to his unbuttoned collar. He wore his oxygen tubing again. The wheeled silver tank by his side emitted soft puffs every so often while he breathed.

Nervous Toad guards paced the floors.

Fading daylight came through the windows, the sun’s last rays gleaming across abendrot skies.

“Hell of a party, wasn’t it?” Bowser grinned.

“As big as my wedding to-a Peach,” Mario sighed, smiling back.

He followed Bowser’s gaze to Cherry’s official royal painting, which hung where Peach’s used to. It showed her in profile, holding a rose as red as her dress. The background was soft gold, bringing warm harmony to her olive skin and dark hair.

“Hey, Mario?”

“What?”

Bowser started to say something, closed his mouth and waved his hand. “I’m leaving soon.”

He wasn’t talking about departing the castle.

Before Mario could comment, he smirked again, eyes wickedly gleaming. “Don’t you need to piss after all that booze?”

“You have a point-a.” Mario wobbled onto his feet. Moving made him highly aware of the need to relieve himself.

His guards stared in horror and whispered to each other. Bowser shushed them, grinning wickedly.

Mario staggered into the bathroom under the throne room staircase, shut the door and turned on the light. Without checking the mirror, he lifted the toilet seat and did his business.

Only when he went to wash his hands did he see his face covered in swear words, crude black ink penises and a pair of breasts doodled on the tip of his round nose.

“Oh no!” Mario cried.

His phone blew up with photos of Bowser and his kids laughing maniacally while drawing the offensive marks on his face while he slept.

Mario burst out of the bathroom, shaking his fists and bellowing,

“Vaffanculo! Testa di cazzo!”

Bowser snapped a photo of him mid-scream and cackled so loud it thundered throughout the halls.

“Stronzo!”

“Calm down, it’ll wash off!” He laughed harder.

“Hmph!” Mario stalked back into the bathroom and the sink ran.

“You love me!” Bowser called at the closed door.

“Yes, as much as a hemorrhoid!” Mario snapped back.

“BWAHAHA!”

“Shush!”

“Make me! BWHAHAHA!”

Mario emerged, his face clean except for a few inky smears on his eyebrows and cheeks. “You’re-a terrible.”

“I know.” Bowser smiled. “I’m gonna head out now. I had to see the chaos first.”

Lights came on inside as the daylight outside faded.

Grumbling, Mario wiped water off his nose.

“Before you go…did-a you seriously make-a Luigi do a keg-stand?”

Bowser smirked. “Yup! He was sorry afterward, wasn’t he?”

“He threw up in a salad bowl.”

“Awesome! Did you puke, too?”

“No, I didn’t see-a him do it.”

“Damn. I wanted to laugh at you puking.”

“Sorry to-a disappoint you.”

They chuckled— shared mirth, that time.

Mario noticed how exhausted and unwell Bowser looked. His eyelids drooped, his shoulders sagged and pain lurked behind the joyful gleam in his eyes.

“You’re dying, aren’t you?” Mario arched an eyebrow, face serious.

“We all are,” Bowser countered him, unflinching.

A strange lump tightened Mario’s throat. “You have heart-a troubles.”

“Oh.” Bowser touched his scarred chest. His mouth curved in a sly smirk. “Yes, Mario, I’m dying. Probably soon. And, after today, I’m okay with it if I don’t wake up tomorrow. I’m gonna welcome every day until I’m not here anymore. So should you. Don’t wait till you’re terminally ill to do it.”

Standing up straighter, he went on, “Wanna know something funny? Ten years ago today, my cardiologist told me I had ten years to live. This should’ve been my death day, and instead I watched Junior get married. I lived.”

Mario smiled, because he sure as hell didn’t want Bowser seeing him tear up. “You’re right-a. You lived, and you had fun.”

“Damn right.” Bowser looked Mario squarely in the eyes. “When you see me dead, remember how much I

lived.”

With that, he wrapped his meaty, swollen fingers around the handle behind the oxygen tank, wrangled the loose tubing on a hook and started for the main entrance.

“Hey, Bowser?”

“What?” Bowser glanced over his shoulder.

Mario wiped his nose on his sleeve and sighed. They weren't going to see each other again after this. Not with both of them alive, at any rate. This was Bowser, the stubborn, obnoxious, fire-breathing brute he rescued Peach from a dozen times. The idea of him lying still and pale somewhere didn’t fit.

He knew he should say something, but what did one say in a situation like this? The words he managed seemed pitiful in comparison to the yawning future.

“Take-a care.”

Bowser’s frown cooled away and he grinned toothily, his expression as close to friendly as it got. He responded to the goodbye Mario couldn’t say.

“Bye, you grungy old pipe cleaner. Live a nice, long life. BWAHAHA!”

His big, booming laugh reverberated off the floor as nervous Toad guards gathered to escort him out to the warp zone. He walked gingerly, as if his feet hurt, and the wheels on the oxygen tank squeaked on the stone path.

Mario turned away and didn’t watch him leave.

.o

.o

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Two weeks after the wedding, Bowser woke up alive on his sixty-second hatch-day. And like he had for the past two weeks, the first thing he did was reach into his shell and pull on his compression stockings.

Those things were custom made to match his scales and the holes at the ends gave his toe claws somewhere to go. Somebody needed to look close to tell he wore them. Neil had them custom-made for him after the wedding blew his feet up to three times their size.

Even better, his kids were waiting for him downstairs.

The celebration was a quiet affair— the cake, thoughtful gifts and lots of laughter and chit chat about the wedding.

Junior and Cherry kept making bedroom eyes at each other all through the gift opening and cake. They chased each other upstairs after disposing of their paper plates.

Bowser snuck off and popped painkillers like candy because he hadn’t fully recovered from the wedding yet.

He watched the rest of his kids laugh and chatter with each other. Deep down, he knew he wouldn’t see their faces in person again after today.

Ludwig picked up on the grief in his eyes. Of course he would. He didn’t comment, but he silently expressed his understanding of what this gathering truly meant.

Bowser enveloped him in a hug before he got a chance to sign about it. He rubbed his face against his soft blue hair and held him tight. His first child, his oldest.

The embrace gave Ludwig a chance to collect himself without everyone seeing him crack.

“What’re you two crying about over here?” Wendy walked up to them, cocked her fist on one hip and rapped her painted pink claws on the lemonade in her hand.

“The wedding,” Ludwig said aloud, sniffing. “Dad got emotional, and of course that made me do it, too.”

Excellent cover. Bowser chuckled under his breath.

“Oh, wasn’t it gorgeous?” She batted her eyes and sipped her drink. “Jack is something else! It’s about damn time I found a man who isn’t afraid to put his hands on me. Is Black like that?”

“Like what?” Ludwig faced her and raised a brow.

“Aggressive.”

He smiled smugly. “Yes. Black kisses me a particular way when he’s in that mood.”

“With his tongue like he’s trying to devour you?”

“Mmhmm. Or, he bites. If he goes for my neck, it’s over.”

Wendy giggled, covering her mouth and signing with her free hand. “Wow, Jack does the neck thing, too! They’re so much alike!”

She eyed Bowser and raised her drink, speaking aloud, “It finally happened. I got a guy who can finish the job he starts.”

Bowser laughed uproariously, hugging her tight against him. “Are you happy?”

“Gods, yes.” She jiggled the ice in her glass.

Ludwig flashed a smile tinged in sadness and walked off to get more lemonade.

Bowser kissed Wendy’s forehead and stroked her silky long hair. His only daughter, his precious little girl who whirled through life like a town-flattening tornado.

“I’m happy that you’re happy, sweetie.”

“You’re the best, daddy.” Wendy squeezed him tight. She tittered and twirled away to join Ludwig by the lemonade bowl. They resumed talking about their lovers in Koopa Sign.

Bowser eased himself onto the couch next to Lemmy, who was transfixed by his new glitter ball. The particles were holographic, so they sparkled every imaginable color.

“New stim toy?”

Lemmy looked up and beamed, tail wagging wildly. “It’s a prototype for my Ballpit store. Scott suggested the holographic glitter. I really like it.”

“Can I see?”

“Okay!” Lemmy handed it to him. “Hold it really close to your eyeballs.”

Bowser lifted the glittery ball towards his eyes like Lemmy did until all he saw was the shifting sparkles. It reminded him of the otherworldly staircase he kept seeing in his dreams.

“What’s it supposed to do?”

“It’s soothing.” Lemmy jiggled the ball until the blurry glitter swirled. “But it might not work if you’re not autistic.”

“Ahh, that’s what’s different.” Bowser grinned, handing him the ball back. “Hey, Lemmy, are you happy?”

“I think so.” Lemmy rocked back and forth, bouncing the ball between his feet.

“Scott treating you right?”

“He’s a dream, dad.” He grinned so huge his eyes squinted shut. “He’s hot, he’s funny, he doesn’t shove his tongue down my throat and he makes sure I can eat what he cooks. He takes care of me kinda like you used to. I’m gonna move into a place with him. It’s right across the street from Iggy and Larry, so I’m gonna see them every day still, but…it’s a place just for us!”

Bowser smiled softly at the animated rambling. Lemmy gushed about things that made him happy, so that expressed his joy louder than his actual words ever could.

He kissed the side of Lemmy’s head, right on his stripes.

Lemmy turned around and kissed him back on the end of his nose.

“Love you so much, dad.” He resumed staring into his glitter ball like it held the secrets of the universe.

Those words hit home. Bowser nodded, blinking so nobody saw the tears in his eyes. “Love you, too, little guy.”

“…my first open heart surgery was a transplant, so I got to hold one in my hand while it beat since we did a beating heart transfer. It was pretty scary. Here’s the shot of me taking the new heart out of the cooler. They had it hooked up to a pacemaker that kept it beating.”

Larry swiped up on his phone to reveal the video of the surgical procedure. Someone’s glistening red heart pulsated in his gloved hand as he lowered it into the open chest cavity. The clip ended there.

Iggy stuffed a forkful of fudge cake into his mouth. “What’s it feel like to hold a beating heart?”

Larry pressed his fist against Iggy’s palm and squeezed it tight a few times. “Like that, but stronger, because you feel the whole myocardium pulling in and relaxing. At the same time, it’s kind of squishy.”

“How many heart surgeries have you done since?” Bowser asked as he walked into the dining room.

“Uh,” Larry stared upward, mouthing numbers. “Probably a little over a hundred. I love it. Cardiologist life. My last one was an aortic valve replacement on a Crash heart like yours, except that patient had a bicuspid aortic valve that was failing. That’s exceedingly rare.”

He grinned, finishing off his cake slice. “I accidentally discovered you can find Crash in embryos, with egg ultrasounds. It turns out the pouch for Crash hearts is a little longer than a normal heart, so we can spot it before a heart is fully formed. Isn’t that wild? If you start hearing about the Larry Test, it’s me! I discovered it.”

Bowser laid his hand over Larry’s and squeezed it. “Damn! I’m proud of you, Larry! That’s incredible. You're such a smart guy. Just…damn.”

Larry locked eyes with him, expression softening. “You’re the reason, dad. I can’t fix your heart, but I can help people avoid going through what you did.”

Just then, Larry’s phone lit up with a call. He walked away into the kitchen to take it, came back and started gathering up his paper plate, fork and napkins.

“Crash heart patient coming in with heart attack symptoms. Not my aorta guy, somebody else. I have to get to the hospital.”

Bowser jumped up and hugged him. “You go fix those hearts, kid. Love you.”

Larry pressed his cheek to his shoulder since his hands were full. “I love you a lot, dad. I always think about you when I handle Crash hearts. Always.”

He wiggled free and took his mess into the kitchen before booking it out to the warp zone.

Morton washed breakfast dishes in the kitchen while Roy chatted to him about a recent soccer match between the Sandstorms and the Derechos.

Iggy rested his head on the dining room table, sighing.

“You okay, Iggster?” Bowser sat with him.

“Had a TC day before yesterday,” Iggy grumbled. “First one in almost eleven years. I’m sore.”

Lemmy piped up, “He was in the shower and his seizure alarm went off. I pulled him out after he stopped shaking, and Larry and I took care of him.”

That explained the bruises on Iggy’s elbows and feet.

Bowser sighed to himself. Iggy’s first tonic clonic seizure happened in the bathtub when he was barely a year old. Seeing that scared him just as much as the febrile seizures Ludwig had during the double ear infection that damaged his hearing.

It took months of taking Iggy to doctors before they caught a seizure during an EEG and discovered his temporal lobe epilepsy. Anticonvulsant medications controlled it fairly well as he grew up and did better once he finished growing.

But those seizures were scary to watch, and they never got easier to witness with time.

“I’ll feel better in a couple days.” Iggy picked his head up and managed his usual wild smile. “Don’t worry about me, dad, I’m a pro at this epilepsy shit.”

Bowser chuckled, leaning over to drape an arm over his son’s shoulders. He kissed the side of his head next to his bright green plume of hair.

“Daaaaaad, you’re being weirdly mushy!”

“It’s my hatch-day, I can be as mushy as I want.”

Iggy stuck his tongue out at him. “Fine, I love you too. I knew you were gonna say that next.”

“You caught me.” Bowser smiled, patting the back of his neck. “Let me know if I can get you anything.”

“I just need to rest.” Iggy adjusted his glasses. “But, um, thanks.”

Bowser patted his head again and strolled back into the living room to drape himself across the couch. He laid on his stomach with his puffy, sore feet towards the far wall, where they wouldn’t be the first thing everybody saw walking by. The compression stockings did their job of keeping the pain bearable, but they didn’t eliminate it.

Heavy footsteps plodded through the hall. Morton’s familiar, guttural voice croaked across the quiet.

“Hey, dad. You okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Tired from old age, huh?”

“Rub it in, why don’t ya?” Bowser grumbled without any real venom. “I’m old and things hurt more.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Morton parked himself on the floor by the head of the couch where they could see each other eye to eye. Enormous Morton, who was once a tiny baby with a giant head, bulging eyes and the angriest face ever seen. His features got wider and teeth grew in his mouth, but his bulging eyes and resting angry face never went away.

“Serrated is touring again next month, so I’m gonna be busy pretty soon.”

Morton rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I got a full heart workup, y’know, in case there was anything I needed to fix before I hit the road. Everything looks good. No regurg in any of my valves or anything. What about you? What does your heart look like lately?”

A question Bowser dreaded enough to open a pit in his stomach. He closed his eyes, swallowed and couldn’t answer it the way he wanted to. Not without causing Morton to cancel his gigs and leave Serrated in the lurch.

“Eh, it’s working, isn’t that the important part?”

Fortunately, Morton caught on to the humor and not what wasn’t said. He grinned, sharp teeth on full display. “Well, it would be shitty if it didn’t!”

They snickered together. Bowser sat up because laying flat caused his chest to feel too tight.

Roy scooted past Morton.

“Ah, hey you two.” Bowser grabbed them both by the back of the neck and pretended to smash their heads together.

Roy and Morton played along, throwing their heads backwards as if they bounced off each other. They used to butt heads full force as babies, and it was a wonder they never knocked each other out.

“Nice one, dad.” Roy draped a dish towel over his shoulder. “Having a fun hatch-day?”

“I’m having the best one of my life right now.”

Bowser wrapped an arm around each of his biggest sons.

“Look at you two, you’re wider than me. Heh!”

“Been working out a couple times a week.” Roy flexed his bicep. He had a weightlifter’s build, not a bodybuilder, so his arms didn’t bulge like Jack or Black. “Morton hits the gym every day.”

“All I do is run the treadmill and lift some weights.” Morton shrugged.

Roy slapped his bicep. “Yeah, and look what it did to you. You’re a brick shithouse.”

“I build muscle easily. Besides, exercising is good for Crash hearts. Mine isn’t hypertrophic, so I can jack myself off all I want.”

Morton’s eyes widened. “Wait…that came out wrong. Ah, damn it.”

He facepalmed as Roy and Bowser cracked up.

Bowser squeezed them both against him in the tightest headlock of a hug he could muster.

“I love you two goobers,” he beamed proudly.

“Ack!” Roy propped his sunglasses up atop his head. “Uh, thanks, dad. Love you a lot, too.”

Morton closed one eye. “Dad still hugs the hardest.”

“It’s my hatch-day, and I’m an old fart. I get to be weird about it if I want to.” Bowser kissed each of their foreheads and rubbed the tops of their heads. “Are you boys happy?”

Roy laughed, leaning against Bowser’s side. “Yeah! Gorgeous wife, nice house, no problems in my life right now. I’m gonna start night school classes again in a couple months, looking forward to that.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to study?”

“Culinary.” Roy smirked, pulling his sunglasses back down over his eyes. “I thought I was a decent cook, but I saw Black doing amazing things with the Cheep-Cheep kabobs at Junior’s wedding. He gave me some tips on how to cook ‘em so they come out juicy instead of dry.”

Morton wrinkled his forehead. “Didn’t he go to culinary school before he switched to medicine?”

“Yes,” Ludwig answered as he passed the door. He leaned over behind Iggy and squeezed his shoulders to massage them.

“Ack, ow! Ooh-oof!” Iggy grunted through his teeth. “Not so hard!”

“Sorry.” Ludwig softened his touch.

Lemmy followed Ludwig and hopped onto a chair that didn’t get pushed in.

“Do it, Roy.” Morton nudged Roy’s shoulder. “We can be your test subjects.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Bowser smiled at their playful banter. He tugged on Morton, jiggling him so his head wobbled back and forth. “How about you, big mouth? Happy?”

Morton beamed, “Yeah. I’m with an amazing woman, we’re seeing the world together. It’s great. Life is great!”

Bowser squeezed them both again. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Roy’s phone blipped a rising trill. He checked the text, saw Pom-Pom with her tail sticking up and quickly hid the screen.

“Whoa!” Bowser guffawed, “She sends you dirty pictures?”

“Go home and get laid!” Morton smacked the top of Roy’s head.

Roy’s face flushed redder than it already was. He smiled, sunglasses shimmering. “I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting, heh. I’ll be seeing you horny bastards.”

“BWAHAHA!” Bowser let go of Roy and watched him check his phone as he headed out.

“Damn.” Morton looked at his phone. “And I thought sending Sienna dirty voicemails was kinky shit. Geez.”

“Well, call her up and leave her something dirty so you get lucky.” Bowser fluffed up the few hairs Morton had on his head.

“I know exactly how to rile her up.” Morton put his phone away. “I’ll do it after I’m outside. I don’t like everybody else hearing me do that. So I guess I better hit the trail, eh?”

Bowser embraced him again, laying his cheek on his massive shoulder. “I know you always try your best, Morton. I’m proud of you, cuz you’re my kid.”

“Ah, dad.” Morton patted his shell. “Thanks. Happy hatch-day.”

They bumped foreheads, locked eyes, smiled and separated. Morton left, and Bowser sat down again to rest his achy, puffy feet.

Over in the dining room, Iggy scream-laughed at something.

“Dad, you helped Luigi do a keg-stand?”

“You bet! That old fart didn’t know how you’re supposed to do it, so I showed him how to get his ankles up in the air. Then I did one myself to prove my ancient ass still can. Who took that video?”

“Larry, and he sent it to me straight after!” Wendy guffawed. She swiped with her thumb. “Here’s where daddy did one.”

“Impressive elevation.” Ludwig whistled.

Wendy giggled. “Yeah, and I got something really funny.”

“Is it me crowdsurfing and falling on Mario?” Lemmy asked.

“Yeah! Hang on, I have to find it.”

“You fell on Mario?” Iggy asked.

Lemmy snickered, creaking his chair. “Jack tossed me backwards because he thought Black was behind him, but it was Mario. I ended up sitting on him.”

“You guys have to see this. Here.” Faint music from Serrated filtered from Wendy’s phone. “Wait for it, wait for it…”

The four of them exploded in mirth. They didn’t know their laughter was the most beautiful music to Bowser’s ears.

Bowser dozed off listening to that sound, waking later at Ludwig’s gentle touch on his forearm.

“Hm?” He snorted into a sitting position. “Just meditating!”

“You snored.”

“That’s part of the mantra.”

Ludwig smiled in a mixture of joy and sorrow. “Wendy, Iggy and Lemmy just left. I’m about to head home, too.”

“Okay, ju—“

His voice faltered when Ludwig bent over and hugged him tight.

“I can stay,” Ludwig murmured, deaf accent thick from him trying not to cry. “It’s no hardship to me if—“

“No.” Bowser signed the word as he spoke it. He leaned back enough to make room for signing. “Don’t sit around waiting for me to die. Go live your life. Chase your future. Be happy.”

Somehow, Ludwig found the resolve to pull back the tears welling in his eyes. He didn’t know how strong he was.

Then he surged forward again in another hug.

“Thank you for everything. My life, Koopa Sign, Black, my wedding, my music, all of it. You gave it to me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, son, for everything. My music man.” Bowser stroked his hair and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Is that you breathing?” Ludwig asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“I’ll never forget that sound.” He pressed their cheeks together, voice cracking, “Goodbye, dad.”

There was a resolute finality to those words.

“Bye, son,” Bowser said slowly, enunciating both syllables like he used to when Ludwig started speech therapy.

Ludwig let go of the hug first. Bowser held on a second longer before lowering his arms. He watched Ludwig put on his bravest face and leave.

Lambent sunlight broke through the volcanic clouds like a spotlight as he stepped out the main entrance. His bright future lit the way forward. He hesitated outside, but did not look back.

Bowser’s phone buzzed. Black was at work, so he texted him a video wishing him a happy hatch-day. He sent one back thanking him for it and telling him to look after Ludwig.

His feet shot a dull, bruise-like ache up his legs. He popped another painkiller. Leftover Percocet from his surgeries helped a lot.

Upstairs, Cherry and Junior giggled amongst themselves. They eventually made their way down, both with wet hair that gave away where they were all morning.

“Aw, man!” Junior laughed. “We go upstairs for a shower and everybody bails!”

Cherry leaned on his arm and looked up at him like he put the stars in the sky. “Maybe we took too long.”

“Being in love warps time.” Bowser smirked knowingly. “Want some more cake?”

.o

Major changes took place over the next month.

Roads between the Mushroom Kingdom and the Darklands were planned out.

Joint ownership was given to a goldmine discovered on the border of both kingdoms.

Doctors ran a gigantic seminar where Toads and Koopas educated each other on their peoples’ anatomy and medicine. Larry talked about Crash and used Bowser’s medical history as a case study. He anonymized the data extensively, so only people who knew him knew who it was about.

Cherry and Junior minted a new copper coin to commemorate the kingdom mergers. They had Mario‘s head on one side and Bowser‘s on the other.

Bowser scoped out the border landscape where Cherry and Junior’s new castle was going to be built. It sat atop a hill overlooking the valley between both lands and allowed a clear view of all horizons.

He landed the Koopa Clown Car, picked up a shovel handed to him by a Koopa Troopa and dug out the first bit of earth.

“In this soil, I pledge the future.”

And he spat in brown dirt he uncovered. Koopas always spat on a new construction site, it brought good luck.

Sunlight burned down, the beginning of summer.

Bowser set the shovel aside and climbed back into the Koopa Clown Car. He wouldn’t see this castle finished, but he saw it start. Having kids worked the same way— he set them on their paths, loved them with his whole being and watched them blossom, knowing he wasn’t going to be there for the end of their journeys.

Life was supposed to be like that. To spring into being, take it all in and sputter out again, leaving the world a little better than before.

It took Bowser his whole lifetime to figure that out.

At his word, the airships arrived and people flooded the hilltop. Koopa Troopas, Hammer Brothers, Toads and yoshis, all working together without malice.

Bowser watched this new era unfold and smiled.

Peach would be proud.

.o

Cherry noticed Bowser growing withdrawn as time passed. Reading paperwork turned him grouchy. His visits to Peach‘s grave lasted longer. Flights of stairs left him breathless, and he was stubbornly resistant to talking about his health.

One warm Sunday afternoon, a rough game of tennis with Junior caused his feet to swell up three times their size. He could hide this from Junior, who was good at not seeing what he didn‘t want to see.

The next day, he ran out of breath walking downstairs, necessitating his oxygen. She brought it when she asked, but she wasn’t fooled when he told her he was fine.

Cherry followed Bowser into the throne room, scolding him the whole way.

“You‘re pushing yourself too hard.”

Bowser eased himself onto his huge throne and dialed up the oxygen concentrator. “Old age. You get tired faster when you‘re old. Sucks, doesn‘t it?”

“It‘s more than that. You’re dying. Did you tell Junior about what’s happening to you?”

“You know he‘s going to get clingy when I do.”

“He loves you, he‘ll want to be with you.”

Bowser looked at her from under his bushy eyebrows. Looking up like that wrinkled his forehead. The fierceness in his eyes reached her from all the way across the room. He slouched on his throne, his right elbow propped on the chair‘s arm, his cheek resting against his fist and his swollen right ankle crossed over his left knee. It was daylight out, but the throne room remained perpetually gloomy.

“Junior has a right to know so he can say goodbye, given the chance.” Cherry walked forward, her red dress swishing around her legs. “It‘s not fair to take that away from him. Think about how you felt when you heard my mom died, you felt robbed.”

He looked away.

“Bowser, daddy…” She sighed, “You‘ve been his strength all his life. Having you die without a goodbye is going to destroy him. He‘ll collapse and blame himself for not seeing the signs you hid from him, and then he‘ll get angry at you for leaving him like that.”

“He‘s a big boy. He‘ll live.”

How could he be so dismissive? Cherry clenched her fists and bit back the urge to swear. “You don‘t want him to see you die. Is that it?”

Bowser doubled his efforts to avoid meeting her gaze. Finally, he said, “I don‘t want him to see me weak.”

“He already has. Four heart attacks, three stays in intensive care, remember? He doesn‘t think anything less of you. Tell him, Bowser. He‘ll have that much more time to prepare when the worst happens.”

He chewed on his pinkie claw and the wrinkles in his brow deepened.

“I‘ll talk to him tonight.”

Cherry nodded once. “Good, because if you didn‘t do it soon, I was going to do it for you.”

A rumbling chuckle from Bowser, “Now let‘s hope I don‘t croak before tonight.”

“You better not.”

Hours later, over a huge, messy pasta dinner, Bowser kept his word and told Junior everything.

“…so it’s dilated cardiomyopathy and my heart muscle is dying, which means I’m dying…”

Cherry watched the color drain from Junior‘s face. While he tried to collect himself, Bowser blithely went on.

“It might happen fast or slow, Neil can’t say for sure. It‘s up to you whether or not you want to be in the room with me if I linger before I go. I won‘t get pissed if you leave the room and I won‘t get pissed if you‘re not with me when it happens.”

He scooped some meatballs into his jaws and talked with his mouth full, “You don‘t have to take care of me if you don‘t want to. Ludwig will arrange the funeral and all the other crap that happens after somebody dies, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Junior couldn‘t talk. He sat there, frozen. Cherry laid her hand on his arm.

Bowser kept eating as if everything he said meant less than the weather. He belched without excusing himself and spaghetti sauce dotted his chin like morbid red freckles.

“Good spaghetti, Cherry! Mm!”

“Excuse me.” Junior wiped his hands on his cloth napkin and walked out into the south corridor.

Never in her life did Cherry see someone break devastating news in such an appalling way. Maybe it was easier for Bowser to treat it like a triviality.

“Are you gonna eat that?” He pointed to her meatballs.

“You can have them.” Cherry shoved the plate towards him and stomped out into the hall.

She found Junior standing under a lit stone wall sconce, staring blankly at a painting of his dad. Being a conceited creature, Bowser had many paintings of himself hanging all over the castle. Each picture presented him looking strong, all bulging muscles and bared teeth.

A few depicted him in battle with his snake-like penis fully extended, the Koopa way of displaying masculinity in art. They were not a shy culture when it came to showing off. She thought the genitals were exaggerated until she saw Junior‘s. Their private parts really were

that

long.

She shook away her thoughts and studied the painting that held Junior‘s attention. The image showed Bowser leaping, his muscles flexed as he spit orange fire at an unseen foe on his left.

Looking at the picture let Cherry realize how much Bowser had aged. His arms and legs were still muscular, but lacked the definition of his youth. He was thicker around the middle. Even if he worked out every single day for a year, he would never regain the body he had at Junior‘s age.

“Junior?” Cherry hedged.

“My dad is the toughest guy I know. He got beat down by Mario and he always got back up again. He survived those heart attacks and got back up again. I can‘t imagine him going out this way. Parents aren‘t supposed to die, but they do. You know that more than anyone.”

He faced her, deadpan. “He‘s always been there for me. I can‘t imagine that one day I‘ll look for him and he won‘t be there. I can’t picture life beyond him.”

She leaned on his chest, “I‘ll still be here.”

“I know, and I‘m glad,“ he said. His big arm came around to cradle her against him. He sniffled and warm wetness dripped onto her cheek.

Footsteps padded into the hall.

“Junior, I was an ass back there.”

They both looked up. Bowser appeared in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck and cringing.

“I just— don‘t want to make a big deal out of it. Moping about it won‘t change things. Sitting around waiting for death isn’t life.”

He smiled wryly, lowering his hand to his side.

“I‘m getting the best out of every day because I know there’s going to be a tomorrow where I won’t wake up alive. And if I don‘t wake up alive, I don’t want to sit on a cloud somewhere thinking ‘I could have done this’ or ‘I wish I did that’. I’d much rather wake up on that cloud, massively hung over from the wild party I called ‘my life’—“ He punctuated the words ‘my life‘ with a quotation mark gesture— “and piss it all out all over the sun.”

Junior leaned away from Cherry a little. “Piss on the sun?”

Bowser scratched his head and shrugged, “It‘s yellow, Junior. Think about it. Dead people probably piss on it all the time.”

The sniffling became snickering and Cherry realized what Bowser was doing. He always knew how to make Junior feel better when he got upset like this. It broke her heart to know his sick sense of humor wouldn‘t be around during the time Junior needed it most.

“Hey, c’mere.” Bowser beckoned Junior closer and pulled him into a tight hug. “I meant what I said. I won’t get mad at you if you find me in my bed one morning, or I croak during the five seconds you leave the room to take a piss. I won’t be upset if you leave because it’s too hard to watch.”

He took his face between his hands and looked him in the eye. “All I’m gonna feel after is love, Junior. My eternity won’t be whatever my last breath looks like.”

“Dad,” Junior’s tears dribbled past his thumbs. “I love you. Please— this isn’t funny. If it’s a joke, tell me. Tell me right now.”

“I wish it was.” Bowser rubbed his hand back and forth across the back of Junior’s neck. He gazed upward, his russet eyes pained.

Cherry kissed Junior’s cheek, kissed Bowser’s cheek and walked away, leaving them to sort this out.

.o

Junior clung tighter to Bowser, claws almost digging into his scales. Deep down he had a feeling his dad wasn’t long for this world, and he always made excuses to himself for why he thought wrong.

But his instincts were right the whole time.

“You’ll tell me if you feel it happening, won’t you?” He sniffled, face buried in Bowser’s shoulder. “Don’t hide it like you did when I was a kid. I want to be there.”

Bowser’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure you want to watch? It could get ugly.”

“I don’t care! I sat with you in that intensive care ward, and I’ll sit with you through this, too!”

“Okay! Junior, calm down! Okay. I promise. If I feel it happening and I know it’s time, I’ll tell you.” Bowser leaned back to look him in the eyes. “But I could just, you know, drop. I could go to bed and not wake up. I might

not

feel it coming.”

Junior stroked the side of his dad’s face. Crying turned his snout blotchy red. “I’ll never be ready. I can’t…”

“Nobody’s ready to lose people they love, kiddo. That’s why it always hurts.” Tears welled in Bowser’s eyes, too. “I’m sorry I waited so long. I just— you’ve been so happy after your wedding. I was afraid to ruin it.”

Junior wanted to tell him that was selfish. He wanted to yell at him for keeping something like this a secret, and he wanted to rip up the DNR form. Something, anything, to keep him alive longer.

But no wrathful words left his mouth. The anger wilted under the weight of oncoming grief.

“You’re an amazing kid, Junior.” Bowser brought their foreheads together. “Yeah, you’ll grieve, and then you’ll grow around it. That’s life. I made the best of mine and I want you to make the best of yours.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Don’t try to be me. When you’re crowned as the next king, be yourself. Be the best damn King Bowser Koopa-Toadstool the Second this empire will see.”

Sniffling, Junior nodded and wiped his nose on his palm. His dad said he was dying, but it wasn’t like it would happen tomorrow or the next day. They had plenty of time. They

always

had time.

“Blue shell on the Kart track,” he smiled wryly. “That’s how you’ll love me after you’re gone, right?”

Bowser grinned back. “Yup. Blue shell.”

Junior sniffled again. “Is there any pasta left?”

.o

Later that night, Cherry found Bowser slumped backwards in his throne with a pen in his hand and piles of completed paperwork in his lap. His mouth hung wide open and his back end almost slipped off the seat.

Her heart rose into her throat until he let out a hearty snore, as if he just dropped off to sleep where he sat.

“Bowser?” She jostled his wrist.

“Hm?” He licked his chops.

“It’s after eleven. You should go up to bed.”

Bowser shifted his legs without getting up. “Mmkay.”

“Nope, don’t go back to sleep!” Cherry lifted the paper pile off his lap and took it into his study without disturbing it too much.

Upon her return, she found Bowser snoring again, so she tapped his hand. “Bowser, come on.”

“Mmh, huh?”

“Come on.” She tugged his hand, which didn’t move him much.

Bowser jolted upright, gasping. “Whoa!”

“Ack!”

“Cherry?”

“Bowser?”

He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. His hand shook. He massaged the side of his jaw next, grumbling as if it ailed him.

“Toothache?” Cherry asked.

“Mmhmm. Old age.” Bowser yawned. “I was dreaming about the door again…I had my hand on the handle. I never got close enough to touch it before.”

She cupped his cheek in her palm and kissed his forehead. “Maybe you’ll open it next time, and nothing will hurt again.”

Bowser smiled softly at that. He rested his palms on the arms of his throne and heaved himself upright.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” she murmured, eyes downcast.

He crooked his finger under her chin and lifted her head to meet her eyes. “You got nothing to be sorry for. You were right. I needed that ass kicking.”

Cherry took hold of his hand and led him upstairs to his room. He carried his oxygen concentrator. The stairs wore him out, leaving him panting. He sprawled in the prone position across his bed.

“Hey, Cherry?”

“Yes?”

Bowser smiled sleepily at her, eyelids drooping. “You’re a great lady.”

Cherry mirrored his expression.

He flopped his chin onto his folded hands like a lazy feline and closed his eyes. She stroked his hair until his breathing transformed into obnoxious snoring.

Junior laid across their bed in exactly the same position when she arrived and changed into her pink spaghetti strap nightie.

“Dad won’t die on us,” he mumbled.

“Please, can we talk about it tomorrow? It’s been a wild day. I’m tired.”

“Mmhmm.” Junior draped an arm over her. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Love you.”

Cherry curled up against him, pressing her lips to his. “I love you, too, Junior.”

.o

It happened the next day.

Bowser woke up earlier than usual to a twinge in his jaw tingling in his left arm that wasn‘t quite painful. He knew this feeling, it preceded his first heart attack.

How long until it hit? He didn‘t know— he just knew it was coming and he wasn‘t going to lay in bed waiting helplessly for it. If Death wanted him, it had to chase him, because he intended to go about his day for as long as he possibly could.

Maybe he would keel over at the breakfast table. Or how about face-first into his dinner dish? What if he died taking a dump? What a funny way to go.

A million possibilities crossed Bowser‘s mind as he pulled his compression stockings on and rested a hand over his heart to feel it beat.

Joking with myself because I‘m gonna die. There’s never gonna be humor darker than that.

He shook himself, yanked his nasal cannula off and made his way into the bathroom.

Guess I better go take a crap so I don‘t crap on myself when I die. Geez, who woulda thought the final shit was the most important?

The turd he dropped clogged the toilet. He attacked it with a plunger until it broke up enough to flush down. Then he looked at the plunger, smirked and stuck it back behind the toilet as the fading odor of feces hung in the air.

At least I didn‘t have to call a pesky plumber. Hey, what if Mario was here when I died. HAHA, why is that so funny? Damn…joking with myself again…I better quit stalling and get going while I still can.

Bowser snuck into his study. Easy to do since it was the level above the kitchen. Shoving all the other paperwork on the desk aside, he pulled out his best parchment, his most expensive fountain pen and penned a letter.

Being a leftie caused some of the ink to smear as he wrote. He left it that way, his fingers curling and looping each cursive word to perfection.

When he finished, he blew on the page to dry it faster, rolled it up and sealed it with a wax Koopa crest.

Bowser pulled his phone out of his shell for a call while heading back up to his room. The stairs exhausted him.

Lakitu descended to his window. “What is it, sire?”

Bowser handed him the scroll. “Deliver this into Junior’s hands on the morning of his coronation, whenever that happens.”

“Sure, I—“ Lakitu accepted the treasured document, “—why me, your majesty?”

“You never let me down before, that’s why. Thank you for that.”

The praise took Lakitu aback, and he eyed Bowser with a curious tilt of his head. At last, he bowed, pulling the scroll to his chest.

“I shall guard it with my life until it is delivered. It will be done as you command, my king.”

Bowser watched him take off into the gray, volcanic sky until his cloud vanished behind the ashy smoke.

Dull aching swelled through his jaw. He popped a Percocet for the pain and stuck a nitro tablet under his tongue because they helped relieve the pressure in his chest.

“I smell bacon,“ Bowser said as he descended the staircase twenty minutes later. Walking made him lightheaded. “Who‘s cooking?”

“Me!” Junior yelled. “Cherry‘s in the shower. We were messy this morning.”

He grinned wickedly, putting his hands on his hips. “You mean you missed the hole?”

For that, Junior threw a raw bacon strip at him. It slapped against his chest and slid down to the floor. Bowser picked it up, sniffed it and ate it. “What‘s the agenda?”

“The usual. Paperwork, sex, tax harassment and getting those trade routes going.”

“That‘s my boy!” Bowser stood on his toes despite his painful feet to look over Junior‘s shoulder, watching him cook. He edged him out of the way and grabbed the pan.

“Nah, hang on there. The secret to Bowser bacon is pouring the pepper in the pan and moving the bacon around on it. It doesn‘t work to dump the pepper on the bacon.”

“Really?”

“Gets it nice and spicy,” said Bowser. He shook pepper powder into the pan and moved the bacon around to coat it.

“A little pepper here…” Then he lifted his leg and loudly passed gas, “…and a fart for flavor.”

“I don‘t know you,“ Junior laughed. He almost bumped into Cherry, who walked in with damp hair.

“What‘s going— oh, yuck!” Cherry covered her prominent nose with one hand. “Who farted?”

“Junior! He’s a stinker!”

“Hey! Stench follows the ass that makes the gas!”

“No, it‘s ‘he who smelt it dealt it.’”

Cherry shoved her way between them. “Okay, whatever you say. I’m taking some of this.”

She took a piece of Bowser bacon.

Bowser noticed Cherry studying him between bites. He left the kitchen to sit down at the dining room table. She came out a few minutes later and placed a plate of bacon within reach.

“Hungry?”

He didn‘t feel like eating, but he ate anyway so he wouldn‘t arouse any suspicion. The last thing he needed was Cherry telling him to rest.

“So, how are you?” She sat next to him, worry written in her eyes. “You look pale. Are you okay?”

“I‘m great,“ Bowser said quickly. “Am I pale? Maybe I need to put my oxygen on. Eh…“

He slapped the end of his snout, causing it to gain some color. “There. Better?”

Cherry snickered, “Okay, weirdo. I better help clean up the kitchen. Junior is having a messy morning.”

He smirked and his eyes twinkled. “He‘s like his old man.”

She took the bacon plate with her into the kitchen after leaving him two more strips. He ate them, enjoying the spicy crunch.

What a weird feeling, eating something he knew he was never going to eat again.

Bowser sat back, watching them smile at each other while tidying the countertop. Cherry ate. Junior cleaned. Then they traded.

After a bit they spilled into the dining area with paperwork. Bowser helped them sort through and stamp some with the royal Koopa seal, which he liked because it was shaped like his own handsome face inside a spiked circle.

“Geez, they must have killed a forest to make all this paperwork!” Bowser squinted and tilted a sheet of paper several ways. The small letters that Junior and Cherry read without a problem were blobs to his aging eyesight.

He shoved the scroll aside and grinned. “Not that I care, but that wood could‘ve made a trebuchet to launch Birdo eggs through Mario’s bedroom window.”

“Yeah, well,” Junior shrugged, “If you could claim land by spitting on it and saying ‘it‘s mine!‘, we could avoid this.”

Bowser laughed. “I should make that a new law.”

Cherry turned sideways in her chair and eyeballed them both, “And watch the chaos that happens. Everybody will be claiming everybody else‘s land. You‘d see fights over property because one guy has an acre more than his neighbor. I don‘t think you want to waste your time settling land disputes.”

Bowser and Junior looked at each other.

“She has a point,“ said Bowser. “Good thing you married her.”

Junior blushed and stamped more papers, setting aside the ones he wanted to review more before giving his approval.

Wait, blushing?

Bowser ‘accidentally‘ dropped a pen so he could look under the table. Cherry had her bare foot wedged under Junior’s tail, her toes tickling across his vent to tease him.

A grin spread across Bowser‘s face. She wasn‘t so innocent after all.

Heh, they probably did it in the chairs around the table,

he mused.

Deciding to see if he was right, he got up and stretched.

“I‘m gonna go take a walk and make sure the servants are doing their jobs. So you guys—“ A wave of dizziness made him grasp the edge of the table, “— just keep working the papers. I‘ll be back later.”

With that, Bowser padded out into the hall, turned around and peeked into the room.

“Now that he’s gone, you’re mine, mister.” Cherry moved into Junior‘s lap. Their tongues went into action while they kissed. Then she dipped under the table!

“Cherry!” Junior buried his face in his arms.

She giggled. “What?”

He whispered, “Do the tongue thing?”

“You mean this?”

“Ah!”

His suspicions confirmed, Bowser grinned cheekily and walked off to give them privacy.

He headed out to the racquet ball court behind the tennis and basketball courts. This area doubled as a Kart track if he took the nets down.

There, he hefted his racket and practiced his tennis serves. He went out onto the baseball diamond and utilized his one-handed swing to smash balls over the volcano‘s rim. Then he trudged onto the basketball court, grabbed a ball and did a few lay-ups. His breath came shorter and shorter and his heart palpitated irregularly like a jackhammer, starving for oxygen, but he refused to slow down. Willfully slowing down meant giving up, and he

never

gave up.

Sweaty and tired, he strolled back inside. The kitchen was empty and had a salty smell.

“Dad? You look like hell…what gives?”

Bowser startled at Junior‘s voice behind him. He turned, smirking at his son’s flushed face. Junior had no idea he knew what Cherry did under that table.

“Lay-ups, kid. I‘m fine. It‘s just hot out. I‘m gonna wash up so I don‘t gross Cherry out.”

“Oh…” Junior sniffed, “yeah, you‘re ripe. She‘ll shoot you.”

“Yup. See what happens when you mix with women? They make you smell like flowers.”

They laughed. Junior continued down the hall and Bowser slipped into his room.

Normally, bathing wasn‘t a high priority. Koopas always had a musty scent that grew stronger when mixed with sweat.

Bowser thought he smelled manly, but Cherry wasn‘t much a fan of it…not even Junior‘s. So they all compromised— he and Junior agreed to shower on days when they got sweaty so their Koopa musk couldn‘t fill up a room.

Junior took to showering whether he was sweating or not. Bowser only bathed if he got sweaty or visibly dirty.

The cool spray felt nice on Bowser‘s face. He crouched over to rub soap all over his scales. Every once in a while, he flexed his muscles in front of the mirror across the way.

Pretty sexy for an old Koopa!

Without drying off, he went downstairs and made himself a gigantic beef sandwich, which he crushed and fed to the Piranha Plant growing outside the window.

Usually they only ate meat, but this one was so goofy that it often ate its own leaves. Bowser knew Cherry noted how much he ate, so he at least wanted to appear like he had a normal appetite.

He left the crumbs on the counter and trudged back into the dining room. The clock on the far wall read eleven-thirty.

It was going to be his last visit to her grave. He could choose not to go. The idea of flying that far away made him nervous at first. Fatigue was making itself known, and he longed to lay down and sleep.

He had to say goodbye to her grave, and let her know he was coming.

After a five minute debate with himself, Bowser took more Percocet for the pain in his jaw and climbed into the Koopa Clown Car. He flew lower than usual out of an abundance of caution.

Verdant hills, brown spots where crops grew and multicolored houses speckled the landscape everywhere. Mountains reached off the eastern horizon, the world’s eternal sentinels.

The Mushroom castle loomed like a Thwomp next to mineral deposits. Back in the old days, he used to slowly bring his hand down over the castle, pretending to crush it. He chuckled as he recalled the memory.

Cool wind blew his damp hair around his horns. He turned his face into it, imagining it as a kiss from Peach.

Speaking of Peach, her statue shimmered in the distance, a gold star against the horizon.

Bowser set the Koopa Clown Car down in its usual spot and hopped out, breathless. The hill nearly ended him. He pushed his tired, dying body to climb it, even though it meant digging his claws into the dirt and dragging himself up like an infant. His lungs wanted to explode. Blackness pricked at the edges of his vision as he forced himself upright.

“Peach…my love.”

He placed his final ritualistic rose under her name, wiped the statue down and tenderly kissed its outstretched hand. It was so hard to breathe, like a vice squeezed his chest cavity. Intermittent pains shot through his left shoulder despite the Percocet in his system.

A sense of doom washed over him like darkness breathing on his nerve endings.

Bowser outran Death all day, but now it gained on him. Death could run forever. He couldn‘t. But that was okay, he knew Junior would be able to take care of himself now.

“Peach…” He gasped, speaking in spurts as he panted, “I guess— I won‘t be— coming around here— anymore. But— don‘t worry— Peach. I think— I‘m gonna see— you— real soon. Maybe tonight…maybe. I‘ll come back— if I‘m— still breathing— this time— tomorrow.”

He dropped to his knees, his russet eyes gazing longingly at the golden sculpture. “The kids— they‘re all right. Everything is— it’s all right. It‘s all okay…it really is. I love you— Peach. From the bottom— of my heart— my soul— my everything— I love you.”

He kissed her nameplate, rested his forehead against it and caressed the grass. It would be so easy to lay down and give in here. Part of him wanted to. He could imagine the news headlines about a random Toad finding his dead body clinging to Peach’s grave marker.

There’s no dignity after you’re dead, it’s all in how you approach it when you know it’s coming.

Bowser pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The sense of doom closed around him again, twisting his stomach. Death was almost in pouncing range, but he refused to make the chase easy.

He crawled on his belly towards the Koopa Clown Car and toppled in. His body screamed at him to land somewhere and go to sleep. He resisted the urge. If Death wanted him, it had to tackle him running because he wasn‘t stopping.

The flight back home was scary. Bowser kept shaking himself and focusing on the horizon to stay conscious. Reality swam and swirled around him. His eyelids drooped.

Sunlight gave way to volcanic smoke and brimstone scents.

He descended into the glowing volcano crater, landed the Koopa Clown Car on the drawbridge instead of its usual tower helipad and hopped down, trying to look nonchalant. For someone who couldn‘t breathe, he thought he did a damn good job.

“Dad! There you are.”

Junior walked out into the afternoon glare. Papers were piled in both his hands.

Bowser’s eyes filled with tears as he watched him approach because he couldn’t spare him the suffering to come.

Unaware of the crisis unfolding, Junior spoke, and Bowser only perceived it in fragmented bits.

“…called me up… new road… mountain mines… you listening, dad?”

Bowser stopped leaning on the Koopa Clown Car. He walked towards Junior on rubbery legs that barely held him up and cupped his face between his hands.

“Dad?” Junior squinted.

Bowser studied his son‘s face in detail, admiring, loving and memorizing every inch of his features. His flame-colored hair, his russet eyes, how his teeth gleamed in his mouth and the white bandanna around his neck. His image blurred behind a haze of tears.

“Dad? What’s going on?” Junior transferred the papers to one hand and grasped his wrist. Dawning realization spawned in his frightened eyes. “No. No, no, dad, no, not now, you can’t!”

“It’s okay,” Bowser said, fighting the shortness of breath. “Damn— it’s amazing— us, existing…” He panted, tears in his eyes, “Maybe— maybe that’s why the universe is out there. For us— just for us to look at it.”

“Dad,” Junior’s eyes widened, pleading. “Don’t, dad. Don’t go.”

Invisible fists crushed Bowser’s chest. Not quite pain— that was coming and he knew it. He braced himself for the agony seconds away.

“It’s happening, Junior. It’s time. Sorry.” Bowser’s lower jaw quivered as the tears in his eyes leaked down his cheeks. He swallowed hard, trying to put on a brave face.

“Dad, no.” Junior dropped the suddenly unimportant papers in his hands and they blew everywhere, some catching fire over the lava below.

Bowser stroked Junior’s cheeks with his thumbs, desperate to comfort him. He couldn’t breathe, every inhale burned.

“Don‘t remember— this moment, Junior. Don‘t— remember what— you‘re— about to see. Remember me strong— strong, Junior…not— like— th— ARGH!”

The pain hit like a Thwomp to the chest. White hot, cramping agony exploded behind his breastbone, raced down his left arm and shot up into his jaw. He felt it in his neck, tail and toes. The rest of him went numb. Cold sweat broke out on his brow. His heart squeezed in on itself, racing.

Junior pulled him close in a tight embrace, tears pouring onto his cheeks. “I’m here, dad.” He hiccuped once, kissing his shoulder, “I love you. I’m here.”

Bowser clenched his teeth so he wouldn‘t scream again. “It’s okay. I’m still here, too.”

“Dad!” Junior’s face twisted and he sobbed, unable to hold back. His fingers closed, claws digging in. “Dad, dad, please!”

A strange calm settled over Bowser. He gazed upward into the infinite. Dim, hazy sunlight shone through the volcanic clouds overhead.

“Everything you want to say— Junior— I know. I know, Junior. I know it all.”

“Stay with me, dad!” Junior wailed.

Bowser wished he could. He held Junior tightly, protectively, and lovingly stroking his hair while his vision dimmed.

“You cried this hard— when you hatched. I remember…I held you— this close, and— in my heart— I never let go.”

Junior clutched him so strongly it hurt. “Don’t go now. Dad, I need you!”

A wry smile creased Bowser’s features. “You always will.”

Another pang ripped through his chest. His legs gave out as Death tackled him and sat on his back. It wouldn’t be long before it sank its teeth in to end this.

“Dad? Dad! I‘ve got you. CHERRY!” Junior roared, drawing the attention of everyone in the area. He faltered onto his knees with Bowser in his arms.

Bowser‘s vision flickered and whited out each time a pang tore through his chest. Everything vibrated wildly. Was it his eyesight doing that, or were his eyeballs rolling around?

“Can you hear me?” Cherry bent over him.

When did she arrive at his side? He looked at her, panting. “Yeah.”

She patted his hand, her blue eyes large and afraid. “It‘s okay. We‘re going to stay with you. You won‘t be alone.”

Bowser tried to thank her, but his voice dissolved into a moan. The world flipped as Junior laid him down, letting his head rest on Cherry‘s lap. She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand and bent to kiss the top of his head.

“Try to breathe. We’ll take care of you.”

Pain ripped searing lines behind his breastbone. Was he whimpering from it? He forced himself to be quiet, he wouldn‘t sound weak.

“Cherry,” Bowser beckoned her face closer. When she leaned over, he whispered, “Take care of Junior. This is gonna tear him up.”

She kissed his cheek and wiped tears off her face. “I will, I promise.”

Junior dialed on his phone. He paced back and forth, murmuring into it.

Cherry asked, “Are they coming?”

Bowser blanked out and missed the reply. Once in a while— or was it every few seconds?— he looked up to see Cherry and Junior still with him.

It was so hard to breathe. He heard himself huffing and puffing as if he ran a marathon.

Footsteps sounded. A lone red-shelled Koopa Troopa rushed out with his oxygen concentrator and nasal cannula.

“Assistance is on its way.” Josh cupped his hand around Cherry’s arm.

They locked eyes because they knew what this meant.

Josh touched Junior’s arm, next, but Junior pulled away. He nodded and bowed deeply towards Bowser before departing into the castle again.

Again, Bowser winked in and out of awareness. The smell of plastic made him struggle.

“Shh, Bowser, it’s your oxygen. It’ll help.”

Bowser let Cherry put it on for him. It eased the burning sensation in his chest enough that he closed his mouth to breathe through his nose.

More footsteps plodded the ground.

Everything that came after reached Bowser in fragments.

Elton and Stevie pried the heavy shell off his back. Many hands slipped a rubbery sling under him and slid him onto a gurney lowered to the ground.

Daylight disappeared behind gray brick ceilings. Squeaking wheels echoed off the walls. Stone sconces rolled past, flames flickering. Elevator platforms disoriented him. He turned his head, trying to figure out where he was. His eyes landed on the line of portraits depicting all his kids as hatchlings.

Fabric thumped. Somebody attached a vent bag between his legs in a crackle of adhesive. The sling that laid him on the gurney pulled him backwards onto his bed. He knew it was his bed by the flamboyant crimson pillows and spiked headboard shaped like his royal crest. The fabric he heard was a thick foam mattress designed for his curved spine. Being laid on his back didn’t send pain shooting through his body.

But his chest? He gripped at it, grimacing.

“It’ll be okay, sire.” Judy climbed onto the bed with him to look into his eyes. The yellow ribbon tied around her head never rumpled in all the chaos. “I’m going to hook you up to a morphine drip, okay? It’s going to help your pain and stop the air hunger.”

Bowser nodded to show he understood. He extended his right hand sideways, and Cherry grasped onto it without hesitation. Junior sat on the edge of the bed. His frightened eyes were so hard to look into. Bowser wished he could spare him this.

Coldness wiped across his tail. Four swipes.

“Needle in three, two, one.” Judy landed it on the first try and taped the catheter down. She adjusted the IV pole off to the side where his tail wouldn’t knock it over.

“Cherry, Junior, come here.” Judy beckoned them to the IV pole. “The white button will give a bolus dose to help him if he shows signs of pain. It’ll only work every twenty minutes, so call me if he needs it more often and I’ll increase the drip rate.”

Junior sniffled, “Got it.”

Judy walked on the bed to lean over Bowser again, her eyes soft and compassionate. “Rest well, my king. The morphine will work soon.”

Somebody else crossed towards the head of the bed as she left. Elton took off his gem-encrusted purple glasses to regard him with his ordinary brown Koopa Paratroopa eyes.

“Sleep easy, my liege. It’s been an honor.”

He spread his wings, bowed gracefully and fluttered off the bed in a whisper of feathers while wiping tears off his face.

Stevie was next, clutching a gold shawl against her shoulders. Glistening streaks marked both her cheeks. She didn’t speak, choosing instead to bow and press her hand against his wrist. Then she was gone, a tissue held over her nose.

Josh knelt with his palms cupped together as if in prayer. Tears glistened in those big, soulful brown eyes of his. “May your moment come gently, sire.”

He slid off the bed, glanced over his shoulder and left.

Cherry hefted Celine onto the bed when her attempts to climb on failed. The old nurse looked down her nose at Bowser and spoke through a cracking voice, “You better behave yourself, your majesty, don’t make my job any harder than it already is.”

Bowser waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her. “What if I don’t?”

She bonked him over the head with her cane and burst into tears. “I’ll make your life hell!”

He cupped his massive hand over the back of her green shell when she turned away. She forgot to bow, but he didn’t mind.

Cherry hugged Celine and helped her to the floor. The aged nurse hobbled out, her cane clicking against the bricks.

Neil came in after a few moments. Junior moved aside to give him room.

“Are you ready for the end?”

Bowser nodded. He beckoned Neil closer and whispered, “How is Junior’s heart?”

“It looks fantastic, sire.” Neil smiled despite the sadness in his eyes. “He could live another hundred years.”

Tears filled Bowser’s eyes. He offered Neil his hand. “That’s what I want for him. A long life with people who love him.”

“He will have it. I promise.” Neil accepted Bowser’s handshake. “And I want for you to find peace.”

Bowser chuckled, wincing. “I found that when I saw those two get married. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

Nodding, Neil withdrew, bowed deeply and departed.

Another pang wiped Bowser out of awareness. He struggled back to the surface, eyes fluttering under soporific weight.

“Can you hear me?” Junior had his left hand. “Dad?”

Bowser turned towards Junior‘s voice. “I’m still alive?”

Junior snorted a laugh between tears. “Yeah.”

Bowser smiled. The pain in his chest shrank. Junior squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay to sleep if you want to. Don’t fight the medicine.” Cherry murmured from his other side. Her voice trembled. “Junior and I are right here. We aren‘t going anywhere.”

No, not sleeping till my body makes me. I wanna stay awake as long as possible!

Bowser gasped and fought to keep his eyelids open. He wasn’t going to wake up from this sleep. There was still time to experience life as long as he stayed awake.

He focused on Junior‘s worried face. What a handsome guy. He tried to smile and look brave for him.

The air hunger shrank away. Things blurred around the edges. Reality was less real. His eyelids drooped lower despite his efforts. Once they closed, nothing he did opened them.

Peach, I hope I’ll see you again.

He sighed as Cherry and Junior‘s voices faded gradually into distant echoes. They kept talking to him, telling him they loved him and weren’t leaving his side.

Large arms hugged him tight. Smaller hands smoothed his hair. He was being kissed, held and caressed.

“Blue shell,” Bowser murmured.

“Blue shell,” Junior’s voice cracked. “I know, dad.”

Bowser squeezed his hand as tight as he could, letting him know he was still there.

Cherry rubbed his arm and touched her lips to his brow.

His pain stopped, and that startled him the most. Waves of terror washed over him, but the more tired he got the less afraid he felt. In a few seconds the sleepy darkness became comforting.

I guess this is it. Damn, my life was a great party…I wonder how much piss the sun can take…

His grasp on Junior’s hand relaxed. The world around him dissolved and his mind went silent.

.o

Loud exhales punctured the dim room. Junior sat on the edge of Bowser‘s bed, clutching his hand. Bowser‘s eyes were closed and his mouth wide open, his tongue flexing with every labored breath.

The unnerving gurgling sounds left Junior distraught. Was his dad in pain? Was he still aware of anything going on around him?

He looked just how he did in intensive care through all his other heart attacks, except now the only equipment was a nasal cannula and a single IV. No monitors, no ventilators, no ECG leads and no defibrillators.

His chest heaved and each breath moved the spiked choker around his thick neck, a sign of his struggling. Fighting for every second of life he could get.

Bowser resisted the morphine’s sedating effects for over an hour. Now, he fought to breathe.

Overwhelmed…numb even, Junior moved to stand.

Cherry stuck her arm out, “No, Junior, you stay with him.”

“He needs another pillow for his head.”

“I‘ll get it.”

Bowser was like a rag doll. He stopped breathing when Junior sat him up to put the pillow behind him. Junior laid him back down. The gasping resumed, shallower than before.

Junior‘s eyes shot desperately to Cherry. He was helpless, unable to escape the inevitable silence waiting in the future.

Junior sobbed, putting his head down on his dad‘s shoulder. “I don‘t know what to do…Cherry, I‘m so scared.”

Cherry slid onto the bed on Bowser‘s other side. She placed her hand over Junior‘s, which clutched his father‘s limp fingers.

“Keep doing this. Don‘t let go of his hand, he still needs you.” Her voice cracked. Tears welled in her eyes.

Bowser moved his head side to side and groaned. Junior bent over him, hoping beyond hope that he might survive this heart attack and be fine. He looked desperately at the IV in Bowser‘s tail.

“Try a bolus.”

Cherry crossed past the foot of the bed and pushed the button Judy pointed out. The IV pump chirped once and briefly whirred faster.

Bowser’s squirming calmed.

Junior tried to swallow over the lump in his throat. He didn‘t know what to say or do.

Fortunately for him, Cherry was more prepared for this difficult time. Her calmness eased some of his panic.

She slid onto the bed, cradled Bowser‘s head against her chest and caressed his gray-streaked hair.

Miraculously, his painful labored breathing quieted. He drooled all over her chest. She sighed, wiped his mouth with her skirt and looked up.

“My heartbeat calmed him down. I‘m not sure if Koopas spend any time inside their mothers, but humans know our mother‘s heartbeat before anything else. I guess it works on Koopas too.”

Cherry, you‘re the most amazing woman I have ever met,

Junior thought as he watched Cherry comfort his dad.

Time passed. Afternoon faded to evening. Evening embraced nightfall.

Bowser struggled on.

Neil stopped by and suggested they take a short break to eat dinner.

“No,” Junior protested, “We can’t—“

“Sometimes people wait until family isn’t present.” Neil laid a compassionate hand on Junior’s shoulder. “I will sit with him in the room so he isn’t alone.”

Junior’s eyes filled with tears. “You call us if anything changes. If he twitches, tell me.”

Neil bowed respectfully, “As you command, sire.”

Junior and Cherry went downstairs to eat a cold dinner of leftover coleslaw and Birdo drumsticks. She barely took six bites. He devoured everything on his plate in record time.

They spent no more than twenty minutes away before returning to the bedroom.

Bowser kept soldiering on. He wasn’t letting go until he was good and ready.

Neil bid them a quiet farewell as stepped out.

Cherry and Junior took turns holding Bowser all through the night. One slept on the far side of the bed while the other kept watch.

Junior sat up against the headboard with his dad‘s head cradled on his chest, listening to him breathe.

He remembered how Bowser pleaded with him not to remember his last hours. Try as he might, Junior couldn‘t make himself block this out. His mind hung on every moment that trickled by. Every breath, every twitch, every moan and every pause in between.

Neil said he expected the end to come around midnight or early morning. Bowser wouldn‘t quit. He was still panting when the sun came up.

Speaking of— Neil came in at seven o’clock to hang a fresh morphine bag and check on Bowser.

“What a remarkable tenacity.” He wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Bowser’s bicep and squeezed the bulb. His forehead wrinkled. “Hm, ninety over sixty.”

Looking up at Junior and Cherry, he said, “His heart is failing.”

“How will it end?” Cherry asked, trembling. “I mean…will we know he‘s about to go, or will he just stop breathing?”

“It will look like his previous cardiac arrest incidents. You may see him twitch and gasp for air. His mouth might turn white, blue or purple.” Neil placed his hand on Bowser’s wrist. His eyes were puffy, as if he recently shed his own tears. “Death is a process, not an event, and I can assure you that you will know when it’s happening.”

Bowser never moved throughout the whole exchange. The only sign of life was his chest heaving.

A long time ago, Neil said people in comas heard what happened around them. Was his dad really aware of anything going on, or did people say that to make themselves feel better?

Junior stormed into the bathroom to empty his bladder and wash his face. It was either take a leak or beg Neil to ignore the DNR, and he didn‘t want to go against his dad’s wishes.

Later in the morning, Cherry called Mario to let him know that Bowser was actively dying.

Mario came straight to the castle via the warp zone, but didn‘t enter the room.

“It‘s-a not my place to-a be in the way,“ He said.

But his shocked expression said it all— he saw how awful Bowser looked with his head back and his mouth open, gasping.

Cherry took a break to be with her dad. Mario kept the castle running. He cooked extra meals to freeze and reheat later. Junior found comfort in smelling the different Italian treats.

Bowser‘s breathing sped up at eleven o‘clock in the morning. His forehead wrinkled, but pushing the bolus button on the IV helped him relax again.

Junior called Cherry back into the room. By the time she got there, his snout and tongue were pale blue.

“He’s changing color. I think he’s going.” He sniffed. Tears flooded trails on his cheeks. “Dad…I’m here, dad.”

Bowser was about to die right in front of him. It hurt in ways he never knew he could feel pain. He wasn‘t ready for this. He would never be ready.

“Junior, whatever happens, stay close.” Cherry‘s hands trembled as she struggled to control herself. Her strength amazed Junior.

She bent close to Bowser’s ear and whispered to him, “Bowser, can you find the door?”

Bowser grunted low in his throat. Junior startled at the sound. Bowser‘s eyes moved under his eyelids. He appeared to be dreaming.

She stroked his hair. “It’s up the staircase, remember?”

“Peach?” Bowser rumbled. His eyebrows crossed, which almost made Junior laugh through his tears. His dad was so stubborn that he tried to respond while barely conscious. Junior squeezed his hand and looked across the bed at Cherry.

Bowser believed her to be Peach. Or did he see Peach? Was this one of those deathbed visions he read about in books?

“Yes, Bowser, it‘s Peach.” Cherry answered. “I’m at the top of the stairs.”

His expression contorted and tears flooded over his snout. She brushed them away with her thumbs.

“It‘s okay, shhh, it‘s all right. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Cherry dabbed at her own eyes. He gasped louder when her hand moved off his face. They were shallow gasps, each one smaller than the last.

She cupped his cheek and softly kissed his brow.

“You‘re almost there. Don‘t struggle.”

She leaned over and kissed Junior as well, “These are his last few breaths, Junior. Say something. Please, say something to him.”

The pain hit Junior like a stone in his belly.

I don‘t KNOW what to say!

He sobbed against Bowser‘s shoulder, clutching his hand tightly as if that alone would keep him alive.

“Dad…it‘s okay. I‘m gonna be fine,“ Junior choked out. A lie, he wasn’t fine at all, dammit!

He forced himself to look at Bowser‘s ashen face. He remembered one of their last conversations, and from that thought he blurted out, “Don‘t forget to piss on the sun.”

Bowser squeezed his hand and laughed. Faintly, just a snort and a twitch of the fingers, but he let Junior know he heard him. His face relaxed again and his chest stopped rising.

“Dad?” Junior bent over him. His expression twisted and he looked up at Cherry. She shook her head, covering her mouth with one hand.

A full minute went by. Then two. Nobody moved.

Bowser‘s eyes flew open and he jolted upright into a sitting position, babbling incoherently. He swung his legs off the edge of the bed as if about to leap up and run.

“It‘s okay! Dad, it‘s Junior. You‘re okay!” Junior pulled Bowser to his chest so he wouldn‘t fall face-first onto the floor.

Bowser snarled at something unseen. Smoke exuded from his nostrils, blackening the nasal cannula and filling the room with a distinctive kerosene scent.

Cherry ducked to the floor, turned off the oxygen concentrator and dodged his flailing legs on her way towards the IV. By some miracle he didn’t rip it out of his tail. She pushed the bolus button, panting.

Panicked, Junior struggled to keep his dying dad from falling off the bed. “Cherry!”

“Hold him!” Cherry jumped past Bowser’s legs to stand by Junior’s side again. “Bowser, it’s okay. Shhh, it’s okay.”

Bowser’s huge fists closed around her wrists and wrenched her forward. She cried out as she fell against the bed.

Junior pried Bowser’s hands off her and they clutched his forearm instead.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, worry about h—“

Bowser roared and thrashed violently in Junior’s arms, teeth bared. He only made that face in battle. Foam flecked the corners of his mouth and spilled onto his chest. His eyes stared blankly into nothing.

“C-Cherry, what do we do?” Junior’s heart throbbed in his ears. This wasn‘t his dad! His dad had more dignity than this!

Cherry sobbed and rubbed her bruised wrists. “I don‘t know! This wasn‘t supposed to happen. Ack!”

She ducked when Bowser blasted a stream of fire at the wall across the room. Whatever battle he fought, it was over once the flames left his mouth.

His thrashing weakened and ceased. The look on his face went from vacant to awed, as if he beheld something beautiful beyond imagining. He was quiet for a long while, just staring into space and moving his fingers aimlessly across Junior’s forearm. Whatever he saw wasn’t of this world.

“Oh, Bowser,” Cherry stroked his shoulder. She used her other hand to wipe the teardrops off her face. “It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Dad,” Junior whispered, voice trembling. This moment didn’t feel real or survivable. Time beyond it couldn’t exist.

Bowser’s eyes widened and glistened with upwelling tears.

“Peach!” He released Junior‘s arm and reached out towards Cherry. “I love you, Peach.”

Cherry clasped his outstretched hands, “I-I love you, too, Bowser.” She sniffed, tears streaming onto her cheeks. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I love you, too.”

Bowser brushed a teardrop off her cheek and smiled at her with unfathomable warmth.

Then he looked up into Junior‘s eyes, his tear-filled gaze radiating nothing but love.

“Love ya, brat,” he said.

The totality of him— six decades of memories nobody would remember like he did, stories only he knew, thoughts never spoken aloud, unwritten songs, hopes, dreams, regrets, secrets, emotions, and the whole history carved by his lifetime— dissolved like breath on a mirror as his eyes ceased to see.

Junior helplessly watched Bowser’s steady, even breaths transition into shallow, irregular gasps. He pulled him tighter against his chest when his head lolled backwards over the crook of his arm.

Nothing looked or sounded worse than agonal breathing. Bowser’s body didn’t want to stop functioning, so his dying brain sent signals to gasp as if that would restart his fibrillating heart. The gulping jaw movements and the flaccidness of his face were so unnerving that Junior stared straight ahead to avoid seeing it.

There was no sound other than the horrific gurgling rasps growing further apart. His mouth turned purple like bruises.

“Shh, Bowser, it’s okay to let go now.” Cherry kissed his hands and rubbed his huge pinkie knuckles with her tiny thumbs. Her lower lip quivered. “We’re here, we love you, and we know you love us.”

She mistook his gasping for a struggle. Bowser was already gone, no pulse, no blood circulating through his body, but Junior couldn’t find it in himself to correct her.

He didn’t want to bear witness to this. At the same time, he refused to tear himself away and abandon his dad during such a vulnerable moment. So he held him, kissed his cheek and tried to reflect back the same love he saw in his eyes.

“Dad, please,” He whispered.

In his arms, Bowser twitched and gasped. The pause afterward stretched on.

Junior remembered a conversation they had when he was ten.

“You’re going to die someday.”

“Yeah. Someday.”

“Am I gonna see you do it?”

“Maybe.”

A few minutes later, Bowser gasped again. His eyes rolled upward towards his eyebrows and his whole body shifted in a slow motion spasm. He stilled, mouth falling agape and empty eyes wide open.

.o

Bowser dropped onto all fours and bounded up the spiraling polychromatic staircase. Something heavy pressed down on his back, hindering his ascent.

He retreated into his shell, spun the annoyance off and emerged standing. A shadow, the only shadow in this place, took the shape of something winged— a bird, or a bat, he couldn’t tell for sure.

Death itself stared him down through colorless, blank eyes. Before he made a move, it shot forward into his chest and unimaginable agony wrenched his senses.

Bowser spread his arms and roared, his slavering jaws gaping. He called upon the fire in his belly to dissolve his assailant and exhaled it out as thick, black smoke. Flames followed, burning his pain into nothing. This was his peace, he would not be taken away from it again!

“Peach!” Bowser shouted up the stairs, “Don’t go without me! I’m on my way!”

He wiped his mouth and resumed racing upward on all fours. Brighter light awaited him each time he rounded a bend. Every impact of his hands and feet rang unearthly chords into the liminal space around him.

White brilliance blasted through stained glass windows lining the curved walls. They were images of his children, dynamic, alive and moving.

Ludwig, lifting his baton before an orchestra.

Iggy, throwing his head back in raucous mirth.

Lemmy, doing handstands on a glittery ball.

Roy, reaching into an oven to pull out meat pies.

Wendy, preening and pirouetting.

Morton, hefting amps onto a darkened stage.

Larry, holding a beating Koopa heart.

Junior, leaning close with tears in his eyes.

Bowser turned the final corner to reach the straightaway. Here, the infinite white blotted everything else out. Music rang in his ears, louder and louder until it swallowed his senses in beauty.

The stairs crumbled away as he stood upright and stepped off them.

Warm wuthering blew across his shell. He turned his back into it and continued forward. Something solid met his hands. He squinted, barely making out the edge of an arched wooden door.

Bower pushed it open. He never imagined it could get brighter, until it did.

At first he saw shapes and a white sleeve. Somehow, he was dressed in his purple and white wedding tuxedo, the one he never got to wear. He looked past his arm and found the Mushroom castle‘s great hall. The aisle runner and stained glass windows were all diamond-white.

He gazed at the rosette window at the end of the aisle. Beneath it, a shimmering white grand piano with the top closed.

Bowser walked up the long aisle and seated himself on the piano bench, his fingers easily finding their way across the crystalline keys. The song he wrote for Peach ages ago surged upward like a vine climbing through miles of soil.

“

Peach, you’re so cool…

”

He threw his head back, eyes closed in delight as his voice echoed through the great hall.

“

…Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches… Peaches! Peach! PEACH!

”

Warm air whispered against his face. Bowser, being in the middle of singing Peach’s name at the top of his lungs, was inundated with a familiar peachy-whine perfume.

He faltered and opened his eyes.

A figure in a white tulle ball gown leaned against the opposite end of the piano, her elbow resting on the closed lid and her chin cupped by her palm. Her image reflected itself in his pupils.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Peach smiled behind her diaphanous wedding veil. Her gem-encrusted tiara sparkled like starlight in the glow of the rosette window.

“Peach!” Bowser‘s eyes widened. “Are we really here? Is this really happening?”

“Yes, you goofball.” Peach arched a sculpted eyebrow. “You did it. You’re here because you made yourself worthy.”

The tears in his eyes glistened. One escaped onto his cheek, but he wiped it away.

“Peach…” Bowser took his tophat off and set it aside, revealing the thick, reddish-orange hair of his youth. He never looked away from her gorgeous blue eyes. “I love you, Peach.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Peach peered at him through her long eyelashes, a mischievous smile twitching at her pink lips. “I love you, too.”

With those words, his broken heart healed and he forgot pain or sadness existed. The teardrops sliding down his cheeks carried his lifetime of rage and sorrow away. Nothing in creation matched the beauty of her blue eyes returning the love he felt towards her for so long.

Peach hopped onto the piano lid and settled across it on her stomach, her chin once more propped against her palm. Her immense tulle skirt took up most of the piano lid. She kicked her feet up behind her, white high heeled pumps flashing in the surrounding luminescence.

“Can you sing that for me one more time? I want to hear how it ends.”

Bowser grinned in delight and rolled the opening chords. He sang for her again, all the way through, without interruption. With that song, he offered his heart, his soul, his everything.

Peach wiggled her feet back and forth to the rhythm. Their eyes met as he brought his raspy fortissimo to a smooth, gentle pianissimo. Her name, on his lips as a prayer.

The final chord faded away. Bowser exhaled, and after that he stopped needing to breathe at all.

Peach slid off and Bowser stood up. She crossed around the curved side of the piano. He met her halfway.

They embraced like two oceans colliding. She was so tiny and fragile in his arms.

At Peach’s tacit nod, Bowser lifted her blusher veil out of the way and bent forward, crushing her lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, matching his passion with hers.

The glow beside them brightened. Bowser saw his whole life in Peach‘s eyes. There was nothing but love now. He picked her up bridal style and kissed her again as he walked into the rosette window’s light.

.o

.o

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Daylight glimmered off Bowser’s vacant, dilated eyes. Silence permeated the room like a physical presence.

It was so still that Junior nearly leapt out of his shell when Cherry laid Bowser‘s limp hands down in his lap.

A terrible dread settled behind his breast bone. Nothing felt real. He only imagined that thrashing earlier. Those lifeless black things weren‘t his dad‘s eyes. This wasn‘t his dad‘s body in his arms. His dad did not just look into his eyes and

die.

Dads who were playing sports and laughing without a problem twenty four hours ago did

not

die like this.

This was a dream, a nightmare. Any second now he would wake up.

Junior swallowed thickly. There were no words for the emptiness opening in his chest. His whole world changed, shrank, and dimmed, and nobody outside this room knew. He thought of his siblings going about their lives, smiling, enjoying themselves and laughing, oblivious to the tsunami of sorrow about to hit.

“Junior,“ Cherry touched his elbow. She sniffed, haunted eyes showing how shaken she was by the past few minutes. “It‘s over. He‘s gone.”

Her words broke the growing void within his chest and transformed it into tears. Not the slow, silent tears, it was a wave swallowing him in explosive, agonizing grief hitting all at once.

Junior clutched Bowser’s limp body and rocked back and forth, wailing in a way he hadn’t since childhood. He cried so hard it burned his eyes and ripped his breath away.

Memories he hated flitted past— Bowser collapsing next to their Karts, lying in a bed hooked up to menacing equipment, the staples in his chest, the smells of urine and cleaning chemicals, and watching him struggle back to life. The way his eyes rolled back, the medical staff compressing his chest, the frightened hours waiting for answers, the delirium, the blank stares and his feet on the gurney disappearing through double silver doors.

Every one of those incidents brought the fear of this outcome.

And it finally happened.

Junior couldn’t think. He saw only his dad’s absence and the painful permanence of their separation.

Cherry wrapped her arm around his shoulders and cried along with him, her hand still resting on top of Bowser’s.

All that struggle, and it was over.

He didn‘t want it to be over. He wanted his daddy…he wanted him to make fun of him for crying or tell him to stop being a baby. Something, anything besides this bloated, unwieldy silence.

“He‘s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, daddy, daddy,” Junior mumbled between sobs.

Cherry hugged him tighter, kissing his cheek. Junior pressed his lips against the crook of her elbow since it was in immediate reach. Bowser was so heavy in his arms, seven hundred and fifty pounds of limp, dead weight.

Through the haze of tears, he noticed the time. Exactly noon.

“He went with Peach…she took him…she came and took him. Gods, he was up running around less than a day before. Oh, dad…she took you. She came down and took you back up with her.”

“Mom would do something like that.” Cherry pressed herself to Junior's side and stroked Bowser’s cheek. She wasn’t put off by his blank, gaping expression. “When he smiled, I knew he saw her.”

“Do you think that was his ‘go into the light’ moment?” He sniffled.

“Yeah.” She nuzzled his shoulder. Her lips quivered when she spoke, “Then he looked at you and loved you with everything he had in him, and you loved him back with everything you had in you.”

She was right. He knew it in his heart. The last thing his dad did was love him.

Junior laid Bowser down with care, like fragile glass. He hugged Cherry tightly, his tears trickling into her hair. The pillar of strength he relied on fell. Now he had to stand on his own.

Cherry did it when she lost her mom. If she could do it, he could too. Neither of them got a choice.

“How did you get through losing your mom?” He whispered.

She clung tighter to him, eyes overflowing. “The same way you’ll survive this.”

He kissed her as a sob escaped him. Tears flowed onto her cheeks. They cried together until they were exhausted.

Junior insisted on closing Bowser‘s eyes and mouth before anything else, but neither stayed shut. At least his eyes weren’t wide open as if in fright.

“Did you take anything that was your mom’s after she died?” Junior wiped at his cheeks.

“I wore her wedding tiara at our wedding, and I’ll wear her royal tiara to my coronation.” Cherry whispered.

She took his hand and studied him. Her eyes moved to Bowser, softened and looked up again. “I know what you’re looking for. Take off your arm bands.”

He unclasped the two spiked armbands he wore on each wrist and bicep. Cherry removed Bowser‘s. One at a time, she traded them and re-hooked the clasps.

Her trembling hands went to the choker, but he stopped her. “That‘s his crown, it goes with him. I’ll design my own collar later.”

She dabbed tears off her face and nodded.

There was little physical difference in the size of the armbands. They looked more worn, and the spikes weren’t as shiny, yet knowing they were the same ones his dad wore every single day made them special.

Junior gazed down at Cherry and managed to smile. “Thanks, Cherry. He would‘ve liked that.”

She nodded and clasped his hands. He brushed a tear off her cheek. She would never know how much her being here made this bearable.

It was difficult to think in the blank, unknown time he couldn’t picture, like being thrust into new territory without a map. All Junior knew to do next was act.

“I have to call Ludwig,” he said, “He has to know first.”

Ludwig took care of him when Bowser collapsed the first time. He owed him this.

Cherry kissed his cheek and went into the bathroom. The sink ran. She turned it on to cover up her crying, but he heard it anyway.

Junior looked back at Bowser lying so pale and still. This all felt less than real, but it would feel too real once he spread the news.

He opened ClawBook messenger, selected Ludwig’s musical notes avatar and pressed the blue camera icon. The green Koopa shell throbber twirled against its gray background.

Ludwig picked up in a swish of movement as he settled the phone on his piano music stand. Behind him, white fairy lights shaped like eighth notes glowed on a dark blue brick wall.

“Little brother!” He spoke aloud as he rolled a jazzy minor chord and resolved it to major. As usual, his tone didn’t convey his delight due to his deaf accent, but his eyes danced with warmth. “What’s happening?”

Junior didn’t smile. He barely even blinked, like his mind shut down.

Ludwig was shrewd and zeroed in on the silent cue. His expression sobered. He raised his eyebrows, signing, “Is it dad?”

Tears filled Junior’s eyes, glistening as they spilled onto his cheeks. He clapped a hand over his mouth and tilted his phone.

Bowser was mostly in shadow, only the pallor of his snout showed up due to how the camera handled low light. Even then, it was obvious he wasn’t alive or breathing.

Ludwig’s face underwent a phantasmagoria of expressions. The speakers rustled. He stood up from where he sat and walked across the room, one hand scraping through his voluminous blue hair.

When he came back, his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

He signed, “Was it painful for him?”

Junior pinched the air. “No, he got pain relief right away. Cherry and I stayed with him the whole time. He knew it was happening, and he wasn’t upset or scared.”

A half-truth, but he couldn’t bear his siblings imagining the thrashing and roaring.

Junior set the phone against the lamp on the nightstand, being careful to not show Bowser’s dead body in frame. Now he could use both hands to sign.

“I was holding him when it happened. He looked up at me, right in the eyes, and then he just…” He paused, holding one hand palm up and the other palm down, and rolled them over, “…died.”

Ludwig nodded slowly. Tears escaped when he closed his eyes and swiped his fingers through his hair again.

A shadow crossed the wall behind him. Ludwig’s face contorted into a grimace. He jumped up, leaving just the plastron of his chest in frame, and grabbed onto Black. Black emitted a startled noise because he didn’t have a clue of what happened.

For the first time in his life, Junior heard Ludwig cry as an adult. It was the same shrieky wail from his old childhood videos, but with a mature low voice.

Black gripped onto him, making soft,

peh-peh

noises with his mouth. Their bodies separated and Ludwig’s elbows moved through the top of the frame.

Finally, Black shouted wordlessly and bent over to look at the screen, his face pinched in sympathy.

“I am so sorry about King Bowser!” His voice escaped as quiet grunts and squeaks while he signed, something that only happened when he was deeply upset. He straightened again, pulling Ludwig close. His crying sounded like a quivering, coughing moan.

The phone speaker broadcast the noises of two people weeping.

Black sat Ludwig down and kept holding him tight. They wept on each others’ shoulders. Black stroked Ludwig’s tear-stained cheek, and Ludwig clung to him like a vine.

The sight of Ludwig’s face twisted in grief almost tore Junior’s heart out.

Cherry stayed out of frame when she sat on the edge of the bed by Bowser’s feet. Junior beckoned her closer and took hold of her hand.

Onscreen, Ludwig collected himself and swiped the heels of his hands across both eyes. He signed one-handed, “Don’t worry about funeral arrangements. I’ll handle that. Dad and I discussed them after his fourth heart attack. If anyone asks where to send money, tell them it’s to me.”

Junior nodded, wiggling a finger by his head to sign, “I understand.”

Pausing, Ludwig wiped his eyes again. They were puffy and red. So was his snout. “Will you call the others, or should I?”

“I’m going to, you’re the first.”

“Thank you,” Ludwig moved his hand forward. “Do you want Black and I to come over?”

“No, Mario is already downstairs keeping the wheels spinning.” Junior gestured. “I’ll call you again if I need you here.”

Ludwig nodded as Black slipped an arm around his shoulders and pressed his face into his hair.

Nobody expressed any proper goodbyes. They waved to each other and ended the call.

Not three seconds later, a ClawBook notification came up. Ludwig posted an old photo of himself as a baby, sitting on Bowser’s lap at the piano. No caption, just the photo.

Junior left a ‘scratch’ to show he saw it and set his phone down.

Cherry looked over her shoulder at Bowser. “We should let his staff take care of him now.”

Junior gave her his phone to call downstairs because he couldn’t bear to do it. She took it in the bathroom and came out after she finished.

Bowser’s body gave off a smell, a mix of urine, raw meat and copper. Junior was grateful Judy put the vent bag on him earlier. It was soaked and bloated from doing its job.

Neil arrived first, solemn-faced. Everything he had to do seemed redundant, any casual observer could tell a dead body lay on the bed. But royal protocol dictated this necessity.

“He has to be repositioned on his back,” said Neil.

Junior moved Bowser gingerly into position, like he might break. A horrific guttural moan rose from Bowser’s throat. Everyone froze.

“Dad?” Junior looked down at him.

“Air trapped in his lungs,” Neil spoke softly.

Cherry turned away.Tears filled Junior’s eyes. He wished there was a way to close his dad’s mouth so it didn’t gape unnaturally wide. His claws scraped the stone floor as he backed away from the bed, one hand cupped against his mouth.

Neil attached the white ECG leads to Bowser’s chest. The tablet screen showed asystole. Next, he nudged his stethoscope earpieces into his ears and listened to Bowser‘s chest. He shifted it to the left, right, higher towards his chin and down below his sternum. Then he began to methodically remove the nasal cannula from Bowser’s nose, slide the IV needle out of his tail and peel off the ECG electrodes.

“When did he pass?”

“Noon,“ Cherry rubbed her eyes with a tissue.

Neil‘s eyes welled up as he rested a hand on Bowser’s shoulder.

“King Bowser Koopa the First is dead.” He moved that hand to Junior‘s wrist. “Long live King Bowser Koopa-Toadstool the Second.”

Junior laid his hand over Neil’s.

“Thank you,” He whispered. Paltry words for someone who did so much for his dad.

Neil understood, though. His eyes said it all. He whipped out his phone to make a call.

Moments later, the elevator arrived outside the southeast door. Junior expected an army of Hammer Brothers to appear. He got quite the surprise when Celine hobbled through the double metal doors with the gurney, followed by Judy, Elton, Josh and Stevie.

They were the nurses who took care of Bowser through all four heart attacks, and now they cared for him through his final journey.

Celine gave a whispered command and everyone fanned out around the bed with a black velvet sheet. They bowed respectfully in unison, like they rehearsed it.

Junior couldn’t see exactly what they did, but somehow they rolled Bowser on his side on the sheet without letting his limbs flop or crash into anything. They used the sheet like a sling to slide him sideways onto the gurney.

Celine moved to cover his body. That blank, staring face with half-closed eyes and gaping jaws was about to disappear.

The finality felt too sudden, too painful. Junior’s chest ached in a rush of warmth. He stopped her to cup the top of Bowser’s head and sobbed against his ear.

“I miss you already, dad!” Tears ran along his snout like raindrops. He stroked Bowser’s gray-streaked hair, kissing and nuzzling his cheek. Already, the warmth had begun to leave it. “I love you so much!”

Softer, he whispered, “Blue shell. I won’t forget.”

Judy turned away, wiping her eyes. Nobody’s face was dry.

He didn‘t want to let him go. Cherry touched his arm, gently reminding him that he had to.

“They’ll take care of you,” he murmured against his dad’s cheek.

Junior covered Bowser’s head with the velvet sheet and hugged him through it until he stopped crying.

“Promise you’ll be gentle with him?” He asked.

“Yes,” Celine smoothed the sheet. “Nobody will hurt him. You have my word.”

“Okay.”

At Junior’s solemn nod, the nurses wheeled Bowser out the northeast door to the elevator.

Elton stayed behind long enough to clasp Junior’s hands. He wore simple silver framed glasses instead of his usual zany tinted ones.

One of his white wing feathers molted off without him noticing. It drifted to the floor by the fireplace.

Cherry picked it up and laid it on the mantle.

Neil left last, taking the oxygen concentrator and IV pole with him. The elevator doors whirred shut and the light above it went out.

Bowser‘s empty Koopa shell sat propped against the wall. Looking at it broke Junior’s heart all over again. He dropped onto the bed, onto the memory foam mattress still warm from his dad’s body, and wept.

Cherry caressed his hair and kissed his cheek. She tried to soothe him, but he didn‘t want to be consoled. He just wanted to cry, because that was what aggrieved people did. They cried and soldiered on.

Understanding, Cherry left him alone to do so.

He cried himself to sleep. His dreams were filled with his father‘s horrifying last moments.

.o

Junior’s nap lasted thirty minutes, but it felt like hours. The room still smelled like urine and death.

Right now, downstairs, Neil, Celine, Stevie, Judy, Josh and Elton were in the process of preparing Bowser’s body to be washed and dressed for the wake.

Junior was glad his organs would be handled lovingly by people who knew him and the story behind how he met his end.

He sat up and reached for the phone. No more delaying— he swiped, scrolled to Iggy’s ClawBook avatar of him sticking his tongue out and tapped the phone icon.

Iggy picked up instantly. His phone lay flat on a table looking up at a circular metal chandelier in the varnished wood ceiling of his dining room. Larry and Lemmy leaned over to wave from the opposite side. Only Lemmy’s colorful Mohawk was visible. It reminded Junior of seeing Neil and the nursing staff looking down at him before angiograms.

But three of his brothers were together, so that meant not having to repeat himself as often.

“Heeeeey, Junior!” Iggy stuffed pretzels in his mouth and crunched them. “We’re playing Koopa City Hold ‘em! Larry is cleaning us out. Wanna come join us and ruin his day?”

“He’s mad that I’m good,” Larry piped up.

While they quipped back and forth, Lemmy focused on Junior’s failure to return their playful energy. He waved his hands in their faces.

“Shut up, dickheads! Something’s wrong!”

Larry’s smile dropped. He noticed it, too. “Junior, are you okay?”

Iggy swallowed his mouthful of pretzels. “Did you and Cherry fight?”

“No.” Junior shook his head.

Yet another day he had to ruin. Yet another series of reactions he had to withstand.

He gritted his teeth, his eyes welling up as he spat it out.

“Dad just died.”

Iggy’s eyes chilled behind his glasses.

“This is a joke, right? He’s in on it. Fuck off! Fuck off right now!” He ate another pretzel. “That’s not funny! Did he put you up to this? You tell him that’s not funny!”

Junior deflated inside, the blustery reaction passing through him like smoke.

“I’m not fucking around. He died. They just took his body downstairs.”

Larry gulped his Stellar beer and disappeared out of frame. Lemmy’s Mohawk moved back and forth as he rocked to self-soothe.

Iggy leaned close to the phone, so close his breathing hissed over the mic.

“He’s gone? Dad’s gone? You’re not joking?”

Lemmy shoved his full face into frame next to Iggy’s. “Dad died?”

Larry sniffled from the side.

“Yeah.” Junior hated crushing the hope in their eyes. He wanted it to be a cruel prank. “Heart attack got him.”

“What happened?” Scott’s voice muffled in the distance.

“Our dad died,” Larry’s voice shook.

“Oh, no! Oh, man! I’m so sorry! Oh, damn!”

Lemmy’s expression went blank at that exchange. He screeched and fled, his screaming audible from across the room.

“No, not dad! No, no!”

Iggy pressed a hand over his mouth and took his glasses off to cover his eyes.

“Ludwig is handling the funeral stuff, so any money towards it goes to him.” Junior looked away from the screen.

Iggy nodded as a sob heaved his shoulders.

Lemmy grabbed the phone, his face taking up the whole screen. “Did it hurt?”

“Initially, yes, but he got meds right away and they stopped it. He wasn’t in pain when he went.”

“Did he know what was happening?”

“Mmhmm. He wasn’t upset or scared. Cherry and I stayed with him the whole time, so he was never left alone. She held his hands and I was hugging him.”

Lemmy set the phone down and walked away again. Iggy scooped him up against his shoulder and they cried together. Iggy’s weeping sounded like a sad parody of his laughter.

Larry sat with a hand covering his eyes as tears spilled down his face.

The phone rustled as Scott picked it up and tilted it to get his angular face in the picture. “Nobody likes making this kind of call, sire. I’m so sorry. Anything I can do?”

“No, thanks. I need to finish making the calls. I want everyone to hear it from me.”

Scott nodded, eyes downcast. “I’ll take care of these guys. Do what you’ve gotta do.”

Iggy’s sobbing continued. Lemmy wailed. Larry’s muffled weeping joined theirs.

Another day ruined.

Junior waved to Scott and ended the call because he couldn’t bear the crying any longer. He took a deep breath.

Next up, Roy.

Roy answered with white earbuds in his auricles. He was washing his dishes, the clanks and hiss of the sink barely audible because the mics in the wireless earbuds filtered out background noise. Behind him, a colorful assortment of pots and pans hung on hooks by the dark brown brick wall.

He smiled. “Hi, baby bro!”

Junior’s throat clenched. His face must have broadcast it, because Roy slowly removed his sunglasses with a soapy hand and furrowed his bushy purple eyebrows.

“Dad’s dead, isn’t he?”

Slowly, Junior nodded.

“When?”

“Forty-five minutes ago.”

Roy’s lower jaw trembled. “Who’s handling the funeral?”

“Ludwig. Money goes to him.”

Tear streaks glistened on Roy’s snout. He was holding back. “I won’t ask what it looked like. Just…were you with him, or did you find him?”

Junior’s eyes stung. “Cherry and I were with him.”

Roy nodded. A sob broke through. His voice cracked and got watery. “I have to hang up and call Pom-Pom. I can’t…damn it. I—”

“I know.” Junior reached out, wishing he could hug him. “This sucks. I still have to tell Morton and Wendy.”

“Yeah. Get on that before you crack.” Roy draped a white dish towel over his shoulder. “Th-thanks for the heads up. Love you, baby bro.”

“Love you, too, big bro.”

Junior ended the session and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. He didn’t pay much attention to whose avatar he tapped next.

Morton was in a hotel gym, huge head bobbing side to side as he jogged on a treadmill. His connection wasn’t great, so his image jumped and pixelated as frames skipped.

“Yo!” Morton breathed hard after slowing to a walk. “Sorry, the connection sucks.”

“Hey. Can you get somewhere private?”

“Sure.”

Morton snatched up a brown towel that matched his darkest scales and left the gym. His heavy breathing whooshed and the ceiling behind him shifted from bare fluorescent rods on a black mirrored surface to cream with frosted glass fixtures shaped like roses. He passed through a glossy white metal door and the ceiling changed again to include cooling vents and gold crown molding.

Daylight shone on his face as he shoved the curtains open and wiped the towel across his sweaty, wide features. Behind him, the hotel room was decorated in jewel tones, the rumpled beds bearing emerald green comforters. White rose designs were stenciled into the wallpaper.

“Look at this stupid hat.” Morton grinned and put a sapphire blue baseball cap on his head. It had the hotel’s logo on it, a white rose for the White Rose Hotel. He was all the way over in Sarasaland.

Serrated got popular over there, so it wasn’t surprising.

“It’s hideous.” Junior deadpanned.

“No kidding!” Morton threw the hat aside. “Sienna thinks it’s funnier than shit. She’s been wearing hers everywhere.”

“Yeah.”

Morton keyed in on the lack of humor. His image jiggled as he propped his phone up against the window.

“Did dad have another heart attack?”

Junior nodded, swallowing hard.

“How bad?”

“He’s gone.”

“Gone…as in dead?”

“Yeah.”

Morton’s eyes lost focus and drifted to the window above his phone.

“Dad didn’t suffer.” Junior went on autopilot. “Cherry and I were with him.”

“Did he know he was…?”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t scared or anything.”

Tears gathered on Morton’s lower eyelids. They streaked onto his cheeks when he closed his eyes and turned his head, sniffling.

“Just, um, thinking of how he got us all tested for Crash after we found out he had it.”

More tears dripped along his snout and seeped into the corners of his mouth. He blinked, his face haunted.

“Neil freaked out when he saw my coronaries. He said I was eight years away from a deadly heart attack. My left anterior descending was the smallest he’s ever seen. Smaller than dad’s. If dad’s first heart attack hit a year later than it did, the dilator stents would’ve torn my arteries up instead of stretching them. I’m the youngest person they’ve seen with the start of sclerosis, it usually waits till you’re forty. He said my aorta looks kind of funny, too.”

Morton’s throat worked in a swallow and his nostrils flared. He wrinkled his forehead, still staring out the window.

“I could’ve been on my back breathing through a tube right now, or dead.”

Again, he stared somewhere above his phone, the reflections of daylight making his pupils appear white.

“Kind of feels like dad went through it so we don’t have to. You and me, we’re fourth degree-ers. We’re stent bros.”

Junior wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. Having it put that way sent pain through his chest. He recalled getting his stents only in the vaguest sense because the meds put him to sleep, but he clearly remembered how Morton came to see him afterward.

“They can find Crash in embryos now, thanks to the research Larry’s been doing. The heart starts as kind of a pouch, and I guess the shape of it tells the doctors something. I don’t know all the medical stuff, but…”

Morton brushed his fingers across his cheeks, wiping off tears. More replaced them.

“Dad had Crash, Larry became a cardiologist to research it, and now we can find it before our babies hatch. Maybe Larry’s gonna get so good at this that he’ll cure it. I’m donating my heart to Crash research after I die someday, ‘cuz I wanna help somebody find a cure. If my heart has any part in that, it’ll be worth it.”

He sniffed, dabbing his runny nose with the towel, but all it did was smear the snot more.

“Who’s handling the funeral?”

“Ludwig.” Junior cleared his throat. “Money goes to him.”

“Got it.” Morton wiped his runny nose again. His guttural voice cracked, “I’m gonna let you go. Who else is left to tell?”

“Just Wendy. I’m going down the line so everybody hears it from me first.”

“I’ll act like I don’t know if she freaks out and calls me. That way she won’t get mad about being the last to know.”

Junior coughed a laugh. “You can tell Sienna, but have her keep it between you two.”

“I get it. Will do. She’s gonna be back pretty soon. You know the tour is gonna get canceled, right?”

“Sorry.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it. Take care.”

“Love you, stent bro.”

“Love you, too. Call me if you need anything. Don’t care if you wake me up at five in the morning, call me. I’m here for ya, Junior.”

“Thanks, Morton.”

Junior nodded and ended the connection. His phone battery ran down to fifty percent.

He washed his face in the bathroom sink and drank out of the faucet rather than use a glass. Now he felt ready enough to do this one more time.

Wendy didn’t pick up the first time. The throbber spun and spun until the call auto-declined. Sometimes she ignored calls the first time, but answered the second or third. Junior tried again.

The screen flashed to dark green and the speaker crackled.

“Did you answer that? Jack!” Wendy giggled, “Now we’re caught!”

“Ooh, kinky.” Jack’s smooth voice muffled against some part of her body. “Should we tell them where I just had my mouth?”

“No, because it’s Junior.”

“Aww.”

Another creaking swish as the phone changed hands, and the screen swung sideways to reveal Wendy, sans her shell, lying on her back with her rumpled red hair splayed on a black satin pillow.

Jack, without his red-framed glasses, scooted up from the bottom of the frame. He kissed along her shoulder and throat. Judging by their flushed faces, messy hair, Wendy’s smeared eyeliner and Jack’s snickering, they were rolling around in post-coital bliss.

Another day to ruin. Junior sighed, rubbing the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Wendy.” He didn’t want to do it.

The humor left her face. She planted her hand on Jack’s forehead and shoved him out of frame.

“What’s the matter, Ju-ju? Is—“ Wendy swatted something out of sight. “Jack, stop it! Something's wrong!”

Junior waited for her attention to return to him.

“We lost dad.”

“What?” Wendy sat up, revealing a royal purple bedroom draped in velvet pink curtains. “He’s dead? He died? How? Why? What?”

“Heart attack.” He looked down, afraid to see her face.

“Daddy,” Wendy murmured. She bit down on her pinkie claw. “Oh, Gods. I hope he wasn’t scared and alone!”

“He wasn’t. I had him in my arms, Cherry held his hands.”

Jack slipped his arms around Wendy, pulling her close. She leaned into him, her dark blue eyes puffy red around the edges.

“They didn’t pound on his chest or anything?”

“No, he signed a DNR, so none of that happened. He got pain relief that helped him relax. He wasn’t in pain, and he wasn’t scared.”

Tears glistened on her face. “Did you love on him the whole time?”

Junior smiled despite the lump in his throat. “Oh, you bet we did. He knew how much he was loved, sis, and he gave it back at the end when he looked up at me. That was the last thing he did.”

Wendy nodded, cupping a hand over her mouth. She dropped the phone in her lap and began to cry in earnest, with Jack rubbing her arm while he embraced her.

“Daddy!” Her plaintive wail cut through Junior. “I love you, daddy!”

She hit the phone and the call cut off. Junior didn’t begrudge her abruptness.

Now the bubble of sadness engulfed the whole family. Somewhere out there, all his siblings knew about the void their dad left, and they floated around it in states of shock and tears.

Moments later, Wendy’s ClawBook blew up with pictures of Bowser. One was a selfie they took together outside the ruins of a bombed castle. Wendy had the smuggest look in her eyes and Bowser wore that self-satisfied smile he got whenever he knew he made one of his kids happy.

Another showed him grinning viciously while drawing breasts on the tip of Mario’s big, round nose. The hapless plumber slept in a drunken stupor, unaware.

Junior texted her to tell her that Ludwig was handling the funeral arrangements. She answered with three heart emojis.

He sighed, plugging his phone in to charge it. Those calls felt like enduring a war. His head throbbed from being so emotionally drained. Now he understood why Bowser delayed the news of his terminal diagnosis for so long.

Junior stared at the open bedroom door. On one hand, he was mad that Bowser waited so long to tell him. He only had a day to acclimate to his impending death before it happened. In a way, he felt robbed of a chance to make some final memories with him. Their last hours together were him unconscious and struggling to breathe.

His phone squeaked. Cherry texted him.

I took this picture early in the morning. I’ll delete it if it’s too hard to look at.

Below her text, a photo taken from the foot of the bed. Junior sat against the headboard with Bowser’s head cradled against his chest. He was kissing his dad’s forehead. Bowser’s face looked serene and without pain.

Their last photo together, and the last image of Bowser alive, taken mere hours before he died.

How many times did his dad hold

him

that way as a kid?

It’s beautiful. Please keep it. I’m glad you took that.
Junior responded with a slew of heart emojis and saved the photo to his phone.

He texted it to Wendy, because he wanted her to see Bowser being kissed and held in his final hours. She replied with several hearts and crying Koopa face emojis.

Junior turned his phone off to charge. He stared ahead at the open bedroom door again, numb.

.o

Dealing with a death was just as stressful as planning a wedding. Maybe even more so because it didn’t allow for do-overs.

Cherry got handed paperwork within minutes of Bowser’s body being taken downstairs. As the soon-to-be queen of two lands, she could officially handle and sign documents on Junior’s behalf, but she didn’t expect it to happen that quickly!

She went through most of it in a daze. Many pages left her hands dotted with tears.

Junior was in horrible shock over the whole thing. She would never forget the dread on his face moments after Bowser stopped breathing. He wasn‘t the least bit prepared.

A part of her wanted to shout at Bowser for waiting so long to tell Junior impending death. Junior’s aggrieved cries burned into her mind as much as Bowser’s confused thrashing and the awful gurgles of his final gasps.

She never watched a person die before. Especially not somebody she knew and cared about. Now she wished to un-see it all.

Cherry noticed Bowser‘s absence as the day wore on. Usually he was at the kitchen table, making small talk with her while she cooked or kept Junior’s messiness under control. It felt wrong not having him seated across from her. She tried hard not to imagine him lying cold and still in the underground morgue.

Koopas interred their dead in lava after mummifying their bodies and sealing them inside their shells.

Cherry tried to wrap her head around it. Bowser’s mortician was going to take out his internal organs and distribute them to his kids, and they would turn them into cooked meals for the wake dinner. They performed ritualistic cannibalism. She knew about it, but never imagined seeing it in action. Koopas had cookbooks specifically for this occasion.

After the wake, his body would be stripped of any clothing worn during the viewing and sealed inside his shell. That also struck her as morbid. She couldn‘t look at Junior‘s shell without imagining the day

he

had to be buried in it. Koopas carried their caskets on their backs!

But Bowser didn‘t want a traditional lava burial or entombment. Cherry guessed where he wanted to be before she got to his written instructions. She smiled wryly.

A hand settled on her back. She looked up to find Mario gazing down at her with his big, soft blue eyes.

“It’s-a going to be tough-a for a while after this is over, so I cooked enough to feed an army. How’s-a Bowser doing?”

The question slammed into her like a ten ton weight. In all the craziness, nobody thought to tell Mario. She clenched her fists, fighting back tears.

“Bowser died an hour ago. He’s gone. Nobody told you?”

Mario gasped and his eyebrows crossed. “No! Oh, my sweet-a Cherry. Are you okay?”

“I‘m fine.” Cherry said.

Then the reality of it all, the pain and the stress, fell on her at once. She burst into tears and buried her face in Mario‘s chest.

“He was staring at me, I think he thought I was mom. He smiled. He looked so happy. He told mom he loved her, and meant it with his whole heart. Then he looked up at Junior and his head fell back. He gasped for a while after, and that was it.”

She sniffed and whimpered, clinging to the back of his suspenders. “Junior is going to tell everybody it was peaceful and calm to spare them, but it wasn’t. It was ugly, scary, and horrible.”

Mario stroked her hair, letting her talk without interruption.

“It happened so fast, daddy!” Cherry coughed and sniffed. “He was— he was walking around and laughing yesterday! Now he‘s gone! It wasn’t like mom, but it felt just as sudden. I

watched

him die, and I held his hands while he went! There was something so beautiful about that, but it was horrible to watch it happen. I’m so confused!”

Heaving sobs took her strength away. She bawled, her tears soaking into his denim overalls.

“Oh, my baby girl.” Mario‘s arms wrapped around her head and she found comfort in his heartbeat. He rubbed her back, his strong hands reassuring her. “I‘m so-a sorry. How‘s-a Junior doing?”

“Shocked,” she sniffled. Not wanting to talk anymore, she held him tighter. For one instant she felt guilty to have a dad to comfort her when Junior didn‘t, but that feeling quickly faded.

He understood and resolved himself to stroking her hair instead of asking questions. “You‘ve been-a strong for Junior, now it‘s okay to fall apart. I‘ll be strong for-a my girl.”

She nodded, face still buried in his chest. He smelled like floral fabric softener and his aftershave gave it a lime tinge. Those smells surrounded him for as long as she could remember.

“You know,” Mario stroked her hair again, “At the carnival, I did-a what you said. I found Bowser by Peach’s grave. We talked. We cried. We saw eyeball to eyeball and agreed to-a the marriage of you and Junior. I’ll never forget that.”

Cherry took comfort in Mario‘s soft voice and gentle hands. “I’m glad you two made up.”

He was going to be gone someday, too. Her and Junior would have no one else but each other. Perhaps, by that time, they would both be strong enough to stand on their own.

Mario kissed her forehead. “Can I do-a anything to help you feel better?”

“I could use a bowl of your famous minestrone soup right about now.”

“Con piacere.”

He smiled against the top of her head. “I‘ll go-a make some. I cooked enough food to last a week, so you don‘t have to cook so much, but I didn’t make that. Let’s fix-a that, hm?”

“Thanks, daddy,“ said Cherry with all the gratitude in her heart.

Mario cooked while she washed her face and finished up the paperwork with a clearer head.

Junior dazedly entered the kitchen. His eyes were puffy and his hair messy.

He sat down as Mario brought Cherry her soup. Without comment Mario went back and dished up another bowl. Junior stirred it slowly. His nostrils flared. He slurped up a spoonful, licked his lips and drank right from the bowl.

“More,“ he said. More was brought.

He drank that too.

“More.”

Junior did this four more times.

Mario finally grabbed the whole soup pot, still steaming, and set it on the table. Junior picked it up like a giant beer jug and chugged every last drop of soup from the pot. There was at least a gallon in there. He slammed the pot down afterward and released a huge belch.

Cherry started to giggle at Junior‘s terrible table manners. Junior coyly covered his mouth, trying to look innocent with the orange-red soup broth dripping off his chin. He shook his head, slapped himself on the chest and burped again, louder than last time.

Mario curled his lip behind his fluffy mustache.

“Did your dad ever teach-a you manners?”

“No,” Junior replied snidely.

Cherry giggled harder. Junior followed. Mario caved last. The three of them guffawed because they knew Bowser would have found that hilarious.

.o

Going to see Bowser‘s body so soon after he died was a choice Mario would regret for the rest of his life. He thought the mortician had him prepared for viewing, and learned too late that a Koopa’s family did that.

“Since you were his rival…” The mortician whose name he didn’t catch sighed under his breath. “I’m still embalming him, so don’t be alarmed.”

Mario pondered leaving as the purple-shelled Koopa Troopa lifted a white plastic sheet to reveal Bowser’s enormous body on the slab. The pallid, shell-less thing lying on its side didn‘t look like Bowser at all. Leather straps tied his ankles and wrists together while one around his waist kept him attached to the table. His hair was a mess sticking up everywhere, his pale, snake-like genitals were fully exposed because of two metal hoses jammed into the cloacal vent near his tail, and his dry, wrinkled tongue lolled out of his jaws.

The spiked collar and arm bands he usually wore were missing, piled up on a nearby table with his collar sitting on a purple velvet pillow. His torso had been expertly dissected and glued shut again so the incisions disappeared between the plastron ridges on his belly. From those incisions, all of his major organs were excised. Even his brain came out through a hole drilled in the roof of his mouth.

They removed everything except his testes. Those were left behind so he could fertilize the earth— or something like that, Mario didn’t remember the Koopa ritual. Faint bloodstains and the organs laid out in ice chests on the other nearby table offered the only hints of this seemingly barbaric practice. The ice chests were clear, so anyone could see what lay inside. Especially the enormous container collecting the blood pumped out of him by the embalming process.

Mario kept his back to

that

table.

A glass marble was sewn into each of Bowser’s eye sockets to give his closed eyelids shape. The tiny, clear stitches resembled silver eyelashes. He seemed so utterly naked and vulnerable. Death stripped away his dignity, same as it did for everyone. Peach looked similar lying on the metal slab as her servants embalmed her.

Death, the great equalizer. It spared no one.

Bowser’s thick limbs twitched every so often, like someone startled in a dream. Mario was advised not to stand right next to the table because the embalming fluids caused muscle spasms. Something as simple as a temperature change might make the body thrash. Even in death, Bowser could still be dangerous.

Mario swallowed with a dry throat. He wanted to cry and yet couldn‘t. No tears came. Just a cold hole in the pit of his stomach.

“Remember that I lived,”

Bowser said the last time they talked. He was alive, breathing, moving and smiling.

Now, he looked so deflated, pale and empty. Thank the stars his eyes were already closed, Mario doubted he could handle the blank, unseeing stare a second time.

A red shelled Koopa Troopa slipped into the room and thrust a clipboard at him. He wore red platform boots and a white coat. His name tag said

Neil.

“Sign here.”

Mario hesitated, a sensation of magnificent sonder passing through him. “What-a for?”

“You were his rival. This makes it official that you acknowledge his demise.”

It was a form stating that he laid eyes on Bowser‘s body. A confirmation and acceptance of his death for future records. He chewed his bottom lip and signed on the line. “Who were you to-a him?”

Neil smiled wryly, sadness gleaming in his eyes. “I was his cardiologist.”

There were years of stories in those eyes that Mario would never know. All he knew was this person took care of Bowser’s heart until its last beat.

Mario nodded. “My condolences for your loss. We did-a not see eye to eye until a short-a time before he passed. I let my grief over Peach get-a between us, and that is something I will always regret.”

Neil’s fingers drummed against the plastic clipboard. “We have a proverb here. ‘Regret grows the longer you let it fester.’”

“Whoever said it is wise.”

“The proverbs of Kamek are something most Koopas live by.”

“Ah, that was Kamek.” Mario nodded. Kamek was an old, old Magikoopa who died centuries ago. He lived such a long life that he wrote down his wisdom in ancient tomes.

Neil turned and departed before Mario could ask more about him. The mortician, who didn’t wear a name tag, shot him a sidelong look.

“Seen enough, sir?”

Mario peered again at Bowser’s lifeless remains. He pulled one glove off, reached up and smoothed his rumpled gray-streaked hair until no strands fell in front of his curved horns. The strands were thicker than human hair, and softer than they looked.

“So long-a, Bowser.” His voice shook on Bowser’s name.

He exited the room, ungloved hand cupped beside his eyes to avoid seeing the gory table he had to pass on the way out.

.o

Junior watched his siblings emerge from various warp zones around the castle grounds.

Iggy carried Scott’s colorfully upholstered wheelchair and Lemmy had Scott riding piggyback on his shell. Lemmy set Scott down in his chair once they were on the drawbridge and the group came in together.

Ludwig and Black followed closely behind them, their faces solemn.

Sienna held Morton’s hand as they arrived. Their eyes were puffy red from shedding tears.

Larry looked like he hadn’t slept for days and kept himself conscious by drinking coffee.

Roy and Pom-Pom dragged several black metal ice chests on a blue wagon.

Wendy pulled a rolling suitcase behind her. Jack held onto her elbow and tilted his white cane in the pencil grip while she guided him inside.

Everybody hugged Junior, and Cherry, and each other once they were all together. Tears fell and voices cracked.

Black kissed the top of Cherry’s head and swayed her back and forth while he embraced her. She cried quietly on his chest.

Junior broke away from all the hugging to gesture at the kitchen. He signed while he spoke for Black’s and Ludwig’s sake.

“The kitchen is a free-for-all. Eat whatever. Mario cooked a ton of stuff so we don’t have to bother Vivi.”

“Cool, thank you,” Roy said.

Cherry stepped back when Black finished hugging her and wiped the tears off her face. Everybody had blotchy-from-crying faces, so she wasn’t too self-conscious about her nose being red.

Mario emerged and escorted Jack, Black, Scott, Sienna and Pom-Pom into the gloomy dining room, which was lit by smoky daylight coming through the windows.

Black loomed over Mario with his hands on his hips. Mario looked up at him, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry, I don’t-a know Koopa Sign.”

“You’re in the minority,” Scott said, his chair whirring past, “I’m an interpreter.”

“And I’m his brother,” Jack stood on Mario’s other side, leaving the poor plumber pinned between two huge, muscular Sledge Brothers.

“Mamma-mia,” Mario sighed. “Do you like ravioli?”

Jack signed it for Black. Black signed back, and Jack interpreted what he said.

“I had some at the wedding. It was delicious. Did you cook that?”

Mario smiled behind his mustache and nodded. He gestured at them to follow him into the kitchen.

.o

Junior and his siblings surrounded the table. Bowser’s body lay supine with his arms at his sides. His mouth was wired shut now, so it didn’t gape open like a scream, and his snout looked sickly gray. Nothing told his muscles to hold his face up, so he looked like Peach in her coffin ten years ago. Flat, limp, almost as if someone molded a mask that resembled his features.

“Oh, daddy.” Wendy burst into tears when she saw him. She rushed over, laid her head on his chest and wailed, “He’s so cold!”

Iggy reached behind his glasses to wipe his eyes and rested a hand on her shoulder. She twisted to cry against his chest instead. He held her as tears streaked his snout.

“She’s taking it hard,” Morton whispered in Junior’s ear. “We all are, but she’s louder about it.”

Part of Junior wanted to shout at her to shut up and stop it. She acted like she saw everything. Nobody else except Cherry knew the horror he spared them from imagining.

“It was hard to watch,” Junior murmured, eyes stinging. “He died looking into my eyes, Morton. I saw his lights go out.”

Morton pulled him close and hugged him tight. He smelled leathery and his scales were rougher on the edges than Bowser’s. “I had a feeling he was saying goodbye to us at his hatch-day party. He was checking in, asking everybody if they were happy and stuff like that.”

“Sounds like dad.” Junior closed his eyes, listening to his older brother’s noisy mouth-breathing.

Morton turned his head and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “C’mon, let’s do this.”

There were silver hoses attached to nozzles by the table. The table itself had slats in the bottom for water to drain through.

Lemmy needed a step stool to see over the table. He burst into tears like Wendy as soon as he got a good look at Bowser’s body.

Ludwig picked him up and held him against his shoulder. Junior remembered being carried away in Ludwig’s arms after their dad’s first cardiac arrest. Every one of his siblings knew what happened and tried their utmost to protect him from the terror of it.

Looking back, he didn’t appreciate that as a pithy four year old. Now, at twenty-two, he understood.

None of his siblings knew what Bowser’s final moments looked like, and he returned their kindness by silently ensuring they never would.

Sometimes Junior wondered what kept his dad alive so long. When Bowser revealed his terminal state, Junior remembered pushing it aside as something not immediate because he couldn’t imagine life beyond him. As if time and existence cut off abruptly where he ended.

Now he lived in this unknown cutoff, a smoky void. His siblings and their partners and spouses were swimming in it with him. Cherry was there. He still had a family to look to. He still had a future hidden in the foggy unknown.

Larry laid his hand over Bowser’s chest, his fingertips tracing the scars left by three coronary bypass surgeries. Out of nowhere, he started singing something Junior vaguely remembered from before the heart attacks began.

“

Hmm-mmm-mmm… Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high…

”

Wendy teared up and joined in, her soft contralto blending into Larry’s untrained tenor.

“

There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…

”

They surrounded the table, one by one, grasping each others’ hands and singing the lullaby Bowser sang to them as babies.

“

Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true…

”

Ludwig didn’t know how to use his voice that way, and he couldn’t hear all the notes everyone sang, so he ended up producing a low pedal tone in his attempts to sing something. Morton couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, but he tried his best anyway. Iggy’s high-pitched speaking voice belied his baritone singing. Junior followed Iggy’s vocal line rather than try to reach for bass notes. Lemmy sang delicately with Wendy as a countertenor.

“

Someday I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me. Where troubles melt like lemon drops way above the chimney tops, that’s where you’ll find me…

”

The harmonies meandered all over the place. Some lines came out discordant and uncoordinated. It didn’t matter. They were united in their love for their dad and the gifts he instilled in them.

“

Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow, so why, oh why, can’t I? Hmm-mmm-mmm…

”

Many tears fell as they opened Wendy’s suitcase to bring out the sponges, towels, soap and shampoo. The lullaby stayed in their hearts while water ran and suds glistened on their dad’s golden-orange scales.

Rigor mortis rendered Bowser’s muscles stiff like a store mannequin. Vincent splinted his hands and feet to keep them in a natural position and they stayed that way once the splits came off.

Wendy washed Bowser’s hair and applied gel that moisturized it.

Ludwig lathered his left arm, and Larry took the right.

Iggy and Lemmy sponged his tail and feet.

Roy scrubbed his chest.

Morton spread soap across his stomach.

They gently turned him over, his chin poking off the top of the table, and washed his back in the same order.

Junior toweled him dry after they finished.

As a final touch, Wendy slathered him in scale oil. She gave him a manicure, pedicure and filed his horns to sharpened points. To finish, she applied a clear lacquer that left a glossy finish, like varnished wood.

“Let’s make him beautiful one more time,” she whispered.

All of a sudden, Ludwig backed against the wall, slid to sit and hugged his drawn-up knees. He never liked people seeing him cry, yet he couldn’t hold it in.

Junior rushed to kneel in front of him.

“I heard him breathe the last time I saw him. Now…there is nothing. I can’t hear him breathe!” Ludwig’s signs were swift, irregular jerks. His face twisted and he buried it in his arms as sobs wracked his body. He didn’t know how to cry surreptitiously, so everybody heard him.

Junior pulled his older brother’s head onto his shoulder and hugged him tight. Ludwig clung to him like a vice, claws almost digging into his scales.

“Listen to me breathing instead,” he said. “Can you hear me breathing?”

“Yes,” Ludwig choked out.

“Good. Focus on that.”

Ludwig coughed and sniffled, his face hidden against Junior’s shoulder.

The others respected his need for privacy, even if it was to pretend they didn’t hear him bawling six feet away. Lemmy brought over a damp rag that hadn’t been used to wash Bowser’s body. Ludwig accepted it. Once he collected himself enough to lift his head, he used that rag to wipe his face.

“I’ll be okay,” he signed, “I need a minute.”

Junior nodded and patted his shoulder. “Come on, Lemmy.”

Vincent helped everyone slide the white wedding suit onto Bowser’s body. Doing so required twisting and finagling that looked vastly different than shifting him when he was only comatose.

Roy had to sit aside and cry in the middle of buttoning the shirt buttons. Morton folded while tucking the shirt into the pants and making sure the back was buttoned properly above his tail. Lemmy couldn’t handle ensuring his pant legs were straight. Iggy turned away after fastening the sleeve cuffs. Larry sobbed as he slid on the coat. Wendy whimpered upon smoothing the lapels.

Everybody embraced everybody else whenever they crumbled. Nobody cried without comforting arms to hold them.

Junior was the only one who didn’t break down at this part. As he tied his dad’s bow tie, he remembered the warmth of Bowser’s hands doing the same on his wedding day. There was so much love behind that simple gesture, and he found immense comfort in repaying it. He laid Bowser’s shirt collar down once he finished.

Bowser looked empty lying on the table, but everyone’s combined efforts filled his silence with love.

Nobody discussed which of his viscera they would choose as they approached the freezer together. There was no bickering or pushing. They each picked up a cylinder containing a pint of his blood and lifted out the transparent coolers containing his organs.

Ludwig left with his brain.

Iggy and Lemmy had a kidney each.

Roy carried away his liver.

Wendy took his spleen.

Morton picked up the largest container holding all his entrails.

Larry walked off holding his lungs.

Junior got his heart.

He knew they left it to him on purpose.

Nobody spoke. They made eye contact— even Lemmy— and split to go their separate ways.

.o

Giving the news of Bowser’s death to the public was more chaotic than Junior expected. It wasn’t a one and done deal, he had to do it over and over.

All Darklands-run TV channels threw away their regular programming to break the news, and in between they aired long documentaries about Bowser’s life.

Ludwig helped spread the news on the Darklands Deaf Network, also known as the DDN, a television channel run by and designed for the deaf population. He conducted interviews like a trooper, answering all the questions and telling anecdotes about growing up as the son of a king.

And he did it all while making musical preparations for the public funeral that would follow the private wake. He had a massive choir of eight hundred people assembled along with his orchestra.

Junior gave Ludwig permission to show the photo of him cradling Bowser in his final hours. Other news networks took the picture and ran with it, convoluting a story that it got taken minutes before Bowser died.

He was too emotionally drained to get angry about it, so he didn’t waste time sending cease and desists.

Larry sat through long interviews, discussing in detail about Crash, what it was, how it got diagnosed and how it could be treated. He did an excellent job breaking down medical jargon into everyday language. Morton, Iggy and Lemmy joined him to talk about having Crash and its effects on their lives.

Junior declined to participate due to being so bogged down by multiple press conferences. He barely slept as he endured five in the span of two days.

“King Bowser!” A voice shouted.

Some childish part of Junior’s mind expected his dad to answer, until he remembered they addressed him by his new title. His full name was Bowser Koopa-Toadstool Jr.. On paper, his ordinal name would be King Bowser II.

The abrupt reminder slammed into him as more people called him by a name he didn’t grow up hearing.

He roared, “My name is Junior! If you’re going to call me ‘King’ anything, call me King Junior!”

His tears and hollering took them aback, yet they kept calling him King Bowser.

And each time the question about Bowser’s final moments came up, he told the public the same lie he told his family— that his dad took his last breath peacefully in his arms— and he didn’t correct the misinformation about the final photo.

Let the public think Bowser died being held and having his forehead kissed. Junior couldn’t tell the world how it really looked without his siblings finding out he lied. He figured the lie was better than giving everybody nightmares, but he resented having to repeat it.

Scott asked to be his Koopa Sign interpreter for each press conference. Junior liked having someone familiar, so he paid twice his asking fee without telling him. Scott wore a cream-colored cowboy hat that made him easily identifiable in a crowd and showed up nicely on camera.

Journalists from the DDN came to the front to ask their questions. Junior signed his answers back and let Scott voice them.

By the end of it, he just wanted to sleep, so he went home to his castle and slept for twelve straight hours.

Nonessential businesses in the Darklands shut down within one hour of the news breaking. Flags flew half-mast. Public billboards, display screens and some ads on apps presented a simple black and white splash screen depicting Bowser’s portrait, a relaxed front-on shot showing him smirking with his cheek propped up on his palm. Text underneath the monochrome image stated

His Majesty, the King

and his years of hatching and death.

Junior and his siblings couldn’t go out in public without being hounded by reporters. They were relentless.

Cherry stayed steadfastly by Junior’s side, making sure he ate and rested when he could since he forgot to do both in all the chaos.

The meals Mario cooked while Bowser was dying saved so many headaches. He put everything away in neat, labeled plastic containers with instructions for reheating taped on top. Neither Junior nor Cherry had to discuss breakfast, lunch or dinner, they pulled a container out of the freezer, heated it and ate.

Black stopped by to drop off even more home-cooked food. Koopa cuisine, this time, and he made sure it was all edible to Cherry, too. She loved his ground meat pies and breaded Blooper strips dipped in ketchup, so he wrote down the recipes for her.

Jack brought over an absolutely incredible bean casserole. Iggy gave them nachos. Even Luigi stopped by very briefly with spaghetti.

“We’re being well-fed!” Cherry commented, looking at all the food they had in the fridge.

She sat down and wrote a lot of thank you letters.

Junior turned his old childhood cellphone into a burner phone for news agencies to call, and he rarely answered. It prevented his personal phone from getting clogged up by nosy reporters looking for a scoop. He needed it because Ludwig kept him updated on funeral preparations.

If reporters were foolish enough to call his personal phone, his voicemail gave them the number to his other one. Texts that weren’t from family went ignored. He deleted so many strangers’ texts and voicemails without looking at them.

Sometimes Cherry answered the burner phone to give Junior a break. She came up with a great stock response, “My apologies, his availability is limited right now.”

Why did they want to ask the same questions that were answered in the press conferences?

“I’m sorry this happened so soon after our wedding,” Junior grumbled early one morning.

Cherry rolled over, her arms encircling his neck. Waking up to her beautiful face made it bearable.

“Why? I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed her prominent nose. That was his favorite part of her face. “We barely had time to settle in as a married couple, and I didn’t get to be here like this for you when your mom died.”

Cherry toyed with the gold bracelet he wore as a wedding band on his left middle finger. The diamond-speckled Koopa shell on her ring finger sparkled like the Milky Way on a summer night.

“We had no control of the situation after my mom died.” She stroked his hair and gazed deep into his eyes. “We leapt over fire together. We’re here now, surviving this. We can do anything.”

Seconds later, the burner phone buzzed. They both ignored it.

Junior looked out the window when colorful flowers tumbled into the lava moat. More skittered across the drawbridge in sprays of delicate petals. Larger bouquets wrapped in foil or plastic made quite a racket when they hit the bridge. It “rained” in waves several times a day as people climbed the volcano to throw flowers into the crater in memory of their king.

Once, Junior found a letter written in red ink by a seven year old Koopa girl named Janet, who said the news got her whole family to get tested for Crash. Both her and her parents had it, her parents were treated for it and she would get treated when she got bigger.

My grandpa died of a sudden heart attack before I was an egg. Both my parents got scared and ran for tests after they saw the news. We all have Crash! Dad’s is 3rd degree, mom’s is second degree, we don’t know what mine is yet. My doctor is one of your princes! Prince Larry, but he says to call him doctor. He put stents inside mom’s and dad’s arteries to make them not clog. Doctor Larry is really funny, he sang songs the whole time so I didn’t get scared!

We are all sad that you went to the Great Beyond so soon. I hope the other princes and princess aren’t too sad. You were a good king. Good night, King Bowser.

Yours truly,

Janet

Junior remembered being four and going through the tests, and the stents, and watching his dad worry.

He kept Janet’s letter. It reminded him that something good came out of the cacophony around Bowser’s death: People talked about Crash and flocked to get tested.

It saved lives. Bowser would’ve been proud.

.o

.o

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Bowser’s disembodied heart was brownish-red, battlescarred and heavy. It filled Junior’s hand when he grasped it by the apex, the smooth muscle slick against his fingertips. The coronary arteries were as thin as the charger cable for his phone when they should’ve been wide enough to push a pencil through. They looked like brown rivers all over the bare myocardium.

Neil kindly trimmed off the bypass grafts, leaving their stumps sprouting off the aortic arch and the coronary arteries they attached to like branches.

Junior ran his thumb along each tiny artery. They were hard with sclerosis, their texture similar to his claws.

Strange— other than its heavy weight, Bowser’s heart didn’t feel any different from the everyday pieces of meat he handled.

“Junior?” Cherry yawned, “It’s one in the morning, why are you up?”

He threw a towel over the heart in his hand before turning to face her. “I couldn’t sleep. Um, I’m prepping his heart.”

She rubbed her eyes and nodded. “I want to see it.”

“You sure? It’s going to look pretty gross to you.”

“Mmhmm. I think I can handle it.”

Junior uncovered it.

Cherry pressed a hand over her mouth and retched loudly. He draped the heart in the towel and set it on the black metal cutting board on the countertop.

“I’m okay,” Cherry took deep breaths. “Maybe I shouldn’t have looked. Sorry.” She retched a second time. “This doesn’t happen when I see other raw meat.”

“This isn’t your typical raw meat.” Junior pointed out.

“Yeah, maybe that’s it.” She splashed cold water on her face at the sink. “Am I, er…am I going to be eating out of the same pots and pans you cooked that in?”

Junior kissed the top of her head. “No, we have special ones just for this. The dishes and silverware are separate, too.”

“Okay.” Cherry cupped her hands under the faucet and sipped. “Sorry about the gagging.”

“This is a cultural practice you’re not used to. I get it.”

She wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “Why do you eat your dead’s organs?”

“I’ll explain it to you the way dad explained it to me.” Junior washed his hands in the sink to get them wet. “Give me your hands.”

When she did, he wiped his soaked palms on hers, getting them wet, too. She blinked and looked from her hands to his eyes.

“How does this apply to ritualistic cannibalism?”

“Easy. The water was on my hands, and I moved it from my hands to yours.”

He offered her the dish towel. It was snowy white with a red Koopa family crest on both sides.

“Life is energy that comes from the universe. Food becomes energy that keeps us alive. When we die, we turn our organs into fuel to become energy for somebody else. It’s meaningful because it came from someone we love, so a part of who they were stays with us, too. Not only that, if they partook before, we get whoever they bring along.”

Cherry’s eyes softened as she dried her hands on the towel. “That’s…kind of beautiful. But what happens if they’re sick with something that’ll make you sick?”

“We burn the organs, boil the blood and breathe in the smoke and steam.”

Junior shrugged and went on, “Not everyone goes the traditional route like dad. Koopas donate organs to science and other people who need organs, the same as Toads do. Iggy is listed an organ donor, everything but his heart, and Morton is going to donate his heart to science to study Crash.”

She nodded in understanding and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I’m going back to bed. Will you be okay?”

Junior hugged her. “Yeah, I’ll be up soon.”

Once she departed the kitchen, he uncovered Bowser’s heart and picked up the scalpel Neil left for him.

One at a time, he carved off the coronary arteries, shaved away the fat pads and excised the major blood vessel stubs. Then he sliced straight down the middle and the scalpel hit something hard.

The occluder.

Bowser had that put in after his fourth heart attack ripped a hole between his ventricles. It resembled two flat plastic buttons held together by an axel.

He said Peach dying would break his heart. Then she did, and his statement turned out to be prophetic.

Junior carved around the old thromboses and scar tissue holding the occluder in place. He found a spectacular mural thrombus in the bottom of the left ventricle, a gooey brown thing clinging to the rough trabeculations and papillary muscle from which his pale chordae tendineae sprouted. Those wiry tendons attached to the bicuspid and tricuspid valves to ensure they only let blood flow one way.

The bicuspid and tricuspid valves gaped like off-white mouths. They were huge, as big around as Junior’s thumbs.

Most of Bowser’s heart was inflexible scar tissue, and the worst damage done by his heart attacks showed up on the dilated, darkened, withered inner walls of his ventricles. Six heart attacks, high blood pressure, turbulent blood and time weathered this organ over the years like rivers chiseling canyons.

Junior’s throat clutched. Love surged through him, like a blue shell on the Kart track. His dad was at his side, right now. He had to make him proud.

Tears filled his eyes as he sliced away the damaged tissue that ended Bowser’s life and swept the pieces into a paper bag.

Once he cut off all the inedible bits, he placed garlic cloves in all four chambers, tied the heart shut with twine and laid it posterior side up in a black porcelain roasting pot.

After pouring all the blood in the vial into the pot, covering it with a lid and putting it in the oven to slow roast overnight, he washed his hands again and headed upstairs to bed.

Following dinner the next day, he took the pot out of the oven, cut off the twine and chopped the brown, roasted heart into pieces along with the garlic cloves inside it. He added water, cabbage, carrot slices, brown beans and a pinch of pepper. With a fork, he broke up the congealed, cooked blood and stirred it into the rest of the ingredients.

Then he stuck the whole thing back in the oven to marinate. The kitchen smelled like meat, copper and garlic. Once it came out, it would be ready to freeze until the wake.

Junior took the paper bag of inedible heart bits and dumped them into the lava outside. He didn’t leave until he saw every piece burn away.

.o

Boom-Boom delivered the floor plan for the new castle Bowser started. He sighed dejectedly as he met Junior in the study, face solemn.

“King Bowser was supposed to look this over, but he’s not here anymore, so…”

Junior accepted the blueprints. “I’ll check it out.”

“Pencil in whatever you want to change and I’ll pass it up.”

“Thanks.”

As it stood, Junior saw a lot he could improve on. Braille signs outside public facing doors, tactile maps and contrasting colored strips on all the stairs for Jack. Any steps necessitated a nearby ramp, and staircases required a corresponding elevator platform for Scott. Every TV needed closed captions available for Ludwig and Black. He added a sensory room to the basement level for Lemmy and listed everything necessary to build it. There would be AEDs in easy reach for anyone whose heart stopped because, someday, Morton might need it.

After another check, he expanded the public facing bathrooms to add more disabled-friendly stalls and toilets that accommodated people from as many kingdoms as possible.

He added a sticky note to the page, stating:

Follow the lead of the KC3 restrooms.

Junior studied his handiwork, nodded to himself and rolled the blueprints back into a tube. Boom-Boom dropped by later to pick them up.

.o

Cherry didn’t know how she should dress for Bowser’s wake, so she chose her dark gray pants suit and paired it with a red blouse, red kitten heel slingbacks and a red ribbon braided into her brunette hair.

The private viewing was for the people close to him who weren’t blood family, like in-laws and the medical staff who attended him through all his heart attacks. It took place three weeks after his death, since the embalming fluids pumped through blood vessels and poured into his empty body cavity needed that long to be absorbed by his muscles and fat tissue.

Cherry expected there to be an awful decay stench by that point, yet Bowser smelled almost the same as he did in life— like brimstone, but with a faint chemical undertone similar to turpentine.

Vincent, the eerie mortician she did her best to avoid, had Bowser’s throne moved aside and laid his body out in a huge nest of straw. Getting close to him required ascending the dais and kneeling.

The fireplace was lit, so the flickering flames illuminated Bowser from the side. He lay supine, his hands folded on his chest and his spiked shell propped up on an iron pole behind his head. His spiked collar was positioned on his chest between his chin and folded hands.

His royal crown,

she reminded herself.

Cherry noticed they did nothing to disguise the pallor of death on his snout or the dusky tones of his once vibrant green and golden-orange scales. His features sagged slightly backwards against his skull in a way they never did in life. Whoever styled his hair and bushy eyebrows made sure they were perfect and shiny. He looked regal despite his complexion.

Cherry found a strange relief in Koopas not trying to make their dead appear asleep. She remembered the thick, matte makeup slathered on Peach’s face and how it failed to capture how pretty she was.

Sighing, she let her gaze wander around the throne room.

Paintings of Bowser were brought from all over the castle and hung up on any space big enough to hold them. Nobody could look anywhere without his smug face peering back at them.

Only one space didn’t have his visage glaring at them— her mom’s official painting. She knew Bowser stole it, but seeing Peach’s sweetly smiling face surrounded by his serious scowls almost sent Cherry into fits of laughter. It was such a “Bowser” thing to happen.

Ludwig sat at a worn grand piano wedged in the corner, the same one present in most of his childhood photos. Firelight glistened off his wavy blue hair as he filled the throne room with wistful melodies.

Cherry moved to the piano when Ludwig rolled a final chord to end whatever he played. She sat on the edge of the piano bench and looked at him when she spoke.

“How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be,” Ludwig said, turning a page. The score looked hand-written.

Her eyes drifted to the shiny black and white keys. They were a palimpsest of invisible fingerprints playing melodies that echoed over decades.

“Dad wrote this book of music,” Ludwig said, running his clawed hand along the page. “Every time one of us hatched, he wrote a song for us.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “That’s what you’ve been playing all this time?”

“Mmhmm.”

“They’re pretty. Whose did you just play?”

“Mine.” Ludwig smiled sadly, closing the book. He reached for a thinner score in a brown binder.

“Dad wrote a song about Peach.”

“Really?”

“He trashed his music room the day she died. He tore up the score, but I found the last page. I guess it fell without him noticing. I used music theory and my knowledge of how he wrote music to recreate it.”

“How do you know you did it exactly?” Cherry teased.

“I don’t. It’s a guess.” Ludwig scrunched up his nose in exactly the same way Bowser used to. She wondered if he realized he did that.

“Will you play it?”

“Yes, but I’m going to play the melody instead of sing. I don’t know how to sing, and this was meant to be sung. Most of the lyrics are her name.”

Cherry giggled, wiping tears out of her eyes. Typical Bowser.

The song was titled

Peaches,

and it sounded like love.

Mario walked in as Ludwig’s fingertips shaped the last chord. He wore a simple black suit and a burgundy bow tie. His half-moon glasses scintillated in the firelight.

“Whatever that was on the piano, it-a was very nice,” Mario remarked from the doorway.

Cherry decided not to tell him the secret. Black taught her the Koopa Sign for

secret,

so she looked at Ludwig and waggled her eyebrows while touching the thumb of her closed fist against her lips.

“I understand,” Ludwig signed back.

Mario stood beside the straw nest with his hands clasped and his head bowed, just like he did by Peach’s casket. Cherry joined him.

“He looks much-a better,” Mario remarked.

“His kids bathed and dressed him. Ooh!” She grabbed his shoulder. “Are they setting up the banquet downstairs?”

“Mmhmm.” Mario wrung his hands, his brow furrowing.

Cherry knew why. She leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Everything with his organs in it is kept in something black. They’re careful to not cross-contaminate, and they aren’t going to judge you if you don’t want to eat it.”

“That is a relief-a.” Mario sighed, shoulders losing tension. He looked ahead at Bowser, nodded to himself and turned away.

An unfamiliar green-shelled Koopa Troopa entered. He gazed around through vivid sapphire blue eyes, taking in the surroundings. Ludwig leapt off the piano bench so fast it scraped the floor and rushed towards him, signing animatedly. The Koopa Troopa responded in kind, eyes lighting up as they chatted at lightning speed.

Ludwig brought him to Mario and Cherry and signed while he spoke, “This is Nyle. He taught my dad and I Koopa Sign. He’s the reason I have language.”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you!” Cherry knew how to sign that. She extended her hand to shake his.

Nyle clasped her hand, bowed and touched it to his forehead, an archaic show of respect towards royalty. He did the same with Mario, albeit with a teasing gleam in his eyes.

Ludwig interpreted what Nyle signed.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it to your wedding, Princess Cherry, I was recovering from a bone marrow transplant.”

Cherry didn’t hesitate in her response. “It’s no problem! I hope your cancer goes away. What kind is it, if I may ask?”

Nyle smiled, face bright, and signed with flair, “It was AML.

Was.

I’m in remission!”

“Yay!” Cherry pivoted her hands in deaf applause.

Mario smiled, too. He looked up at Ludwig, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know you were deaf-a.”

Ludwig pushed his voluminous hair backwards to show off his silver hearing aids. That was his only response. He focused on Nyle and they resumed signing to each other.

Cherry pulled Mario away and whispered in his ear, “When deaf Koopas want to catch up, they will go into detail and tell each other all about it. They’re going to be busy.”

She used what little she knew of Koopa Sign to glean bits of their conversation. Ludwig closed his fist against the palm of his other hand and touched his chest with his middle fingertip, the signs for

crash

and

heart,

so he was talking about Crash.

“Come on, daddy, let’s leave them alone to catch up.” Cherry kissed the top of Mario’s head.

.o

Junior blocked out most of his dad’s viewing service, moving automatically through ritualistic motions. He hated the somber atmosphere surrounding everything.

The sad crap was supposed to be the public funeral, not this. It didn’t suit his dad‘s style.

Bowser was never a quiet, neat sleeper. He slept on his stomach. He snored like a Kart engine, he drooled rivers and he farted loud enough to wake the dead. He didn‘t lay there on his back with his mouth shut and a look of peaceful repose on his face.

Visitors came and went, kneeling by the nest in quiet contemplation. Lemmy carried Scott up the steps and placed him on the dais. Scott crawled towards the nest on his hands and leg stumps. He sat down since he couldn’t kneel.

“Does that hurt?” Junior asked.

“Nah. I have kneecaps and fat pads under here, they’re my shock absorbers.”

Scott’s head barely reached Lemmy’s chin when he stood on his leg stumps. Lemmy picked him up again and cupped both hands under the bottom of his shell to hold him comfortably while they gazed at Bowser in the firelight.

At Scott’s nod, Lemmy carried him down the steps and placed him in his wheelchair. They hugged before departing through the stone doorway.

More visitors with forlorn faces. Jack, Black, Pom-Pom and Sienna.

Black outright sobbed when he saw Bowser. He talked out loud to him, though Junior couldn’t understand a single word of what he said. For the best, it was meant for Bowser and nobody else.

Junior looked over when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“You look just like him,” Black signed through tears. Crying caused him to vocalize in grunts and whimpers as he gestured.

Junior invited him into a hug, and they squeezed each other tight. Black sobbed on his chest.

Wendy led Jack to the foot of the nest, where he could use his good eye to see Bowser in the flickering firelight. Tears spilled onto his face. Wendy hugged him tight and they cried quietly together.

“He was good,” Black murmured aloud, signing to make his spoken words clearer.

Junior kissed his cheek and nodded, signing back, “He was great. I miss him.”

Black squeezed his shoulders and pointed to the door. He bowed before departing to look for Ludwig, his features still glistening with tears.

Bowser’s hands and face were kissed and touched many times by people who loved him.

Junior‘s only comfort was knowing that wasn‘t his dad anymore. That was an empty shell, a shell he took off just as easily as the one on his back. His dad floated into the sky somewhere, partying or causing trouble— or both.

He went through the motions of thanking everyone who offered their condolences. While a lot of people got genuine reactions from him, he faked just as many.

“Try to be a little more convincing,“ Cherry said to him, “They‘re friends!”

“Why?” Junior replied. “They‘re only saying they‘re sorry because that‘s what you‘re supposed to do. Nobody really knows what to say when somebody dies. It’s not like they killed him.”

“Geez, Junior, you‘ve been in a rotten mood ever since the service started.”

Junior sneered. “This isn’t his style. Remember how you felt at your mom’s funeral? I get it now.”

She sighed, “I was mad that she died and mad that nobody wanted to listen to how I felt about it.”

He eyed her. “How do you think I feel?”

“Junior, I was a kid going through feelings bigger than me.”

“What point are you trying to make?”

“One you don’t want to hear, I guess.” Cherry stood up, her face pinched in a Mario-like frown, “You can sit here and stew, your highness.”

“Cherry!” Junior gasped and jumped up, now very aware of how he acted all day. It wasn‘t fair of him to project his anger on her like this.

Bowser used to tell him,

“If you‘re gonna be nasty, be nasty to everyone EXCEPT your wife!”

“Cherry, wait!” Junior caught her arm, pulling her to his chest. “I‘m sorry. I‘m being a real ass. You don‘t deserve it. I‘m pissed off because we‘re the only ones who saw how he went.”

He dropped his voice low, so prying ears wouldn’t hear. “It burns my ass that everybody says dying is this beautiful, peaceful, dignified thing. It‘s not.”

Her tiny, fragile body pressed more firmly to his belly. “He wasn‘t conscious for most of it, Junior. Please try to remember that.“

“Who do you think he fought at the end?”

“Death, maybe?” Cherry shook her head. She shrugged and squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I

was

acting snotty at my mom‘s funeral, wasn’t I?”

“You dumped fruit punch on me because I said you looked pretty. My dad‘s idea. He thought it would help you feel better.”

“Figures.” Cherry smiled and stepped back, gazing at him with her soft blue eyes. “I know he was pushing you onto me, but he really didn‘t need to. I‘ve always loved you, Junior.”

Those words were like a band-aid for his aching heart. He hugged her tightly again, nuzzling his cheek against hers. “Let‘s go eat.”

They ventured downstairs together. Black platters displayed a variety of meals. Another table adjacent to it held more food on silver platters. Things like Cheep-Cheep strips, pasta, stews and salads. The only covered dish held squirming Birdo tapeworms, and a label on the lid told people to put it back if they partook.

Morton took the black lid off a giant platter of pierogies, sausages and finger-food meat wraps. The rich scent turned Junior’s stomach over in hunger.

“Geez, how long did that take?”

“Three days of cooking and baking.” Morton set the platter in the center of the black table beside Junior’s pot of heart stew.

“Gosh, I thought the food was going to look like his stuff,” Cherry whispered to Junior. “But you can’t tell.”

Junior smiled wryly, eyeing the paper thin slices of fried brain in the noodle bowl next to kabobs of baked liver chunks, spleen soup, roasted kidney strips submerged in wine and breaded lung wedges.

He could tell, but he didn’t let her know.

“Just-a to confirm-a… The black dishes are made of him, right?” Mario held an empty white plate.

“Yeah.” Junior pointed to the other table. “Anything on silver is regular food.”

“Grazie,”

Mario said.

He approached the gleaming silver platters on the other table and heaped his plate with seafood alfredo, garlic bread and deviled eggs. Cherry had the same. It looked so much like the Birdo tapeworms Lemmy brought that nobody noticed the noodles didn’t squirm.

If anyone ate both kinds of food, they went for the silver platters first. Nobody who served themselves off the black platters first crossed over to take anything from the silver side.

Junior scooped something out of all his siblings’ dishes before reaching for his own. With every bite he took, he thought of how much he loved and missed his dad.

Roy kept shedding tears as he chewed. Pom-Pom rubbed his shoulder.

Neil arrived late and quietly dished up from the silver side only, since he wasn’t family. Junior noticed Freddie, Elton and Josh behind him.

Boom-Boom sat at the far end of the table with a plate heaped in corn, salad and shrimp.

“They did him up real nice,” he said between bites.

“His wedding suit looks so lovely,” Stevie remarked to him in passing.

Celine and Pat sat together at the far end of the table. Stevie joined them, nursing a glass of red Koopa wine.

No one smiled during the meal. Junior looked around at everyone. They were all forlorn and murmuring quietly about what they saw upstairs.

Unable to stand the morose silence anymore, Junior slammed his palms down on the table and stood up, growling.

“ENOUGH! I can‘t take it anymore! Stop focusing on his death, dammit! I swear if I hear one more person talk about how nice his suit looked, I‘m going to puke.”

He turned his head, flipping his hair out of his eyes. “Focus on his life!”

“Junior,“ Cherry kicked him under the table. “Don‘t!”

“No,” He turned to her, whispering, “I won’t let this turn into a copy of your mom’s funeral.”

Black waved his hands around because he didn’t know what happened. Ludwig signed it to him, and he ended up interpreting a lot more because Junior wasn’t done yet.

“Remember that huge wooden dick he tied to the Koopa Clown Car at the wedding?”

“Yeah, because we all helped carve it.” Iggy looked at Morton and snickered. “Right?”

“Yup.” Morton cracked a smile. “Dad told us to cut a maple tree down and bring it to the castle, and we did that to it.”

Junior looked at Mario. “Mario, what about that Kart race? Cherry and I saw it. He stuck a banana peel under your cart and you made him crash into the bushes.”

“He was a joker.” Mario replied, staring down at his plate. “I never would have-a known back in the days when-a we were fighting.”

Lemmy and Iggy looked at each other and nodded, agreeing with Mario.

Lemmy said, “Dad was a funny guy.”

“He was! Once, bought me a castle sight unseen because I asked for it.” Wendy piped up. “Then, when I told him I hated it, he had it blown up. The land owner was pissed. Daddy just laughed and laughed.”

“I remember his wedding toast,“ said Cherry with an amused grin. “Going on about how he was better looking than everybody in the audience. It was great.”

A few more giggles rippled through the gathering.

Black finished chewing, set his fork down and lifted his hands to sign. Scott spoke what he signed, so Ludwig could stay focused on interpreting what everybody else said. He did an excellent job reading Black’s facial expressions while conveying both the words and the tone.

“I was a nervous teenager when King Bowser called my brother and I in for an interview for a job as guards. We walked in, there he was sitting on his throne looking terrifying…”

Black held the sign to let Scott catch up, then went on.

“Jack has a spiel to explain that I am deaf and he will act as my interpreter. King Bowser put his hand up and stopped him after three words. I thought for sure that he was about to throw us both out.”

Black’s face lit up and he snapped his fingers, using the moment as a dramatic pause.

“The next thing I know, King Bowser is beckoning me up onto the dais, which is not royal protocol. I remember how dry my mouth was when I climbed those steps!”

He wiggled his hands, imitating his frightened shaking.

“King Bowser leaned forward to look me in the eyes and started interviewing me in perfect Koopa Sign! My jaw hit the floor. I was flabbergasted! My King spoke my language! I aced the interview and got a job as a guard. My first job!”

Black wrapped his arm around Ludwig’s shoulders, signing one-handed.

“I asked King Bowser how he knew Koopa Sign, and he told me about this beautiful Koopa. We met because of him.”

Ludwig looked up as Black leaned down, and they kissed tenderly.

“You are the greatest gift my dad gave me,” he signed.

Black slow-blinked and shed a tear when he smiled. Ludwig mirrored the expression.

“That’s all. Thank you, Scott,” Black signed the thank you towards Scott. He sat down, his arm still wrapped around Ludwig’s shoulders.

“King Bowser was a quick study,” Nyle signed, and Ludwig interpreted it that time. “I introduced him to my college class, and he participated as if he were a deaf student, too. He chose to immerse himself in our culture for his son’s sake.”

He paused, smiled a little sadly and added, “He used to do keg stands at the frat parties to impress everybody. Those were the days.”

“Dad did one at Junior’s wedding! Hang on.” Morton rifled through his phone and showed everyone a photo of Bowser balancing in a handstand atop a beer keg with the nozzle in his mouth.

Laughter smattered around the table.

“No, wait, you have to see him making Luigi do one.” Morton swiped to find the video.

More mirth sprang up when Luigi coughed out foam. Bowser clapped his hands in the background, guffawing. He gave Luigi a towel and slapped his back, causing him to spit out more foam. Daisy rushed over to pat his mustache with a napkin.

Mario almost choked on his tea. “Poor Weeg!”

“Hey, remember when we gave him a bath when he was in intensive care?” Iggy swallowed and wiped his mouth.

Lemmy bounced in his seat. “He scared us with a fart! It was

so

loud!”

Roy grinned through his tears. “That one reeked!”

“It shook the floor!” Larry laughed with his fork stuck in a piece of shrimp.

Wendy rolled her eyes, “You boys are disgusting. It was funny, but disgusting.”

Celine dabbed her mouth with a napkin and fidgeted with her gold locket. “If you’ll excuse an old lady for being crass— King Bowser used to tease Pat and I mercilessly. We threatened to have sex on his dead body if he died on our watch, and his response was, ‘promise?’”

“He did it to you, too?” Freddie leaned over to see her. “I got that response when Elton and I made the same threat!”

“Yes!” She laughed, taking Pat’s hand, “If I was twenty years younger and didn’t have these janky old knees, I might have gone for it.”

“How old

are

you?” Larry raised a brow.

“Seventy-seven, young man!”

“We can always use the swing.” Pat covered her mouth with a napkin. Celine smiled cheekily at her.

Freddie and Elton doubled over, howling, hooting and flapping their wings.

“He used to kill me at blackjack,” Jack said, raising his glass as if in a toast before sipping. “I think he counted cards. He was so damn good.”

“You, too?” Black signed. “He cleaned me out!”

“He was a nightmare at poker, too,” Boom-Boom said with his mouth full.

“Dad taught me how to swear in Koopa Sign just so I could tell off an uppity classmate. I was five, and I made that other kid regret messing with me.” Ludwig signed and spoke at the same time. He smiled, eyes softening. “He took me out for ice cream after. I remember that whenever I eat vanilla ice cream.”

People began to call out different memories. Some made the whole table roar in laughter.

Junior sat back and smiled. The knot of pain in his chest compacted into a hot sphere, but it was a good pain, like stretching a cramped muscle. He imagined his dad sitting at the empty head seat, pounding the table and laughing with everyone else.

Finally, this was the memorial his dad wanted. One where people talked about how he lived instead of how he died.

Junior reached to his side and grasped Cherry’s hand under the table. She met his eyes with tears welling in hers.

After dinner, he noticed Roy wasn’t at the table. He found his older brother upstairs, sobbing next to the straw nest where Bowser lay.

“All those heart attacks, I thought all of ‘em were gonna end with this,” Roy choked out, shoulders quivering. “It ain’t gonna be the same without you, dad!”

He took his sunglasses off and buried his head in his folded arms, which rested against the straw.

Junior climbed the steps and laid a hand on Roy’s shell. Roy wilted against him, his whole body wracked by heaving sobs.

“I didn’t want to know when you called, but now…it’s eating me.” His voice cracked as he sobbed through the question. “Did he struggle at all in the end? Was it like the first one, with the gulping and his eyes rolling around?”

Junior stared ahead into the flames, where images of Bowser flailing, roaring with foam-flecked jaws and gasping for his last breaths rose up like unwanted ghosts.

Cherry said Bowser wasn’t fully ‘there’ for that, and it was his only comfort.

“No,” Junior whispered, “He looked me in the eyes, Roy. He smiled that little smile he had just for us, and he said, ‘love ya, brat.’ Then his head fell backwards over my arm and that was it.”

Roy’s warm tears dripped onto Junior’s shoulder. He sniffed several times, nearly choking on his own snot.

“O-okay…I-I can live with that. I hate that I can’t call him up on the phone or message him. He was always right there.”

Junior rubbed the back of his older brother’s neck and swayed him side to side.

“You okay, Roy?”

“Trying to be.”

Junior chuckled softly and kissed his cheek. “You can’t hurry grief.”

“Boy, that’s the truth!”

It took Roy a few minutes to collect himself and step back. He yanked a dishtowel out of his shell and used it to mop the tears and snot off his face.

Tiny claws clicked on the floor outside. Lemmy appeared in the flickering firelight, eyes overflowing and nose running.

“Hey, little bro.” Roy slid his sunglasses back on. “Coming to see dad one more time?”

Lemmy nodded as he ascended the stairs to reach the dais. He climbed onto the nest, kissed Bowser’s cheek and put something small in his massive hands.

As he climbed down, he began to bawl in earnest. He sat on the floor and pounded both fists against the sides of his head.

“Aww, Lemmy. Need a tight hug?”

At Lemmy’s nod, Roy picked him up against his shoulder and nuzzled their cheeks together. He carried him out of the throne room while patting his shell to provide him the stimulation he sought by punching himself. Lemmy’s wailing faded with distance.

When Junior peeked into the nest, he noticed Lemmy’s glittery gold ball in his hands. The same ball he left with him in intensive care. Junior glanced at the door and hid the ball in Bowser’s hands.

As he watched the firelight flicker over Bowser’s features, Junior realized how thin his hair was. The light hit just so that his scalp showed underneath his quiff.

“You knew you were going to die when you woke up that day, didn’t you? You knew it was the last day of your life, and you carried on until you couldn’t anymore.” Junior whispered.

He remembered Bowser standing on the drawbridge by the Koopa Clown Car, and how he walked out there unaware of what was about to happen. There were papers all over the study floor that morning, and he took them out to ask why. They ended up cast aside again, forgotten.

He remembered his dad holding him tight, his hands caressing his hair and trying his utmost to soothe and protect him from the horror to come. Just like he did during his other heart attacks.

Bowser signed a DNR because he knew it would spare the trauma of seeing him hooked up to machines, sitting in limbo and waiting for him to live or die.

No Koopa alive with Crash survived as many heart attacks as he did. Maybe none would ever again.

Junior went on, wiping his eyes. “I guess the thing I regret is not knowing how short your time was. I’m glad I got to be there for the last twenty four hours you were here, but it was hard to watch. All you tried to do was protect me from it until you couldn’t anymore.”

He kissed him between the eyes and settled his cheek against his dad’s shoulder.

“I love you so much, dad. I miss you. I wish you were alive.”

Grief came in waves. Junior didn’t fight the tears, he let them fall. They were the slow kind, silent and agonizing.

The straw crackled, Someone else laid against it. Junior opened his eyes to Iggy resting his head on Bowser’s chest, too, looking at him. Reflections of the fireplace glimmered across his oversized black glasses frames. His green plume of hair spanned the width of Bowser’s shoulders.

“Having a hard time, Junior?”

Junior nodded, sniffling.

“Me, too.” Iggy patted his arm with a heavy sigh. “Ludwig doesn’t remember dad’s lullaby because went deaf before he was old enough to remember much. Got me thinking…”

He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring. “Most of my kid years are a blur because of my seizures. I have to look at them through videos other people took. It’s weird to see things you were there for when you don’t remember any part of it. Hatch-day parties, fights with Mario, fun things dad and I did. Seizures wiped ‘em out like tears in the rain.”

Iggy sat up and took his glasses off. His voice cracked when he said, “I looked through dad’s phone, and he has videos of me on the floor having TCs. I’m shaking, and he’s rubbing my arm. My legs are covered in my pee and crap, and he’s telling me he loves me. I’m screaming and freaking out because I’m postictal, and he’s reminding me that I’m safe.”

He sniffed as tears dribbled onto his snout. “And I wasn’t there for any of that. I don’t remember it from my own point of view. I didn’t get to experience him like everybody else did.”

Junior sat up and scooted over next to him.

Iggy began to cry in earnest and painful sobs heaved his shoulders. “Dad took a lot of videos because he knew I wasn’t gonna have those memories. It’s like he tried to give ‘em back!”

“He did.” Junior draped an arm around Iggy’s shoulders and leaned against him. “He was really good at loving us, Iggy, and he never let us forget how much he loved us.”

“Y-yeah. I miss him!”

“Me, too.”

Junior wished his crying jags helped release the pain broiling inside him, yet the void never shrank.

.o

By tacit accord, nobody paid too close attention to who collected what wake food as leftovers. Regular food could be thrown away, Koopa wake food had to be consumed. That meant keeping the leftovers and eating them until they were gone.

Morton’s dishes produced a lot, so everyone had some in their black plastic containers. Junior didn’t watch what everybody else took.

Cherry knew what Junior’s container held. Junior covered it with foil and kept it well away from the other food for her comfort.

Everybody gathered in Bowser’s throne room to look at him one last time. The fire in the fireplace burned low, so he was dimly illuminated by gentle embers.

Black cried softly. Jack shed tears as he slipped an arm around him.

Junior kissed his dad’s frigid cheek and walked out. He knew watching how everyone else said goodbye would claw at the void still gaping inside his chest.

The nest was arranged on a curved metal gurney. Vincent would sweep off the straw and return Bowser downstairs to the morgue. There, Bowser’s body was going to be undressed, his armbands and collar put back on and his chest crushed by a hydraulic press. Then he would be placed in his shell, folded up like a garment, and sealed inside with molten gold.

In ancient times, Koopas used boulders for crushing. A press did the job more neatly, without any bones piercing through scales.

Junior went downstairs after the press ran. He found Lemmy’s glittery ball sitting on a table, so he placed it in Bowser’s massive hands and held them pressed together while Vincent bound him from wrists to forearms with thick twine.

“Do you need extra hands?” Junior asked.

Vincent half-smiled, eyes softening. “You’re so kind, dear boy. Can you hold his foot for me?”

“Of course.”

Junior held Bowser’s heel as Vincent wrapped the twine around his thigh and calf, tying the leg in a bent position. The same happened on the other side.

Vincent guided Bowser’s thick legs upward until his feet pointed out, as if he crouched. He brought his tail up between them, using the V of his bound arms to hold it in place.

“Here comes the tough part. You have to push his cervical vertebrae into his body cavity, like yours does when you retract into your own shell. Hold the back of his head, and lay your hand on his forehead. You’ll have to push hard.”

Junior breathed in, reminding himself that dead bodies felt no pain. He cradled the back of Bowser’s head on his left palm, cupped his forehead with his right, and pushed it downward.

Bowser’s head sank right in below the edge of his shell.

Junior realized he would never see his dad’s face again outside of videos and photos. This was the last time he got to touch him, and he used it to prepare his body for the grave.

Leaning over, he kissed Bowser between the eyes, pressed their cheeks together and smoothed his gray hair back.

“I love you, dad. Blue shell.”

He didn’t want to let him go, but he forced himself to step back.

From the side, no part of Bowser was visible above the rim of his shell except the tips of his toe claws and his nose.

Junior nodded to Vincent and left the morgue. He didn’t want to see Vincent take a plaster cast to prepare for the molten gold pour later.

Lemmy waited upstairs, gnawing on the ends of his claws with his needle-like teeth.

Junior kissed the top of his tiniest brother’s head. “I put your ball in his hands. It’ll be with him forever.”

Nodding, Lemmy rubbed his eyes. They were puffy and red from all the crying he did. “Thanks, Junior.”

As they stepped into the hallway, Junior heard Bowser’s familiar bass laughter issue from Lemmy’s phone. He looked down at the screen in time to see his grinning dad straddle the giant phallus he tied to the Koopa Clown Car and strike a pose.

“Sexy!” Iggy scream-laughed in the background.

“Mine’s bigger!” Larry hollered, snorting.

“Dad knew he was dying, didn’t he?” Lemmy put his phone away, face solemn. “I think about the last few months a lot, and he lived like he knew it was going to be over for him soon.”

Junior patted his shell. “We take life for granted too much, don’t we? It’s funny how it changes when we know we don’t have much time.”

“Yeah, and you have Crash like he did.”

“So do you.”

“But mine is really minor! Yours is fourth degree. You got stents! Neil says you’ll have a normal long life, but…” Lemmy clenched his fists and stopped walking.

Junior halted mid-step. “You’re afraid I’ll die young anyway?”

Lemmy nodded, tightening his jaw. “You and Morton.”

“Junior and me, what?” Morton came out of the bathroom.

“You have Crash like dad.” Lemmy twirled his left wristband by pushing against a spike. “Neil found it later than Junior, so what if you die like dad?”

Morton’s expression softened.

“Sometimes I worry about that. It’s why I work out and get checked every two years. So far, everything looks good. I’m not going anywhere soon, Lemmy.” He patted Lemmy’s shell with his massive hand. “Okay?”

Lemmy latched onto Morton’s leg. “Okay.”

Morton fist-bumped Junior, grinned and carried on walking with Lemmy going along for the ride. “Hey, everybody, come see this weird growth on my leg!”

Junior rested a hand over his chest as they turned the corner into the dining room. His heart— something Bowser worked so hard to protect ever since he was little— beat strongly under his palm.

.o

Cherry wiped sweat off her brow after she and Mario swept all the straw into the fireplace, causing the flames to flare to life again with a dry, woodsy scent.

“Still can’t-a believe it.” Mario shook his head, blue eyes fixed on the spot where Bowser’s body was only half an hour ago.

“That he died?” Cherry leaned on her push broom.

“He told-a me about his heart-a problems, and then he had a heart-a attack before my eyes.”

“I remember. You threw up because he did.”

Mario rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Are-a you okay, Cherry?”

She sighed, laying her broom down. “I think so. I’m worried about Junior. I hope he relaxes once Bowser is buried. Did you—“

“Signed and accepted.” Mario smiled. “I consider it a peace-a offering between our kingdoms.”

One of the cleaning Goombas came in. She brought her Goombalings with her, and they hopped around eating up the bits of straw that didn’t get swept into the fire.

Cherry picked one up and cradled him in her arms. Boys had thicker eyebrows than girls, even as babies. The little Goombaling squeaked and nipped the front of her dress. She chuckled, setting him down to let him enjoy his straw treat.

“I think-a Junior will be a great-a king,” Mario used his broom to pull more loose straw over for the Goombalings. “And you will be a great-a queen.”

“Like mom.” Cherry’s expression softened.

So did Mario’s. “Yes.”

High heels clacked on the brick floor.

“Found her!” Wendy called up the hallway. She marched up the stairs with her gold bangles jingling, took the broom out of Cherry’s hand and set it aside.

“We’re having girl time. Right now. You, me, Pom-Pom, Sienna, kitchen.”

“Go on.” Mario said, unbothered.

Cherry kissed his cheek as Wendy took hold of her hand and towed her down the steps, into the hall and down another flight of steps to the ground floor.

“What’s up?”

Wendy sat her at the table and waved Pom-Pom over. Pom-Pom came with a crystal decanter of something, and Sienna set glimmering rocks glasses on the table.

Wendy clunked ice cubes into each glass, filled them halfway with dry purple Koopa wine, added a squirt of vodka, dumped in pink mango juice and topped it off with club soda.

Pom-Pom chopped a peach into four chunks, tossing away the seed in the middle, and Wendy splashed a piece each into their fizzy cocktails.

“Here. Drink first and eat the fruit after.” She pushed a glass towards Cherry. “Go to any Darklands bar and ask for a Princess Peach cocktail, and this is what you get. It’s named after your mom.”

“That’s pretty cool!” Cherry accepted the cold glass, her fingers leaving streaks in the condensation on the outside.

She sipped cautiously. At first, there was only an alcoholic burn and fizz. Right behind that, a chilly, tangy sweetness, like a wintertime rainbow poured over her tongue.

“Oh, it’s good!” Cherry exhaled.

“I told you she’d like it.” Pom-Pom raised her glass.

Sienna drank half of hers in one gulp. She was the largest Koopa woman at the table, so it wasn’t surprising.

“Morton seems to be at peace about this. He gets upset and cries, but he’s not distraught. What about Roy?”

“Roy is off and on. Sometimes he wants to talk about it, and sometimes he’s inconsolable. Wendy?”

Wendy curled her lip and toyed with the side of her glass. “It’s been hard. Daddy was always there, and now…it feels wrong.”

She took a hearty drink. “Cherry, you and Junior saw it happen, how are you doing?”

Cherry gulped a mouthful and placed the glass down without banging it on the table.

“I never saw someone die before, and it’s someone I care about, so that made it hard. I, um—“ She almost spilled the beans that she knew for months, but pulled it back at the last second, “He didn’t look well the day he collapsed, so I had a feeling he was about to have another heart attack. I hate that I was right.”

It occurred to her how much keeping the truth under wraps for others’ benefit ate away at Junior’s conscience. Now it nipped at hers.

A lump clutched her throat. She sniffled.

“The last thing he did was look up at Junior with all the love he had in him, and then it was just…he was gone. I saw the light go out of his eyes.”

“Like a candle going out,” Sienna murmured.

“Yeah,” Cherry agreed, voice cracking. “Exactly.”

Wendy teared up. Pom-Pom reached sideways to hold her hand until her composure returned. Sienna did the same for Cherry, and Cherry welcomed the comfort.

Taking another sip, she went on, “Junior is a mess about it. The damn news conferences don’t help by making him relive it, either.”

“Oh, hell, those reporters are everywhere. I got hounded walking out of my place way out in the middle of nowhere! I used my fire breath to scare them off, and I’m not one who likes to breathe fire. It stains my lipstick.” Wendy squeezed her eyes shut as she drained her glass and ate the peach quarter.

“Okay, I’m starting to feel a little drunk, and the rest is gonna hit later. Do you know what we need?” She looked around, “Beauty therapy. Stay put.”

Pom-Pom revolved her glass, causing the ice to clink.

Once Wendy moved out of earshot, she said,  “Wendy is compartmentalizing, but she’s struggling, too. I don’t think she realized he was going to die so soon. It hit her out of nowhere.”

“I relate. I was angry when my mom died,” Cherry sighed. “It was sudden and unfair, the kind of thing you never imagine happening to somebody.”

She only drank half of her Princess Peach cocktail, and already the buzz warmed her blood in a pleasant haze.

“Dad was nonfunctional for months after. Auntie Daisy pretty much became a surrogate mom to me while uncle Luigi took care of my dad.”

Those first few months after Peach died weren’t months Cherry liked to remember. The anguish on her usually jolly dad’s face didn’t fit him as a person.

“That is hard to go through when you’re little. I’m sorry.” Sienna said as she crunched ice between her sharp teeth.

“Auntie Daisy took care of me. I cried and screamed at her about everything, and she let me rage it out. I owe her a lot for that, because I was a mean, angry kid for six straight months.”

Sienna set her glass down with flair. “Queen Daisy is great! She lets Serrated stay free in whatever hotels we want when we tour there.”

Cherry smiled, sipping her drink. “I saw you guys during your Maelstrom tour. Great show!”

“Thanks!” Sienna flipped one of her braids backwards off her shoulder.

“Too bad I didn’t get a chance to talk to Queen Daisy more at the wedding. She seemed fun.” Pom-Pom drank her last mouthful and ate the peach chunk in the glass.

Wendy bustled back in carrying a translucent pink backpack, plopped it noisily on the table and unzipped it. Inside, various colorful cylinders in haphazard piles.

“We’re all doing our claws— or nails. What color do you ladies want?”

And Cherry thought her nail polish collections ran out of control. Wendy’s bag looked like she robbed a store and bolted!

Her eyes went straight to the metallic red. She plucked it out, read the color label and grinned. “Cherry Chrome!”

Sienna laughed, “Red is your color, girl!”

“I like…” Pom-Pom chose something glittery purple. “Passion Plum. Ooh.”

Cherry finally finished her drink and ate the peach quarter. It absorbed all the flavors, so the surprise shot of it sent delightful chills up her spine.

“Smoking Sienna. Oh, damn, I’m there.” Sienna held up a bottle of iridescent golden brown similar in color to her spiked shell and scales.

Black passed through, paused and backed up to see what they were doing. Before anybody could do anything, he pulled a green bottle out of Wendy’s bag, waved his hand with flair towards it like they did on TV commercials and set it back where he got it from.

“Black!” Wendy tapped on his shell to get his attention and signed one-handed, “I’ll paint your claws if you want.”

“No, thank you. I’ll smear it if I try to talk.” Black signed back, laughing.

He kissed the side of Wendy’s head and continued on his way into the kitchen. Jack, Junior and the rest of the Koopa siblings were gathered there to wash dishes.

“Gods, he’s hilarious.” Wendy chose her color. Watermelon Surprise, a shiny shade of pink leaning towards red.

“Did you see him and Ludwig go off into the hedge maze at Cherry’s wedding?” Pom-Pom shook her nail polish bottle.

Cherry giggled, now fully settled in the heavy alcohol buzz. “Junior did, I was schmoozing and missed the fun.”

“Oh, pff. Ludwig and Black get hornier than they already are when they drink.” Wendy shrugged. “So that sounds like them.”

In the kitchen, Black emitted a deep growl Cherry never heard before. The gathering of guys erupted in guffaws and howls as he hefted Morton over his head.

“That’s nine hundred pounds of Koopa!” Roy yelled.

“Damn!” Iggy shrieked.

Black set Morton gently on his feet again and bowed dramatically.

Ludwig licked his prominent front tooth. Black met his gaze with a wink.

“Tch, boys,” Wendy waved her hand, “Anyway, back to our discussion— Cherry? We haven’t heard your naughty tales yet.”

“Well, there isn’t much to tell

yet.

But Junior and I almost did it in a closet before the wedding.” Cherry unscrewed her bottle and discovered claw polish brushes were almost as wide as her nails. She only needed one stroke to paint them.

“Wait, what?” Wendy jiggled her bottle, making it rattle. “Who started it? You, or him?”

“We both did. He was excited and his stuff popped out, and he got all embarrassed. It was cute. Then Bowser caught us before we got any further.”

It wasn’t something she would confess sober. Everybody at the table knew it.

Wendy dropped her voice low, “Jack is incredible in bed. He’s not afraid to throw me around and bite me. When he talks dirty to me with his growl voice, ooh, I’m gone.”

Sienna giggled, dashing the brush across one claw. “Morton likes it when I bite him. Sometimes I bite his nose to get his attention and he gets lovestruck. It’s adorable.”

Everyone looked at Pom-Pom, who fluffed her blonde ponytail. “Roy likes to put his tongue in places I won’t mention. I do it back, so…heh!”

Wendy cackled and pointed to Cherry, “And you?”

Cherry’s cheeks heated. “Junior was shy about it. I had to give him a safe word before he relaxed enough to get on with it.”

She smiled, shaking her hand to dry her nails quicker. “But once he got going? I finished before him.”

“Ahh!” Pom-Pom giggled, rocking back in her chair. “You’re so tiny, and you took all of him?”

Now drunk enough to not care anymore, Cherry nodded. “I think he rearranged my insides a little bit. That isn’t a complaint.”

Wendy, Sienna and Pom-Pom erupted in mirth.

“Gosh, Morton is slow at the start and speeds up as he gets randier. The way he says my name when he’s almost done is just…whew!” Sienna fanned herself, spreading gouts of nail polish scents into the air.

Pom-Pom cupped her hand near her mouth and stage-whispered, “Roy is a moaner.”

“So is Jack.” Wendy giggled, peeking over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, “Especially when I put him in my mouth!”

“Junior does that. ‘Oh, Cherry, oh, Cherry, faster!’ His voice makes me sweat. It’s so sexy.”

Pom-Pom cracked up. “Wow!”

“You go girl!” Sienna chirped.

Wendy cackled, closing her claw polish bottle.

They were all a bit intoxicated, and what might’ve been a scandalous conversation turned into laughter and blown-off steam. Their chatter wove around the loom of their love lives and how much fun they had. Cherry enjoyed the much-needed catharsis from the doldrums of the past few weeks. When they parted ways with their claws and nails all prettied up, she gave them hugs and thanked them for the girl time. Wendy got the longest embrace of all.

“You’re my sister, too,” Wendy said in her ear.

“Sisters from different misters,” Cherry teased back.

They smiled at each other.

Junior found her after everybody else left, and he immediately noticed her metallic red nails.

“Beauty therapy with Wendy?” He pointed out.

“Yup.” Cherry kissed his cheek. She was still tipsy from their cocktails. “How’re you doing?”

Yawning, he covered his mouth and rubbed the back of his head, mussing up his reddish-orange hair. “I’m exhausted.”

“Did the whole crew take off?”

“Yup. It’s just us and the castle staff now.”

Cherry nodded, placing her hand in his. “How are you

really?”

Junior pulled out a chair and sat at the table, cradling her hand in his.

“I just looked at his face for the last time. I’m never going to see him again. I’m never going to touch him again. I’m never going to—“ He choked up and pressed a hand over his eyes. A mournful croaking noise rose in his throat. It sounded like the cry building up inside him since Bowser took his last breath.

Cherry let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him bury his face against her chest.

He sniffed, his voice muffled by the cloth fabric. “When I was a little kid— this was right after dad’s second heart attack— your mom told me being tough means you cry if you have to and carry on after.”

“Mmhmm, I got that talk, too.”

“What do you do if you start and can’t stop?”

Cherry caressed his hair. It was long now, the lengthiest strands passing his topmost shell spike. The advice Peach gave her rang in her ears as if she stood there and spoke it aloud.

“You take little tiny steps forward when you can. I’m here if you need somebody to be tough with you.”

Whatever Junior tried to say next was too garbled. He clung to Cherry’s dress and cried like his soul wanted to flee his body.

She rubbed the back of his neck and held him tighter. He couldn’t be there for her after Peach died, and that wasn’t either of their faults, but she was here, now, to help him through losing Bowser. Somehow, that eased the ten year old ache in her chest.

“I love you, Junior,” Cherry whispered. “Cry as long as you need to.”

His tears soaked the front of her dress all the way through

.o

Bowser’s public funeral service was to be held in the KC3 due to its central location, massive size, access to public broadcasting equipment, and Ludwig got to arrange the orchestra and choir how he wanted.

News networks broadcast a map of the funeral procession for anyone who wanted to see Bowser’s shell pass by. The airship would drop everybody off on the southwest coast, and from there they were going to process around the city’s outer perimeter before heading straight inward to the KC3. His exit followed the same path in reverse, ending on the northeast coast of Koopa City. There, the airship would retrieve everyone and fly them out to his burial location.

Junior mentally prepared himself for the long limo journey. Everyone had to be up and moving three hours before sunrise. Koopa funeral processions always began at dawn.

He slept amazingly well, as did Cherry.

“Ludwig arranged the whole thing?” Cherry said over a breakfast of toast, Bowser bacon and scrambled eggs.

“Every bit, top to bottom.” Junior said with his mouth full. “Ludwig likes to plan things, and he’s good at it.”

Vincent polished Bowser’s shell and spikes to an iridescent shine. Gold plated steel rivets held the gold seal on the bottom of his shell. It was engraved with the Koopa royal crest. Bowser rested on a velvet cushion atop an elaborate silver trolley with eight handles— four on each side.

Junior watched several Koopa Troopas, Hammer Brothers and Goombas roll the trolley up the ramp into the airship. Between his bodily mass and the gold sealant, he weighed over a thousand pounds. It took a lot of minion-power to move him. They wanted to do it without Junior’s help, a last act of devotion to their fallen king, so he stood back and let them.

Capaldi waited at the top of the ramp, his face even more severe than Junior remembered. When Bowser’s shell passed him, he saluted, spread his Paratroopa wings and turned on his heel to head inside.

His blue shell made Junior smile fondly.

A spunky new yellow shelled Koopa Paratroopa came out as Capaldi went in. She almost tripped down the ramp in her haste to bow in front of Junior.

“Whoa, easy!” Junior steadied her. “You are…?”

“Captain Whittaker, your majesty!” Whittaker saluted, spread her wings and clapped her brown boots together. “Thirteenth graduate of the High Clouds Academy. I will copilot the ship until King Bowser is laid to rest, and then I am taking over as the pilot. This will be Capaldi’s final flight.”

Junior nodded. She wasn’t much older than him. So young, so nascent, so excited for a new beginning.

“I leave the airship in your hands, then. Capaldi wouldn’t choose you if he didn’t think you were up for it.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Whittaker couldn’t hide her smile. She bowed again, her eyes tearing up. “I should get going. Thank you, sire, I’m sorry about the loss of your dad.”

Junior saluted her and watched her amble up the ramp until she vanished into the open hatch.

The airship’s fiery orange lights remained off as a sign of respect. Only its white warning lights were lit to keep air traffic away. Aircraft weren’t allowed over the city until the airship cleared the airspace.

Cherry got dressed while Junior oversaw Bowser’s safe loading onto the airship.

Koopas liked black, red or gold for most formal events, so, out of respect for their culture, she chose her knee-length dark red sheath dress with a long sleeved black lace overlay. She paired it with comfortable black ballet flats, black mushroom stud earrings and a plain gold tennis bracelet.

The nail polish Wendy let her borrow gleamed on her fingernails as freshly as when she put it on two weeks ago. Remarkable.

She styled her dark hair into a high ponytail held up by a simple black clip, kept her makeup simple and made sure to choose waterproof eyeliner and mascara.

Junior wolf-whistled from the bathroom door. Cherry smiled at his face in the mirror. “I’m almost ready.”

“You look perfect.”

“Even the mornings when I’m barely awake with scraggly bed hair?”

“Cherry, you look the sexiest you can look with bed hair.”

“Junior!” Cherry laughed.

“What?” He kissed her cheek as she closed the mascara tube. “You know I’m right.”

“You look sexy first thing in the morning, too.” She cupped her hand under his chin and kissed him. “Are you doing okay?”

Junior’s expression sobered. “I’ll feel better when it’s done and he’s buried. Kind of feels like we’re in limbo with him, you know? They moved so fast with your mom.”

“Toads bury their dead as soon as possible after someone dies. Dad chased you away before the public part of mom’s funeral, but it lasted all day until sunset and we buried her the following morning.”

Cherry yawned as she poked through her lipsticks until she found an appropriate matte red.

Junior gave his hair a quick one over with the brush. He pulled it up into a topknot ponytail using a black band.

“The motorcade is going to take a few hours.”

“Yup, I’m ready for that.” She looked up and ran her hand over his topknot. “Are you?”

“I hope so.”

“Is it going to be cold out there?”

“It might.” He backed out the door to check the nightstand clock. “Wear that pretty black coat you have.”

Cherry nodded and retrieved the coat he spoke of, a warm velvet number with the Mushroom household crest on the glittery red buttons.

Junior turned to the side with an enormous catlike yawn, unaware of how much he looked like his dad when he did it.

Her heart jumped. She smiled fondly and shut off the bathroom light.

“Let’s go.”

.o

Faint light shone on the violet eastern horizon. Stars bejeweled the sky. Darklands citizens gathered around the cement barricades set up along the beach. Salty sea air blew off the ocean as it caressed the shore in roaring, frothy waves.

Distant Koopa Troopas and Paratroopas gathered in clusters around motorcycles bearing Bowser’s flag. They would leave first, the tenebrous rumble of their engines heralding the oncoming motorcade.

Applause erupted as the airship trapdoor lowered the trolley holding Bowser onto the trailer bed of the red, silver and blue truck that would transport him.

Rivets kept the gold seal on the bottom firmly in place. Lights flashed off the engraved Koopa royal seal. He was lowered so his head end faced the rear tires— for his funeral, one last time, he would face his loyal subjects as he did seated on his throne.

Hammer Brothers secured his shell to the trolley using ropes wrapped in green velvet, and they attached the trolley to the trailer with chains. That thing wasn’t moving anywhere.

Junior eyed the long nose semi truck approvingly. His dad would’ve loved the flame design around the grill.

Optimus Prime

proved the union of two lands already.

Optimus

was a Darklands brand, most known for its emergency response vehicles, and

Prime,

a notable Mushroom Kingdom manufacturer of cargo transport vehicles.

Koopa Troopas draped purple velvet sheets around the trolley and trailer to make it fitting for royalty.

Boom-Boom poked his head out of the semi’s driver seat window and waved at Junior.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Boom-Boom.” Junior nodded to him in greeting.

He spotted Jack next to the gigantic black stretch limousine, while Black sat in the driver’s seat. They donned their formal gold Sledge Brother helmets with the red Koopa crest on the back.

Jack wore dark sunglasses with red frames, and switched out the plain white marshmallow tip on his cane for a gold one.

Cherry leaned into the driver’s side window to kiss Black on the cheek. He gave her one back.

Jack jumped a bit when she did the same to him. He laughed. “Whoa, hello!”

“Whoops! I thought you saw me coming.”

“Nope. These aren’t prescription glasses. Everything is a blur, and it’s still dark.” He tapped the tip of his cane on the ground with a decisive click. “At big events like this, it’s safer for me if other people assume I can’t see anything.”

“Sorry.” Cherry blushed.

“Nah, it’s fine. I promise not to trip you.” Jack pointed at the limo. “I’m driving, by the way.”

Junior made a face. “Yeah, into the ocean.”

“We’re going there, right?”

They snickered.

The interior of the limo had jump seats around the entire cabin, velvet red upholstery and enough room to fit an army.

Junior eased inside and took the spot closest to the driver’s side rear tire.

Ludwig sat in the front driver’s side seat by the partition window, looking like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks. He wore an all black tuxedo with coattails and a satin gold butterfly bow tie, looking like the maestro everyone knew him to be. His eyes drooped as he yawned.

“Tired?” Junior signed.

Ludwig wiggled his fist up and down in the affirmative.

Cherry ducked across the vehicle to give him a hug and kiss.

She asked, “Did you sleep last night?”

“Barely.” Ludwig said aloud. He rubbed the inner corners of his eyes and reached under his hair to switch off his hearing aids. “I intend to sleep here. Wake me when we arrive at the KC3.”

“Okay. Ack!”

The whole vehicle rocked from Morton wriggling past Junior’s legs.

“Oops.” He caught Cherry before she fell and pushed her forward against the seat next to Ludwig.

Junior patted his brother’s dark brown shell. “Hey, Morton. Where’s Sienna?”

“She’s in the orchestra, so she went ahead to the KC3 to get set up. Same with Scott.”

Morton chose the back right corner seat where he could spread out a bit while he sat.

Cherry planted herself next to Junior and smiled sweetly. “I’ll sit here until everybody gets in. Be my anti-squish protection?”

His eyes crinkled exactly like Bowser’s when he laughed. He put his arm around her and playfully smooshed her against his side. “Sure, how about I smash you a little first?”

“Eep!” Cherry leaned against him. “Well, now I’m squished properly.”

“Coming in. Make room.” Wendy’s familiar alto voice cooed outside. She hopped in wearing gold spike heels, a three-layered necklace of gold beads and a gold bow tying her reddish-pink hair back in a low ponytail.

“Wendy!”

“Cherry!”

They embraced and kissed each other on the cheek.

Lemmy arrived sporting black ear defenders and a squishy red ball clutched between his hands. Cherry held out her arms in a hug offer, but he declined. He looked around with tearful eyes and squeezed the ball he held.

“Hey, Lemmy.” Junior beckoned to him. “Need a squeeze?”

Lemmy climbed into Junior’s lap and practically disappeared into his tight bear hug.

“He’s off his routine, that’s hard for him,” Junior whispered in Cherry’s ear.

Lemmy gave her his hand to hold.

Ludwig’s head fell forward as he dozed off. A deep sleep, judging by his slow, rhythmic breathing. Junior snapped a photo on his phone and texted it to Black.

Black texted back.
He is beautiful.

“You smell like dad,” Lemmy murmured.

Junior stuck his phone backwards into his shell. “I do?”

He used the same brimstone scented soap Bowser did, so it didn’t surprise him.

Larry sprayed gold streaks into his hair and combed it up into a Mohawk. He almost fell on his face entering the limo. Wendy prevented him from landing in Ludwig’s lap.

“Good morning.” She pulled him over to sit between her and Morton.

“Morning. Sorry.” Larry rubbed his eyes and relaxed into the seat. “Didn’t get to bed till eleven last night. Had to do an emergency bypass for somebody on blood thinners and it was a mess. Stopped the heart attack, though, so win-win.”

“Did they have Crash?” Wendy asked.

“No, just a run of the mill plaque buildup.” His expression sobered. “I feel like I avenged dad, though. I stopped somebody else from dying of the thing that killed him.”

Wendy rubbed his shoulder when he sniffled.

“Dad saw you do it.” Morton nudged Larry’s leg with his foot. “He’s up there bragging about it.”

“Someday,” Larry’s eyes hardened, “Someday, I’ll cure it. And if I don’t, whoever comes after me will.”

The limo shook again when Roy wriggled his way in, followed by Pom-Pom. After all the greeting hugs and kisses, they sat together in the front passenger side corner, with Pom-Pom taking the spot next to Ludwig.

Ludwig never twitched, he was

out.

Iggy appeared off-balance as he heaved himself inside. He must have taken his Depakote within the last hour. One side effect he consistently experienced when it first hit his system was vertigo.

Roy steadied Iggy. “Hey, Iggster, you okay?”

“Yup.” Iggy accepted the aid and dropped onto the seat between Roy and Morton, causing the whole limo to shake.

Something was different about him. Junior had to look three times before he realized Iggy used something in his hair to lay it down in a ponytail instead of a plume sticking up off his head.

Cherry slid over to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek. Lemmy waited with his hand extended until she came back to hold it.

“How’re you doing, Lemmy?” Junior asked.

“I’m okay.” Lemmy used his thumb to play with Cherry’s gold tennis bracelet.

Junior nuzzled their cheeks together. “Good.”

Jack crossed in front of the limo to get in the passenger side. Black twisted around in the driver’s seat and waved at the partition window until Junior met his eyes.

“We’re going to move,” he signed.

Nodding, Junior signed back, “Thank you. We’re ready.”

“Is Ludwig still asleep?”

“Yes.” Morton, Wendy and Junior signed at the same time.

“Good, he needs it.”

Black pointed out the windshield and turned around. He suction-cupped his phone to the dashboard where it was in his line of sight. The onscreen map showed GPS coordinates tracking the funeral truck and the limo.

Distant roars cut through the quiet. Black got a text, which he answered with a thumb up emoji.

Junior couldn’t see past the truck ahead. Judging by the noise, the bikes took off.

The truck engine rattled to life in a clatter of steam, its red brake lights piercing the dimness. Black started the limo and the quiet engine only rumbled a little.

“Ludwig is so out of it.” Roy smirked, snapping a picture on his phone.

Cherry held out her hand. “He didn’t sleep much last night. Let him be.”

Iggy rubbed the back of his head. “I didn’t either. Anybody care if I nap?”

“Not at all!” Pom-Pom leaned forward. “Here. Switch seats with me.”

They timed the trade just right. Seconds after Iggy settled, the limo eased into motion behind the truck. It didn’t take him long to drift off. His head fell backwards instead of forwards, so he snored almost in time to the engine’s purr.

Morton took a picture of them both and added text to it.

“There are two kinds of sleepers.”

He texted it to everybody. Snickering broke out around the limo cabin.

“Dad would’ve done it.” Morton said by way of explanation.

“It’s good that he’s getting sleep.” Larry stretched his legs out. “He’s more likely to have seizures if he doesn’t sleep. The one he had right before dad’s hatch-day was

scary.

Lemmy and I had to keep stimulating him to breathe until he started moving around on his own.”

Lemmy lifted his head. “He hasn't had any more since that one. Don’t jinx him.”

“Guys, hush.” Wendy spread her hands between them.

Pom-Pom twisted to peer out the window behind her. “Here comes the crowd.”

More and more people appeared along the barricades to get a last glimpse of their fallen king. Paratroopas flitted above, never crossing beyond the line created by the barricades.

Dawn’s first rays broke across the milky sky as the funeral cortège made its way onto the road. Alpenglow limned the northern mountain peaks. The semi’s hydraulic brakes pop-hissed. Grit crackled in the limo’s spinning gold hubcaps. The ride became smoother once asphalt replaced sand.

Throngs rushed to the side of the road. Some took photos, a lot threw flowers. Junior saw some of them weeping.

“It was like this for mom.” Cherry whispered.

Junior slipped his arm around her. Lemmy squeezed her hand and Wendy clasped her other hand.

“The people loved our parents. This is the best way they can show it now.”

“They’re going to be our people.” Junior murmured, watching an enormous bouquet of multicolored wildflowers explode against his dad’s shell and spill blossoms onto the trailer below.

Here and there among the gathering, news cameras watched from white cherry picker platforms.

Thrown flowers grew more frequent as the procession entered the western edge of Koopa City, where beachfront businesses and homes stood like twinkling silhouettes in the brightening dawn. Black had to swish the windshield wipers a few times to clear plant matter off the windshield.

Across the way, Ludwig’s hands moved. Sometimes he signed in his sleep. Often gibberish, but that time he touched the thumb of his open hand to his forehead and let it fall back onto his knee.

Lemmy scooted sideways towards Cherry. “I’ll have your hug now.”

“Sure!” Cherry spread her arms for him.

Junior let Lemmy go. He gazed out the window as the churning, white capped ocean disappeared behind sparsely-lit buildings.

The world wasn’t the same without his dad.

.o

Sunlight glinted off the tops of skyscrapers. Most of the city remained in shadow due to its proximity to the Darklands volcano. Bowser’s funeral happened on the one late summer day of the year where the sun appeared rise from the volcano.

Somehow, that seemed fitting.

Flowers thudded against the limo as constantly as rain. Black had the wipers running slow to keep his visual field clear. He wasn’t bothered because he didn’t hear the clunks and thuds.

Multicolored blossoms festooned Bowser’s shell as they piled up between the shiny spikes.

Junior checked his phone, where he followed the funeral cortège via the same GPS program Black used. It gave an estimated time of arrival.

Iggy’s biggest seizure trigger besides lack of sleep was excessive activity during the first thirty minutes after waking. When the timer reached sixty minutes, Junior sent Lemmy over to nudge Iggy awake.

“Huh?” Iggy yawned, “We there?”

“One more hour.” Lemmy perched in Iggy’s lap. “We’re keeping you out of the seizure danger zone.”

Iggy’s expression softened. “Thanks.”

Beside him, Ludwig slept on, unruffled.

.o

Not even limo doors were safe from Black. The jolt from the slam woke up Ludwig, who stretched and reached into his hair to pull his hearing aids out. Behind the flat silver mic housings, the ear molds were clear with tiny plastic speakers on the tips.

“You slept deep for three hours,” Iggy signed to him.

“I needed that.” Ludwig signed back one-handed.

He changed his batteries and pushed his hearing aids back in until the silver microphones were flush against his auricles.

Black poked his head into the limo cabin and offered Ludwig a black thermos. The coffee inside still steamed as if freshly made.

“Sorry, there is no cream, I made it in a hurry,” he signed.

“It’s okay.” Ludwig gestured. He tipped the thermos to his mouth and gulped at least half of it.

Junior laughed. He knew Ludwig liked his coffee, but he never saw him drink it like that!

“Isn’t that hot?” Cherry winced.

Ludwig lowered the thermos and exhaled steam. “Extremely.”

Black wheeze-laughed, kissed him and accepted the thermos back.

He signed, “I’m going to help unload King Bowser for the procession. There is no hurry, the service is in an hour. We’re ahead of schedule.”

Nodding, Ludwig pulled him close by the chin for one more kiss.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

Black’s

I love you, too

was an audible whisper because he breathed while he mouthed it. Then he backed out and managed to slam the cabin door hard enough to shake the vehicle.

Iggy rocked backwards in raucous laughter.

Ludwig flinched. “Black is hopeless with any sort of door.”

.o

The public KC3 doors closed at eight o’clock sharp. No more people were permitted entry into the auditorium and would have to watch the service on the giant screens stationed all around the lobby and the outside of the building. This prevented people from trying to scoot past the royal funeral procession in search of seats.

There weren’t any more seats left anyway. The place was packed. Standing room only along the walls. Same applied to the lobby.

Voices murmured everywhere, the susurrus of life reverberating through the acoustically perfect auditorium.

Weeks of practice with a stone Koopa shell sculpture heavier than Bowser’s came down to the ceremony about to unfold. All the goofing off in the limousine seemed light years away from the atmosphere inside this building.

Roy and Morton guided Bowser’s shell through an elevator stationed between the lobby and the auditorium. Someone cleared off the flowers thrown on during the cortège and piled them up in the front and back. The trolley had eight handles and needed to be low to the ground for Lemmy and Wendy. It took some finagling, but everybody found a comfortable position.

Hanging on a loop above Bowser’s shell was his royal club, the torch and goblet he assembled the day he took his throne. The gilded cylinder had spikes at the tip.

Junior and Ludwig took their positions at the front as the oldest and youngest. Iggy and Lemmy were behind them. Larry and Wendy situated themselves on the third handles. Roy and Morton stayed in the rear.

Pom-Pom remained at Roy’s side, holding his hand. Cherry waited beside Junior with her coat draped over her forearm. She patted his elbow when he teared up. He flashed her a wry smile to show he was okay.

Red, gold and black velvet drapes lined the auditorium walls.

Onstage, the waiting choir was arranged on risers in four wedge-shaped groups, each wedge further subdivided in two by railings. At the tips of the choir wedges, a children’s choir stood fidgeting on semicircular risers. Junior wondered if one of the little Koopa Troopa girls was Janet.

Every choir member wore shiny gold robes and circular pendants containing digital tuners. Just like the tuners everyone clipped to their instruments in the orchestra. Each vocal section had an assigned color, judging by the LED lights.

Rather than a single massive screen, there were three medium-sized screens set up on glossy black pillars in between the choir sections.

Junior couldn’t tell what color the choir members’ shells were, but he knew which ones were Paratroopas because the robes allowed their feathered wings to protrude.

He spotted Scott sitting in the first piccolo spot with three instrument cases next to him. Like the choir, the orchestra wore gold robes. Scott draped his wheelchair in the same gold fabric, so he looked like a gilded waterfall.

Sienna, who wrapped gold ribbons around the tips of her box braids, took up her position behind the timpani.

Junior looked again at the choir and blinked upon noticing familiar faces.

Celine, the sole soprano in the front of her wedge section, sat in a red transport wheelchair with Judy and Pat behind her. Stevie was in the fourth row of the alto two section. Elton— who had glittering gold tinted glasses matching his robe, stood in the second row of tenors next to Freddie. Josh and Neil were among the baritones, fifth and sixth row. Finally, Blue and Crimson took up the two back corners of the basses, as if they didn’t want to draw too much attention by being in the front. Their wild hair was combed back similar to Iggy’s.

Also in the choir, a huge Sumo Brother sat in the middle of the tenor section, and there was a Fire Brother bearing a white eye patch behind Neil.

Lemmy sniffled audibly. Cherry gave him tissues from her purse to dry his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “There’s eight hundred and ten people in the choir. I counted.”

“You counted all of them that fast?”

“Uh-huh.”

The lights dimmed. Not as much as for a performance, yet enough to indicate the ceremony was about to begin. Silence fell over the auditorium like a curtain dropping.

Lakitu swooped through, shaking a gilded aspergillum full of seawater to symbolize the tears shed by the Darklands kingdom. He soared back to front, including over the choir, returned to the center and circled the perimeter. Everyone felt at least a drop hit them.

Koopa Troopas marched up the aisle holding their spears aloft. They fanned out in front of the stage to stand guard. Boom-Boom trailed them carrying a litt golden torch. Jack and Black followed Boom-Boom bearing flags displaying the royal Koopa crest— Jack held his flag in one hand and swung his white cane in graceful two point taps with the other.

At the end of the aisle, they turned sharply to face the back of the auditorium, gave a shout and banged their metal flagpoles down onto the tile floor with a decisive clang.

“Make way for the King!” Jack bellowed.

Black yelled it too as he signed in wide, swooping gestures. Only his signs were understandable.

Ludwig pointed to Junior.

“Make way for King Bowser the First!” Junior shouted.

Each of his siblings repeated the chant.

Sienna struck the timpani in a heartbeat rhythm that vibrated Junior’s chest. A white spotlight above the stage illuminated Bowser’s shell.

All eyes capable of sight looked tearfully at the auditorium entrance. People sobbed audibly.

Junior rested his hand against Bowser’s shell. Frigid, a far cry from the warmth of life.

At the next timpani beat, Junior and his siblings guided the trolley up the long aisle towards the stage. Cherry and Pom-Pom split away to sit in the reserved seats.

Mario, Luigi and Daisy were at the end of the aisle. They bowed as Bowser’s shell passed.

The soft whirr of the trolly wheels became a metallic rumble when they crossed onto a metal platform. Gears turned in a series of clicks and the platform rose to level with the stage.

They continued onward, down one small ramp and up another until everyone stood together on a rectangular dais covered in purple velvet. This positioned Bowser’s shell exactly in the center of all the musicians, as if the choir section wedges sprouted from it.

The spotlight followed the trolley and stayed fixed on it once it was in position.

“Wow, his shell is giant,” one of the kids whispered to his neighbor.

“Turn,” Junior whispered. In unison, he and his siblings faced inward towards Bowser’s shell.

Ludwig stepped off the velvet dais. His conductor’s podium was on a platform suspended from the ceiling by metal cords, and he accessed it via a ladder.

Once in position, he finger spelled letters and the orchestra tuned accordingly. The choir hummed the notes respective to their sections.

Between them, the screens came alive with images of multicolored waveforms vibrating over sparkling ultramarine water. Iggy’s work, no doubt.

Ludwig picked up his baton, lit it and touched the remote. A white dot blinked on the bottom of the central screen. He held his baton overhead and twitched it back and forth in time with the blinking dot. His tail swung in opposition to the baton as he sought the tempo with his body.

Finally, Ludwig gestured to the pianist. She played a chord. Whatever would come next was to be sung a cappella.

He gave the choir the first downbeat. They broke into a unison pianissimo hum. It startled Junior how eight hundred and ten people could create a sound so soft.

Ludwig guided them with small, precise movements, like a painter whose canvas was silence. Then his gestures opened wider and the choir became an immense wall of harmony. He directed through his whole body. His facial expression, his hand movements and the way he made eye contact with individual singers.

There were screens in the back of the auditorium, showing the stage and the visualizer, so the soldiers facing away wouldn’t be left out.

Ludwig tilted his body to the side and raised his arms as if throwing something skyward. The choir’s sound grew, the increasingly complex harmonies filling in and rising like a cry to the Great Beyond.

At its height, all the Koopa Paratroopas spread their wings. They were arranged throughout the choir to form the Koopa crest in a feathery white wave. Even the kids were on it, their four tiny pairs of wings forming Bowser’s teeth.

Junior’s eyes welled over. Tears slipped out from behind Roy’s sunglasses. Morton’s lower jaw quivered. Larry stared straight ahead, eyes glistening. Wendy let out a sob. Lemmy wiped his cheeks with the tissues Cherry gave him. Iggy sniffled as quietly as he could. Ludwig had glistening streaks on his cheeks.

Out in the audience, Daisy hugged Cherry while she wept on her shoulder. There wasn’t a dry eye in the auditorium.

Wendy couldn’t keep it in. Junior hugged her while she sobbed against his chest.

He handled the song until the last part, where the whole choir returned to the pianissimo hum. Celine struggled to stand with both hands on the rail in front of her, opened her mouth and produced unearthly high notes, like a mourning wail in controlled, sung form.

Junior cried as hard as Wendy. All he saw behind his eyes were Bowser’s final moments of thrashing and gasping, a vision he spared the world from imagining.

Wendy’s claws dug against his biceps. He enfolded her in his arms. They clung to each other, oblivious to being on live broadcast TV.

“Daddy,” she whispered, “Ju-ju…”

“I know,” Junior murmured back.

Morton squeezed Roy’s shoulder.

Celine’s voice faded away as the choir hummed a final chord.

Ludwig flipped his left hand over in a cutoff gesture and lowered the baton. He smiled through his tears and signed to the choir, “Beautiful, thank you.”

Wendy backed off and wrung her tears under control as Ludwig climbed down the ladder. Junior pulled him into a tight hug.

“That was incredible,” he signed.

Ludwig kissed his cheek and murmured in his ear, “They gave it life for dad.”

The Koopa siblings bowed towards Bowser’s shell in unison and filed off the stage to sit in the reserved front row seats.

Roy absolutely fell apart in Pom-Pom’s arms. She held him while he sobbed with his face hidden against her neck.

Cherry was still inconsolably buried in Daisy’s shoulder, tightly clutching the hand Mario offered. Junior leaned over, wrapping his arms around her so she felt embraced from both sides. She reached back and gripped his thumb. He knew she relived the same awful image he did.

Cherry shifted to cry on Junior’s shoulder. He gave Daisy a faint ‘I got this, thank you’ nod. She pressed her hand against his.

Whatever makeup Cherry chose stood up like a champ to her crying. Not a single speck smudged. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, wiped her nose, and shot Junior a sheepish little smile. He kissed her cheek to let her know she need not be sorry.

Junior found himself blocking out most of the funeral service. Everything left him so emotionally drained, the opposite to how he felt after his wedding, that he almost missed his cue to go up and speak.

When he got to the podium to the left of center stage, he looked at the notes he so carefully crafted on his phone and put it away. They didn’t encompass how he felt.

There were no Koopa Sign interpreters at the event. Instead, every spoken word appeared on the screens throughout the building as subtitles.

Nobody else talked about this, so he did.

“I was four when my dad had his first heart attack, and then I got diagnosed with Crash, too…”

Junior detailed those terrifying, traumatic years without mincing words. As harrowing as his tales were, the meaning behind it all came clear to him when a Koopa Paratroopa in the audience bent to get something off the floor and his blue shell caught the light.

“…between the stents, and bringing Cherry and I together, dad’s goal in life was always to take care of my heart. He knew his was broken, but he made sure mine wouldn’t be in more ways than one.”

Tears stung in his eyes. “Nobody likes to think of how fragile life is, or how suddenly it’s gone. If I learned anything from all of this mess, it’s how important it is to love people while they’re here.”

He glanced sideways at Bowser’s shell as it glistened under the brilliant spotlight.

“The last thing my dad did in his life was look me in the eyes and say, ‘Love ya, brat.’ I watched the light go out of his eyes. I held him while he died. There is nothing— no greater act of love— than to hold somebody as they die. It changes you. It makes you appreciate life more. Don’t let that be the moment you think of all the things you wish you said to somebody. Say it now. Go home and say those things

today.”

The tears in his eyes skittered onto his cheeks. He sniffed, wiping them away.

Luigi looked at Daisy and said something. Her expression softened when she kissed him gently between the eyes. They clasped hands.

“Mommy, I’m sorry about the coffee cup!” One of the kids in the choir shouted.

In the audience, a yellow shelled Koopa Troopa blew her daughter a kiss.

“I love you, always,” Ludwig signed to Black, who was just out of sight beside the stage. Whatever Black signed back, it brought a smile to Ludwig’s somber face.

By the time Junior returned to his seat, most of the people in the auditorium had something to say to someone next to them.

Ludwig approached the podium and said, “I was nearly two when I lost my hearing to an ear infection…”

He took his hearing aids out, held them up and inserted them again.

“…so I do not have the memory of this lullaby that my siblings do. However, dad sang this to all of us when we were little. I don’t know how to sing, so this is the best way I can perform it for him. Feel free to sing along if you know this one.”

Ludwig ascended the ladder to his conductor’s platform, touched the remote and waved his baton above his head to catch the tempo. At his downbeat, the choir sang the most beautiful rendition of

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Junior would hear in his life.

Many voices in the gathering joined in. Some off-key, some in perfect harmony. Morton had the Darklands News station playing quietly on his phone, and the live broadcasts all over the Darklands showed the citizens singing, too.

Everybody wanted to sing Bowser to his rest.

Tears poured onto Larry’s face as he tried to join in. He broke down halfway through. Iggy hugged him tight while he bawled on his shoulder.

Cherry moved over to embrace Morton when he began to sob so hard his whole body heaved from it. Pom-Pom sang it while holding Roy, who cried more than he hummed.

Junior scooped Lemmy into his arms as soon as he heard the first sniffle.

Daisy, Luigi and Mario held hands while singing along.

Wendy sang at the top of her contralto voice, smiling through the tears.

Scott had a beautiful piccolo solo in the middle of the song. His fluttery notes soared over the strings and woodwinds.

“If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow…why, oh why, can’t I?”

A lot of people cried. Junior wiped tears out of his eyes. He thought about the time in the morgue, when Larry sang it as they prepared Bowser’s body. The song sung by all of the Darklands carried that immense love.

Lemmy’s bawling took on a frantic pace. Between the change in routine, the stimulating environment and the powerful emotions, he was beyond his capacity to cope anymore.

Junior carried him out a side door leading behind the stage where cameras wouldn’t witness the brewing meltdown.

Lemmy dug his claws in when he tried to put him down, so he bear-hugged him while he cried it out.

“Breathe,” Junior murmured, taking a few deep breaths himself and slowly letting them out. “I miss dad, too. It’s okay, Lemmy. We’ll be okay.”

Lemmy calmed down once he wasn’t surrounded by so many people. Junior got him water from the cooler in the hallway and listened to him gulp every drop.

“Feel better?”

“No. Dad’s dead, that feels like shit.”

Junior laughed at the unexpected cuss word. “You’re right! It feels like shit.”

Lemmy squeezed his ball and climbed down. He wiped his blotchy, tear-stained face dry. “I’m okay to go back out now.”

When they emerged, Ludwig had his arms up in preparation for another musical piece. Junior noticed Scott holding an old wooden recorder instead of his little green piccolo.

The children’s choir filed off their risers one by one to stand in a circle around Bowser’s shell. Each held a small lit brown candle with a gold cup at the bottom to catch the melting wax.

Ludwig cued the strings first, followed by the pianist and percussion.

Pat knelt next to Celine’s wheelchair instead of letting her struggle to stand again. Ludwig established eye contact, smiled and gestured towards her.

Pat opened her mouth and musical syllables tumbled out over the orchestra.

“Ariadiamus late, ariadiamus da, ari a natus late adua…”

Celine joined in, taking the lower notes in the two part harmony.

“Aravare tue vate, aravare tue vate latea.”

They looked at each other and repeated the line again, smiling into each other's eyes before refocusing on Ludwig.

It took Junior a few repetitions of the opening line to realize Ludwig wrote this song in native Koopa. He took the phonetic pronunciations of their growls, snarls and hisses, and turned them into something anybody could sing.

Even more incredible, it was poetic!

The kids harmonized with the adults. They held their candles aloft, mouths open as they sang to their fallen king.

Sienna struck the cymbals with her claws as she beat on the bongo drums set up next to the timpani.

The whole choir burst into song, four part harmony coming from all corners of the stage.

“Anamana coole rawe anamana coole ra. Anamana coole rawe akala! Aya doo ayeh!”

Violin and cello bows juddered across strings. Ludwig’s gestures were bouncy and percussive. He pointed to Scott while moving his baton like a sewing needle through cloth, telling him when to crescendo and when to diminuendo.

Scott’s wooden recorder notes offered sunrises and endless light.

Junior took hold of Cherry’s hand and kissed it. She caught his eye, smiled and returned her attention to the stage.

The music built up into another cymbal crash and an explosion of voices over Scott’s recorder.

Celine and Pat came in again, their soprano harmonies carrying over the rest.

“Yakama yamaya kaya mema. Aya coo ayeh mena.”

They sang the last line through a key change and repeated it until Ludwig brought them to a bone-shaking final chord. He thrust his arms down and the abrupt silence was louder than thunderclaps.

Junior sat there, looking slack-jawed at his siblings, Cherry, Luigi and Mario. Did that really happen?

Roughly translated, the song meant:

“Life begins, life ends. Alive, hatch life into our bones. Let us love forever. Let us love forever, father. Bellies of flames. Bellies of fire. Bellies of flaming blood. All for you. Honor and praise to our king. All our love for you.”

The children’s choir blew out their candles and held them up again, the trailing smoke wreathing around Bowser’s spiked shell like a spirit departing. Then, one by one, they returned to the risers.

Ludwig kept his arms up, holding everyone in silence.

Junior ascended the stage, took the royal club off the loop and held it overhead. Tears streamed down his face as he twisted it apart into a torch and goblet again and held them overhead, symbolizing the end of Bowser’s reign. They would go into the ground with him.

Ludwig lowered his hands. He blew his musicians a kiss and signed something to them. Junior couldn’t see since his back was turned. Ludwig climbed off the platform and approached the podium.

“I want to thank these wonderful musicians for lending their talents to this service. You honored your king. Most importantly, you honored my dad. He would be proud. Thank you, sincerely.”

At Ludwig’s wave, Junior’s siblings got up and made their way to Bowser’s shell. They took the same positions as before.

Junior blew kisses to Celine, Pat and Judy. They waved. Celine reached under her wheelchair to take pills and wash them down with water. He blew another one to Stevie, Elton, Freddie, Josh and Neil.

Wendy kissed Bowser’s shell. Her dark red lipstick left a mark.

Bowser’s soldiers filed out the same way they entered. All but the ones holding spears— they lined either side of the aisle and crossed their spear tips over the center.

Silence fell over the auditorium for the recessional, so Junior almost leapt out of his shell when Sienna struck the timpani in the same heartbeat rhythm as the entrance.

Junior helped turn the trolly on the velvet dais. His siblings moved with military precision, guiding it down the shallow ramp, up the steeper one and onto the elevator platform.

The spotlight stayed on Bowser’s shell during its journey down the aisle. Nobody talked, the sole sounds were drum beats, sniffles, camera clicks and occasional coughing.

Only when Bowser’s shell left the spotlight did the auditorium erupt in applause.

Thirty minutes later, the departing truck and limo were met with the same triumphant applause. The spiraling northern journey took everyone through business complexes and homes. People dropped flowers from the rooftops and balconies of apartment buildings. Others rushed to the barricades lining the streets.

By the time they reached the airship pickup point, Bowser’s shell, the truck and the limo were utterly doused in flowers.

.o

Mario stood in awe as a massive airship platform covered in straw lowered Bowser’s shell into the earth with perfect surgical precision. He noticed the relucent gold torch and goblet Junior opened at the funeral ceremony nestled in the straw. The platform broke away when it touched down, leaving the four rattling chains to withdraw.

Bowser was laid to rest at Peach’s left-hand side, the same place he sat every day he visited her grave for the past eleven years. A gold statue would commemorate him in six months to a year, same as her.

Mario allowed it as a peace offering between their joined kingdoms. He paid for the grave marker— a slanted black stone with a gold plaque identifying him— and the statue currently being sculpted.

The moment Bowser’s shell settled into its final resting place, his children threw their heads back, spat flames skyward and roared in unison. They picked up the eight shovels laid out for them, approached the brown pile of earth at the foot of the grave and went to work burying him.

Wendy sobbed the whole time. She turned to Jack, the muscular Sledge Brother with the white cane and black ponytail, and he embraced her.

Junior gave Cherry his shovel and let her scoop soil into the grave. Lemmy carried Scott up the hill on his back, with Scott still wearing his trailing gold robe from the funeral service, and they somehow wielded a shovel together. Jack and Black took their turns, followed by Pom-Pom and Sienna.

Luigi and Daisy opted to stay near the bottom of the hill. Koopa Troopa guards and Toad guards were posted around the perimeter, both for ceremonial purposes and to keep curious visitors from bumbling into the burial.

The titanic shadow of the airship shrank as it departed. Whoever had the helm flashed the lights on the sides, and all the Koopa Troopa guards saluted.

Puffy, bloated clouds dotted the sky. A passing one sprinkled rain on the funeral gathering.

“Ugh, dad!” Junior scowled at the sky, “Do that on the sun, not us!”

Cherry laughed as hard as she cried. Whatever it was, it had to be an in-joke between them.

Junior walked away to sit on the edge of the hill apart from the others. Mario approached and eased himself down next to him in the grass, looking north at the distant mountains.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Huh?” Junior glanced at him with an arched eyebrow so much like his father that it was like looking decades back in time. If his voice had been a rough bass instead of a silky baritone, he might’ve feared Bowser rose from the dead.

“Back-a when Peach died, I acted rashly. I took-a Cherry away to separate her from-a you. She wouldn't give up on-a seeing you again, so I brought her home.”

Mario fidgeted with his gloves. “I hurt you to hurt Bowser, and that wasn’t-a fair. I’m sorry, Junior.”

Instead of anger, Junior blinked and returned his focus to the horizon. The breeze blew errant strands of his hair.

“You could’ve kept that to yourself.”

“Yes, but your funeral speech-a compelled me. Regrets are terrible things when they fester.”

“You’re right.” Junior grasped Mario’s shoulder with his massive, clawed hand and pulled him against his side. His hands were as huge and rough as Bowser’s.

Mario’s heart leapt into his throat until he saw the young Koopa grin roguishly, all sharp teeth. “Cherry and I got married, and I love her more than I can say, so don’t worry about it. It’s so old now the water under the bridge is all dried up. Let’s leave it in the past.”

Mario laughed, his wrinkled face crinkling further. “I’m sorry for-a jumping on you, too.”

“Hey, don’t push it.” Junior teased him.

They chuckled together before sobering. Mario sat up straighter to avoid the back pain later. He wasn’t sure how to approach the next subject, so he blurted it out.

“I’ve been-a following the news reports.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not somebody who-a pries, but Cherry told-a me what happened when Bowser died, and that’s not the story you’re telling.“

“Oh.” Junior exhaled smoke through his nostrils. “Don’t spread it around, okay? I’m sparing everybody the nightmare of it. You, me and Cherry are the only ones who know.”

Mario extended a hand. “Yes, and I respect-a that, but— Junior, if-a you need to talk about it with somebody who wasn’t as close to it as you were, I’m all-a ears.”

A change came over Junior’s demeanor. His russet eyes welled up as they lost focus. “Did you ever watch the surveillance video of how Peach fell?”

The unexpected question took Mario aback. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “No. Never.”

“Dad did. I saw the thumbnails for it on his phone. I guess he had somebody lift the footage and get the coroner’s reports the day she died.”

Junior sniffed and the tears in his eyes trickled onto his cheeks. “Now I understand how helpless he felt watching her. He watched because he couldn’t be with her like I got to be with him.”

Mario’s forehead wrinkled. He took his glasses off to wipe his eyes and slid them back on.

“I wanted to leave the room when he was gasping. I had the choice. I could have.” Junior’s nostrils flared. “I stayed and held him because I love him, and I know he would’ve held me, too.”

He looked over at Mario with eyes full of eerie wisdom. “You didn’t get to make that choice when it happened to Peach.”

Mario shed a few tears as he nodded. “I had to make-a peace with the lack of a proper goodbye. I’m glad you were spared that.”

Junior smiled shakily through his tears. “I’m sorry that you weren’t.”

He looked over his shoulders, wiped his eyes and said, “Looks like the cavalry is done.”

Mario rubbed his nose. “Let’s-a go. I have lunch fixed for everyone.”

Pain shot through his lower back when he moved to stand. He scrunched his eyes shut. “Oof, I’m-a getting old!”

Junior chuckled and gave him a hand up. “Yeah, you’re an old fart.”

“Hey!”

“What? You walked into that one.”

“Touché.”

Their tears sparkled away into laughter.

.o

Junior appreciated the lunch Mario made for everyone. He wasn’t half-bad at cooking Koopa cuisine, if his Cheep-Cheep kabobs were anything to go by.

Pom-Pom, Cherry and Daisy sat together in deep conservation about fabric. Wendy and Sienna joined them.

Daisy laid her hand on Wendy’s wrist. Wendy nodded her head.

Junior smiled at watching their new friendship blossom.

At the end of the table, Black sat across from Luigi, teaching him the basics of Koopa Sign.

Luigi watched him sign a few times, blinked and held both his hands out. “Wait a minute here. This looks-a familiar! I took—“ He fingerspelled it, “—ASL—” —and resumed speaking, “in college. The deaf folks in outside-outside USA use it. Gimme a sec to remember something. Um…I’m rusty.”

After a moment, Luigi slowly signed, “Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Luigi.” He finger spelled his name.

Black let out a shocked noise and signed back at lightning speed, “Wow, it looks like Koopa Sign!”

He grinned, pivoting his hands in deaf applause before going on, “What is this ASL you speak of?”

Luigi scratched the side of his head, messing up some of his salt and pepper hair. “Can you sign slower?”

Black let out his wheezy laugh and obliged. “Sorry, I get excited when I find new signers. What is ASL?”

Luigi did his best to explain. Apparently, the difference between this ASL from outside-outside and Koopa Sign was how they counted, due to humans having five fingers and Koopas only having four.

Ludwig sat off to the side by himself, sipping coffee from a beer mug, because Toad coffee cups were far too small for a Koopa.

Roy and Morton washed the dishes together. Morton accidentally crushed a tiny cup in his fist. He glanced around before dumping the pieces in a trash bin. Two seconds later, Roy smashed a saucer with an audible crunch. He froze, staring at the jagged white bits on his palm while Morton laughed at him.

Iggy sat down by Ludwig and showed him something on his phone.

Larry gave Mario a very deep explanation of Crash that had the little plumber looking shell-shocked.

Jack’s cane tapped up the hall and he rounded the corner with a mischievous smile.

“Hey, Jack! What’s up?” Junior asked.

Jack switched his cane to the pencil grip and approached. He whispered in Junior’s ear, “Lemmy and Scott found the hall closet.”

“So?”

“They’re blowing each other’s backs out.”

“Okay, you’re telling me this because…?”

“They’re not being quiet. They’re almost as noisy as Black and Ludwig.” Jack laughed, making his way around the table by running his hand along the edge.

“What’s-a wrong with my hall closet?” Mario asked.

“Nothing.” Jack lifted his sunglasses to wink at Junior.

Not a minute later, Scott rolled his wheelchair into the dining room with his robe draped over the chair backing. Lemmy perched across his lap, his arms wrapped around his neck. Their faces were still flushed and they gave off a faintly salty scent.

“At dad’s funeral lunch, really?” Junior crossed his arms.

Scott smirked and nuzzled Lemmy. “We’re busted.”

Lemmy flapped his hands and grinned sheepishly. “Scott looks so sexy in gold, I had to kiss him!”

“And one thing led to another…” Scott rumbled, his deep voice practically a purr.

Junior grinned and high-foured both of them. “Dad would think it’s hilarious. Did you clean up after yourselves?”

“Clean up?” Lemmy blinked.

Scott’s face blanched. “Uhh…”

A harried Toad burst into the dining room and whispered something to Mario. Mario rushed off with him.

“Oh-a no! How did it get sticky?”

Lemmy and Scott looked at each other and cackled.

.o

.o

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Summer heat slipped away. Fall breezes brought colorful leaf piles. Winter snowstorms blew through. Spring sprouted fresh flowers. Summer arrived again in dazzling sunlight.

Junior and Cherry got used to the mountains of paperwork necessary to finish bringing two kingdoms together.

One major change was the Darklands Deaf Network and the Mushroom Kingdom Deaf Networks combining into one channel, KMDN, for the Koopa-Mushroom Deaf Network. It shifted to include programming in Mushroom Sign— with childrens’ shows in the morning to introduce children to the concept of sign languages and Deaf culture. News programs and talk shows included deaf Toads and deaf Koopas so both languages were represented.

Getting it up and running took eight months.

Iggy designed the new logo, which showed Koopa and Toad hands finger spelling the station letters against a soft sunset background.

Several other news stations merged. Morton applauded the TV when the Rox News Network stated it was going off the air.

“Those shitbags were nothing but a glorified tabloid. Good riddance!”

Life didn’t assume a new normal, but it went on.

.o

The day Bowser died wasn’t the worst for Junior. He thought it was initially, but he had so much to do. The day of the wake wasn’t the worst, either. Neither was the funeral.

But all the days Bowser stayed dead?

His first hatch-day without his dad?

His dad’s hatch-day?

The days without his bass voice echoing off the walls?

The days of emptiness once filled by his footsteps?

The days spent in rooms never to be darkened by his shadow again?

The days memories exuded from still air no longer disturbed by his breath?

The days his absence loomed louder than silence?

Those were the worst days.

Junior’s most difficult moments happened whenever he saw a piece of paperwork and had to stop himself from shouting, “Hey, dad?”

Because there would be no answer.

Those

moments

were even

worse

than the worst

days.

Sometimes, Junior laid on Bowser’s bed and cried silent tears. The place where he died felt more sacred to him than the grave housing his remains.

Speaking of graves, Peach‘s statue wasn‘t alone on the hill anymore. Beside her stood a golden sculpture of Bowser. He smiled softly at her, his outstretched hand clasping her outstretched hand— the same one he used to kiss each time he visited.

Junior gave the sculptor a photo of Bowser passing off the rings at his wedding, and the sculptor based the pose and facial expression off that.

Bowser’s grave statue was the first known piece of art that did not depict him being violent. He looked happy, peaceful and loving, a side of him Junior and Cherry felt the world needed to see.

Junior didn’t visit it often. It reminded him of watching his dad take his last breath. The pain from that moment was still too raw to approach without breaking down.

Even harder, Junior mourned while taking over his dad’s old duties as king. He refused to do a coronation ceremony until the new castle was completed. That didn’t make him any less of a king. The title went to him the second his dad died.

Amid the grief maelstrom, instances of calm came from unexpected places.

Junior went through Bowser’s tablet one chilly morning and found dozens of videos of him sitting up in his bed, happily reading every single Peter Piranha book Junior had in his childhood collection. Silly voices, pointing to the pictures and all. There were copies of each video where he performed the books in Koopa Sign, which meant making goofy faces to represent the way the characters spoke.

His hair was graying and he wore his nasal cannula in all of them. Sometimes he ran out of breath mid-sentence and had to pause to gasp. The time stamps indicated he recorded them two days before he died.

Maybe he intended to upload them himself and never got the chance. Maybe he left them for grandkids he knew he would never meet. Maybe they were for kids who didn’t have a dad.

Junior created a ClawTube account named

KingBowser1stArchives

and posted them. He made playlists for the spoken readings and the Koopa Sign readings.

Once he posted it to the royal public ClawBook page, the hits, ‘scratches’ and comments rolled in. Junior turned off the notification sound to stop the incessant dinging.

Wendy commented,

I remember these!

There were childhood videos of all his siblings, too. Some showed difficult moments, like Ludwig having his ears drained of pus, Lemmy melting down, Iggy going through seizures or Morton screaming in pain from colic.

He found a funny one where Morton unleashed a fountain of liquid poop while having his diaper changed. Bowser fell completely out of frame, guffawing.

“You, sir, are an artist!” He cackled. “The distance, the stench, the awe!”

The video ended with Morton farting and giggling. He was such a gassy baby that Bowser edited together a fifteen minute baby fart montage video.

Another video had Wendy laughing and riding a tiny tricycle away while Bowser chased after her, his huge feet occasionally entering the frame.

“Renegade baby on the loose!”

In a later clip, six year old Larry cried in the midst of teething as Bowser wiped numbing gel on his sore gums.

“Aw, that’s rough, buddy. Tell me all about it.”

“I hate it!” Larry bawled.

And there was Roy, flopping butt-first into a mud puddle and bouncing to splatter it everywhere. Bowser’s mirth overwhelmed the camera microphone.

Then Junior saw himself snatch the camera and run with it pointing backwards, getting bouncy footage of his dad chasing him upstairs. Bowser laughed, his teeth taking up the whole frame when he caught up and swiped his camera back. He panted unusually heavily after such a short run, the first sign of Crash nobody knew he had.

The time stamp on the video was a day prior to his first heart attack, a final normal moment before the eighteen year countdown to his death.

Junior missed his dad’s booming, brontide laugh, but watching the videos helped him realize something.

Bowser wasn’t his last breath. He was everything that happened before it.

Junior bundled everybody’s footage in zip files and sent them to whichever sibling they belonged to via email. He cried after.

Cherry understood his grief couldn’t be rushed and had to blow past in its own time. She sat with him and stroked his hair while he sobbed. All she could do was love him through it. Her kindness meant the world to him, especially on the agonizing days where everything ached.

.o

Bowser’s one year death anniversary hit Junior so hard he woke up crying, nearly unable to function through the flashbacks. He

felt

Bowser thrashing in his arms as if it happened all over again.

Going into his dad’s room was a mistake, yet he kept being drawn there. He laid across the bed and tried to drag his whirling thoughts somewhere else.

Fate pushed his hand.

Cherry came into the room holding her phone.

“Hey, Junior. Morton is coming over.”

Junior picked his head up off his folded arms, eyes bloodshot from crying. “What’s going on?”

“He didn’t say, but he’s using a warp zone and he’s going to be here any minute. It sounded urgent.”

She brushed tears off his cheeks and patted his shoulders. Today was hard for her, too.

“Come on, big guy. Let’s get you up.”

Junior stopped in the bathroom to comb his hair and wash the evidence of weeping off his face.

Morton and Sienna came up the warp zone as Junior sat down in the living room so full of memories. Cherry exclaimed something unintelligible due to the distance and reverberation. Only the last bit reached his ears.

“…hurry up and show him! He’s having a bad day, he needs to see her!”

Cherry and Sienna stayed out in the hall. Morton’s heavy footsteps padded into the living room. He stopped in the doorway, his noisy breathing audible in the quiet room.

“Hey, Junior. Cherry says you’re having a rough day.”

“Mmhmm. Missing dad.” Junior wiped his hair backwards without looking up. It was much longer than Bowser’s, the longest strands now touching his second shell spike.

“Me, too, but I got a present today.”

“Yeah?”

“Something really special.”

Morton swung his leg over the arm of the couch and sat. In his arms, a tiny bundle swaddled in a white blanket.

Junior gasped, shaping his arms to properly hold the hatchling who barely weighed anything at all. A lump clutched his throat and his eyes welled up at the sight of this baby, so tiny and new.

“She hatched an hour ago,” said Morton, his voice soft. “Haven't told anybody yet. Dad would’ve been first to know, but he’s not here, so…you get to be first.”

She had a wide snout with big nostrils like Morton. Two little teeth poked from her lower jaw, giving her an appearance of perpetual pouting. Her coily plume of hair, scales, shell, snout and claws were as black as soot with a brown undertone. Even her tongue and mucous membranes had a dark brown tinge to them.

Junior couldn’t believe it. A melanistic Koopa! She looked like a tiny shadow wrapped in white.

“Oh wow.” He tore his eyes off the hatchling to look at Morton’s proud face, and it dawned on him that his brother was a dad now. “What’s her name?”

“Aretha.” Morton grinned, eyes twinkling. “Because she demands respect.”

“Damn right!” Junior beamed at him. “That is a regal name. Princess Aretha Koopa.”

He stopped and stared. “I’m an uncle.”

“You sure are!” Morton slapped his shell, laughing.

Aretha grunted as she stirred, her tiny hands wiggling under the blanket keeping her warm. Junior kissed her forehead. She opened her eyes— they were black like Morton’s— and he realized she was a blank slate of a person who didn’t know anything about the world yet. It seemed criminal that she would grow up to learn what grief and sorrow were.

Then she squirmed, stretched and scrunched her face.

“Uh oh. Upset baby alert.” Junior passed Aretha back to Morton, who cradled her against his chest.

“It’s all good, sweetie pie.” Morton cooed at her. “Daddy’s gotcha. You don’t need to be scared of your uncle’s silly mug.”

A wave of grief washed over Junior at realizing Bowser never got to meet his granddaughter. He would’ve posted a million pictures on his ClawBook profile and flown over the Darklands in the Koopa Clown Car, shouting at everyone to look at her.

Junior sobered, daring to broach the question he wished he didn’t have to.

“Does she have Crash?”

Morton nodded, his soft expression never changing. “Found out through the Larry test. We won’t know what degree she has until she’s ten. But we know to check, and that’s what counts.”

He looked down at Aretha when she squawked again. “Right, sweetie pie?”

Aretha grunted and unleashed the loudest, wettest fart, a sound that should’ve been impossible for a baby so small.

Junior’s chest felt like someone poured sugar on his nerves. He rocked backwards in cry-laughter. “She farts like dad!”

Morton snickered. He turned to the door. “Hey, Sienna? I need the diaper bag. I think she pooped.”

Sienna and Cherry spilled into the living room, chattering a mile a minute.

“…took her three hours to work her way out, but there she was! She takes after me. I was a tiny baby, too.”

“That’s incredible. She’s so cute!”

“She is— phooey! Cute and stinky.” Sienna kissed Morton’s cheek as she handed over the blue diaper bag.

“Do you know how to do that?” Junior pointed.

Morton shot him a look from beneath his thin eyebrows. “I changed

you

when you were a baby, so this is easy.”

He laid Aretha on her back in his lap, so her shell fell between his parted thighs. This tilted her head down towards the floor and pointed her feet at the ceiling.

“We lay human babies flat,” Cherry whispered. “Doesn’t her shell come off?”

“Our shells are attached to our spines until we’re a year old,” Sienna said. “The bones dissolve like the roots in human baby teeth and shrink into our vertebrae. You can tell how old a baby is by checking if the shell comes off and taking a spinal X-ray.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and it’s really fragile on a hatchling,” said Morton. “This is how dad used to do diapers for us right after we hatched.”

Morton preferred cloth diapers, so it had a little sleeve for Aretha’s tiny tail. Silver snaps held it all together. The mess inside looked like snot and mustard. First poops were always a shedding of intestinal mucus, so it reeked.

“Phew!” Junior covered his nose.

Unbothered, Morton changed her quickly, using the wipes with a gentleness Junior didn’t know he possessed. He snapped the fresh diaper on, put the dirty one in a sealed plastic bag and cleaned his hands using sanitizing wipes.

Aretha wriggled her toes when he tickled her miniature feet.

“There we go, princess, all better!” Morton swaddled her again. “Hey, Cherry, want to hold her?”

“Please! She’s adorable.” Cherry extended her arms to receive the baby. “Oof! She’s heavy.”

“Twenty pounds,” Morton winked.

Junior forgot humans saw that as heavy.

Lemmy weighed eight pounds at hatching. He was

tiny.

Cherry beamed at Aretha’s curious face. “Did you say this little goober is an hour old?”

“Mmhmm.” Sienna slipped her arm around Cherry’s shoulders, eyes soft. “She’s beautiful. Morton and I, we made that.”

“You did most of the work.” Morton took her hand and gently kissed it. He gazed up at her in awe, like she created the sky. “Heh, who knew our night behind the rock would turn into this?”

She giggled and whispered in his ear, “You’re just that charming.”

Over ten years together, and they still looked at each other like they were in the middle of a wonderful dream.

Cherry kissed Aretha’s forehead and talked to her in a singsong voice, “You’re a pretty little girl! Yes you are!”

Junior hugged Sienna and Morton, practically dragging them against him. “I’m so happy for you two! A princess!”

Aretha coughed and wailed, the tiny cry of a hatchling realizing she had lungs and a voice to tell everybody about it. Cherry rocked her back and forth, unbothered.

Junior took his phone out, opened the ClawTube app to Bowser’s page and picked a random video.

“Aretha, this is your grandpa.”

Bowser’s goofy reading of

Peter Piranha And The Stinky Puddle

eased her off to sleep again.

Morton teared up, his forehead wrinkling.

Sienna brushed away a teardrop that slipped onto his cheek. “I miss him.”

Cherry nodded in agreement.

Junior waited for the video to finish before he put his phone away.

“Make sure she knows who he was.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Morton sniffled. “She might be a queen someday, she’s gotta know all about who came before her.”

Sienna kissed the top of Cherry’s head and took sleeping Aretha into her arms. There was no mistaking the utter awe glistening in her eyes.

“We’ll tell everybody else she hatched later,” she whispered, kissing her daughter’s brow. “We wanted you to meet her first.”

The next day, Junior’s ClawBook exploded with photos of his excited siblings taking turns holding Aretha.

“She’s going to get spoiled rotten!” Wendy laughed in a video.

Aretha’s entry into the world didn’t erase Junior’s pain, but she softened some of its sharp edges.

.o

Time twirled on, and it waited for no one.

Junior threw Ludwig a surprise fortieth hatch-day bash on South Shell Beach. The weather ended up being perfect despite the winter season.

Ludwig never saw it coming, even though Black almost spoiled it twice by accident.

He had a blast at the party. Morton got him falling down drunk. Black helped him walk everywhere. The photos were glorious.

Ludwig wore glasses now, thin rectangular silver frames that almost disappeared against his features. His voluminous blue hair sported a gray streak in the front, but only on the left side.

Neither Jack nor Black showed any signs of graying yet at forty-two. Their parents were in their late sixties now, and their dad only had a small streak on the back of his head.

At the end of the party, Ludwig threw his glasses and hearing aids to Junior and did a cartwheel into the frothy surf. He came up laughing, his wet blue hair slicked against his face.

Black scrambled into the water to kiss him. They rolled around, getting covered in sand, and stumbled into the showers together. Everybody heard what they did, but the gathering tacitly pretended to be oblivious.

It worked until Iggy sent Ludwig an audio recording of their moaning and growling the next day. He never let Ludwig live that down.

Ludwig got Iggy back by having a giant inflatable rainbow dildo from Glitterbomb delivered to his house. Iggy laughed so hard he choked and posed obnoxiously with it in photos for weeks after.

.o

The passage of time wasn’t without its harrowing moments.

Junior woke up early one morning to Wendy frantically posting on ClawBook.

She found a Koopa toddler wandering across her land with an overflowing dirty diaper. He was old enough to talk, but didn’t seem able to, and he attacked her when she tried to help him. The boy didn’t respond to being spoken to, yet reacted with fright to noises around him in ways that reminded her of Lemmy.

He didn’t have such a strong reaction when Jack brought him inside. Jack managed to contain him safely in a downstairs bathroom. Just by touching him, he could tell the poor kid was dehydrated and starving, so he got him to drink two glasses of water and spoonfed him half a jar of nutrient dense Meat-Meal.

The little boy screamed and tried to flee anytime someone attempted to touch his diaper or clean him. Sometimes he shrieked for apparently no reason and flailed as if attacked by insects.

Wendy took photos, but the child was so filthy his coloration wasn’t identifiable. He must have crawled into mud at some point. The scleras of his eyes were pale pink, almost blending into his irises. She suspected an infection, probably pinkeye.

What scared her was his fever. It wasn’t that cold outside, yet he stayed frigid to the touch despite being wrapped in blankets, and within two hours he became too lethargic to eat or drink.

Then he threw up and kept throwing up. Nothing stayed down, not even water.

Jack told Wendy to call an ambulance. Black happened to be driving that early morning when he got the alert, and he rushed the child to the Koopa City Central Hospital.

Black took over posting about the toddler from the hospital, hoping somebody out there might be able to identify him.

Doctors finally got the filthy diaper off him, cleaned away the crusted feces on his vent and discovered his genitals were lacerated as if someone forced an object into his cloaca at some point. He had a urinary tract infection so severe he urinated blood and pus.

X-rays of his spine showed his vertebral ridges were fully withdrawn, so doctors knew he was two years old. He had bone abnormalities in his arms and legs, giving them a slightly bowed appearance, and his shell showed signs of pyramiding around the spikes.

He wasn’t fed proper, nutritious food once in his short life until Jack gave him Meat-Meal.

Over the next several hours, doctors established the little boy was non-speaking autistic, dehydrated, malnourished, and acutely sick. They got him on IV fluids and antibiotics in time to avoid sepsis.

The next day, nurses endured the boy’s panicked screams while bathing him and putting on a clean diaper.

Junior kept scrolling, expecting to find a brown Koopa similar to Morton, so he got a surprise in the post-bath photos.

The boy had albinism, something extremely rare in Koopas. Those translucent pink eyes of his? Perfectly normal, no infection in them whatsoever. He looked like an alabaster sculpture with his glossy white scales, white snout, white spiked shell, white hair that fell in waves framing his face, and nearly white mucous membranes. Three buck teeth poked out from under his upper lip like tusks. When he closed his mouth, his teeth reminded Junior of one of Cherry’s hair clips.

The urinary tract infection made urinating so painful that the boy shrieked every time he wet his diaper. He never seemed aware of an urge to go, so the sudden shocks of pain sent him screaming. It turned out he had an extremely inflamed, distended bladder. Doctors sedated him and inserted a catheter. Three liters of purulent urine came out of his body. If that wasn’t enough, he started fecal vomiting because he developed a bowel impaction, and required enemas to clear it. He was

sick.

The kid made the news— they called him Baby X for lack of a name.

Black visited Baby X every day after work, just to give him a familiar face in the sea of strangers. He mentioned how much he hated seeing the poor kid go through all the scary, invasive tests when he felt so horrible.

It took two months to get Baby X healthy again.

Black kept stopping in to see him, always timing his visits to mealtimes so he could feed the child. The boy wasn’t capable of feeding himself, so Black fed him. Baby X gobbled up anything offered like he feared it being taken away. He began to associate Black with food and safety.

No parents came forward, and there were no records of the little boy anywhere in any systems.

Black told Ludwig about his visits to Baby X. Ludwig went with Black to see him, fed him Meat Meal and gave him a soft gray blanket to curl up with. He fell immediately in love and asked for adoption papers.

Two weeks later, Baby X had two loving dads and a name: Wolfgang Amadeus Koopason.

Wolfgang was an enormous child, and his wide hands and feet suggested he would grow up to be bigger than Morton.

Visitors other than Lemmy weren’t allowed for almost a year, because Wolfgang panicked around strangers, especially women. At first, Wolfgang was

violently

aggressive. He bit, punched, scratched, cried and screamed to communicate that he wanted something. Changing his diapers was a nightmare.

The sound of him screaming didn’t bother Ludwig or Black since they couldn’t hear it, but they hated how distressed he became. Black cried about it a few times.

What kind of asshole hurts a child this way?
He sent in a mass text at five in the morning once.

Ludwig took photos of gashes in his arm where he got bit. Black had to clean them and close them with surgical glue.

Wolfgang was a severely traumatized little boy. It took a year of patience, love and tenderness before he so much as

began

to trust Ludwig and Black to meet his needs without screaming or distress.

Nobody knew exactly when his hatch-day was, so Black and Ludwig opted to celebrate it on the early winter date Wendy found him. Black baked him a cake, and Ludwig played music. The photos of him smashing orange frosting onto his snout made a few rounds among the family.

Proper food straightened out his bones and the pyramiding in his shell went away. His thick arms and legs looked so much better without their joints trying to burst through his scales.

He let Ludwig and Black hold him for the first time six months after being brought to their home. They caught the moment on video— and they both cried as they signed to him how much they loved him. The next six months grew easier.

Ludwig posted photos of Wolfgang sitting in his lap at the piano, just like he sat in Bowser’s lap as a child. The kid loved pressing two keys at a time, as if he sought out the notes that loved each other.

Black posted several photos of himself teaching Wolfgang how to check a pulse. He had a hilarious video showing him trying to use a blood pressure cuff on his own leg.

Wolfgang learned to communicate via Koopa Sign, PECS cards and his tablet. The most important PECS card was the red one showing a X with UNSAFE written across it in bold letters. Anytime he got scared, he could pull out that card and Ludwig or Black stopped whatever they were doing until he felt safe again.

Amazingly, he recognized his parents were deaf right away. He showed them his tablet screen after he typed instead of pressing the talk button, something he didn’t do around hearing people.

Black and Ludwig began exposing him to things— they took him to the beach, where Ludwig walked him in the surf and Black placed shells in his hands. He lined them up in neat rows according to size.

They showed him sunsets, and gave him toys, and taught him that they weren’t there to hurt him.

Ludwig set up a tablet where Wolfgang got to meet all his aunts and uncles via video chat first. They talked to him while he sucked his thumb or spun his toys on the floor. He slowly acclimated to their voices and faces, and began looking at the tablet when they talked to him.

Junior read a Peter Piranha book each time it was his turn to video chat with Wolfgang. He did a pretty decent job making up voices, though he wasn’t as good at it as his dad.

Jack was the first person to visit Wolfgang in person. Ludwig attached clear braille labels to the PECs cards. Wolfgang picked up on how Jack touched them to read. He held them up for other people, but he placed them in Jack’s hands. If he signed, he pressed his hand to Jack’s while doing it.

Black invited people over one at a time to meet Wolfgang, because a big gathering would be too much for him.

Wendy’s visit went surprisingly well. Wolfgang didn’t attack her. He snatched the glitter tube she brought for him, but he stayed beyond touch range. That sounded like a good start.

Morton took Aretha and sat her back to back with Wolfgang.

Wolfgang smiled as he lined up his colorful blocks while Aretha piled hers up haphazardly. She turned to look at him. He sucked his thumb, still gazing at his blocks.

Morton got a great picture of them sitting together. Aretha, tiny and delicate, with hulking, broad Wolfgang.

His caption:

Melanism and albinism in one shot! Two perfectly cute kids! What are the odds?

Junior was the last to meet the little fella— his duties as king delayed the visit longer than he intended.

But he made it.

Morning sunlight glowed through the rectangular window over the kitchen sink to illuminate Ludwig’s and Black’s wedding photo on living the wall above the couch. They kept the same photo in their bedroom, too.

Ludwig’s penthouse had many windows, all tinted and tilted just so to keep the sun from shining directly in anyones’ faces, and the entire south wall of the living room was a sliding glass door leading onto the fenced-in rooftop. The huge balcony boasted a small lawn, swingset, and stone furniture next to a covered fire pit. Junior always got a chuckle at the white egg chair on a spring designed for rocking.

Cherry sat in the painted blue living room, chatting it up with Ludwig and Black while Junior tiptoed into the back bedroom.

Wolfgang’s bedroom walls were soft midnight blue and the space decked out like a sensory room. LED strings, gentle dim lights, colorful toys, weighted blankets and sturdy chewable tubes capable of withstanding Koopa jaws. A glittery yellow star night light was plugged into an outlet above the light switch next to the door.

Junior remembered Ludwig talking about being afraid of the dark as a toddler, and how Bowser gave him that night light to help him feel safe. He smiled at seeing its legacy carried on. His dad’s love popped up in unexpected ways.

The brightest light source was the tablet sitting across the toy grand piano. Its screen displayed a lurid assortment of large icons and words.

Junior could tell Ludwig and Black bought everything from Lemmy’s online stimming supplies store and decorated the room to look as far from a hospital as possible.

The bed resembled a tan cave made of mesh pillow material, just the right size for a Koopa child to crawl in and feel hidden while still able to be seen by his parents.

Wolfgang sat on the floor, tapping at a toy piano with two chubby fingers tipped in sharp claws. A green chew tube stuck out of both sides of his mouth, the rest of its length hung draped across the back of his neck, and his thick legs poked out through a pair of what appeared to be dark orange swim trunks.

He

was

a huge kid, already taller and broader than Lemmy at only three years old, and he looked ghostly in the dimly lit room. Thick, deep red silicone bands were wrapped around his wrists, their color standing out against his white scales. His fine, feathery white hair fell around his face and the back of his head, and those bushy white eyebrows of his would give old Captain Capaldi some staunch competition.

Something Ludwig’s photos didn’t show— horns. They were stubs barely visible behind his twin waterfalls of hair, but he was destined to have a magnificent pair of horns by adulthood.

Wolfgang’s pink eyes flicked Junior’s way for a split second. Junior sat on the floor by the pale Koopa child, watching him play.

Wolfgang started to rock back and forth, tail twitching against the brown carpet as he rubbed his claws swiftly up and down his plastron.

“Hi, Wolfgang,” Junior said, keeping his voice soft.

The boy’s hands continued their journey, claws clacking against his plastron without damaging it. His tail thumped an arcane rhythm as the tip swung to and fro.

Junior tried turning to the side and spoke again, “I’m Junior. Ludwig is my big brother. Remember me?”

At Ludwig’s name, Wolfgang touched the thumb of his open hand to his forehead and hooked his fingers near the side of his head.

Junior mimicked the gesture. “Is that what you named him? What about Black?”

Grunting, Wolfgang signed

dad

again and cupped his bicep.

“Ohh, I see!” Junior copied him again. He grinned, careful not to make direct eye contact. “Your dads love you.”

Wolfgang grunted like he knew and tapped the middle C key.

Junior tapped middle C twice. He wasn’t a pianist, but he knew how to read music and find his way around the piano keys.

Wolfgang played E, so Junior did, too. He groaned low in his throat, brought his hands down to roll a stunning C minor chord, followed it with F major and transitioned to A minor. There was a budding musician in that brain of his.

Junior played the A minor chord wrong on purpose. Wolfgang growled as he tugged his thumb into the correct position and shoved his hand down as if telling him to get it right.

“Oops! I’m sorry, I did it wrong.” Junior played it correctly to show his ‘lesson’ was learned. “My dad used to play piano. He taught Ludwig how. Now it looks like Ludwig is teaching you how.”

Wolfgang gripped Junior’s wrist, pushed his spiked wristband up an inch and pressed two fingers over his pulse. His fluffy white eyebrows flicked up and down.

He swiped through the icons on his tablet to tap one.

“Doctor. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.” The tablet gave him a perfect little boy voice.

“Nope, I’m not a doctor.” Junior shook his head. “My brother Larry is a doctor.”

Wolfgang pulled his hand to the tablet.

Junior pieced slowly through the icons until he found the right one to identify himself.

“Uncle.”

Wolfgang touched two icons. “King. Uncle. King. Uncle.”

Junior nodded. “Yes, I’m both.”

“No!” Wolfgang pinched his fingers together. He signed it snappily, the way Ludwig did when irritated. His tail thudded on the floor as he fiddled with his tablet screen.

“King. Me. Me. Me. King. King. King. Me. King.”

“Ohhhh.” Junior stood up and bowed. “You want to be king? You are the king! King Wolfgang.”

Wolfgang rocked back, jumped up and stomped around his room, screeching and flapping his hands. He spat out his chewy tube as he barreled into Junior’s lap.

“King Wolfgang,” Wolfgang signed. His sign name was three fingers moving down near his mouth, symbolizing his three tusk-like front teeth.

Black poked his head in since Wolfgang’s jog shook the floor enough to warrant a check-in.

“What are you doing?” He signed it informally by pinching upward at the air with thumb and forefinger.

“I declared him king and he likes it.” Junior signed back, smiling. It was interesting trying to sign around an exuberantly flailing toddler who wanted to take his pulse again.

“Peh-peh-peh-peh?” Wolfgang waved and imitated the noise Black made to get peoples’ attention. When Black focused on him, he signed, “I, king.”

Black gave a sweeping bow. “Yes, king!”

Wolfgang signed something Junior didn’t catch.

Nodding, Black focused on Junior. “He wants his diaper changed. Can we have privacy?”

Wait, those shorts were diapers?

“Yes.” Junior signed back. Looking down at Wolfgang, he said, “Your daddy will change your diaper, okay? I’m going into the other room.”

Wolfgang wriggled to his feet.

The diapers were a brand called Runners, designed specifically for autistic Koopas of all ages. That explained why they resembled swimming shorts. Their cloth outer layer muffled the crinkly diaper noises and the Velcro tabs and the sides and over the tail opening blended into the fabric.

Wolfgang chose a purple one from the bag. He moved onto the dark red changing pad Black laid down and placed his hand on the standing mirror nearby.

Black looked up at Junior and signed, “He feels safe if he can see what I do. I think he was sexually abused by his mother or a woman caretaker. The UTI was a result of forceful object insertion.”

His eyes welled up as he talked about it. He paused, waving his hand to show he wasn’t done.

“Please keep it quiet. Ludwig will tell Cherry about it so she doesn’t get hurt, but Wolfgang shouldn’t be known as the abandoned, abused autistic Baby X. Let him be Wolfgang, a son who is loved.”

Junior’s jaw dropped. He flicked his hand past his snout to express his shock. “Wow! Poor little guy! I hope he’s too young to remember what happened to him.”

Black lowered his head, gesturing. “We can’t know what he does and doesn’t remember. I made peace with knowing he may never tell us what happened. All I can do is love him and show him he is safe now.”

Wolfgang pushed the diaper insistently at Black. He laid on his belly on the pad and watched the mirror, trusting. A friable, painful trust.

Junior nodded in understanding and left, granting them privacy.

Ludwig and Cherry sat together on the dark blue canvas sofa, which was covered in silver throw pillows. The black lace on them looked like Roy’s bobbin work.

“…and that’s why we’re careful about bringing women over.”

“That’s incredible.” Cherry pressed her hands together, brow knit. “I read the whole ClawBook saga about him with Junior. Bringing him home had to be so hard at first.”

“It took months to establish communication with him. He only let Black near him at first, so Black did all the feeding, bathing and anything requiring touch. I stayed in the room for those things, to help him understand that I wasn’t there to hurt him. I worked up to holding his hand while Black did the work, and then we switched. Now I can touch him without him panicking. He seeks my touch, too, which is miraculous. I’m always grateful for it when he does that.”

Ludwig sighed, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. “The trauma he endured is beyond unconscionable. Lemmy had it hard as a kid, too, but not like that. Wolfgang is so young.”

He sat back on the couch, legs crossed and hands folded on his knee.

Cherry lowered her eyes. She licked her lips. “Has he tried to talk at all?”

“No, but he makes noises. Black and I keep offering him ways to communicate. We don’t care if he never utters a spoken word. Our priority is his ability to express himself, regardless of how it looks or sounds.”

She nodded in agreement. “Gosh, who would abandon a little kid like him?”

“A piece of shit,” Junior replied.

Black shouted, “Yo!”

Booming footsteps approached.

Ludwig swung his leg down and sat up straight. “Incoming.”

Wolfgang raced up the hall and thrust his hand towards Ludwig’s face. Ludwig caught his wrist, kissed his palm over and over and blew a raspberry on it like Bowser used to do to Lemmy’s belly. Wolfgang shrieked in delight. His laugh was an amazing sound, a cross between coughing and a camera shutter clicking.

“I, king!” He signed.

“Really?” Ludwig raised his eyebrows.

“King!” Wolfgang signed again.

“You are a mighty king.” Ludwig signed back before he kissed his other hand.

“Aw, I love his little teeth!” Cherry exclaimed, beaming. “Wolfgang, you’re so cute!”

Wolfgang gripped Cherry’s wrist, taking her pulse. His pale pink eyes searched her up and down. He cocked his head, as if he pulled information into one part of his brain and dumped it into another to make sense of it.

“Hello.” She cradled his hand, which was broader than hers. “I’m Cherry. I’m a human, that’s why I look different than everybody else.”

He sniffed her hand, patted it, signed

soft

and toddled off towards the kitchen. The wall next to the refrigerator had an assortment of cards stuck on it via Velcro.

Black smiled fondly from the hallway door, signing. “You are the first woman to not frighten him on sight.”

Junior interpreted for her.

“Maybe it’s because I’m not a Koopa.” Cherry said, which Junior interpreted for Black.

She clutched her chest and signed awkwardly. “He is beautiful.”

Black wiggled his fist up and down in agreement.

Wolfgang came back to the couch holding a card displaying a glass of orange juice. Ludwig pushed his glasses up on his snout and peered at it.

“Orange juice?” He nodded, signing as he spoke. “Yes. You can have orange juice.”

Ludwig followed Wolfgang back into the kitchen. He walked him slowly through each step of getting the carton out, pouring it into his red sippy cup with its two handles, snapping the lid on, closing the carton and putting it away again.

Wolfgang only approximated those steps by touching the items while Ludwig did the work, but he closed the fridge at the end and signed, “finish!”

Ludwig wiggled his hands in deaf applause and passed him the cup.

Wolfgang sat on the kitchen floor by the fridge to drink it. He kept looking at his feet and up at Cherry. Black casually stepped over him as he washed his hands in the sink and got down the pots for dinner.

Wolfgang passed him his sippy cup to wash after he finished his orange juice.

Ludwig tapped Black’s shoulder and signed, “What’s on the menu?”

“Meat pies. I mixed it with marrow.” Black signed back. He kissed his nose.

Over ten years married, and they still looked at each other like they did saying their vows.

Junior gazed at Cherry, watching her watch them. He blushed when she caught him. She giggled, running a hand over his hair.

“What’s on your mind, handsome?”

“You.” Junior smiled, taking her hand. “I love you.”

Her cheeks flushed. She kissed his nose and whispered in his ear, “I love you, too.”

Black invited them to stay for dinner, so they did. They all ate while Wolfgang played with a glitter tube on the floor by the refrigerator. Ludwig said he liked the sound of appliances humming.

Black cut Wolfgang’s pie up into mush to let it cool off. Then Ludwig sat on the floor in front of him and fed it to him one forkful at a time. Wolfgang rubbed his claws along his plastron while he chewed each bite.

It took Junior back in his memory, when Morton spoon fed Bowser Meat-Meal in intensive care. He remembered fearing his dad would never wake up past that minimally conscious state. But he did, and lived another nine years.

Watching Ludwig tenderly feed Wolfgang, and recalling how softly Morton cradled tiny Aretha to his chest, were testaments to the love Bower left behind.

“Finished!” Ludwig signed after the last bite.

“Finished!” Wolfgang signed back.

“Where does the plate go?”

Wolfgang put it on the table, stopped, thought better of it and took it to the sink where Black washed dishes.

“Good job!” Black signed with gusto. He high-foured him and ruffled his feathery white hair.

Wolfgang rubbed his plastron at light speed, signaling his joy.

After dinner, Junior watched Cherry laugh herself silly as Black crawled around on the floor with Wolfgang sitting on his shell.

“I love seeing him be a dad,” Ludwig murmured. “First time I thought of the possibility was when you were ten and ‘terping between him and Cherry. He’s so good with kids.”

“I remember that,” Cherry turned her smile onto Ludwig, then Junior. “Do you?”

Junior kissed her as he replied, “Yeah.”

She giggled, covering her face, “Oh, gosh, I just remembered! I had you convinced that I asked Black if you were stinky!”

He laughed with her, “I remember that. You called me stinky!”

“Yes! But it was to cover up that I called you cute. I asked Bowser how to sign ‘cute’, and I told Black you’re cute.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Ludwig smiled deviously, tilting his head down and looking up at him from beneath his blue eyebrows.

“I saw the whole thing and understood dad’s plan.”

Cherry wrapped her arms around Junior’s bicep and gazed up at him in total adoration. “Plan or not, I liked him already.”

Junior waggled his eyebrows at her and nodded his head towards Black. “You know what it’s like to marry your crush, right, Ludwig?”

“Oh, yes,” Ludwig smirked. “No regrets.”

Junior’s face heated when he nuzzled his nose into Cherry’s hair. “Same. Yeah, Cherry, the crush was mutual.”

Next to them, Black retracted into his shell while Wolfgang banged on it like a bongo. Ludwig pointed, laughed and grabbed his phone to take video.

.o

Soft pen scraping stirred Cherry awake at two in the morning. Junior’s desk light was on, most of it blocked by his huge, spiked shell. Koopa necks bent at angles humans only dreamed of, so from her perspective he appeared to not have a head.

She relaxed on her side, studying how his reddish-orange hair cascaded along the top of his shell like a waterfall.

“What’re you doing?” She yawned.

He startled, glancing over his shoulder. “Boom-Boom keeps bugging me to design my royal collar, so I am.”

“At two in the morning?”

“I woke up with the idea. Didn’t want to lose it.”

Cherry got out of bed, her dark hair messily sticking out every which way. She peered over his shoulder at his doodle.

Junior was as inclined to drawing as Ludwig was to music. He had a knack for art, yet rarely showed it off.

“What’s the red one?” Cherry pointed to a separate piece of paper.

“Oh, I’m sending that to Lemmy to make. It’s a little present for Wolfgang.”

She studied it, grinned and scratched her fingernails along his shoulders in delight. “He’ll love it! What about yours?”

He showed it to her, and her smile grew.

“Oh, Junior, that is so

you.”

.o

Lemmy completed the adjustable collar in two weeks. All silicone, even the gray spikes, and the back had a quick-release buckle. Junior asked for dark red to match Wolfgang’s wristbands. Silver letters outlined in black were arranged between each spike to spell out KING WOLFGANG.

Ludwig arranged the visit for an early morning, and Junior showed up via warp zone carrying the collar on a velvet purple cushion.

“You’re going all-out.” Ludwig grinned at the collar, his eyes sparkling in delight.

“This is

the

coronation cushion, too, they don’t know I took it.”

“You sneak.” Ludwig closed the front door against the chilly morning air.

Junior winked. “He’s worth it.”

Wolfgang was draped across a multicolored bean bag chair in the middle of the floor with his tablet nearby. His black ‘trunks’ had yellow cartoon star and planet designs. He sucked his thumb as he watched Ludwig’s phone, which displayed Bowser reading

Peter Piranha Gets A Boo-Boo.

Junior’s expression softened at hearing his dad’s voice, and he almost shed a tear when Wolfgang hummed at the goofy high-pitched voice he did for Peter Piranha’s dialogue.

Ludwig let the video finish before he knelt to pat the top of Wolfgang’s shell. “Junior is here.”

No visible reaction. Junior had enough experience with Lemmy to know that didn’t mean a lack of attention.

“He had a bad night last night,” Ludwig signed as he sat on the couch.

“What happened?” Junior furrowed his brow.

“A string of meltdowns. I’m not sure what triggered them.” Ludwig yawned as he signed. “Black sent me to bed and took care of him and had him calm by around five o’clock, and then I took over. Wolfgang freaked out anytime he was left alone.”

“Geez, poor kid! But, wait, isn’t Black supposed to be on duty?” Junior raised his eyebrows.

Ludwig reached for his rainbow coffee mug. The same one he always had, with the bold black text on the side that read,

I can’t hear you over the sound of how fucking gay I am.

He sipped, signing one-handed, “Black was up with Wolfgang all night and knew his driving abilities were compromised, so he called out today. His employers followed the news stories, so they respect our situation.”

Pausing, he took another sip and added, “Being deaf and living in this penthouse works to our advantage. This little guy’s screaming can’t hurt our ears and there’s ten feet of concrete between us and the neighbors below.”

He slurped a third sip before setting the mug down and using both hands to sign again. “Sometimes I wonder if his biological parents went through the kind of nights we did and thought abandoning him in the wilderness was the answer. Fucking horrible people.”

He signed what translated into

fucking horrible

with such emphasis that his claws scraped loudly against each other and his knuckle bones made an audible clack.

“It was their loss, your gain,” Junior signed back, jaw clenched to show he matched the anger. He brightened his expression, a change of tone to something calm and loving. “Now Wolfgang is surrounded by people who will love him for who he is.”

“Yes!” Ludwig waved his fist emphatically.

Junior placed the cushion on the floor in Wolfgang’s line of sight and laid on his belly alongside him.

“Hi, Wolfgang. I brought a present.”

Wolfgang popped his head up and grasped the corner of the cushion. Junior noticed he soaked the world in through his peripheral vision first, the visual equivalent to dipping his toe in water to decide if the temperature was conducive to swimming or not.

He took his thumb out of his mouth, pushed Ludwig’s phone away and patted an icon on his tablet.

“King. King. I. King.”

“That’s right.” Junior tilted the collar up to show him the letters. “It says King Wolfgang, so everybody will know you’re king!”

Wolfgang maintained his grip on the velvet cushion when he sat up to rub his claws up and down his plastron chest.

Ludwig swiped his phone and slid onto the couch, surreptitiously recording.

Junior swung himself into a sitting position and unhooked the buckle holding the collar in a circle. He signed what he said, just to give the boy two modes of receiving information.

“Kings have to make a special promise, so we’ll make it together, okay?”

Wolfgang grunted and sucked his thumb again.

There were more than one oath, but Junior chose the one he found the most important.

“Do you promise to protect everybody you love with the fire in your belly and the blood in your veins?”

When Wolfgang squawked at him, he smiled, eyebrows raised, “You do? Me, too! Can I put this on you?”

He slipped the collar around his nephew’s neck and snapped the buckle together. It fit loose at its smallest size, and it would take him at least ten years to fully outgrow it.

“Then by the power vested in me, I declare you King Wolfgang Amadeus Koopason of the Koopa-Mushroom empire.”

Junior bent low in a sweeping bow, as did Ludwig.

Wolfgang rocked back and forth, flapping his hands in the air near his face. He tapped his tablet and signed with the same hand.

“King. King. I. King.”

His pink eyes squinted as he screeched at the top of his lungs.

Junior was the only one who could hear it. He let out a shriek of his own and imitated Wolfgang’s hand flapping.

“You did it! You’re a king!”

Wolfgang launched himself into Junior’s lap. Junior rocked back at having seventy pounds of Koopa toddler land on him. He brushed Wolfgang’s feathery-soft white hair backwards off his face and kissed his forehead.

“This kid has an amazing set of eyebrows. Yeah, Wolfgang, your eyebrows are awesome.”

“Everything about him is adorable.” Ludwig switched his phone off and moved his glasses to wipe his eyes.

Sobering, he said, “Dad had his first heart attack twenty years ago today.”

Junior blinked at how long ago that seemed.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. I ran you upstairs to my room and taught you swear words in Koopa Sign while they worked on him.” Ludwig’s eyes lost focus. “You were so young, Junior.”

“So were you.” Junior let Wolfgang climb off his lap and onto Ludwig’s.

Ludwig embraced his son against his chest and nuzzled their cheeks together. Bowser used to do that.

“Someday you’ll know how much I love you,” he murmured in Wolfgang’s ear. “My dad said it to me all the time when I was little. I had to meet you to understand what he meant.”

Wolfgang folded his legs against his stomach like pretzels. He sucked his thumb and stared into Ludwig’s eyes as if studying his soul.

Junior grabbed Ludwig’s phone, took a picture of them looking adoringly at each other and texted Black.

Hey sexy husband! Look how cute we are.

Ludwig fake-scowled. Junior smirked.

“That’s for texting Cherry.”

“I forgot about that.” Ludwig chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s been a wild time since your wedding. Sometimes I can’t keep it straight in my head.”

“You’re gay, there’s nothing to keep straight.”

“You speak ancient truths, little brother.”

The phone vibrated. Black replied with several winking emojis,
Yes, our son is very cute, but you are an irresistible DILF.

Junior howled in laughter. He would’ve played keep-away with the phone if Ludwig didn’t have Wolfgang calm in his lap. Instead, he put the phone back on the couch and tried desperately to get a lid on his mellifluous mirth.

Ludwig checked his phone, smirked at Junior and put it down. “And you’re supposedly the king of two lands, you brat.”

Wolfgang signed, “I, king! More king!”

Black walked out with rumpled hair at that exact moment. Junior’s feeble self-control failed, and he laughed so hard he snorted.

“What happened to him?” Black signed to Ludwig.

Ludwig showed him the texts, signing one-handed. “He sent that, and you answered thinking it was me.”

“DILF!” Junior finger spelled.

Black snickered, swiped the coronation cushion off the floor and dropped it on Junior’s snorting, guffawing face.

“Your majesty, you are a bastard,” he gestured, waving the cushion threateningly.

Junior signed in a series of twitches, “You’re hitting me with the official coronation pillow!”

Black’s face morphed into something between horror and hilarity. He settled on hilarity, and bonked Junior with the cushion again.

“Good, maybe it’ll knock the royal sense into you.”

“I doubt it. Getting married didn’t help, he’s a lost cause,” Ludwig signed over Wolfgang’s head.

They cracked up together, with Wolfgang looking around at them as if they lost their minds.

.o

Exactly one year later, Junior brought Cherry with him for his five year Crash checkup. His heart fully matured, so it was time to ascertain whether or not the stents placed after his tenth hatch-day dissolved and fulfilled their purpose.

That morning, he did something he never did before— he ate a few bites of ash toast before his appointment. Surely that wouldn’t be a problem! It stopped the hungry gurgling in his stomach. Nobody had to know, right?

Neil introduced a young Koopa Troopa named Billie, who would replace him as the castle cardiologist after he retired. Billie was a sprightly young lady who wore brown boots and gloves, and had an orange scarf draped around her neck. Her prosthetic shell boasted a shiny brick red finish decorated with a subtle orange marble pattern.

She pointed to Freddie and Elton as they giggled their way past the office door, and Junior noticed her gold wedding band.

“You’ve got some strange fruit growing around here.”

“Darling, we know you love us!” Freddie peeked in.

“Don’t make me tie you down.” Billie teased back.

“We can fly,” Elton winked, “So good luck.”

“Scram! I’m working.”

The three of them laughed. Neil facepalmed in the background.

Cherry covered a snicker with her hand. “Is it always like this?”

“It’s worse.” Neil grumbled good-naturedly.

“We’re like family here,” Junior told her.

Billie’s phone chirped.

“Sorry!” She checked it and her eyes softened. “It’s Vanessa. Mind if I brag to her for a minute?”

“Go ahead.” Junior gave Neil a look that stopped him from protesting.

Billie swiped and answered. “Hi, babe. I’m shadowing Neil on a patient right now. You’ll never believe who it is.”

She smiled after a moment. “The king.”

The response was so loud Junior heard it. He laughed heartily.

Billie grinned. She had a charming gap between her front teeth. “I’ll see you to— oh, yes, I love it when you save the best for last, sweetheart. Love you, too. Bye.”

Pink rose into her cheeks as she tucked her phone away. She wiggled her wedding ring finger. “My wife. So, shall we commence?”

Junior laid back for the lengthy echocardiogram— his valves all functioned as they should, none were stenosed and the mitral stopped prolapsing— and he braced himself to get poked before the angiogram.

Judy did his needle sticks, so they barely hurt.

“Hey, Judy?” Junior asked as the sedative kicked in.

“Yes, sire?”

“Will you do my blood poke for the coronation goblet?”

“I’ll be honored.” She pressed his hand.

Like everyone else, age reached her, too. She walked slower, her spine more stooped over.

Cherry laid on the gurney and held Junior all the way to the doors of the cath lab. He remembered the times he climbed onto the gurney to hug his dad. A lump welled in his throat at the memories flooding through him.

He said, “I sat there when dad had his heart attacks.”

She stroked his hair when he teared up. It was in a topknot— she did it for him to make it easier to contain in a sterile cap later.

“It’ll be okay, Junior.”

Junior kissed her. He took her tiny hand in his huge one and rested it over his heart.

“I know. Just…dad was alive the last time I had this done. There’s a lot of bad memories here. Great people, bad memories. Kinda sucks, huh?”

“Yeah, but you’re a tough guy and you’ll get through this.” Cherry hugged him tighter, her soft skin like rose petals against his side. “I love you.”

He breathed in the cherry scent of her hair. “I love you, too.”

She pressed her lips to the side of his head near his horn. “Here’s something to think about. Next time, you’ll do this in the new castle. It won’t be the same place where your dad went through all this.”

The thought comforted him more than she would ever know, and that steel trap brain of hers was one more wonderful thing he loved about her.

They were moving out in a month. Out into the completed castle Bowser started on the border between the Darklands and the Mushroom kingdoms. He toured it two weeks ago, marveling at the ingenuity of two kingdoms blending their architecture. A true fusion.

All children left the nest eventually. Junior was the last one.

The gurney stopped rolling by the double silver doors.

“It’s time to go, your highness,” Billie said gently.

Junior nodded, kissing Cherry one more time before she had to climb down. Cherry, with her big nose, freckles, dark hair, beautiful blue eyes and her caring, sweet heart.

He smiled to look brave.

The doors swung with a decisive whump.

After that, things were fuzzy. Junior remembered sniffling when he thought he was alone.

“Aw, hon, what is it?” Billie’s voice spoke from across the room.

“Just missing my dad,” Junior’s voice cracked.

She wasn’t scrubbed in yet, so she came up to the gurney and patted his hand. Her eyes were gentle and reassuring.

“Grief is like standing in the surf when a giant wave knocks you off your feet. You get rolled around, scraping across rocks and don’t know which way is up.”

“Yup,” Junior wiped at his eyes with his thumbs. “Sure feels like it.”

She offered him a handful of tissues pulled from somewhere behind the head of the gurney. “The waves don’t get smaller. We get better at watching for them, and we get better at bracing ourselves when they hit. But the big ones that slam us by surprise stink, don’t they?”

“Sure do. This one beat me up pretty good.” Junior gratefully dabbed his eyes. “I’ll be okay.”

Her hand withdrew. There was a smile in her voice. “All right, hon. I’ll scrub in and see you in a bit.”

“Hey! Hold on, one question.”

“Eh?”

“What does Vanessa do?”

Billie smiled, “She’s an accountant.”

“Nice!”

Thirty minutes later, the shadow of Junior’s heart beat on the screen as Billie manipulated the catheter with Neil watching over her. Her soothing voice kept everyone calm.

Junior came out of his angiogram nauseated enough to ask for a puke bag. Cherry held his hand while he endured the queasy stomach.

“I nibbled two bites of toast,” he confessed. “Two bites, how is that making me so sick?”

“The meds affect digestion, that’s why,” Celine said. “Sit tight, I’ll help.”

She brought him Piranha leaf tea steaming in a mug. Walking became too painful for her over the years. She zoomed around in a motorized wheelchair similar to Scott’s, except she could press a button to transform it into a standing frame.

“So, you thought sneaking toast was going to be fine?” Celine eyed him suspiciously while he sipped his tea. “Hmph. I’m six whole inches taller in this thing, so don’t make me pop you in the nose for misbehaving.”

“I learned by watching my dad.” Junior grinned, eyes softening.

“He was a terrible teacher.”

“I know. Hey, didn’t you and Pat just have your anniversary?”

“Mmhmm.” Celine fiddled with her gold locket. “Fifty-three years!”

She pulled the heart shape open to reveal herself and Pat— much younger, and wearing crowns of white baby’s breath blossoms— kissing tenderly at their wedding as rainbow confetti rained down.

“Wow!” Cherry eyed Junior, “We have a lot to live up to, don’t we?”

Celine pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “The secret is don’t kill each other.”

They giggled.

She focused on Junior next. “I’ll be retired by the time you move, but I’ll come to the coronation. I had to be here for this checkup.”

Junior held her tiny four-fingered hand. “Celine, you’re the best.”

A day later, Junior learned the stents put in when he was ten widened his main coronary arteries enough to be nearly indistinguishable from a non-Crash heart. They dissolved completely, leaving behind a proliferation of extra coronary blood vessels.

All he had to worry about was the sclerosis later. There were already drugs on the market to help combat it thanks to Larry’s research. If he developed dilated cardiomyopathy, it would be very late in life.

“We did it.” Neil handed his tablet over to Billie. “Sire, meet your new cardiologist. You’re my final patient.”

That explained why all his diplomas were replaced by nails inside faint rectangular outlines in the blue-gray wallpaper. The desk held new knickknacks, like a pink heart-shaped lamp in the corner.

A temporary setup, since her true office would be in Junior’s new castle.

Junior blinked back tears when he looked down at Neil.

Doctor Neil, with his red shell, red platform boots and tired, hopeful eyes. He extended his hand for a handshake. Junior accepted it. The hand he held seemed tinier than Aretha’s when he grasped it. That hand wielded the scalpels and catheters that kept his dad’s heart beating for over a decade, and that same hand removed it from his body after it stopped forever.

“Thank you, Neil, for everything.” Those were paltry words and he knew it. Junior glanced at Billie, “You only pick the best.”

Billie’s face lit up in a brilliant smile.

Neil gestured to the heart-shaped lamp. “Billie, turn on your heart light. This is your office now.”

She did. It made a happy glow for all the world to see.

Junior opened the door to leave the office and almost crashed into Josh, who just raised his thermos to drink.

“Oof!” Josh coughed as he leapt backwards. “Sorry, your majesty!”

He knocked into Stevie, who dropped a Manila folder. Papers splashed across the floor.

“Watch it!” She snapped.

Josh chased after the papers. “My bad.”

Cherry knelt to help him arrange the pages back into order. “I drop papers like this all the time, I’m a pro at sort— oh! It’s Junior’s medical file. This’ll be easy!”

Stevie sighed, adjusting her blue shawl. “It’s been a morning. How are you?”

Junior grinned, all teeth, “I’m gonna live a long life.”

Her face lit up. “Best news I heard all day!”

.o

“It’s like a bandage. I just have to do it.”

“You sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah.”

Cherry stood in the doorway while Junior, his tail still bandaged from the angiogram a week ago, opened the bottom drawer of Bowser’s dresser. The first things he pulled out were plastic bags labeled with his siblings’ names. Their contents looked like a bunch of scales.

“Our first molts.” Junior murmured, turning the bags over in his hands. “Shell plates and body scales.”

“Gosh.” Cherry held Junior’s bag up next to his back. The shell scales were smaller than his spikes now. “You used to be so tiny.”

He grinned roguishly in that specifically

Junior

way, making her heart turn over. No matter how much he grew up, his troublemaker smile never changed.

“Hey, so were you, and you still are.”

“Compared to you, maybe.” She giggled, giving him the bag back.

Next, papers drawn on in crayons. Pictures of Bowser lying on a gray bed with lines scribbled around him representing ventilator tubes, IVs and ECG leads. He was positioned differently in each one, with nurses tending to him.

Cherry recognized each nurse by their shells. Especially Elton, since Junior drew on his wild tinted glasses and wings.

Junior’s eyes softened and teared up. “I was four when I did these. This was after his first heart attack. I didn't know dad kept them.”

Cherry found a stray picture under the rest and pulled it out. “What’s this one?”

“Ack!” Junior swiped it and turned it facedown, red-faced.

“Junior!” She laughed, “What is it?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Even better.”

“Ugh.”

Junior let her look. It was the moment he handed her a yellow tulip. He gave her a round nose like Mario’s and used a pen to add her freckles.

The red flush on his cheeks spread to his whole snout. “I, um, I always liked your nose.”

“Me, too, I can use it to drill people who annoy me.” Cherry poked the tip of her nose, giggled and hugged his arm. “You’re being adorable.”

Junior twisted his head around to kiss the end of her nose. She gave his topknot ponytail a little tug and nuzzled her face against his cheek.

“Can I keep this?”

“Sure.” He passed her the sheet.

Cherry set it on the dresser to grab later.

She sifted through hangers while she checked the closet. The best man tux was hung up in a clear bag, but a black bag caught her eye. When she unzipped it, she beheld a white and purple satin tuxedo with sequins on the lapels.

“Hm.” Cherry zipped the tuxedo back into its bag and put both in the white chest under the window.

There were other clothing items in there, mostly sports jerseys. Bowser’s shoes were massive. He wore the same shoe size as Junior.

Cherry reached for the paintings of Bowser’s kids as babies, wrapped them carefully in tissue paper and placed them in a smaller brown chest by the bed.

Bit by bit, Bowser’s bedroom disappeared.

“Huh, he still has an old MP3 player.” Junior closed a drawer and tucked the earbuds into his auricles. “It plays. There’s music.”

The device looked like a small silver cylinder with buttons on the top and bottom. He clicked through a bunch of files— Bowser was horrible about naming them— and stopped on one simply titled

SWOTR.

Within seconds, his eyes glistened with tears.

“Cherry.” Junior said.

She took the gold earbud he held out. It wouldn’t fit in her ear, so she held it against her head like a phone.

Junior restarted the song from the beginning.

It was Bowser singing

Somewhere Over The Rainbow.

He sang it so tenderly, like he wanted his raspy deep voice to exude the love he felt for his children.

“I almost forgot what his singing sounded like,” Junior sniffled, wiping his palms across his face. “He never played or sang a single note again after Peach died.”

Cherry laid her head on Junior’s shoulder and smiled despite the lump aching in her throat. “Maybe he’s singing to mom right now.”

“I hope so.” His huge hand enveloped hers in warmth. “I miss him, Cherry.”

Bowser’s absence loomed in the room like a vacuum pulling everything towards it.

“Me, too.” She pressed her palm against the pad of his thumb.

The grief wave ran them both over, throwing them against the rocks. They gave in to it and had a good, long cry together.

.o

Moving was as chaotic as one expected. Junior got a good laugh watching tiny, two year old Aretha attempt to pull on a box twice her size. She tried so hard she had an accident. Her horrified wide eyes made it even funnier. The poor kid ran wailing towards the hallway bathroom right behind her.

Larry came through, slipped on the turd and almost fell face-first onto the floor. The boxes full of linens in his arms went flying. He stumbled into the wall, looked at the brown smear on the ground, eyed his foot and groaned.

“Well, crap,” Junior guffawed.

“Very funny.” Larry wiped his foot on the floor, smearing it more.

Aretha bolted out of the hall bathroom. “Uncle Larry! I boo-booed!”

“I noticed.” Larry scooped up the box he dropped, put everything that fell out back in and set it among the chests on the wagon nearby.

Junior scrambled across Cherry’s path when she strolled in holding two canvas bags.

“Uhh, watch where you walk.”

“Oh, sure, you’ll warn

her,”

Larry balked and folded his arms, only half-serious.

“Warn me about what?” Cherry craned her neck to peer around Junior as Aretha shoved a smaller box at the wagon. “What stinks in here?”

“Uh…” Junior grinned puckishly, “Larry pooped on the floor.”

Aretha burst out laughing. She had an adorable laugh, like flocks of birds.

Larry rolled his eyes.

Cherry wrinkled her nose. “I thought you farted.”

“Larry farted.” Junior said, utilizing his best straight face.

“What is this? Blame-me-for-everything day?” Larry flicked his tail.

“Yup. You have the kind of face that gets blamed for everything.”

“Asswipe.” He picked up the box Aretha struggled with, took the wagon by the handle and tugged it towards the elevator platform beside stairs.

“Oooh! You said a bad word!” Aretha shook her finger at Larry as he descended.

She ran back into the hall after he was out of sight.

Cherry shook her head and passed Junior the canvas bags. “I saved all our legal documents in one place. Oof, they’re heavy!”

“Whoa, thanks!” Junior accepted the bags without effort. She rescued him from hours of headaches and frustration.

He kissed her nose and placed those bags in the other wagon holding paper supplies, since they all went into the study.

She grinned and winked before grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess Aretha made.

Downstairs, Jack set a tall brown box in Scott’s lap.

“Hey!” Scott pushed his cream colored cowboy hat up off his forehead. “I can’t see where I’m going!”

“Oh, no, how tragic for you,” Jack added another box to Scott’s lap.

“No fair, you’re used to it! And can’t you see a little bit?”

“I was a high myopic. Now I have a blurry visual field the size of a straw, and it isn’t very useful unless it’s close up work.”

“Hmph.”

Scott backed his wheelchair up as Jack went to place a plastic crate atop the pile on his lap. The crate clattered onto the floor, spilling candles everywhere.

“I’m gonna tie your stumps together and hang you from the rafters,” Jack muttered.

“Stop hitting on me, Jack. I’m taken, and he’s cute.”

“Your mind is in the gutter.”

“You started it.”

Wendy passed through, pulling a wagon of crates. She gathered up the mess they made, took the box off Scott’s lap and added it to the pile on the wagon.

“Ugh! Boys are so stupid sometimes. I’ll take that.”

The wagon wheels squeaked as she resumed her warpath towards the temporary warp zone pipe built next to the front entrance.

“I love it when she gets mean,” Jack smirked.

Scott bonked him with his cowboy hat and pointed to more crates by the wall. “C’mon, let’s get that stuff over there loaded.”

“Right, just point to things I can’t see. Nice, Scott.”

Lemmy somersaulted out of the warp zone. “Guys, I found more of my balls in a sack!”

Scott snickered. Jack covered his mouth. Lemmy’s face went bright red. All three guffawed.

Faint giggling in the throne room caught Junior’s attention. When he went to peek, he found Wolfgang sitting on Bowser’s old throne, which was back in its original central location on the dais.

Wolfgang grew to be a hulking four year old who already took up half the throne seat. Next to him, Aretha looked absolutely tiny.

He sat sideways with his legs pretzeled around his tail in a way that only seemed comfortable for him. That day, he wore dark gray ‘trunks’ currently covered in crumbs.

Aretha laughed uproariously while she fed him crunchy ash banana chips from a ziplock baggie. He didn’t do anything if she put them in his hands, but he gobbled them up whenever she held one in front of his nose.

“All done!” Aretha clumsily signed

finish

after he ate the last chip.

Wolfgang went back to munching on his green chew tube and peering at the paintings of Bowser hung up around the room. The throne room was next on Junior’s list to clear out, but he decided it could wait a little longer.

Ludwig texted him asking if he saw Wolfgang. Junior sent back a photo of him content in Bowser’s throne with Aretha as a dark blurry shape running circles around him.

He went to Wendy to get his diaper changed. A first.
Ludwig’s next text read.

Junior grinned, replying with a smiley and thumbs up emoji.

He climbed the stairs and sat on the floor by the throne where he used to sit whenever Bowser occupied it.

“That’s your grandpa, you two.”

Aretha scaled Junior’s shell spikes to sit behind his head. “Daddy says he was funny.”

“Oh, yeah, he sure was!” Junior smiled with a lump in his throat.

“Did he burp super loud like my daddy?”

“He taught your daddy how to burp like that.”

“Really?”

“Yup!”

Abruptly, Wolfgang scooted off the throne, looked Junior in the eyes and threw himself against his chest in a tight embrace, like he knew this room bore unbearable sorrow.

“Thank you, Wolfgang.” Junior returned the hug. He kissed his nephew’s cheek. “My little king.”

Wolfgang only met the eyes of people he trusted. It was an honor to be welcomed into that circle.

“Aww, are you sad, uncle Junior?” Aretha peered upside down at him.

“A little bit.” Junior admitted, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

She spread out on his back, hugging his shell. “Daddy gets sad too. Why are you sad if somebody dies?”

Junior remembered looking down at her as an hour-old hatchling, knowing she knew nothing of grief or loss. There was no way to shield her from it forever.

“We get sad when people die because they can’t talk to us and be with us anymore. It hurts because we miss them, and we miss them because we love them.”

“How do you get better from it?” Aretha asked.

Kids. So innocent. Junior remembered being like that.

“It takes time,” he said, dabbing tears out of his eyes before they fell. “Like when you get an owie on your knee. It hurts real bad when you first scrape it, and it hurts less as it scabs over. But it gets better.”

“Owies hurt if you poke them.” Aretha pointed out.

“Mmhmm! You’re so smart.”

Grief worked like that, though it was more complicated than a simple wound, but he wasn’t about to blast the hopes of a toddler.

“Did grandpa fart really loud too? Daddy farts loud sometimes, it’s funny!”

“Oh, yeah! He knew how to make them echo, too!”

“Wow! He was neat, huh?”

“Yup.”

Junior gazed up at a painting of Bowser depicted in profile from the chest up, claws ready and teeth bared as he spat streams of fire from his jaws.

Wolfgang slapped his hands into Junior’s shoulders to get his attention, and signed.

“Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.”

He did that a lot, signing random things, but in this case his gestures carried the weight of time.

Junior was the present peering at the past while embraced from both sides by the future. He met Wolfgang’s pale pink eyes and nodded to show he understood.

“You’re right, Wolfgang.” He kissed his nephew’s brow.

Everybody had paracosms inside them. Wolfgang was really good at offering glimpses of his without explanation, leaving everyone else to reach their own conclusions. He expressed it because his two dads loved him until he felt safe doing so.

And Junior chose to see him as wise.

.o

Cherry laid her last dress with the rest in a purple chest and closed the lid. She got a text from Mario, confirming her mom’s official painting made it back to the Mushroom Castle where it belonged. Junior wanted to return it. Mario gratefully accepted, no questions asked.

Out in the hall, voices spoke over each other.

“Roy, where’s the wagon full of dishes?”

“Dunno, Lemmy, I thought you had ‘em.”

“Iggy said you did.”

“I said what?”

“I took that wagon.”

“There, see? Pom-Pom had them. Calm down!” Roy walked past the door. “Hey, Morton! Where’s the next load?”

Morton yanked the hall door open. “I’m taking a dump, do you mind?”

Roy snickered. “Close the door, you’re gonna kill us!”

“Ack!” Lemmy coughed. “Ew!”

The chatter died down.

Cherry giggled against her hand and passed Morton some PineForest air freshener. He only opened the door wide enough to take the can.

She almost ran headlong into Black when she turned to go back into the bedroom. Black gazed at her with raw affection softening his expression. For the first time she noticed the lines around his eyes and mouth, and she wondered where all the time went.

Black laughed his wheezy laugh, which deepened those lines. He kissed her cheek and continued on his way, both muscular arms carrying two brown trash bags holding something clunky.

Iggy rushed up the stairs and froze at the top, his left hand clutching his chest. One moment he stared into Cherry’s eyes, the next his face went blank and his pupils dilated like black holes.

“Iggy?” Cherry approached him, waving a hand by his face. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Iggy! Are you okay?”

Iggy didn’t respond to her voice nor her movements. He blinked rapidly, fingers wiping against his plastron the way Wolfgang did when he got excited.

The toilet flushed and Morton emerged, pulling the door shut behind him. Wisps of fecal matter and pine trailed behind.

Cherry looked over her shoulder. “Morton! Is this a seizure?”

Morton blinked, unruffled. “Yup. Set a timer on your phone.”

Iggy’s jaw worked in chewing motions. Strings of drool dribbled between his teeth. He breathed in loud, hissing snores.

“It’s okay, Iggster. Let’s go sit.” Morton took Iggy’s hand and slowly guided him to sit on the floor by the wall. Iggy followed like a marionette. Half his face contorted. He let out a low, creaky moan.

“We’re with you, Iggy.” Cherry rubbed his hand.

Morton stuffed his hand into Iggy’s shell by his shoulder, pulled out a chartreuse tube of something, twisted it open and squeezed the gel under his tongue.

He tossed the tube aside and turned to Cherry. “Rescue meds. They don’t stop this seizure, but they stop him from having more after. What’s your timer say?”

“Three minutes.”

“Okay. He’s not screaming, so he won’t TC on us, but he’s gonna look scary right about— here he goes.”

Iggy’s head twisted on his shoulders. His left arm jerked like he kept touching something hot and yanking his hand back. The croaking groan rising in his throat disturbed Cherry the most. It sounded painful.

“You’ll be okay.” She stroked his shoulder.

He shifted abruptly to lay on the floor with his chin on his folded hands. His eyelids fluttered behind his glasses.

“Time?” Morton asked.

“Four minutes thirty seconds.”

“He’s almost done.”

“How do you know he’s out of it?”

“He’ll use words again. Watch what happens if I try now. Hey Iggy? Who’s your niece?”

“Hm?” Iggy groaned.

“What’s your niece’s name?”

“Huh?”

“See?” Morton looked at Cherry.

Junior’s footsteps slapped up the stairs. “What’s up? Ooh, Iggy…”

“Focal seizure.” Morton said, still calm as ever. “He’s almost out of it now.”

Junior crouched by Iggy’s head and rubbed the side of his neck. “Aw, man, rough day, huh?”

“Hm?” Iggy sniffed. His pupils contracted to the right size for the ambient light.

“Iggy, who’s your niece?” Morton asked him again.

Blinking, Iggy licked his chops. “Aretha.”

“There you are.” Morton gestured at Cherry to stop the timer on her phone. “Hey, you had a focal seizure.”

“Oh.” Iggy rubbed his nose, sniffing. He grimaced as if something hurt.

Junior shifted from rubbing Iggy’s neck to cupping his shoulder in his palm. Iggy looked up at him through drooping, tired eyes.

“Uncle Iggy!” Aretha scrambled into the hallway. She looked like a shadow against the gray stone floor. “Did you fall?”

“Nope, sweetie pie. He had a seizure,” Morton told her gently. “Don’t crowd him. He doesn’t feel good right now.”

“Are we in the new castle yet?” Iggy mumbled.

Cherry laughed, more from relief than what he said. “Nope, not yet.”

“Sorry you had a seeder,” Aretha whispered in Iggy’s ear.

He giggled, baring his sharp teeth, and abruptly passed out asleep. Nobody acted alarmed, so Cherry assumed that was normal.

Aretha patted Iggy’s green plume of hair and kissed his cheek. “Daddy, he went sleepy-bye!”

“Uh-huh. Seizures make him tired.”

Junior picked Iggy up bridal style and carried him into what used to be his bedroom. The slab of a bed was still there, so he laid him prone with a pillow under his head. He took his glasses off for him and set them on the nightstand.

Cherry filled the water glass in the bathroom and placed it by his glasses for him to wake up to. He breathed deep, his sides heaving with each slow inhale.

“Let’s let him sleep,” whispered Junior.

They padded out, pulling the door shut.

“He had an angio a couple days ago.” Morton’s toe claws scraped on the stone floor. “They pump him full of Ativan before and it stops him from having TCs as soon as he comes out, but…well, he ends up having a focal a few days later anyway.”

“Why does that happen?” Cherry frowned.

“Beats me.” Morton shrugged, glancing between her and Junior. “I guess something in the dye shuts off his Depakote. It’s a body chemistry quirk of his, that doesn’t usually happen to people.”

“How’s your heart looking?” Junior asked him.

Morton winked an eye shut and grinned, flashing his big teeth. “Me? Everything checked out, so I’m good.”

They headed downstairs together.

Somebody went in every half hour to check on Iggy. Cherry refilled the water glass when she found he drank it between naps.

Iggy slept until dinnertime. When he came downstairs for the last meal everyone would share under this castle roof, the gathering tacitly brought the energy level down a few notches for his sake.

Cherry rushed over to hug Iggy when he appeared in the dining room doorway.

“You okay, Iggy?”

“Yeah. Tired, but I’m okay. TCs are worse.” Iggy smiled self-consciously, adjusting his glasses. “Hang on, you never saw me seize before?”

Cherry shook her head. “I guess it means your seizure control is pretty good.” She squinted one eye. “Can you hear what’s going on during those?”

“Uhh, probably? My memory of it gets wiped out, so I can’t say.” He returned the hug by patting her back. “What’s for dinner?”

Roy leaned out of the kitchen. “Birdo burgers and Cheep-Cheep strips! Black is cooking, I’m learning!”

“Black’s burgers are to die for,” Ludwig said as he sat next to Cherry.

Cherry took a breath at noticing a stray gray in his left eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind a copy of the recipe. I like to cook when the mood strikes.”

He fiddled with his phone and smiled. “I texted him to text you the recipe.”

Nodding, she tucked her loose hair behind her ears and leaned back in her seat. “It feels like a hundred years of stuff happened here.”

Ludwig’s gaze drifted across the room. “Growing up is eerie that way. I’m almost the age dad was when he had his first heart attack.”

Cherry eyed the head of the table where Bowser used to sit. Wolfgang and Aretha shared the chair, imbuing it with their nascent lives. They looked like the moon and night sky.

Junior breezed out of the kitchen bringing plates of burgers and fish strips served over rice and steamed vegetables. The alluring smell turned Cherry’s head.

Junior kissed her when setting her burger in front of her. He sat on her other side, his chair loudly scraping the stone floor.

Aretha picked delicately at her burger. Black wrapped Wolfgang’s hand around a fork and guided him through the motion of moving a bite of Cheep-Cheep to his mouth. Then he took over feeding him.

Wolfgang patted the table, signing, “King. Eat.”

Everybody laughed and took a turn feeding him bites of food, even Aretha.

Because they were a family, and that’s what families did.

.o

Junior followed Morton upstairs when he put Aretha to bed in his old bedroom. She liked to nest in blankets, so a pile waited on the bed for her.

“Before you settle in…hang on. Wait a sec. Lemme get it.”

Junior fished in a box for the plushie of Bowser Neil gave him after his second heart attack. It looked a little worn, and it was almost as big as Aretha when he held it out to her.

“Is it you, uncle Junior?” Aretha studied it, her tiny black claws squishing its limbs.

“No. It’s my dad. Your grandpa.” Junior knelt, getting eye level with her. “A lot of his love is stored up inside it.”

Her eyes widened, while Morton’s teared up. “Does that mean he feels me hug it?”

Junior glanced at Morton, smiled and nodded. “Yup, he can feel your hugs.”

Aretha clutched the Bowser plush tight to her chest, kissed its cheek and whispered, “I love you, grandpa.”

Morton sniffled. Junior patted his shell.

Sienna edged in and sat on the bed with Aretha. “What’cha got there, sweetie pie?”

Aretha turned the plush around. “Uncle Junior gave this to me. It’s grandpa!”

“Oh, my!”

“I can give him hugs now, mommy! Look!” Aretha squished it to her chest.

Junior slipped out in time to hear the crackle of a book opening. Morton and Sienna took turns reading

Peter Piranha Moves Pipes

to Aretha.

Smiling, Junior turned to find Scott in the middle of the hallway floor, shoving his wheelchair towards the wall. Every time the Hammer Brother pushed his wheelchair forward a foot, he tipped forward onto his belly. That did not look fun.

“Whoa, Scott! You okay?”

Scott scowled, thumping his leg stumps on the floor. “Yeah. The battery died. I’m trying to get to that outlet over there. Gimme a hand?”

Junior grasped the push handles and eased the chair backwards towards the wall outlet. Scott plugged it in via a thick retractable cord he pulled off the bottom. Red indicator lights by the joystick blinked to indicate his chair was charging.

“Thanks. It should be charged by morning.”

“Cool.”

“Scott!” Lemmy’s door swung open. “Coming to bed?”

Scott chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yup. Had some chair problems to work out first.”

Lemmy scooped him up, giggling. They exchanged a kiss.

“I’m not sleepy yet,” he whispered.

“Ooh, I can help you with that.” Scott nipped Lemmy’s cheek.

“Night, you two.” Junior pretended he didn’t hear the exchange.

A short while later, he was comfortably in bed with Cherry when he faintly heard Lemmy grunt. Moments later, Wendy sighed noisily.

Junior snickered. “Hey, Cherry?”

She nuzzled her lips against his neck. “You hear them, too?”

“Wanna be louder?”

“Is it a competition?”

He grinned wickedly in the darkness. “I’m about to make it one if you’re up for it.”

Cherry smirked and took her nightgown off. Junior doffed his shell before laying back. Something about letting her get on top elicited his loudest snarls.

They went for it, and they weren’t quiet.

When it was over, Larry shouted, “Geez, Junior, did she kill you, or did you kill her?”

“Yes!” Junior called back.

A few minutes later, Black and Ludwig started groaning, growling and grunting. They were either in the study or the downstairs bathroom, judging by the muffled nature of their noises, and they remained oblivious to how obvious it was.

“I think they win,” Cherry remarked loud enough for everybody to hear.

Laughter smattered through the halls.

.o

Nobody else occupied the castle.

Junior looked up, taking in the emptiness. His childhood home was as lifeless as his dad’s eyes after he died. Silent gray rooms echoed with decades of memories. Life, death, children, music, laughter, and tears lived in these walls.

He walked through the liminal space of his youth, his gaze absorbing the pale blotches where pictures and tapestries hung.

Bowser’s statues stayed, guarding corridors and doorways like ageless sentinels. How much did their scowling stone eyes witness?

Alone, swimming in memories, Junior took the elevator. Up to the battlements where he strolled along the ramparts between the crenellations. Medical staff brought his dad through here after his second heart attack. He could still hear the rattling wheels in his mind.

Above his head, volcano smoke curled. The roaring fans below ran tirelessly, controlling the heat and fumes. Lava powered them, so they were going to run until someone shut them off or the volcano dried up.

Junior returned indoors through Bowser’s bedroom entryway. It seemed massive without his dad’s bed taking up a quarter of the room.

This castle would be converted into a museum chronicling the lives of the royalty who lived in its walls.

Most children left their nests eventually. Junior wasn’t any different.

A conversation he had with his dad a long time ago flashed across his mind.

“I’m gonna cry if you die.”

“Yeah, you will, but then you’ll carry on living your life. All my love for you is gonna follow you around and smack you like a blue shell on a Kart track. It’s my job as your dad to set things up so you’ll have a great future after I go. You’ll miss me, yeah, but you’ll have a lot to look forward to, too.”

The castle destined to be home overlooked an enormous valley, and long term plans included a sprawling metropolis being built around the rivers within it. Maps were already laid out with streets named after Mario, Peach, Cherry, Junior, his siblings, Bowser, Luigi and Daisy.

Farmland existed in the plains surrounding the hill, so food wouldn’t be a problem.

But these plans extended beyond even Junior’s lifetime, so whoever came after would see Valley City completed.

Junior padded downstairs to the silent living room with its gaping black fireplace. Decades of hatch-days, laughter, goofing off and serious moments hung heavily between the walls.

Tears stung in his eyes. He wiped them off and touched the top of the mantle, trying to leave some physical piece of himself behind.

“Thank you,” Junior murmured. “Dad, if you’re hanging around here, you know where to find me. I love you.”

Speaking to nobody felt ridiculous when the syllables left his mouth, but he had to say something. The next words spoken in these walls would be by construction crews, tour guides and visitors.

Junior approached the front entrance to snap a selfie in front of his dad’s stone-carved face. He took another picture of the volcano rim above. That view was ubiquitous throughout his life, he wanted to take it with him.

Finally, he kicked the lever that lowered the iron portcullis over the main entrance in a clatter of metal gears. He smiled past the lump in his throat and leapt into the warp pipe before the gate finished descending.

This castle was his past, and he didn’t live here anymore.

.o

.o

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Home wasn’t a building. Buildings were places. People, memories and personal touches transfigured a building into a home. Junior found that out when he saw his new castle furnished and buzzing with people for the first time.

The Koopa-Toadstool Castle, colloquially known as the KTC, revealed the marvel of two kingdoms working together.

A spiky black lower bailey of Koopa design surrounded the bottom of the hill, while a rounded white marble upper bailey created by Toads encircled the keep.

Funny, they matched Wolfgang and Aretha’s scales almost perfectly.

Poles set atop all the castle turrets flashed red and white lights for air traffic.

Junior liked the barbican because it was sculpted like his face. People entering had to pass through his toothed maw. It pointed due south.

Anyone silly enough to enter uninvited had to climb up three hundred feet of steep hill to reach the second wall surrounding the keep.

Of course, invited guests were privy to a warp pipe in the ground that took them straight to the castle entrance. They had to know where to look and have the password to get in, and temporary guests were granted a password that only worked as long as they stayed.

Bowser was no fool, he didn’t leave the castle defenseless. Both baileys sported Piranha Plants, Chain-Chomps, Bullet Bills and Bullseye Bills. Tunnels and hidden passageways in the walls gave the troops access to outside if the need to fight arose.

The courtyard boasted a fountain housing stone replicas of Bowser and Peach’s grave statues. They greeted visitors from atop a circular platform through which water poured out like a waterfall into the round basin below to create pleasant white noise.

Trees, shrubs, grass and flowers grew everywhere on the courtyard. Cherry asked for a hedge maze like she had at her childhood home, and she got it. The whole northeast side became a great hide-and-seek spot. In the spring, the hedges would sprout wild sour green crab apples for people to munch on.

Playground equipment dotted the courtyard. Slides, swings, seesaws, rocking chairs and spinners. Morton jumped on all of it. At nine hundred pounds, he was the heaviest member of Junior’s family. If it could survive Morton crashing through, it could survive anything.

Cherry designed a training course almost identical to what she had at the Mushroom Castle. It emerged from a fake boulder pile instead of water, the ‘catch’ at the bottom opened like a giant foam funnel to return whoever missed to the start again, and reaching it required a trip through a clear warp pipe.

She wanted it safe, so it had easy, medium and hard settings that brought the floating pieces closer together or further apart.

Junior raced Cherry on it the first time they examined the castle. She reached the goal pole first. He stumbled on a donut block and leapt onto it a minute after she did.

“I’m coming in like a wrecking ball!” Junior screamed at the top of his lungs while Cherry laughed so hard she had to sit down.

The castle itself showed how two kingdoms combined. Gray and white bricks gave it a pleasantly mottled appearance. Junior insisted on the conical tower spires being green to match his shell and the flags fiery red like his hair and Cherry’s brighter colored dresses.

Four turrets pointed in each cardinal direction. Toads, Hammer Brothers and Koopa Troopas stood as lookouts while Goombas patrolled the perimeters. Lakitu always kept watch from the skies.

The entrance faced south like the Mushroom Castle, something Junior had to get used to. His castle’s entryway pointed east.

White marble steps denoted the main castle entrance. Contrasting black strips ran along their edges, making them more visible. Built beside the steps, like sculptures around them, ramps leading upward into the interior.

Grayish-white matching the smoke curling above the volcano covered the entire castle interior. Here and there, tinges of red, brown and green showed through.

When people walked in, the first thing they saw was an enormous gold-framed painting of Cherry and Junior holding hands as they said their wedding vows. No one could mistake the utter, endless love in their eyes.

On the ceiling in front of it, also framed in gold, a painted mural of Bowser and Mario shaking hands. Cherry suggested that as a symbolic way of showing their kingdoms uniting.

The west wall housed Bowser’s paintings from the old castle. Junior made sure to keep the big one depicting him in a battle stance with his junk fully extended. People who didn’t study Koopa culture were scandalized, and it cracked him up. Some called it pornography— but no, Koopa pornography looked

entirely

different than depictions of masculinity.

Two blank spots indicated where Junior’s paintings would go once he commissioned them.

The east wall housed paintings of Peach from the Mushroom Castle archives. Her side also had two empty spaces for Cherry’s future paintings.

Downstairs in the basement levels, the medical ward gleamed with cream-colored hallways and soft blue walls in the non-emergent patient rooms, each still smelling of fresh paint. The floors were glossy white tiles for easy cleaning.

Billie had her office all set up, brandishing her diplomas, her heart shaped desk lamp and her family photos.

The cath lab didn’t have a mirrored ceiling. That was too much like the old place. Intensive Care was straight ahead down a long corridor rather than around a corner. Junior asked for the rooms there to be painted pale green, the only thing he liked about the old place. He left the rest to the medical staff to design.

Non-emergent exam rooms made up the east wing, the emergency area was on the western side and the operating rooms, therapy rooms and break rooms were in between. All the offices lived in a corridor to the left of the elevator.

Everything had large print and braille labels for Jack, since he still worked as a nursing consultant. People called him up about their medical issues and he told them whether they should treat it at home, go to a doctor or seek emergency care.

Junior went back upstairs after touring the new medical ward.

Several Toads and Goombas crossed his path with boxes of knick-knacks to go on shelves and bookcases. Roy and Cherry helped direct them.

Under the main entryway staircase leading towards the great hall, a sensory room. Lights on color and dimmer switches, stim toys, weighted blankets, nooks and crannies to curl up in and ear defenders of all sizes waited for neurodivergent visitors who needed a break. Lemmy and Wolfgang had a blast testing it out. Wolfgang played with the colorful fiber optic cables and Lemmy buried himself under a weighted red bean bag chair.

Every public-facing area sported braille signs on silver plaques outlined in white LED lights to guide blind visitors around the castle. Jack helped with the design process to ensure they were readable.

Flatscreen TVs explaining the history of both families and the design choices of the castle had closed captions. Ludwig and Black argued about the font for an entire day before agreeing on white block letters outlined in black was best.

Each staircase featured a ramp or elevator platform. Scott tested those to make sure they weren’t too steep or inaccessible. The ramps were awesome. One elevator needed the buttons lowered, but that was easy to fix.

Boom-Boom personally installed several AED devices next to the fire alarm pulls on each level of the castle. They were foolproof, with instructions in pictures, print and braille to guide a user through applying the shock pads. The pads came in small, medium and large and the usage instructions showed which size to use on what kind of body. A toddler could operate it— Aretha and Wolfgang both were able to understand and follow the instructions.

Wolfgang sat by the main entrance, sucking his thumb and watching people trample by. He crawled into the huge brass urn Black left on its side on the floor. Black went to stand it upright and Wolfgang fell the rest of the way in, leaving his feet and tail flailing in the air.

“Uh oh!” Black said aloud, his low-pitched voice echoing off the wall. He upended the urn to help Wolfgang slide out.

Wolfgang shot him the most indignant look possible from a four year old, and his bushy white eyebrows sold it.

“Poop!” He signed dramatically, pulling his thumb out of his closed fist. “Poop! Poop!”

Or maybe he meant

shit.

Junior remembered Ludwig teaching him that sign, and he cackled until he couldn’t breathe.

Wolfgang put his thumb back into his mouth and scowled again.

“I’m sorry!” Black signed back. He turned away, spotted Junior’s mirth and let out the loudest wheeze in history.

Junior had to go upstairs before his laughter created a Koopa pileup in the hallway.

The east wing of the castle was the living space and inaccessible to the public. It housed two living rooms, the dining room, kitchen, a full gym and access to the underground hangar where the Koopa Clown Car resided while not in use.

Junior and Cherry’s bedroom was in the Don Jon tower on the northeast side. A door on the east side opened onto a fan-shaped balcony where they could sit in the stone chairs and enjoy the morning sunshine.

Cherry brought red and pink potted roses from Peach’s garden. They added a beautiful splash of color and smelled amazing.

A white pipe under the balcony housed Peter, a Piranha Plant Junior named after his favorite childhood books. Peter ‘barked’ like a dog, snatched birds out of the sky and popped up over the railing occasionally to get petted. Being such a leafy plant, he provided a lot of tea for upset Koopa stomachs.

One of Junior’s favorite features in the bedroom was its trap door entrance via the spiral staircase. Nothing looked cooler than coming up through the floor! The sliding hatch triggered metal banisters with a self-closing gate to rise around the opening, so nobody would fall through in the dark.

The enormous bedroom held the darkest gray marble to match the bed, the first thing anybody saw when entering. Cherry dressed it in red and gold and wound a fake vine around the horns. She made it beautiful.

Her wooden vanity dresser sat between two windows, where she had a ton of natural light for her makeup. Junior moved her nail polish around every time she turned her back until she caught him in the act and bonked him with a pillow.

Adjacent to her vanity, the bathroom with its stone shower, a bathtub, two toilets— one platform seat for Junior and a traditional toilet for Cherry— and two sinks. She insisted on an exhaust fan, so he got the quietest one he could find.

Junior put his desk by the west wall, right under a window.

One floor down, guest suites for Junior’s siblings and other royalty like Mario or Luigi and Daisy to stay in if they visited longer than a day. The rooms were little studio apartments with all the necessary amenities. Junior thought it was hilarious to hang his siblings’ baby paintings outside each corresponding door to their suites.

Cherry hung pictures of Peach, Mario, Luigi and Daisy outside the other four guest suites.

An elevator made the tower accessible on all levels to medical staff and Scott, and each door featured a bright red braille plaque for Jack.

Junior’s siblings got private warp pipes leading straight to their rooms. His phone pinged anytime they arrived and alerted him if they left.

Gold domes housing CCTV cameras observed all the public areas. More were nestled above always and staircases in the private wings. Only Iggy’s suite had cameras inside, but they stayed off unless he dropped in a tonic clonic seizure that triggered them to turn on while his app alerted anyone close by.

Servants jogged around, hanging up tapestries and adjusting furniture. Jack shorelined along a wall with his cane until he located the urns Black set up.

“Lost?” Junior called over the banister.

“Nope!” Jack waved, “I’m learning not to be.”

He scanned with his eyes as he walked. His cane clanged against a metal urn as he located all the tactile landmarks to find his way through the castle.

“Watch out. Wolfgang might be hanging around on the floor.” Junior called down.

Jack kept going, fingers brushing the braille sign pointing to the stairs. “Thanks for the warning.”

Pom-Pom dashed by, putting silk flowers in all the empty vases. Roy snuck up behind her, tapped her shell and kissed her when she spun to face him with armfuls of fake flowers.

They smiled softly at each other and kissed again, slower.

Aretha and Wolfgang did somersaults on a gold and purple rug behind a pillar. Wolfgang kept tumbling over sideways.

“Uncle Ludwig!” Aretha waved as he passed through. “Can you do this?” She ran in front of him and somersaulted with all the clumsiness of a toddler.

“I don’t know…whoa, uh, uh-oh!” Ludwig pretended to fall forward, caught himself at the last minute and performed a beautifully graceful somersault. He kept walking after, smirking over his shoulder.

Aretha pointed and laughed. She asked anybody who walked by if they could somersault. Everyone happily entertained her by doing one.

Sienna giggled through hers.

Lemmy performed three in a row.

Iggy went a step further. He stood on his head for a minute and pretended to be stuck that way before completing the forward roll.

Morton’s somersault shook the floor. Aretha ran across his belly, laughing.

“It’s been awhile since I did one, but…oof!” Roy almost hit the pillar. He laughed when his sunglasses fell off.

Larry did his backwards, just to wow the kids.

Wendy pirouetted before tucking forward into her roll. She curtseyed after.

Scott hopped off his wheelchair, twirled on his leg stumps and somersaulted twice.

Jack took his glasses off and started in a handstand.

Black performed a backflip and they somersaulted past each other in opposite directions.

Wolfgang continued attempting somersaults until he flipped himself properly head over heels. Aretha applauded him. He squealed and flapped his hands as he sat up.

“Lose something?” Cherry joined Junior in leaning on the banister.

“Nope.” Junior enveloped her hand in his. “I found it.”

She chuckled, pumping her hand in his fist. “Do you know where the chests with my shoes are?”

“I think Sienna had them, or maybe it was Larry. Don’t worry, they’ll turn up.”

“Uncle Junior! Auntie Cherry! Can you somersault?”

Cherry eyed Junior and smiled. They dashed downstairs to do somersaults for Aretha. The purple and gold rug they did it on became The Somersault Rug from that day onward.

Moving was a fun, chaotic mess.

The spaces in the castle Junior marveled at the most were the combined great hall and throne room.

Bowser replicated the Mushroom Castle’s great hall, but he did it with Koopa stone construction materials. The rosette window at the north end featured Junior and Cherry holding hands at the center of a colorful sunburst pattern. All the windows along the walls depicted fire flowers, vines, hearts and stars.

Junior’s stone gray throne bore spikes like a Koopa shell, and Cherry’s white marble one had three red mushrooms arranged in an ornate crown shape.

And the steps leading up to the dais housing both thrones? Clear crystal bricks with faceted edges. Lights at the back gave them a polychromatic glow as one approached. The two elevator platforms on each side were also faceted crystal, and they blended into the decor perfectly.

A gold plaque on the front of the top step marked where Bowser spat on the ground at the beginning of construction. Red aisle runners would cover it most of the time, but Cherry and Junior knew it was there.

The cloistered ceilings housed sculptures of Toads and Koopas frolicking.

A private study branched off the west side of the throne room. It doubled as a war room, a place to receive dignitaries and hold meetings.

But Junior’s absolute favorite feature? The one thing he knew his dad left to remind him that he loved him?

Every cornerstone in the castle had a painted bass relief of a winged blue shell.

.o

A gruff, no-nonsense Toad introduced himself to Junior as the castle Chief of Security.

“My name is Otoado and I’m running this place,” said the one known as Otoado. “And if you’re staring at my eyes, I have a genetic mutation that runs in my family. I see fine.”

Nobody could miss him— the vivid electric blue eyes made him stand out in a crowd of other Toads. His mushroom cap was dark brown with tan speckles, matching his dark brown vest, shoes and tan pants.

“Nice to meet you, Otoado,” Junior knelt to shake his hand.

Otoado gave a firm handshake, even if all he grasped was the tip of his claw. “It’s pronounced o-TOAD-o.”

Junior slow-blinked. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“The emphasis goes on the middle syllable.”

“Right, uh, okay, got it. Otoado.”

Nodding, Otoado pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Your majesty, do you care if I rearrange my setup to my liking?”

“Not at all. It’s your office. Have at it.”

“Thank you.” Otoado bowed respectfully.

“Otoado, be nice to the king,” said another Toad. She wore an outfit in varying shades of red and held her shoulders square in a way that showed her military experience.

Finally, Otoado’s poker face cracked into the faintest, softest smile.

“Don’t mind the constable over here. He’s always like that.” She bowed, extended a hand and smiled brilliantly, “I’m major Toadrys, your majesty. Otoado is the brains of the security and I’m the hands.”

Junior clapped his hands together, accepted her fingertip handshake and grinned wolfishly. “Excellent! Great to meet you two.”

All Toad security guards wore brown outfits similar to Otoado. They operated in pairs with Koopa Troopa castle guards to ensure everything remained safe.

Billie taking over as head of the medical ward meant more medical staff coming from her practice.

Junior needed the full staff, especially after some of his dad’s nurses moved on.

Celine retired because of her advanced age and her painful knees. Josh took a job in Koopa Central Pediatric Hospital working with Larry. Elton got floated to Koopa Southern, a hospital desperately needing nurses. Freddie went wherever he was called to. Stevie and Judy stayed around, though they were getting on in years and planning their retirements.

Junior missed their familiar faces, yet he kept a stiff upper lip about it and didn’t hesitate to meet the people BIllie brought along.

Like George and Michael, a mischievous pair of Fire Brothers. They were easy to tell apart— George hatched without a left eye and wore a white eye patch to cover the empty socket, and Michael’s fangs poked out when he smiled.

Then came Peter and Gabriel, the Hammer Brother twins so identical that nearly everybody confused them for each other, even people who knew them for years. Gabriel’s shell was slightly darker green than his brother’s, but the difference only became noticeable if they stood together in a space. They made up for it by wearing name badges.

And Israel, the big, shy, soft-spoken Sumo Brother whose hands were as gentle as his demeanor. Junior watched him cradle Aretha while she got her vaccinations. She never cried once.

Even Wolfgang took to him on the first meeting, and Wolfgang used to flee from anybody medical. Israel comforted him through getting his shots. Wolfgang only screamed a little bit.

Cherry’s eyes widened when she met the new group. “You guys were in the choir at Bowser’s funeral!”

Junior was too embarrassed to admit he didn’t remember them being there. In the haze of grief, only the familiar faces he knew since childhood stuck out to him.

George, Michael, Peter and Gabriel smiled at each other. Israel nodded his head. Michael gave a three count on his fingers.

They broke out into a barber shop quartet version of

Landslide,

with Israel quietly scatting between verses. Then they traded, giving Israel a chance to sing an absolutely beautiful rendition of

Somewhere Over The Rainbow.

Cherry and Junior looked at each other and beamed.

“I like them!” She whispered.

“I used to sing for kids over at KCPH,” said Israel.

“They loved us.” George grinned, elbowing Michael.

Only one Toad worked on the medical staff so far. Junior met her later. Her name was Hathatoad. She barely stood four feet tall and she wasn’t intimidated by all the much taller Koopas everywhere.

“What are you looking at?” Hathatoad remarked upon catching Junior studying her. “I worked for doctor Murphtoad, and he ran a tight floor. So do I.”

He smiled. “I knew a nurse like you.”

“Hmph.”

Her abrasive demeanor didn’t bother him. Watching her effect on others, however, cracked him up.

When people saw her white scrubs and red cap with white spots coming, they knew she meant business. If Celine had been a Toad, she would’ve been Hathatoad.

Still, promises were promises…

“Needle stick in three, two, one!”

Junior winced as Judy pushed the needle into his tail. Dark red blood dribbled into the wide vial in her other hand.

“So glad I trusted you with this.” He relaxed his tail to help the blood flow better.

Judy smiled, tightening the yellow ribbon tied around her head. “I remember how you used to scream at needle pokes.”

“I remember screaming. Everything is the worst thing ever when you’re a kid.” He grinned impishly, only half-serious, “Then you grow up and find out there’s even worse things than needles in the tail.”

“Hm. Indeed. Did you hear about Celine?”

“No, what happened?”

Judy placed a large cotton ball over the spot she poked, withdrew the needle and taped the cotton down. She squirted anticoagulant into the vial as she capped it.

“She had a stroke two days ago. It left her in bad shape.”

“Oh, no!” Junior’s heart sank into his stomach. “Where is she staying?”

“Koopa Southern.”

“Thanks, Judy.”

He left before Judy put his blood vial away in storage for his coronation ceremony next week.

.o

Celine was out of her shell. She looked so tiny and frail in the gray hospital bed with a pink gown covering her. The right side of her face sagged as if pulled by immense weight.

Junior sat on the floor by the bed because it was the only way a Koopa his size could get close to her.

Celine’s eyes were open, but didn’t focus or move.

Pat, who wore the gold heart shaped locket Celine was never seen without, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“It was a huge ischemic stroke. They don’t know if she understands anything we say, or if she’s aware at all. I keep assuming she’s in there and can’t tell us yet.” She came alongside Junior, her face expressing her exhaustion. “You’re supposed to get ready for your coronation.”

Junior swatted the air. “Pfft! Celine took care of my dad and I through the worst times of our lives. Prep can wait.”

Celine’s breathing sped up and slowed again.

He slipped his index finger under her left hand. “Hi, Celine. It’s Junior.”

No visible reaction. Similar to being around Wolfgang.

“You took care of my dad all the way to the grave, the least I can do is come see you.” Junior stroked her fingers with his thumb. “You’re a fighter, Celine. I know you can hear me.”

Air puffed out of her nose and a small trickle of drool trailed from the corner of her mouth. Pat tenderly wiped it off with a tissue.

“Hey,” Junior looked across the bed at Pat. “Don’t worry about any cost. I’ll cover it.”

“Your majesty, you don’t—“

“I want to.” He smiled softly, laying Celine’s hand on the pillow and reaching up to stroke the top of her head. “My dad would do it, and she’s worth it.”

Pat sniffled and pressed a tissue to her nose. “She’d have a conniption and say you’re a fool.”

Junior grinned. “I know. I hope it drives her nuts knowing how important she is.”

He sobered, smoothing the blankets around Celine’s tiny frame. “When my dad had his first heart attack, Celine was the one who explained what all the intensive care equipment did. She made it feel less scary.”

Pat chuckled and crossed her arms, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening. “She used to say King Bowser was her most frustrating and fun patient. She considered it an honor to work for him.”

“Maybe the royal collar should go on her neck instead of mine.” Junior kidded.

Celine exhaled noisily, as if in protest. Or did she try to laugh?

“You could do the job, you’re stubborn enough.” Junior said to her, smirking. “Queen Celine has a nice ring to it, you know.”

No response that time. Maybe she used up all her energy on making that single noise.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about answering.” He stroked her fingers again, whispering, “I’ll let you rest up. Behave yourself.”

Pat’s gold shell glimmered as she walked him to the hospital room door. “Thank you for coming, your majesty, it means a lot.”

“It’s no problem.” Junior knelt to embrace her. “Don’t forget to rest yourself. I know how hard it is.”

“I’ll try.” She nodded, tapered fingers clasping the locket around her neck.

He glanced past her at Celine amid the gray walls. The shiny metal rails on the tiny hospital bed were all too familiar. Tears stung in his eyes as he left the room.

Elton came down the hall wearing silver tinted glasses with gemstone wings sprouting off the frames.

“Prin— um— King J-Junior!” He bowed, flustered by the unscheduled visit, “Here to see Celine?”

“Mmhmm.” Junior smiled at Elton stumbling over his title. “Did you just call me King Junior?”

“I-I’m sorry—“

“No. I like that. Call me that.” Junior knelt to regard him. “And you don’t have to bow. You took care of my dad, and you took care of me. We’re family.”

Elton’s face brightened for a moment. “Now, I’m taking care of Celine.”

“How is she doing, really?”

“Not good. The stroke damaged a fist sized area on the left side of her brain. She’s eighty-one years old, sire. Pat has her full code, but I don’t know if that’s wise.”

Junior inhaled through his nose. “Celine is a fighter. If she wants to go down fighting, give her that fight.”

Elton leaned closer, whispering, “She had the stroke overnight, and Pat found her when she woke up in the morning. That’s a long time for a stroke to do damage, and it’s still cooking. I hate to say it, but she’s not expected to make it to tomorrow.”

Junior’s heart sank at hearing that. “It’s up to the universe now, I guess. But don’t give up on her.”

“Nope. I’ll pump her chest myself if she codes. You have my word.”

“Good.”

Nurses brushed by, pushing carts of food.

Everyone visiting Celine’s room came out with solemn faces, anticipating the worst.

The day wore on and faded into evening.

Night fell.

Morning came again.

When Junior went back to check in, Celine snatched her hand from his grasp and shook an admonishing finger at him for being there. The simple act tired her out enough to fall asleep, but she made her point.

Junior left the hospital with laughter in his heart because she

ordered

him to get out and focus on his coronation.

.o

The glowing white hands on the gold analog clock by the bed read four in the morning. Sheets of blowing rain beat the southeast windows amid brilliant lightning flashes.

Cherry woke up because of the howling wind. She almost laughed when Junior trudged to the double doors leading outside and tentatively moved the curtain to peer out.

He glistened iridescently thanks to the mud bath and oil treatment he got last night. Unlike Jack and Black, his muscles didn’t show until he flexed them, but she felt every single one while oiling his scales. She couldn’t believe how exquisite he looked after. It even turned his hair glossy and gave it a velvety texture. Now she knew how he got it that way for their wedding.

Cherry caught herself staring. She smiled to herself.

“Something wrong?”

“The weather is wild.” Junior glanced over his shoulder. “It’s raining so hard I can’t see the bottom of the hill.”

She yawned, rubbing her eyes. “It’s just a thunderstorm. They hit these hills all the time. You’re twenty-five and never been in one?”

He smiled. “Only in my dad’s airship. I can count the thunderstorms I saw from inside the volcano on one hand.”

“Scared?”

“Nah— EEP!” Junior startled at a loud thunderclap. He was adorable, trying to appear unruffled when she could tell his nerves stood on end as much as his messy reddish-orange hair.

Cherry giggled, beckoning him back to bed. “Are you nervous about the coronation ceremony?”

Junior slid between the sheets with her. “Nope.” He nuzzled his snout against her neck. “I was more nervous about the wedding than this. I guess I’m missing dad, that’s all.”

She brushed her fingers through Junior’s hair and kissed the end of his nose. The trauma of Bowser dying wasn’t so raw for him anymore, yet the pain lingered. She understood his grief all too well. He had to grow around it, the landscape of his life reshaping itself like mountains rising and water carving canyons. It took as long as it took.

The move helped him, just like being dragged away to Sarasaland helped her as much as it hurt. He wasn’t in a castle haunted by so many memories.

Cherry remembered taking a crowbar to the damaged stair that caused Peach’s fatal fall. Did cutting the damaged tissue off Bowser’s heart offer Junior the same catharsis?

“You’re about to be crowned a queen,” Junior rumbled in her ear.

“Mom and dad prepared me for it.” Cherry played with his hair some more. “I’m not scared.”

“What if we suck?”

“We won’t. But, if we do, we’ll suck together.”

He laughed, flashing his sharp teeth. “I love you.”

She smiled, caressing his cheek and gazing up into his russet eyes. “I love you more.”

They embraced and sank back into pleasant slumber, untouched by the tantruming storm swirling outside.

.o

Wendy barged up the trapdoor at seven o’clock sharp.

“Nope! Ju-ju, you’re not going anywhere looking like that.”

“Like what?” Junior looked away from the bucolic view outside the open balcony door. It was cloudy, damp and cool, but no longer storming. Petrichor scents wafted on the breeze along with the sweet red and pink roses.

“Your horns? Your claws? Disasters. Sit, they’re getting done. No arguments.” Wendy set down her black bag and untied the pull cord holding it shut.

Shower-fresh Cherry came out of the bathroom to Wendy giving Junior a manicure, pedicure and filing his horns to smooth, sharp points.

Junior sat back on the bed and let her do it. She varnished his horns and claws with something that left a pellucid gold finish. The room smelled like sweet, hot cactus tea, since the varnish used similar ingredients.

“There.” Wendy put her claw files, varnish, clippers and buffing cloths away one by one. “Now you’ll look like a proper king when you walk out there later.”

“Handsome!” Cherry whistled.

“I don’t have to worry about you. You know how to fancy it up.” Wendy winked.

She kissed Cherry’s cheek, kissed Junior’s cheek and descended through the trap door.

“She came here on a mission.” Junior laughed, looking down at his glossy smooth claws.

They headed downstairs for breakfast in the communal kitchen. The coronation ceremony wasn’t until noon, so they had plenty of time to relax.

His first sight of his family was Scott sitting on the floor in front of his wheelchair, impressing Aretha with a gold coin and sleight of hand tricks.

“There it is. Wait, oops, it was in your hair! Ah!”

Aretha’s hair was sprayed with something glittery and styled into two cute little puffs held by soft gold rubber bands.

“You’re silly!” Aretha screeched in laughter. “Hey, uncle Scott?”

“Yes, little princess?”

“Where’s your legs?”

He chuckled, wiggling his stumps as he rolled the coin between his fingers. “Beats me. I hatched this way.”

“Maybe a fish ate them.”

“A fish?” Scott cackled and almost dropped the coin. Kids said the darndest things!

Sienna walked in with her hair styled like a spectacular coily black cloud blossoming around her head. Junior’s jaw dropped because he never saw her without it braided before.

“Wow, your hair,” He smiled, “It’s beautiful!”

“Thanks.” Sienna’s cheeks darkened. “Wendy did it for me.”

Morton stopped in the kitchen doorway and gazed softly at her as if she invented the sky. Total heart eyes. She caught him looking, grinned and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I ain’t a looker, so sometimes I wonder what keeps you around.”

Sienna nuzzled their cheeks together. “Don’t say that, you goof, you’re plenty handsome! Besides, I love you for your heart, Morton.”

Junior snapped a photo of them smiling softly at each other. They were just as sappy as Black and Ludwig!

Morton threw an arm around Junior’s shoulders and yanked him against his side. “Happy coronation day, stent bro.”

“Ack!” Junior’s head wobbled as he went along for the ride. “I’d say ‘same’, but you’re not getting collared today.”

Morton scoffed. “I don’t think I’d want it. Too much paperwork.”

They snickered, slapping hands.

“Ah! Sienna!” Cherry rushed across the room to hug her.

“Ow!” Jack stubbed his toe on the leg of a chair Cherry pulled out and walked away from. His cane missed it on the outward swing.

“Uh oh!” Sienna leaned out of the embrace.

Cherry pushed that chair in, sheepish. “That was my fault, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I do that all the time at home.” He laughed, turning his eyes towards her behind his thick red-framed glasses. “I’ll take it as payback for tripping you at the carnival.”

She hugged him, patting his shell. “I forgot about that. Still, sorry. I— hey, did you cut your ponytail off?”

“Nope.” Jack turned his head to the side, revealing it coiled into a bun. “It’ll look better with a helmet on.”

Wendy appeared in the kitchen doorway, loudly clearing her throat.

“Presenting his royal highness, king Wolfgang!” She announced.

Everybody in the room tacitly turned to the door and bowed. Wolfgang sauntered in, head high while he clung to Ludwig’s hand. His diaper had a gold satin cover that tied on the sides and above his tail. He wore his feathery white hair styled in a loose braid held with a gold rubber band at the tip.

“All hail king Wolfgang!” Junior announced.

Wolfgang squealed, flapped his hands and rubbed his claws up and down his plastron ridges.

“King!” He signed emphatically, gripping the collar Junior gave him.

“Yes you are!” Wendy bent to kiss the end of his snout. Wolfgang did not flinch away, he trusted her.

Ludwig grinned, taking photos. Black slipped in, knelt behind Wolfgang and photobombed his royal photoshoot. When Wolfgang noticed, he snuggled up to Black’s chest.

“Aww!” Wendy cooed at them.

“Auntie Cherry!” Aretha latched onto Cherry’s leg. “Auntie Wendy did my hair, too! She used edge gel and sprayed it with glitter!”

She bent her head forward to show off her glittery puffs.

“Wow! You look so pretty! A little queen!” Cherry bent to kiss her forehead.

Aretha giggled, let go of her and sprinted towards Wolfgang.

Black went around the room, squishing everyone in hugs. He hugged Junior for a long time, swaying him back and forth with tears in his eyes.

“You were shorter than Wolfgang yesterday,” Black signed, sniffling. “Now you are married and announcing yourself as king. What happened?”

A lump tightened Junior’s throat, too. He tapped his wrist as if pointing to a watch, signing, “Time.”

Black wiped his eyes, signing, “Your dad wanted Ludwig and I to raise you if he died before you grew up. Ludwig asked if I was okay with that and I didn’t hesitate to say yes. I always loved you like a son.”

“Even when I was a brat?”

“Yes, especially then!”

Junior clasped Black’s hands and embraced him again. He pulled back enough to make eye contact, and signed one-handed, “Now you have Wolfgang to love.”

“I love both of you.” Black gestured.

“I love both of you, too.” Junior replied in a few quick motions. He kissed Black’s cheek and stopped himself from ruffling his inky dark hair when he noticed it neatly slicked back with gel.

“How do you want your royal name signed?” Black asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Like dad’s, but keep calling me Junior.” Junior finger spelled it. “Use KJ.”

“What about this?” Black stood back, finger spelled a K and moved the K hand-shape down and inward to form a letter J.

Junior widened his eyes, expressing his surprise. He pointed to him, gesturing emphatically. “That, that, that! I like that sign name! Perfect! Thank you. Do you have a sign for Cherry?”

Black grasped his pinkie finger near his head. He went on, “Her name, near the head where her crown will go.”

Junior kissed his fist and pointed to him.

Black grinned, bowed and moved along to squeeze Cherry. He hugged her more gently compared to the hugs everyone else got from him.

She picked up on a lot of Koopa Sign by being around him and Ludwig— enough that they conversed without her asking for interpretation as much.

A tap prompted Junior to look left. Ludwig hopped over to his right. He smirked upon being found.

“Little brother!” His deaf accent rang hollowly in his throat. He switched to signing, “You’re going to love the music.”

“I’m excited to hear it!” Junior gestured, shiny claws clicking against each other.

He had to pause, once more hyper-aware of Ludwig’s thin silver glasses frames and the gray streak running through his hair. In a few short years he would be twenty-eight, the age his eldest brother was when he conducted his first symphony.

“I wish dad was here,” he signed wistfully.

“He is.” Ludwig pointed to Junior’s heart, fingers flicking, “He will always be here.”

They embraced. Junior hugged him harder when he remembered what Black said.

Iggy’s distinctive, screechy guffaw bellowed into the dining room.

“Good morning! I have a growth on my leg!” He walked clumsily with Aretha clinging to him.

Ludwig pointed and snickered.

“Uncle Iggy is funny!” Aretha giggled.

“You!” Iggy threw his arms open in Junior’s direction. “The turtle of the day! C’mere!”

“Iggster!” Junior lifted Iggy and Aretha off the floor while embracing them. He grinned, playfully head butting his older brother. “Oof! You nerd.”

“Tech-whizz, you mean?” Iggy winked an eye shut behind his glasses. “Watch it, or I’ll make sure the webcams look down your nose.”

“Oh, sure, show them my snot. Sexy.”

“AHAHA!” Iggy gave Junior a playful smack upside the head and turned away to pick up Aretha.

He had a gray streak running up the back of his smaragdine hair plume. The corners of his mouth wrinkled more when he grinned at his playful niece.

Lemmy, who wore gold ear defenders as he played some kind of hand-slapping patty cake with Wolfgang, still didn’t look a day over twenty-two. But Lemmy

always

aged weird. Hell, Wolfgang almost looked older than him!

Iggy and Lemmy just turned forty-two years old. A year behind Ludwig. They had angiograms recently and their coronary arteries showed the beginnings of sclerosis.

Billie already put them on meds to keep them flexible. They wouldn’t interfere with Iggy’s Depakote, but he needed to have his liver and kidneys checked on more often. Still, that wouldn’t stop Junior from worrying.

“Pom-Pom!” Cherry burst across the room to embrace her.

Pom-Pom’s hair was styled in a bun full of white baby’s breath blossoms. She wrapped Cherry in a tight hug and spun her around.

“Good morning, lovely queen!”

Roy came bearing gifts of eggs ready to scramble and pancake mix to supplement the Bowser Bacon crackling on the stove. As the second-largest Koopa in the room, his footsteps vibrated the floor.

“The Koopa of the hour!” He folded Junior into a tight hug. “How’re you doing, baby bro?”

“I’m great!” Junior smiled at Cherry admiring Pom-Pom’s gold painted claws. “Geez, it’s been a wild bunch of years, hasn’t it?”

Junior rested his chin on his older brother’s thick shoulder.

Roy liked to squeeze as much as Black. He said, “We went through hell and came out in one piece.”

“Yeah…”

“You’re gonna own this.” Roy patted the sides of Junior’s face. “Wherever dad is in the Great Beyond, he’s dragging everybody over to look at you. You know he loved to brag.”

“Oh, for sure!”

Off to the side, Sienna, Wendy, Pom-Pom and Cherry grouped together for selfies. Jack and Black photobombed them by flexing their muscles in the background. The women cracked up when they discovered the baltering intruders lurking behind them.

Wendy squeezed Jack’s muscular arms and they kissed deeply. Sienna took a photo of them being lovebirds.

Not one to be outdone, Ludwig twirled Black, waltz-dipped him and laid one on him. Iggy hooted at their dramatics.

Also not to be outdone, Lemmy and Scott did a handstand together to kiss upside down. Many shrieks and whistles egged them on.

“I’m not competing with that.” Roy chuckled, pulling his shades down on his nose to eye Pom-Pom. “But I’ll gladly enjoy a smooch.”

Pom-Pom grabbed his face and kissed him, giggling. “I love your kisses.”

Sienna tapped Morton’s shoulder. When he turned to look, she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed their lips together.

Junior beckoned Cherry over. She knew what was going on and approached with mischief in her eyes.

He scooped her up bridal style and kissed her like his life depended on it.

And that was the moment Larry walked in, looked around and asked, “Why is everybody making out? Is there some kind of kissy-kissy pollen going around?”

Aretha piped up, “Nope, they’re being weird!”

“Hornier than shit is more like it,” Iggy muttered, snickering.

Wolfgang laughed and patted the icons on his tablet, which Ludwig put on the table for him. “Scramble. Silly. Eggs. Hungry.”

“Whoa, we’re having scrambled eggs?” Larry’s face lit up. “Where?”

“In your nose!” Aretha latched onto his tail.

“So my boogers are eggs?” He laughed, letting her climb up his spikes to sit on his shell.

“Yes! You’re supposed to eat them!”

“Ew!” Lemmy bellowed.

Everybody cracked up and separated to prepare the meal. Together, they ate their first communal breakfast in the new castle.

Mario, Luigi and Daisy arrived late, citing a plumbing issue back at the Mushroom Castle. Larkspur and Amaryllis came along, and Junior could not believe how big those baby yoshis grew up to be. They were almost adults at seven years old!

Larkspur wanted to know about all the food, and Amaryllis schmoozed with the people. Wolfgang hid under the table, wary of the strangers. He came out after some gentle coaxing from Mario.

“See? I’m not-a so bad.” Mario held Wolfgang’s hand. “Oof! You’re a big-a one, aren’t you?”

Wolfgang grunted low in his throat and wiggled his tail.

“He doesn’t talk cuz he’s ‘istic,” Aretha chimed in.

“Autistic,” Lemmy corrected her gently.

“Yeah!”

“Ah, like doctor Murphtoad,” Mario nodded, his demeanor pleasantly unruffled. “He likes it when people are-a direct in what-a they say to him.”

Wolfgang placed a piece of Bowser Bacon on Mario’s palm and walked away to sit on the floor next to Black’s chair. Mario looked at the bacon and ate it.

“It’s the Wolf!” Iggy bent over to kiss the side of Wolfgang’s face.

Daisy passed Cherry a small, glowing question mark box. They winked at each other like they exchanged a secret.

Roy fixed the latecomers plates of breakfast.

“Oh, how kind of you!” Daisy pulled up a chair next to Morton. “Hi, big fella, don’t mind me.”

“No problem, your majesty.” He moved his elbows off the table to give her more room.

Aretha snuck a sausage into Luigi’s pocket. He didn’t find it until she already ducked beneath the table.

“Hey, who’s-a sausage is this?”

After an hour of catching up, guffawing and eating, the family groups separated to prepare for the ceremony.

Lemmy caught up to Junior after everyone else bustled out.

“You’re a good king.”

“And you know that, how?” Junior teased him.

Lemmy crossed his arms, grinned and offered a rare moment of eye contact. “Because you’re too much of a dickhead not to be!”

Junior scooped him up in a hug and they laughed until they wheezed.

.o

“Special delivery, my liege!” Lakitu rapped on the balcony door.

Junior pulled the door inward to receive the scroll sealed with Bowser’s wax seal. “Thanks.”

He set it aside as Cherry perched in front of her vanity wearing only a white robe with her lingerie underneath. Her makeup was impeccable— winged dark brown eyeliner, shimmery gold eyeshadow, soft pink blush and glossy red lipstick. Slightly more dramatic than she had it for her wedding.

“You look beautiful already,” Junior said, admiring her via her reflection. He liked how her foundation didn’t cover up her cute freckles. “What kind of braid do you want?”

Cherry smiled, “French.”

Junior kissed her throat, took the brush she offered and began to divide her hair. The shampoo she used smelled like sweet cherry wine and gave it a texture similar to satin.

He ran the brush over her dark locks and crossed them over each other, adding strands as he went. The braid emerged a little at a time, with him taking meticulous care to ensure no loose hairs poked out. Her French braid came together like their lives, a woven marvel destined to grow stronger with time.

“I love everything about you,” Junior murmured.

Cherry’s cheeks flushed darker. “You flatterer. I love everything about you, too.”

Junior kissed the top of her head, careful not to mess up her hair. He used a black hair band to tie the braid off, took the small gold barrette she gave him and snapped it shut over the band. The tall, oblong barrette had ruby cherries decorating the center.

“Okay, sexy, your turn.” Cherry tapped the floor with her foot.

Junior turned to face her, one hand on his white bandanna. “First, can you take this off?”

Blinking, Cherry reached around his neck to untie it. Suddenly, the cloth fluttered loose into his hands, where he stared at it. The last vestige of his old life.

Cherry touched it. Junior met her eyes and held it out to her. After today, he wouldn’t be the same person who wore the bandanna most of his life.

She took the bandanna off his palms, folded it into a neat, tiny triangle and laid it next to the white satin box on her vanity.

“Ready?”

Nodding, Junior doffed his shell so he could sit closer to her vanity chair without his spikes poking her.

“Three braids, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

Cherry divided his hair accordingly using her silver rat tail comb and alligator clips.

Junior worked his claw under the wax seal and unrolled the scroll, revealing Bowser’s impeccable calligraphy. As always, it smeared a little because he was a leftie and his hand brushed the page as he wrote.

Junior heard his dad’s bass voice speak the words he read.

Dear King Bowser II…

That’s a hell of a name, eh? Watch, you’ll call yourself King Junior. I know you too well.

How’s the new castle? Did you find the blue shells yet? I bet you did, but you didn’t spot them all. There’s one left that’s a surprise. You’ll know it when you see it, and I’ll be there when you do.

Wow. Okay. Hi.

I’m writing this letter on the day I’m going to die. This is the last letter I’ll write in my life. You don’t think of the last times, do you? The last time you laugh, the last time you cry, the last time you use the toilet, the last time you eat, the last time you smile, the last time you kiss somebody, the last time you speak, the last time you breathe. Nobody thinks of doing those.

Everybody thinks of firsts. First steps, first words, first time a shell pops off, the first time you use a toilet, first teeth and the first time you kiss somebody. I remember all of your firsts. It was a privilege to be there, to be your dad. Every day, you made me proud.

I can’t put into words how proud of you I am today. I hope you think of me as you walk out there for your coronation. Is it cloudy outside? Find a cloud, assume I’m sitting on it and telling everybody around me in the Great Beyond to come look at you. Look at my boy! Look at him! That’s my son, the next king!

Did I tell you I love you yet? I love you! More than anything! More than life! I’m dead and buried, but I still love you now. I mean it, and I hope you feel it. Only the physical part goes, Junior. I hope I left the best parts of me with you, and I hope your heart appointment at twenty-five comes up looking good. Wait, are you reading this before or after that? Doesn’t matter. I hope it’s all good. The only thing that mattered to me in life after Peach died was making sure your heart never breaks like mine. That’s what it means to be a dad, Junior.

I love you, and I know you love me.

Now, let’s address the Bomber Bill in the room. I’m sorry I took so long to tell you I was dying. I have a couple regrets in life, and that’s one of them. You were so happy at your wedding and the days following. The idea of ruining it tore me up inside. I didn’t think the killer heart attack was going to come today, but it’s coming. That’s the way life goes, I guess. Pretty unfair and ironic, when you look at it cross eyed.

I’m going to treat my last day like a normal day until I can’t anymore. Death has to chase me because I won’t lay down and wait for it. I’m going to tell you when it’s time, so you can decide whether to stay with me or not. Whatever you did that day, it’s cool with me. I was fine with dying as soon as I saw you spinning around with Cherry in your arms at your wedding. That’s when I knew my work was done.

I’ll be long gone by the time you read this, but I hope my demise wasn’t awful to watch if you stayed. I wish you didn’t have to go through the pain of what happens after. You’re hurting, and it sucks. I hate that for you, kiddo. If there was something I could do about it, I would. Nothing hurts worse than grief. Ask Cherry, she knows.

But I’m sorry for how shitty I was when I finally told you. I understand if you’re mad. I understand if you’re not ready to forgive me. Hell, I’ll understand if you crumple this letter up right now and burn it. Emotions are messy. Grief is a bastard to go through. Feel all those feelings! It’s all fine! Whatever you feel, feel it. I get it, and I won’t hold it against you.

Okay, okay, yeah, I rambled enough, but I’m not done being mushy. Funny, even when you know you’re going to die, you want to stall. I think I’m ready for what’s coming. I’m at peace with my death. Are you at peace with your life where it is? I hope you said yes.

I’ll say it again. I love you, and I’m proud of you, Junior. Endlessly, eternally proud! My youngest son, my baby boy, is all grown up. I’m choking up imagining you saying the vows I said. You and Cherry, you go out there and you show ‘em all how incredible you two are. I’m cheering from the other side, always, always, always! Go get ‘em!

This is it. My last goodbye.

Keep your eyes peeled for the final blue shell.

Love ya, brat!

—Dad

A lump clutched Junior’s throat as he rolled up the scroll. He looked out the north window above the headboard of the bed as clouds raced east across the sky like a crowd rushing towards the mountains.

If Bowser sat on any of them, it was the iridescent ice crystal cloud flashing between the gloomy ones.

Junior eyed the scroll. For a split second he felt guilty about having it. Peach never got to prepare for her death, her life snuffed like a blown-out flame because of a wobbly stair step.

Gentle tugging tickled along his scalp. Behind him, Cherry wound his hair into three loose braids tied off by long, cylindrical gold beads. One for the present, one for the past, and one for the future.

The front of his hair stayed loose, so he wouldn’t look bald. She used her curling iron to perfect how his bangs arched above his forehead.

“You look like a king.” Cherry kissed his cheek. “What’s that?”

Junior handed her the scroll. “Dad wrote to me.”

She glanced at it and set it above his folded bandanna. “Oh, wow. I’ll read it after the coronation. I don’t want to cry and smear my makeup.”

“Isn’t it waterproof?”

“The mascara and eyeliner are, the foundation isn’t, even though it claims to be. I’ll look like a raccoon!”

Junior snickered at the mental image. He wiped tears off his face. “Good call, I’m smearing

my

makeup.”

She swatted him playfully. “You aren’t wearing any! Now scoot, I’m getting dressed.”

Laughing, Junior wriggled back into his shell and stepped aside. Cherry crossed the room to unzip the enormous white bag. It held her wedding dress inside, sans the thick, lacy petticoats that went under the skirt to give it volume.

She slid her robe off, revealing her flesh-toned strapless bra, matching half-slip and gold stockings.

He tacitly held the dress open while she stepped into it and he buttoned the seventy tiny red buttons running up the back. Her olive shoulders looked ravishing against the red of the portrait collar.

“You’re wearing your wedding dress to your coronation?”

“Ah. One moment.”

Cherry elbowed the question mark box Daisy gave her. A Fire Flower popped out in a lurid flash of light. She punched it.

The ivory white parts of her dress turned glittery gold, while the red parts stayed red and the delicate white bobbin lace remained white with shiny gold threads mixed in. Her ball gown skirt didn’t poof out as far without the petticoats, yet it was still voluminous, the bottom falling slightly wider than her shoulders.

“Auntie Daisy made sure this was Fire Flower reactive satin.” Cherry winked and slid her feet into her red pumps.

Junior could only stare as she slid a gold bangle onto each wrist, put in tiny ruby teardrop earrings, fit her ruby choker around her neck and reached for the satin box set aside on the vanity.

Cherry hesitated, exhaled and lifted the lid. Peach’s gold tiara lay on the pink velvet inside. Two sapphires, two rubies and tiny filigree patterns danced through its golden points. A simple comb on the front attached it to the hair so it wouldn’t move.

“Mom,” she whispered, gently caressing its side.

“She’s so proud of you today,” Junior murmured in her ear.

Cherry looked upward to avoid tears spilling out. She lifted the tiara with both hands, eased the comb into her hair just behind her heart-shaped bangs and settled it into place.

She looked so much like her mom, then. The tiara drew more attention to her prominent nose. He loved that about her. Such a fantastic profile.

“You okay?” Junior rubbed her back.

“Mmhmm.” Cherry lifted her eyes towards the ceiling again to save her makeup.

She clasped his hands, kissed them and met his gaze. Her blue peering into his russet.

“I keep thinking about what happened to mom. That can be any of us.”

Junior nodded, though he wasn’t sure where she intended to take her statement. Her hands gripped his fingers tighter. They were chilly from the cool weather.

“Junior, if something happens to me—“

“Cherry…”

“Please. If I die young like mom, keep going. Live all the life I didn’t get to.”

The thought choked him up as much as watching Bower gasp his last breath. He embraced her, daring Death to look at him because he wasn’t letting it take her away any time soon.

“Will you do the same if I go first? Because I might. I have Crash, too, and I—”

She touched his mouth, quieting him.

“Yes.” Her fingertips lingered against his lips. “I promise.”

His expression softened. “I promise, too.”

Years ago, Bowser told Junior love was a promise. Now he understood what that meant.

Cherry laid her head on Junior’s shoulder. He held her close, heartbeat to heartbeat. They embraced that way until Boom-Boom poked his head up above the trap door.

“Hey, lovebirds, it’s almost time. Let’s get you ready for the procession.”

He looked them up and down, grinned and descended again, whistling.

“Dang, you kids, when did you grow up?”

.o

Footsteps tapped gently on the floor. Voices murmured. Fabric rustled and metal clanked. Faint wisps of petrichor wafted on the cool, humid air.

The procession lining up outside the great hall looked almost identical to Bowser’s funeral, except now it included Toads carrying Cherry’s royal regalia— the gold Mushroom crown encrusted with diamonds, rubies and sapphires atop its purple velvet cap, the gold and diamond scepter and its matching orb topped in a golden star.

Jack held Junior’s unlit torch in one hand and his white cane in the other. Like the funeral, he wore sunglasses. Black had the gold goblet full of Junior’s dark red blood. Both Sledge Brothers were arrayed in gold armbands and helmets adorned with the royal Koopa-Mushroom seal.

The royal torch was a stainless steel gold-plated cylinder that became an inverted cone towards the open tip, and the matching goblet had spikes all around its rim and base. They were meant to go together, the goblet fit over the tip of the torch like a large candle damper to turn it into a royal club.

Wolfgang stood patiently between Jack and Black, doggedly clutching the royal purple pillow. The collar on top was covered in a gold sheet, not to be revealed until the moment of collaring.

Wolfgang stubbornly insisted on doing that part of the ceremony, so Junior walked him through the whole process twice a day for the past week to help him understand what was required of him.

Lemmy gave him gold ear defenders to wear so the noise of the trumpets and cheering wouldn’t overwhelm him, and Pom-Pom sewed him a little dark red cape to wear over his shell, matching his collar. His red chew tube added panache. With his braided hair and attire, he looked like a king!

Cherry didn’t let go of Junior’s hand when Otoado and Toadrys helped her slide on her royal mantle of white fur and red velvet. It clasped in front with a sapphire brooch. The train was ten feet long, similar to her wedding veil.

“It’s heavier than I thought,” she whispered to Junior.

He chuckled as Boom-Boom assisted him into his equivalent of a mantle, a gold armor plate fastened over his shell with holes strategically placed to show off his spikes. All across its surface, engravings of flames. Its scintillating brilliance brought out the gold sheen in the lacquer Wendy put on his claws and horns. A golden chainmail fringe dangled off its edges like a rippling cape.

Much preparation went into this joint coronation. Cherry would undergo the ceremony according to Mushroom customs, and Junior would do it according to Koopa customs, and at the end they were going to swear loyalty to each other. Like a wedding, except to the land and its people.

One thing they changed— they decided to process up the aisle side by side as equals.

Junior arranged his two side braids to fall in front of his shoulders and whipped the third backwards over his shell. The gold bead on the end hit the armor plating with an awkward clang.

Up ahead, Black farted. Probably due to nerves.

Cherry giggled. Junior took one look at her and started chuckling. Their combined merriment transformed into helpless guffawing. Some heads turned to check on them.

“What’s going on?” A Toad asked.

“They always do that,” whispered a Koopa Troopa guard.

“I needed to laugh today.” Cherry sighed after their laughter calmed.

“Me, too.” Junior looked at her.

Black farted again, oblivious to how loud it was.

Jack smacked his shoulder and signed one-handed, “Stop farting!”

Black signed against his palm, “It’s noisy?”

“They’re going to think you’re the trumpet fanfare!” Jack replied, whacking his shoulder again.

“Sorry.” Black grinned, fanning the air behind his rear end.

Junior blasted out a rumbling bass beast that put Black’s rattling braps to shame. Everybody except Black jumped, and some heads turned.

Wolfgang screeched in mirth.

“Junior! You’re a king!” Cherry shoved him, which only moved her backwards half a step.

“Yes, and I fart like one.” He grinned proudly.

She smiled and crossed her arms. “Obviously.”

They guffawed again, doubling forward and hugging each other.

That time, it was contagious. More mirth sparkled up among the guards. Boom-Boom folded. Black’s wheezy laugh joined last. It broke through everybody’s nerves and they simultaneously relaxed.

Boom-Boom touched his earpiece and muttered something into a mic on his wrist. He clapped his hands and signed while he spoke.

“Okay, everybody! Two minutes! If anybody else needs to fart, fart now.”

They all stood straighter. Black looked over his shoulder. He caught Junior’s eye, flashed his huge, unhinged smile and farted again.

A few people laughed.

Cherry had to stop Wolfgang from hitting him with the royal cushion. He bounced up and down, grunting.

“Your daddy is a stinky butt,” she whispered to him.

Junior snorted in a very un-kingly way. This was going to be a hilarious story to tell later.

Trumpets serenaded in a rousing fanfare. The doors swung open and there was Ludwig on the mezzanine alcove at the front, his baton flashing as he directed the choir and orchestra arranged on both sides of the cloisters.

Toad guards and Koopa Troopas marched out first. Otoado and Toadrys carried Cherry’s scepter and orb, and Toad held the royal Mushroom crown. Behind them, Jack and Black lifted up the royal torch and goblet. Jack gripped his cane by the shaft to shorten it so he wouldn’t bump Toad’s heels.

Ludwig’s composition for the royal procession sounded like triumph rising towards the clouds. Sienna beat on the timpani. Scott’s fingers fluttered across his green piccolo. Nearly everybody who was in the choir at Bowser’s funeral sang for the coronation, and now there were speckled gold Toad caps amid the robed singers.

Pat’s gilded shell glimmered in the pews. Next to her, seated regally in a padded transport wheelchair draped in red, was Celine. She wore a sling on her arm and a brace steadied her leg. Her gold locket was around her neck again. Half her mouth pulled into a smirk as Junior locked eyes with her. Of course she wouldn’t miss this!

Nearby, Junior saw his siblings looking on excitedly. Wendy topped her hair with a feathery black fascinator covered in tiny rubies. She lifted her chin proudly. Aretha jumped onto Morton’s shoulders to wave. Morton’s eyes were teary. Iggy, Lemmy and Larry practically squeezed each other in excitement. Roy flashed a thumbs up. Pom-Pom curtseyed, smiling mischievously.

Beyond them, Junior swore he saw Bowser standing beside the two thrones with the biggest, smuggest smile plastered on his face. He blinked and nobody was there. A lump ached in his throat.

Cherry noticed his falter. She squeezed his hand reassuringly. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

Wolfgang got a little lost and paused mid-step. A gentle nudge from Cherry reminded him to go forward. He held the royal cushion high over his head because he knew he had an important role in the ceremony.

Mario, Luigi and Daisy wore formal royal attire. Daisy’s dress was silver-gray silk matching her hair, with gold daisies embroidered around the hem and sleeves. and a diamond tiara full of stars glittered amid her braided updo.

Mario and Luigi donned matching brocaded white-tie tuxedos with coattails. Sequins formed borders around every edge of their coats and trousers. Luigi’s sequins were green and Mario’s shone red. In a hilarious breach of formality, they wore their old letter caps instead of crowns. Luigi leaned on a black cane with a maple Fritz handle painted green.

Cherry kissed the tip of Mario’s round nose as she passed him.

Drumbeats vibrated in Junior’s chest. Ludwig composed the triumphant march to reach its climax when Cherry and Junior ascended the crystal steps to stand in front of their thrones. The fanfare, drums and choral harmonies concluded with Junior and Cherry turning to face the gathering.

Attendants scurried behind Cherry to remove the red robe and replace it with a plain white overcoat that covered all but her skirt. She let go of Junior’s hand while it was placed on her body and tied shut in the front with a simple silk ribbon.

Everyone holding regalia lifted it aloft. Wolfgang stood on his toes to be as high as possible.

Just like Bowser’s funeral, flatscreen monitors behind the thrones and at the back of the hall delivered text for every spoken word.

Boom-Boom spread his hands and called out, “Does anyone present here object to the proceedings?”

The gathering shouted back, “We do not!”

Ludwig, Black and Wolfgang signed their answers. “No!”

Toad stepped forward, voice booming, “Do you accept King Bowser the Second and Queen Cherry as your king and queen?”

Junior flinched at being called by his dad’s name.

The gathering shouted, “We do!”

Boom-Boom asked, “Do you swear loyalty to them?”

“We do!”

Toad asked, “Will you defend their lives with yours if such is called upon you?”

“We will!”

Boom-Boom gestured upward with his huge hands.

Simultaneously, he and Toad shouted, “All who are able, rise and kneel!”

Rumbling filled the great hall while the mass of bodies rearranged into various standing positions, followed by their kneeling. Those unable to kneel, like Scott, Luigi and Celine, respectfully bowed their heads instead.

After a moment, Boom-Boom and Toad gestured again, and rustling commenced while everyone in the pews settled back into their seats.

Gloomy clouds shifted off the sun, causing the stained glass windows around the great hall to glow in all their colorful glory.

Toad approached Cherry, who sank onto her knees. Her skirt billowed out beneath her and the overcoat rustled.

He unrolled a scroll to read from, his voice echoing through the great hall.

“Cherry Koopa-Toadstool, the named queen of the Koopa-Mushroom empire, do you accept the role of leadership and all of its sacrifices?”

“I do,” Cherry said, taking a deep breath.

“Do you swear to serve all its people in the name of love, truth and justice?”

“I do.”

“Are you willing to lay down your life for your people if such is called of you?”

“I am.”

“Are you willing to fight for your people if such is called of you?”

“I am.”

“Do you object to any of these oaths?”

“I do not.”

Toad came forward, holding a fountain pen already wet with ink. “Sign your name to your oaths, and declare that you stand by them.”

Cherry accepted the pen and wrote her curling signature across the line at the bottom.

“I, Cherry Koopa-Toadstool stand by the oaths I have taken.”

Toad took the scroll, laid it open on a tray and walked the entire width of the dais, showing everyone and the watching news cameras proof that Cherry signed her name.

Up above, Ludwig directed a brief trumpet fanfare announcing the Rite of Signing was complete.

Two Toads helped Cherry remove the overcoat and replaced it with a purple robe more elaborate in its embroidery. The train was much longer, the Toads had to jump onto a little platform hidden on the back of her throne to drape it over the backing.

Among the gold filigree embroidered on the purple velvet, little mushrooms, flowers and shooting stars seemed to frolic around the white fur border.

Cherry rose onto her feet, took two careful backwards steps and lowered herself to sit on the purple velvet seat cushion. She practiced doing that in heels for two weeks, and nailed it!

Someone placed little silver steps in front of Cherry’s throne, and she scooted them closer to her lap.

Otoado and Toadrys unfurled an embroidered silk shroud on silver poles, blocking her from view of the gathering. She lifted her heart-shaped bangs out of the way as Toad dipped a sprig of pine into a small bowl of scented oil and anointed her forehead in a star shape.

“I anoint you into the service of the land, the sea and the sky, may your reign be forever guarded by Heaven and those who dwell there.”

“Mom,” Cherry whispered.

“She’s your biggest cheerleader today,” Toad whispered back.

They smiled softly at each other.

Junior wasn’t technically supposed to see that being done, so he only peeked a few times.

Cherry let her bangs fall back into place, slipped her tiara off in a single smooth motion and set it aside.

Toadrys and Otoado simultaneously rolled up the shroud with military precision by spinning the poles clockwise while walking towards each other. They placed the poles off to the side and returned to holding the royal cushions housing the scepter and orb.

Wolfgang shifted uneasily. Junior picked up a loop of his chew tube, nudged his snout with it and poked it into his mouth when he opened it. He squeezed the tip of his tail. Unlike Lemmy, Wolfgang liked that. His tense muscles relaxed as he munched placidly on his chew tube.

“You’re doing great, Wolfgang,” Junior whispered.

Over in the pew, Lemmy rolled his stimmy ball between his palms.

Toad lifted the royal Mushroom crown off its cushion and held it aloft. The gemstones scintillated like miniature rainbows in the light coming through the windows.

Mario and Luigi took their caps off and held them over their hearts. Daisy removed her tiara and covered it with a lacy white handkerchief.

The precious jewels on the Mushroom crown glittered for all to see.

“In the sight of all present, I crown you, Cherry Koopa-Toadstool, as queen of this land and all its people.”

Toad lowered the crown onto her head, careful to center it. Cherry inhaled sharply from the weight of her new kingdom.

Ludwig pointed to the brass section and a short fanfare erupted.

Attendants whisked the steps away once Toad hopped off.

Wolfgang pulled his tail out of Junior’s grasp and somehow managed to suck his thumb with the chew tube in his mouth. A casual observer would think he wasn’t paying attention to the pageantry happening around him, but Junior knew he took everything in.

Otoado and Toadrys approached Cherry with the scepter and orb. They bowed before Toadrys offered up the orb.

“Receive the royal orb, a symbol of wisdom and courage,” said Toad.

Cherry accepted it in her left hand. Its gems matched perfectly with her crown.

She declared, “I receive this orb and all it represents.”

Toad nodded and spoke again, “Receive this royal scepter, a symbol of power and authority.”

Otoado presented the scepter with a stiff salute.

Cherry accepted it in her right hand. It, too, matched her crown.

She declared again, “I receive this scepter and all it represents.”

Mario smashed his cap against his face as huge tears trickled free, fogging his glasses. Daisy beamed, clasping her tiara against her chest. Luigi lifted his chin proudly.

Black got emotional, too. He sniffled, wiping his eyes.

Cherry stood up gracefully as everyone able to bow did so.

Toad descended the crystal steps and walked all the way to the back of the great hall. At the top of his voice, he shouted, “To the south, I declare our new queen. Queen Cherry Koopa-Toadstool!”

He returned to the front, repeating his declaration to the north. And again, to the east and west.

Then, at the center, he called out, “Long live the queen!”

The gathering shouted it back, even Black tried to. Wolfgang hollered wordlessly as loud as he could, which got a laugh from a few people.

Black turned to the KMDN camera and signed Cherry’s name by grasping his pinkie finger near his head, showing her official name sign. Because of this, both Mushroom and Koopa Sign would sign her name the same way.

Ludwig spread his arms and the grandest fanfare of all thundered through the great hall to announce the new queen.

Wow, coronations were so different in the Mushroom Kingdom,

Junior thought. He caught Cherry’s eye and winked at her.

Toadrys, Otoado and four other Toad attendants carried the train of Cherry’s purple robe while she processed a full circle around the great hall. Everyone got a chance to look at her, and she was radiant. Junior gazed in awe.

Cherry caught him staring as she returned to the front. She waggled her eyebrows. His expression softened. Her dress rustled when she passed him and Wolfgang to once more seat herself on her throne. The attendants turned with her robe. Toadrys and Otoado draped it over the backing again.

Junior bent to get Wolfgang’s attention and pointed to a white paper triangle on the floor.

“Okay, Wolfgang, go stand on that triangle with daddy Black.”

Wolfgang whined softly. He was a little overwhelmed by all the people, but this had been planned for. Junior led him into position, kissed the top of his head and returned to stand in front of his throne.

Once next to Black, Wolfgang remembered his purpose. He took his thumb out of his mouth and raised the royal cushion above his head.

Black grinned down at him, signing, “Good job!”

Toad bowed and joined Mario’s family in the front pew. Boom-Boom heaved himself upright. Junior’s stomach churned in anticipation.

At Boom-Boom’s gesture, everyone able to stand rose.

“Citizens of the Koopa-Mushroom empire! Is King Bow—“

“Psst!” Junior interrupted him.

“Huh?”

“I’m breaking protocol, but I have to do it now. Call me whatever you want on paper,” Junior placed a hand on his chest, “But I wish to be addressed as King Junior. Bowser was my dad, and I am not him. I want to be my own person.”

Murmurs jumped through the gathering. Black turned to a nearby KMDN camera and demonstrated Junior’s royal sign name, the finger spelled K moving through a J shape. Because of him, deaf Toads and Koopas would sign it the same way, the same as Cherry’s royal name.

Boom-Boom’s sharp teeth flashed when he smiled, “As you so desire, your majesty.” He cleared his throat and started again, “Citizens of the Koopa-Mushroom empire! Is King

Junior

worthy to stand before you as your king?”

“He is worthy!” The gathering shouted back.

“Do you respect his authority as a leader?”

“We do!”

“Are you willing to lay your lives down in his name?”

“We are!”

Nodding, Boom-Boom twisted on his heel to look Junior in the eyes.

Koopa Troopas arrayed in red armor laid a black satin sheet on the floor at Junior’s feet. Junior prostrated himself across it as a “humbling” sheet bearing a white Koopa-Mushroom emblem— a mushroom growing off a spiked Koopa shell— was draped over his back.

“As your new king, I am willing to lay down my blood, my flame and life in the service of you, the Koopa-Mushroom people.”

“Go,” Morton whispered to Aretha.

Aretha dashed up the dais steps and ran across Junior’s back. The top sheet went with her, like it was supposed to. She carried it flapping like an extension of herself as she sprinted around the whole hall.

“My uncle is king!”

That wasn’t part of the script, but it won laughter from the gathering.

Aretha returned to the front to whisper in Junior’s ear, “Uncle Junior, I forgot where this goes.”

“On my back,” he murmured.

She draped it over his spikes again.

“Good job,” he smiled, “You can go sit with Morton again.”

She beamed and skipped back to Morton’s side.

The armored Koopa Troopas swept the humbling sheet off his back and folded it into a triangle with the white emblem on top. They raised it over their heads.

Ludwig pointed to Sienna and the other drummers, and thundering drum beats blasted the great hall.

Junior lumbered into a kneeling position atop the black sheet left on the floor.

At Ludwig’s cutoff gesture, the drumming ceased.

Boom-Boom raised both hands, fingers splayed. “The time has come for the collaring and oath-taking! All who are able, kneel.”

Wolfgang bounced up and down because that was his cue. He approached Junior, turned and held the covered cushion over his head. All the Koopa Troopas able to do so stamped their feet. The thud boomed through the great hall.

“Ready?” Junior whispered, his heart thumping in his ears.

Wolfgang pulled his tablet out of a pocket on the bottom of the pillow. His pink eyes twinkled. He squeaked excitedly. Junior helped him turn it on and select the screen full of icons specific for the occasion. The volume was turned way up, so everybody would hear it.

Junior beamed at his nephew. He signed while he whispered to him. “Okay. Now uncover the collar.”

Wolfgang put the cushion down and untied the loops holding the gold sheet in place. The collar underneath looked identical to Bowser’s— black with silver spikes— until he picked it up to reveal the velvet white bandanna dangling off the bottom.

Wolfgang pressed himself cheek to cheek with Junior as he slipped the royal collar under his braids, onto his neck and snapped it together in the back.

“You’re doing great. I love you.”

Junior cupped Wolfgang’s cheeks and touched their foreheads together. A part of him wondered if the jackasses who abused and abandoned this beautiful child watched him put the royal collar on their king, and he hoped they realized what a treasure they threw away.

Cherry smiled proudly from her throne.

Junior kissed Wolfgang’s brow and pointed to the tablet. Wolfgang rubbed his claws against his plastron and pressed the GO arrow.

The speakers blasted loud enough to reverberate, “Wear this collar as a symbol of your authority.”

“I will,” Junior said.

Drum beats thudded over the great hall.

As the drums fell silent, he pointed to the tablet again, and Wolfgang swiped to the next set of icons.

“Rise, King, and show your status.”

Junior rose onto his feet and lifted his head, showing off his royal collar.

Wolfgang tapped his knee, signing, “King. Same.”

“You bet.” Junior grinned. “You’re king with me now.”

Wolfgang took the cushion, slid his tablet into the pocket on the bottom and sat on the floor beside Junior’s throne. Technically not what he was supposed to do, yet nobody bothered him. He performed his sacred duty in the ceremony to his satisfaction, Junior couldn’t be happier for him.

Boom-Boom gestured at the gathering to sit.

Junior seated himself on his throne. He looked to the side at Cherry and caught her admiring him. Heat rushed into his cheeks. Hers darkened a lovely shade of pink.

Ludwig pointed his baton at Sienna. She beat her drums in a heartbeat rhythm.

Jack and Black turned simultaneously. The black sheet on the red rug helped Jack know where to stop and kneel.

Black offered up the goblet, signing one-handed. Boom-Boom voiced what he signed.

“Into your hands, I pass the royal goblet.”

Junior looked into Black’s dark eyes and swallowed past the lump in his throat. He accepted the goblet in his left hand.

Black pressed his fist against his chest, bowed and backed away. Wolfgang padded towards him and took hold of his hand.

Jack laid his white cane down and presented the unlit torch vertically, holding it by the top and bottom.

“Into your hands, I pass the royal torch.”

Junior gazed at Jack’s dark sunglasses while grasping the torch exactly in the middle. Tears stung in his eyes.

Jack held his fist to his chest, bowed and backed away, taking his cane with him.

Ludwig gestured. Drum beats began again, this time underneath Scott playing a fluttering piccolo solo. Deep, rumbling tubas picked up where he left off.

Wolfgang giggled, wiggling Black’s hand and pointing upward to Ludwig. Ludwig spared a second to wave at him.

He ran this piece past Junior weeks ago, preparing him for this. At the song’s height, Junior turned his head and puffed a small flame over the torch, lighting the oily wick tucked into the cylinder.

Armored Koopa Troopas whisked away the black satin sheet.

Koopa Paratroopas draped in gold flew circles above the gathering, twirling golden diamond-shaped thuribles of frankincense in elaborate lemniscate shapes. Somehow their thuribles never collided despite the speeds at which they spun, twirled, dove and looped.

Junior looked up in time to notice gold glasses shaped like horns, and buck teeth. That was Freddy and Elton!

A pleasant floral scent seeped down as the incense circulated. Smoke curled diaphanous filigree patterns through shafts of sunlight coming through the stained glass windows.

The song ended as Freddy and Elton finished their flight, handed off their thuribles and returned to the tenor section of the choir.

Iggy elbowed Lemmy, who flapped his hands gleefully. Mario sneezed on the incense.

Boom-Boom turned to Junior and unrolled a scroll.

“King Junior, do you swear to rule justly for as long as you hold this throne?”

“I do,” Junior answered him.

“King Junior, are you willing to die for the people and the land?”

“I am.”

“King Junior, do you swear to love and protect these people with the fire in your belly and the blood in your veins?”

He grinned. “I do!”

Wolfgang bounced next to Black.

Boom-Boom unrolled the scroll further.

“King Junior, do you swear to stand as a beacon and a guide for the people you vow to protect?”

“I swear.”

“King Junior, do we have your word that you will adhere to your oaths as the ruler of this land?”

“Yes.”

“Then sign your royal name as decreed.”

Boom-Boom presented the scroll. He held the torch for a moment while Junior dipped the pen in the goblet of his blood and signed the dotted line at the bottom.

King Bowser II.

Junior took the torch back while Boom-Boom crossed the dais, showing the signed scroll.

Turning towards Junior once more, he said,

“King Bowser Koopa-Toadstool Junior, son of Bowser Koopa, by the power vested in me, I declare you the king. Arise and announce your birthright!”

Junior snuffed the torch in the goblet of his blood, turning it into a club. He held it overhead as he leapt onto his feet with a triumphant roar. Blood dripped down the length of the torch, dribbling over his hand, onto the rug and sprinkling him in dark crimson droplets, his anointing.

When his lungs ran out of air to roar, he inhaled and spat an arc of flame overhead.

“Long live King Junior!” Boom-Boom shouted.

“Long live King Junior!” The gathering called back.

Black signed it, beaming. Wolfgang yelled without words, but the sentiment was there.

Aretha made several people laugh when she hollered, “Long live uncle Junior!”

Morton pumped his fists in the air. Wendy clapped louder than everyone else. Larry whistled through his fingers. Iggy howled-screeched. Lemmy bounced up and down. Roy cupped his hands around his snout to hoot at the top of his lungs. Pom-Pom howled. In the alcove above, Ludwig smiled and pivoted his hands in deaf applause.

Luigi held up his cane. Daisy clapped and cupped her hands over her mouth. Mario waved and blew kisses.

Behind Mario, Celine raised her functional arm, her hand closed in a defiant fist. Mario noticed her and inched aside so she could see the dais.

Junior cut off his flame. Long curls of smoke escaped his nostrils, forming an ephemeral wreath around his head.

For a moment he glimpsed Bowser cheering among his siblings.

“I did it, dad,” he whispered.

It wasn’t planned, but Junior knelt to present the royal club to Wolfgang. He wiped a blood droplet off his fingers and smeared it on his nephew’s white snout.

“Now you’re anointed in blood with me, little king.”

Wolfgang bounced on his heels. He took the club and slid it home in the two rings on the side of Junior’s throne. Nobody taught him that, he figured it out by osmosis while sitting in on rehearsals.

In the instant Wolfgang turned, Junior spotted something glimmering on the base of the goblet.

A sparkling blue shell made of sapphire with polychromatic diamond wings, a final parting gift as precious as the congratulatory letter.

Junior teared up. When he faced forward again, he saw Bowser’s spiked shell departing up the aisle towards the entrance as if his work was complete.

He went, but his love stayed.

“Bye, dad,” Junior murmured.

The grief wave hit without throwing him against the rocks. Bearable despite being painful.

He pulled wet wipes out of his shell and cleaned off the blood that dripped on him. This wasn’t typical during a Koopa coronation, he did it out of respect for not staining Cherry’s royal regalia. Plus, he got to surreptitiously dab the tears off his face.

Black stuck out his hand to take the wipes after use and cleaned off Wolfgang’s hands. He left the smear on his snout alone.

Cherry passed her orb and scepter off to Toadrys and Otoado. They placed them on their royal cushions and stepped back. Attendants lifted her train for her when she stood. The heavy crown required her to keep her head upright.

A Koopa Troopa and a Toad set a cushioned kneeler in the center of the dais for Cherry. Junior approached and knelt on the floor, bringing them to eye level with each other.

“Hi, king,” she whispered, smiling.

“Hi, queen,” he whispered back, eyes softening.

Toad and Boom-Boom positioned themselves on either side of the kneeler.

Cherry held onto her crown as she bowed her head. Junior did the same. They straightened and clasped each others’ hands, just like they did at their wedding.

“Queen Cherry,” Toad said, “Do you swear loyalty to Junior’s kingship?”

“I do.”

“King Junior,” Boom-Boom said next, “Do you swear loyalty to Cherry’s queenship?”

“I do.”

In a true merging of their ceremonies, Toad laid his hand on Junior’s shoulder, and Boom-Boom placed his hand on Cherry’s shoulder.

Together, they said in unison, “The rites of coronation are complete. May the skies, lands and seas recognize your authority. May those who went before smile down upon you. May your names represent enemies becoming friends and two lands becoming one.”

They turned to the gathering and raised their hands. “Behold, the king and queen of the Koopa-Mushroom empire!”

Amid the cheering, trumpets and drums, Junior whispered to Cherry, “Did you see Peach in the crowd?”

Cherry smiled, squeezing his hands. “Mmhmm, in the corner of my eye. Did you see Bowser?”

He grinned. “Yup.”

“They’re with us.” She kissed him. “Just like we’re with each other.”

“I love you.” Junior’s heart swelled.

Her eyes welled up. “I love you, too.”

Everyone gradually quieted down. Junior looked up at Ludwig and nodded. He and Cherry both agreed to have the next piece as their recessional as a way to bridge the passing of leadership.

Scott switched his piccolo for a wooden recorder. Ludwig lifted his baton and pointed to someone in the choir.

“Ariadiamus late, ariadiamus da, ari a natus late adua…”

Pat did this solo last time, but she wasn’t in the choir today.

Whoever sang this time had a haunting, ghostly voice that echoed warmly in the cloistered space. That wasn’t a woman’s voice.

Junior looked up and saw Israel singing countertenor. Judy joined in, her soft voice taking over the lower part of the harmony. Sienna beat the drums and Scott floated the recorder solo as beautifully as he did at Bowser’s funeral.

Cherry and Junior stood at the same time. Toadrys, Otoado and a few Toad attendants came to pick the train of her robe up off the floor.

Hand in hand, the new king and queen processed up the aisle, followed by their families. They walked slow enough that everyone heard the whole song.

Ludwig added bells and cymbals to the ending, to give it a more triumphant, transcendent feel.

Wolfgang lifted the empty royal cushion over his head.

Outside the hall, Cherry swapped the long robe for a shorter one just as elaborate as the original, and replaced the royal crown with a lighter replica. Nobody would know the difference if they didn’t see the swap. Attendants took the actual regalia away for safekeeping.

The same was happening inside the great hall, Koopa Troopas took the royal club to guard it.

Junior held Cherry’s crown while she ducked into the waiting limousine. Otoado straightened out the robe and bustled it neatly behind her back for her comfort.

“Thank you!” Cherry beamed at him.

Junior put her crown on her head backwards. She fixed it, though he had no idea how she knew the back from the front, it all looked the same to him!

“I love that collar,” Cherry rubbed the velvet bandanna. “It’s so you. Do you still have the toothy one from when you were a kid?”

Junior touched the leather around his neck. “Yeah, that’s in a box on the shelf in your closet. I think I labeled it before the move.”

Their glistening white limo had gold spiral hubcaps and a convertible roof that raised or lowered at the push of a button. At the moment, it stayed shut. The hood ornament was a spiked circle. Its interior had royal purple upholstery like Cherry’s robe. The fancy ride would take them through warp zones to visit Koopa City and Mushroom Central, letting the people see their new king and queen.

Mario, Luigi and Daisy ended up squished to one side between Morton and Roy. Aretha sat in Morton’s lap, giggling. Otoado and Toadrys smooshed themselves amid Pom-Pom, Sienna and Wendy. Ludwig claimed the backwards-facing spot behind the driver’s side. Iggy and Lemmy crawled into the limo beside him. Larry sat by Cherry and kissed her cheek. Junior settled into his spot in the rear driver’s side, same as Bowser’s funeral.

Black leaned into the open limo door and signed to Ludwig, “Wolfgang asked me to change his diaper. I’ll be right back.”

Ludwig passed him the diaper bag. Out loud to the others, he said, “Our son needs a moment.”

Black took Wolfgang back inside. There was a one-person bathroom right off the entrance designed for exactly this purpose.

Jack’s cane clicked against the ground. He stopped by the limo and stuck his thumb out like a hitchhiker.

“Get in here!” Wendy laughed.

“Hold on, I’m waiting for Scott.” Jack grinned.

Scott came down the ramp next to the front steps. Jack helped him into the limo, folded his power chair, stashed it in the roomy trunk and heaved himself in.

Scott went right for Lemmy’s lap, while Jack folded his cane and edged in between Wendy and Toadrys.

Ludwig’s phone vibrated, so he checked it. His eyebrows shot upward. “Excuse me. Wolfgang is having a meltdown.”

“Need help?” Junior leaned forward.

“Ah, no, more people will make it worse. He’s signing for me.” Ludwig scooted out of the vehicle and jogged for the castle's main entrance.

Boom-Boom hauled himself into the limo driver’s seat this time.

“Hang on, Boom-Boom—“

“I know, your majesty, I heard the screaming. No rush.”

People emerged outside and funneled towards the warp pipes near the fountain. They were one-time visitors, so their passwords expired as soon as they warped out.

Pat guided Celine’s regal transport wheelchair down the ramp. Junior practically catapulted himself out of the car to meet them, with Cherry on his heels. Poor Otoado and Toadrys were left in the dust!

“Celine!” Junior dropped onto one knee next to her wheelchair. “You look beautiful. Pat, too.”

“Thanks.” Pat glanced down at her gold high heel boots. “I was worried these were too much.”

“Never,” Cherry flashed her red pumps, which made Pat smile.

Celine mumbled something, but it was unintelligible and she seemed aware of it because she swatted the air right after. Amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ah, I didn’t get that. Sorry.” Junior glanced up at Cherry. “Do it.”

“Do what?” Cherry blinked.

“Put the crown on her.”

“Ooh.” Cherry smiled wickedly. “Yeah, she totally gets to wear it.”

Celine didn’t know it wasn’t the real crown when Cherry placed it on her head. The mobile parts of her face shifted through a phantasmagoria of shock, horror, humor and pride.

Junior unclasped his royal collar and draped it over Celine’s neck like a medallion. She gave him the stink-eye for it, and he laughed.

Cherry had to hold the crown in place to prevent it slipping down over Celine’s eyes. She smiled while Pat took a photo on her phone.

“How are you doing?” Cherry asked her after donning the crown again.

Celine shrugged her movable shoulder. One-syllable words didn’t pose as much of a problem for her. She said, “Hard.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Recovery is a lot of work.”

“No. Sick. Hard.”

“She means it’s hard to be a patient,” Pat added. She kissed Celine’s cheek. “Doctors and nurses, we are the worst at it.”

Celine laughed, pointing at Junior. “His dad!”

“You’re right.” Junior snickered, sliding his collar back into place.

He fished in his shell for a gold bank card in a box and passed it to Pat, whispering, “Give this to the hospital when it’s time to pay, and use it to pay for any therapy she asks for. The PIN number is dad’s age with a zero in front of it.”

Pat stashed it quickly in her purse, so nobody would see her with it. “How old was he?”

“Sixty-two.”

She nodded, her eyes tearing up. Her glittery purple eyeshadow didn’t crack or smear from the tears.

“Thank you, sire.”

“You’re welcome. It’s what dad would do.”

They embraced each other.

Junior knelt to hug Celine. She was exhausted, he didn’t want to keep her any longer.

Cherry hugged her, too. “It was so wonderful to see you, Celine.”

Celine held onto Cherry’s hand a moment longer. She narrowed her eyes in concentration, pointed to Junior and blurted out, “Watch out for him.”

Junior cackled, throwing his head back. “You’re right!”

Cherry giggled and leaned in, “I’ll make sure he behaves.”

Half of Celine’s mouth pulled up in a delighted smile. Her eyes drooped. She needed rest.

Junior and Cherry tacitly backed off to let Pat wheel her away.

Black jogged outside, waving until Junior made eye contact with him. He signed, “Wolfgang is having trouble calming down. He keeps showing us his ‘unsafe’ card. We’re taking him up to our room and won’t be joining you for the limo ride. I’m sorry.”

Junior shook his head and patted Black’s shoulder, gesturing, “It’s fine. Don’t put him through more chaos. I’m glad he was there to collar me. See you later?”

“Yes.” Black smiled and bowed. He turned and trotted towards the castle entrance.

Cherry ducked back into the limo, leading Otoado and Toadrys to bustle up her robe again.

Junior followed behind, saying, “Ludwig and Black aren’t coming. Wolfgang is too overwhelmed. They’re taking him up to their room to relax.”

“I know that feeling,” Lemmy said. He rested his head on Scott’s shoulder, and Scott scuffed his hand through his colorful Mohawk.

One of the armored Koopa-Troopas outside shoved the door shut.

As the limo eased into motion, Otoado’s vivid electric blue eyes narrowed in thought.

“That little boy is the mysterious baby X from the news, isn’t he?”

“His

name

is Wolfgang,” Wendy replied, pinning him with her eyes, “And today, he collared a king.”

“Perhaps, someday, he will sit on the throne.” Toadrys looked askance at Otoado.

“Hmph.” Otoado folded his arms.

Aretha giggled, clinging to Morton’s thumbs as she leaned precariously backwards off his lap. “Can I be queen someday?”

“Absolutely!” Cherry’s face lit up.

“Auntie Cherry, is that crown a pirate’s treasure?”

Everybody in the limo laughed.

“No,” Cherry touched the crown. Her smile turned mischievous. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

Daisy held her chin between thumb and forefinger, smiling. “Those gems are millions of years old. They were mined centuries ago, polished up and added to the crown.”

Scott grinned, unzipping his gold orchestral robe. “Let’s hope this limo doesn’t end up in the ocean. Rocks like that are gonna send you straight to the bottom.”

“It will if I drive,” Jack smirked, waggling his eyebrows behind his sunglasses.

“Sheesh, at least let me jump-a out first,” Luigi sniffed.

Mirth erupted again as the limo entered the warp pipe.

That day, two cities cheered for their new king and queen.

.o

Cherry wasn’t sorry to shed the royal regalia and change out of her coronation gown. She donned a brocaded red dress, sewn with precious gold threads that gave it sparkle, and eased her mom’s tiara back into her wavy hair after brushing out the braid.

The balcony doors were open to let in the cool breeze. A party brewed downstairs in the courtyard, judging by the chatter, laughter, and tables full of food.

Mario ran the training course. He did it perfectly, never slipping or missing a jump. Junior ran it after him, using his claws and tail for extra balance and traction. They compared their times and Junior almost knocked Mario over slapping his back.

Then Junior ran it again with Aretha sitting on his shoulders. Mario covered his eyes during his daring backflip over the goal pole. Aretha screeched in delight. That kid feared nothing!

Cherry opened the drawer to put her gold hair clip away. In the center, preserved on a cardboard card, was the pressed, dried out tulip Junior gave her when they were kids. Peach saved that for her.

Where might we be now if I didn’t jump into that pipe after him?

Cherry wondered, turning the card over in her hands.

Next to it, another card holding the pressed tulip Junior gave her on the morning of their wedding. She kept that one taped inside the card he gave her.

Peter, the Piranha Plant that lived underneath the balcony, snatched a pigeon off the railing. Not even a feather remained.

Cherry patted his speckled blossom when he poked it between the open doors. She made her way downstairs and outside to join the others.

Iggy scream-laughed as he sprinted by with Mario’s red cap in his hand. Mario followed in hot pursuit, his loose bow tie flapping against his open shirt collar. He jumped and landed squarely on Iggy’s spiked back, causing him to retreat into his shell. Smirking, he swiped his cap and put it on.

“You still got it!” Iggy cackled, popping his head out.

“Of course-a I do!” Mario smoothed his white mustache. “But I’m going to feel-a that later.”

“Yeah, you’re old!” Iggy emerged fully and kipped up.

“You’ll get-a old too.”

“Maybe! How old are you anyway?”

“Sixty-seven.”

“HAHA! You old fart!”

Mario narrowed his eyes behind his glasses without any real venom.

Cherry snickered and hugged her dad. “Is Iggy causing you problems?”

“None that I can’t solve.” Mario grinned, expression soft. “I’m so-a proud of you, Cherry. Peach is smiling from the sun.”

“No doubt about it. She’s— oof!”

“Group hug!” Iggy squished both of them to his chest.

Somewhere, Aretha shrieked at the top of her lungs. “But I wanna be tall!”

“Well, sweetie pie, that takes time,” Morton replied to her.

Cherry broke away from Iggy and Mario to investigate, and found Aretha tucked into her shell with Morton standing nearby. They were by the playground slide, which was shadowed by the castle.

“Is she okay?”

Morton twitched his tail, utterly calm. Humor flickered in his eyes. “Yup. Just having a little tantrum.”

“Uh oh! What happened?”

“Two things. One, Junior didn’t want to run the training course again, and two…” He leaned closer, muttering in her ear, “She’s mad that she isn’t tall.”

Cherry giggled. Aretha was at that volatile age.

Mario caught wind of what Morton said and pointed to Cherry with his thumb. “This-a one was furious when she couldn’t fit-a into my suspenders.”

“Sheesh, how old was I?” She scratched the back of her head.

Mario’s expression softened with affection. “Three. And Peach bought you some that fit-a, and you were happy.”

“I will get taller!” Aretha snapped from inside her shell.

“I bet you will!” Cherry bent to regard her.

“I want it today!”

Cherry muttered to Morton, “You could give her a mushroom.”

“She’s allergic to them.” He huffed under his breath. “Took one bite, said her mouth tingled and next thing we know she’s choking. That wasn’t a fun trip to the emergency room.”

“Ooh. Got it.”

She was glad Mario hated eating them, so Aretha didn’t have to worry about surprise mushrooms in any of his dishes.

Iggy stopped by to check on Aretha and got screamed at.

“I wanna be tall!” She wailed.

Morton gestured at Iggy to move along, so he did, snickering.

Mario pointed to the castle. “I’m going to-a help get the food ready.”

He kissed Cherry’s cheek and hugged her tight. “I love you, my-a Cherry Blossom.”

Cherry’s dress rustled when she nuzzled her cheek against his forehead. “I love you, too, daddy.”

Up ahead, Daisy helped Luigi ease himself to sit in one of the many comfortable wicker chairs throughout the courtyard. Larkspur brought him a glass of punch and Amaryllis propped his cane against the chair’s arm.

Ludwig and Black perched together on the rim of the fountain, gazing fondly at each other. Wolfgang sat by their feet, contentedly lining up rows of rocks.

Sienna approached Morton, smiling, and Aretha popped out of her shell to hug her mom’s leg. Morton’s eyes softened.

Lemmy and Scott laid side by side in the grass, pointing at random clouds. They smiled, entwining their hands.

Larry laughed until he coughed at Iggy’s impression of Toad.

Roy and Pom-Pom walked hand in hand along the edge of the hedge maze, chatting and grinning.

Wendy and Jack smoothed a red tablecloth over three picnic tables lined up end to end. They bumped hips, chuckled and kissed.

“Boo!”

“Ack!” Cherry spun to face Junior. A fireball escaped her hands since the Fire Flower power hadn’t worn off yet. The blast hit the ground harmlessly. “You sneak!”

“Gotcha.” He pulled her close and kissed her softly. Her wedding ring sparkled as she cupped his cheek. He took his braids down, so his wavy hair fell around his shoulders and back.

Mario came outside pushing a cart full of food, and everyone scrambled towards the tables as though pulled by magnets.

Cherry looked around at the Koopa-Toadstool family and marveled. Mario sat across from her. She caught his eye as she dished up her plate of spaghetti.

It’s hard to believe…this family happened because my dad fell down a pipe and rescued my mom from Bowser.

They got down to eating. Everyone made approving noises. Ludwig cut the spaghetti noodles into shorter bits and fed a small forkful to Wolfgang, who frowned as he tasted it for the first time. After a moment, he slapped the table and opened his mouth for more.

“Oh, he likes it!” Mario smiled, “I’ll take-a that as a compliment.”

Ludwig slurped up a noodle. “Wolfgang is adventurous about food.”

“Daddy,” Cherry pointed to a spot under her nose, “You have sauce in your mustache.”

“Oops.” Mario paused to rub it with a napkin, making it worse. His mustache was half red! “Better?”

“It looks fabulous!” Junior replied.

Cherry eyed him and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Lemmy asked from the far end of the table.

Junior took a picture of Mario and texted it to everybody, including Mario. Mirth rippled through until the whole gathering erupted.

Daisy shot Junior a scowl of warning that he pretended not to see. Everybody at the table spammed Mario’s phone with photos of his messy face.

“Mamma-mia,” Mario sighed. He was a good sport, looking through the photos and laughing along with everyone else.

Lemmy tripped getting more spaghetti. One of his meatballs flew up and bopped Iggy in the nose.

“Oh, so that’s how it is, huh, twin?” Iggy flicked the meatball back at Lemmy.

Roy tossed a piece of celery across Larry’s plate.

“That’s it.” Larry picked up his plate full of sauce and planted it on Roy’s bald head.

“Ugh, seriously?” Roy groaned.

“Food fight!” Iggy yelled.

“Uh oh.” Junior grabbed Cherry’s arm and whisked her away from the table as the mayhem exploded. Flying spaghetti, whipped cream and peas went everywhere. Nobody escaped unscathed— even Cherry and Junior found noodles stuck on them.

Ludwig took a dinner roll to his nose. Black flung his whole plate at Iggy, and nailed him in the face. Wendy ducked and ran, leaving Jack to get beaned by meatballs. Luigi avoided a whole bowl of spaghetti, only to get hit by the sauce bowl behind it. Daisy got the side-splatter. Sienna deflected flying peas. Morton caught another thrown roll and ate it whole. Pom-Pom had spaghetti sauce dripping off her chest. Scott lobbed meatballs until Larry dumped gravy over his head.

Junior recorded the mess on his phone. Cherry wiped sauce off her arms. They looked at each other, snickering.

“This is what we married into,” Junior remarked.

“No regrets,” Cherry said back.

Wolfgang and Aretha hid under the table. She fed him pieces of the dinner roll that hit Ludwig. They giggled while the adults made fools of themselves.

.o

Warm sunlight shone down without being oppressively hot.

The Koopa-Toadstool family gathered at the bottom of the valley far below the KTC hill. Aretha and Wolfgang held gardening trowels. Everybody else had shovels.

This verdant valley still had evidence of its canyon beginnings at its north and south ends, while the middle opened wide due to mountains rising and shifting away. Water and tectonic activity carved this marvel over millions of years. It stayed comfortably cool, and wet scents rising off three winding rivers carried pleasantly on the wind.

Sometime, perhaps a hundred years from now, citizens of a new empire would call it home.

Junior bit his shovel into the hard earth, flung the dirt aside and spat into the hole he made.

“For the future,” he said, “This is where Valley City begins.”

Aretha giggled, wagging her tail. “Why did you spit there, uncle Junior?”

“It brings good luck, and it means that whatever gets built here is gonna be awesome.”

Scott almost toppled out of his wheelchair punching his shovel down. “I’m in.”

Lemmy jumped on his shovel to embed it in the dirt and managed to scoop up a huge, jagged rock.

“Oof!” Iggy flung a powdery wad of earth over his shoulder onto Roy’s head.

“Hey, watch it!” Roy flicked his dirt clump back. It landed squarely on Iggy’s glasses, and they both laughed.

Pom-Pom shook her head. She and Roy dug parallel holes next to each other.

“It will be beautiful.” Cherry pushed her shovel in beside Junior’s spot before tipping the soil off it.

Larry twirled his shovel and beatboxed while patting his earth pile into a neat little hill.

Ludwig and Black grinned cheekily at each other as their shovels collided mid-scoop.

Morton and Sienna turned back to back, dug and deposited their dirt piles in the same place.

Aretha stabbed around a pebble with her trowel and ripped up old, dead grass roots.

Jack waited for Wendy to create her dent in the ground and embedded his shovel into the edge of the hole she made.

“I can always find your hole,” he winked at her.

She snickered and elbowed his side.

Wolfgang shirked his trowel in favor of his claws, but his idea of spitting afterward was licking the dirt. Aretha pointed and laughed when he grimaced with his snout stained brown.

“Let’s-a go!” Mario stomped his shovel into the earth beside Junior and flipped it over. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

Boom-Boom erected a Koopa-Mushroom flag over the dirt where they all left a mark, and Lakitu took photos from the sky for cartography purposes later.

Junior looked around at the towering, striated walls of the canyon that opened into a lush valley. Water carved it out the way time carved paths through the universe.

Valley City was about to begin here, a city he wouldn’t be alive to see completed. He wondered if Bowser felt the same awe when he turned over the first bit of dirt for the KTC.

Once, Ludwig said,

“Sometimes the choices that seem insignificant when we make them play the biggest role in our futures.”

And he was right.

Junior laced his fingers with Cherry’s. Their eyes met. They smiled. This happened because he used the Koopa Clown Car for a hide-and-seek hiding place, and it led to her bandaging his toe.

Whatever came next, for them and for the city not yet built, he hoped it would be beautiful.

.o

Time marched on, as it always did.

A coronation photo of Junior and Cherry replaced the wedding photo at the castle entrance. Mario captured it on his phone and it was better than most of the professional photos circulating the internet.

They were in profile, clasping each others’ hands while taking their vows of loyalty to each other while wearing their regalia.

By mutual agreement, they moved the giant wedding picture to Cherry’s family tree wall, right beside an official painting of her sitting on her throne in all her queenly glory.

Likewise, Junior’s wall sported a copy of their wedding photo placed on his wall, along with his official royal portrait. He had to redo the blood ritual and hold the club overhead to get the anointing effect just so, but it came out fantastic. When he posed holding it aloft for the photo the artists used, he twisted sideways so the blue shell on the top of the club was visible as a thank you to his dad.

The artists, a Toad named Toadelly and a Koopa named Talalay, collaborated to create both royal paintings. Two talented women whose brush strokes captured life. It was an honor to have their art hanging in the KTC.

Two days after that, Junior scrolled through the Shell Times online newspaper. His stomach dropped when he found Celine’s obituary.

She lived just long enough to see her fiftieth wedding anniversary to Pat. They celebrated it together, went to bed in each other’s arms, and Pat woke up the next morning to find Celine slipped peacefully away while they slept.

Pat used the bank card to give her beloved wife the lavish funeral she deserved, ending in a traditional lava burial.

Junior couldn’t attend due to his duties, so he sent a giant bouquet of white roses. The card said,

Love you, Celine. Go chase my dad.

Her death was sad. He cried about it. Then he chose to celebrate her life.

Junior commissioned a gold plaque in Celine’s honor and placed it by the elevator on the medical ward. Everyone walking out encountered it first. It stated her name, explained who she was and had a bas relief of her ‘royal’ photo because he knew it would drive her up the wall.

The medical ward became colloquially known as Celine’s floor from that day onward.

.o

Junior burst into the kitchen where Cherry nibbled on breakfast.

“Hey, Cherry, who looks sexy in red?”

Cherry raised an eyebrow without pausing her chewing.

“Me!” He snickered when she frowned. “Aw, I‘m just kidding, you‘re the one who‘s sexy in red.”

She tossed her breakfast roll at his head, laughing. “I want a divorce! My husband doesn‘t like me anymore!”

“Okay.” Junior caught the roll, pretended to pout and leave. He came back a moment later, eating it. “Still considering divorce?”

“Nope!” Cherry kissed his nose with buttery lips. “It‘s about time you got down here. Daddy‘s birthday party is this afternoon. You didn’t forget, did you?”

The humor faded from Junior‘s face a little. No, he didn’t forget, but that didn’t stop him from messing with her.

“That’s today?”

She shot him a long-suffering look and brandished another roll.

He laughed uproariously, waving his hands in a defensive gesture. “Nah! I’m kidding! Don’t worry! I have his gift ready.”

It only took two weeks of digging through the woods and finding what he sought covered in moss. Oh, he had a gift all right!

He wanted to test out his new warp pocket tech, and what better way than to get something big into the Mushroom Castle at just the right moment?

Bowser used to send Mario an obnoxious gift every year for his birthday. Junior figured it was time to pick the tradition up again.

“Can we stop on the way?”

“That‘s why I suggested we leave early. And we better get out of here before somebody drags us into a meeting.” She tugged on the white velvet bandanna dangling off his royal collar, bringing him down for a kiss.

Against his lips, she said, “You know how much I hate those meetings.”

“Right, me, too.“ He grinned at how her blue eyes sparkled. “Let me get the presents. You get the flowers.”

Because his little wrench was a clever cover for the gag gift. She had no idea.

Ten minutes later, they were nestled in the Koopa Clown Car. They kissed, laughed and joked. Five and a half years of marriage deepened their relationship. Junior knew he could lean on Cherry if he needed strength, and she wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable.

Billowy clouds dotted the azure sky, though they weren’t thick enough to block the sun.

A soft breeze blew as Junior set the Koopa Clown Car down at the foot of the hill. He and Cherry made their way up together.

“Hey, dad. You‘re a little dusty today.”

Junior pulled a rag from his shell and wiped the dust off Bowser‘s statue. He handed the rag to Cherry so she could wipe Peach off. Then he knelt to place his rose over Bowser‘s name.

“It‘s Mario‘s birthday. We’re gonna go harass him.” Dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, “I‘ve got the perfect prank to piss him off, too. You’ll love it, dad. You‘ll be laughing your way across the sky.”

No answer, just the wind.

Recent rain softened the grassy earth and gave it a pleasant petrichor coolness. Junior twisted his claw into the mud and inserted a small stainless steel cylinder. Inside it, his white bandanna. A representation of who he was while his dad still lived.

He pushed the cylinder knuckle-deep into the mud, covered it up and patted the disturbed earth flat. Afterward, he wiped his muddy claws clean on the wet grass.

Being at Bowser’s graveside still evoked images of his last gasps. The more frightening memories— the thrashing and roaring— still inflicted a sharp sting. Maybe they always would.

He didn’t burst into uncontrollable tears as much, so he counted that as progress. Like Billie said, he got better at standing up to the waves when they crashed into him.

“The funny thing about history is you don’t see it when you’re making it,” Junior whispered, tracing Bowser’s name on the gold slanted name plate. “What will they say about us two hundred years from now?”

“Good things, hopefully.” Cherry tapped his arm with her red rose before she placed it on Peach’s name plate.

She rarely spoke to Peach‘s grave, choosing instead to think her words privately.

Bowser did a good job matching us up. I don‘t know if you‘re with him now or not, but if you are, I hope he‘s making you happy. Junior misses him a lot.

She smiled, blushing.

I think it‘s a good thing you and Bowser waited until you met in Heaven to get together. If he‘s as passionate as Junior…

Cherry let the thought trail off and glanced at her husband. “Ready to go?”

Junior traced Bowser‘s name with his thumb claw again. King Bowser Koopa I.

He turned to her and smiled, flashing his sharp teeth. “Yeah.”

.o

An exhausted Mario closed the doors after his long birthday party. Goodness gracious, it was almost as big a party as Cherry’s wedding reception! He received more gifts than he could open in one day, so everybody was coming back tomorrow to continue where the party left off.

The aged plumber wiped a hand down his face. He just wanted to sit on his throne and enjoy the silence for a few minutes.

But that was not to be.

When he entered his throne room and turned on the lights, there was a loud fwoosh and a flash. As the lambent brilliance faded, it left a wooden object balanced perfectly across his throne. Familiar, yet older, with new twigs and moss sprouting off it like hair. Somehow, that made it more vulgar.

Dangling from it was a banner that read,

Do old men still get wood?

He gawked at the giant, crudely-carved phallus while wondering how on earth it managed to appear there.

Junior leapt out from behind the pillar and dashed towards the door, howling with uproarious mirth.

“Happy birthday, you old fart!”

“No!

Stronzo! Testa di cazzo!

You‘re a-worse than your-a father was!” Mario chased him out the door, shaking his fist in the air. His voice rose in pitch as he swore in Italian.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, your majesty!” Junior jeered playfully.

Cherry waited with the Koopa Clown Car in hover mode above the drawbridge. Junior asked her to wait while he said a final good night to Mario.

He burst outside, jumped over the front steps, bounded forward and front-flipped into the Koopa Clown Car with Mario screaming behind him.

Mario didn’t swear unless someone

really

set him off.

“Go!” Junior cackled.

“What did you do?” Cherry grabbed the controls and took off into the sky, leaving Mario in the dust.

Mario grabbed the garden hose. He turned it on full blast and sprayed water, though the stream fell short of its target

“Scram-a! Get-a outta here, brat!”

“Junior!” Cherry gritted her teeth.

“Nice try, Mario!” Junior grinned, pointing to him as Cherry sped the Koopa Clown Car away. “I‘ll call you when my toilet clogs again!”

The elderly plumber king’s shouting faded into the distance until it was inaudible.

“Okay.” Cherry stopped the aircraft and regarded Junior with a raised brow. “Start talking. What did you do?”

Junior explained it in full detail.

She blinked and burst into laughter. “Junior! Really? You know he’s gonna give you hell tomorrow, right?”

“Yup. I hope he does!” He pretended to polish his claws on his plastron ridges. “Dad was right. Bothering Mario makes being alive fun.”

Cherry swatted his chest. The blow had no real venom behind it. She turned as the breeze ruffled her dark heart shaped bangs.

“You’re as obnoxious as Bowser.”

Junior beamed, the wind blowing his topknot ponytail sideways. “Good. You’re as cute as Peach.”

“I sure hope so.” She gazed softly at him. “You’re ridiculous, but you’re also my bestest, best, most ultra-sexy and lovable husband.”

He kissed her forehead, losing himself in her eyes. “You’re my most bestest, best, better-than-best, most mega-super-ultra-on-top-of-ultra-super-sexy and wonderful wife.”

Cherry kissed the end of his nose and leaned on his chest. “Let’s be that forever.”

Their laughter echoed off the landscape as the Koopa Clown Car zoomed past Peach’s and Bowser’s graves. Its propeller blew the roses askew and they fell together like lovers between the gleaming name plates.

.o

.o

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

In the end…  The old castle in the Darklands volcano became the thriving Koopa Royal museum chronicling the Koopa royal family. Junior’s siblings sometimes made surprise appearances to the delight of visitors, but Junior himself couldn’t bear to go back there once he left. The memories weighed too much.Mario worked with Junior and Cherry to continue the joining of their kingdoms. Within five years they finished it, and named their new country the United Darklands-Mushroom Kingdom, or UDMK, but most people began to colloquially call it the Koopa-Toadstool empire.Wendy started a new business, named WendyCorp, and it slowly became a juggernaut in the Koopa beauty industry. She shot ahead as a leader in hair, fashion and makeup trends. Designers flocked to work for her brand, where she helped nobodies become household names.It wasn’t long before names like Joanne, Galileo, Fantasia, Mads and Pearl showed up on makeup, clothing, claw polish, jewelry and handbags.Roy became the best chef the Koopa-Toadstool family had ever seen thanks to his night school culinary classes. He never did it professionally, it was a hobby to him, but he loved catering parties and feeding everybody, and had fun swapping recipes with Black.Sienna and Morton took Aretha to see Billie for her baseline echocardiogram and angiogram two days after her fifth hatch-day. Israel did her tail stick. She never cried once.“It stung a little,” she said. “Uncle Junior, how come you screamed so much?”Junior chuckled about that for days.At age ten, she had her second checkup, and Billie discovered her Crash was stage four. Dissolving stents were put in, the same ones Junior got.Morton and Sienna sat with her the whole time. She was never afraid.Ludwig and Black brought Wolfgang for testing. Like Lemmy, he had to be knocked completely out. He only hollered once during the needle poke in his tail before the sedatives eased him towards sleep.His heart looked beautiful on the echocardiogram, albeit they were concerned about his large aortic valve. The angiogram went smoothly. He woke up after it all with his two dads snuggled up to him on the gurney.Wolfgang had to do it again once he turned ten. Black and Ludwig got the reassuring news— his large aortic valve was a normal anatomical variation, no Crash.Aretha came to be tall and muscular like Morton and Sienna. She wore her coily black hair in twin puffs, which she decorated with glitter and beads. Her gorgeous face turned many heads. Once, she had an agent approach her for modeling.She took on the modeling gig when she turned sixteen and did it for a year. Clothes, makeup, sunglasses and claw polish. Morton and Sienna’s only rule was no sexually-charged ads. Anything the royal family said had more weight than most, so people were careful with her. She killed it on the runway modeling clothes for teen Koopas.As she got bigger, her three vertical shell spikes thickened so much that her shell hurt her back, so she had them hollowed out to reduce their weight and save her spine.Wolfgang grew enormously during his growth spurt. At fifteen, he was already as large as Junior. By eighteen, he towered a full head taller. His shoulders were a foot broader than Morton’s and his hands were bigger than Ludwig’s head. Four long spikes grew along his tail. His three front teeth stayed prominently visible due to his overbite, his feathery white hair remained baby-fine and the length in the back hung draped in front of his shoulders. Junior joked that his big, bushy white eyebrows kept his bangs from falling into his eyes, but that didn’t stop them from trying to.Mario compared Wolfgang’s spectacularly large horns to an African wildebeest. Nobody except Luigi had any idea what he meant. They added eleven inches to his height and gave his angular features an imposing edge.His voice deepened a full octave lower than Bowser’s. He would have made a stupendous basso profundo in an opera chorus. Sometimes Lemmy sat next to him when he vocal-stimmed because he enjoyed the vibrations of his humming.Wolfgang’s frighteningly handsome appearance belied his gentle giant nature. All someone had to do was watch Ludwig feed him, see Black give him a bath or witness the magic he worked at a piano for the truth to reveal itself.When he outgrew his childhood spiked collar, Lemmy made him a new one identical to its predecessor.The makers of Runners brand briefs had to invent a whole new size class for him so he could continue wearing them. They worked with WendyCorp to design briefs that looked like fashionable shorts while staying comfortable for Koopas with sensory sensitivities. Wolfgang preferred the stretchy pull-up types that only required tearing the tabs apart for messy changes.He never spoke a word. All his communication came through his tablet, PECS cards and Koopa Sign.Black and Ludwig recorded their voices on Wolfgang’s tablet, and somehow the software combined them to grant Wolfgang a baritone rumble that suited him. He would use that voice for the rest of his life.Aretha appointed herself as Wolfgang’s protector. Nobody could say a negative thing about him without her interjecting.Once, she punched another teenager for calling him stupid.“And I’ll do it again,” she said when confronted.Little did anyone realize how much she meant it..oA decade of digging uncovered Wolfgang’s biological parents. He wanted to know who they were and take a look at them if they still lived, so Iggy scoured the internet until he dug up the results.His father, a computer tech named Andrew, died the day of Junior’s coronation. Evidence pointed to suicide by poisoning. Maybe he saw Wolfgang collar a king and the guilt grew to be too much.His mother was Joanne, the well-known fashion designer for Wendy’s company. Joanne, of all people!She concealed the secret of what she did by destroying Wolfgang’s hatching certificate and having her computer tech husband delete him from the system via hacking. And she might have gotten away with it if he didn’t forget to delete a medical record for fertility treatments. Joanne wanted a child, didn’t like the one she got and dumped him off to die.When he turned nineteen, Wolfgang asked to see her. He wouldn’t be talked out of it. Aretha took him to her by car since he enjoyed riding in convertibles with the top down. She owned a nice deep purple Cyclonus, a popular car brand among Koopas.Like Wolfgang, Joanne had albinism, albeit not as pronounced— her scales were pale like lettuce leaves, her shell white and her eyes light red. She dyed her short hair gold, the white roots visible underneath.“Justin!” She rushed to embrace Wolfgang when he appeared on her mansion doorstep, but he didn’t return the affection.“Who?” Wolfgang typed on his tablet.“You’re Justin! My son, Justin!” She cried on his chest. No remorse for how she hurt him. “I saw you collar our king, Justin!”“Not Justin.” Wolfgang scowled and typed again, “Wolfgang.”He backed out of her arms and signed, “Why?”Joanne stopped, tearful eyes drying up and icing over.“You changed. You turned a year old, and you went from a normal, babbling, happy child to something I didn’t recognize anymore. You weren’t the son I loved and hoped for. You were impossible to handle. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make you behave.”She gestured up and down at him, her expression chilling further.“Look at you! You’re an adult and you’re still in diapers! You can’t talk or take care of yourself! Who put up with you all these years, huh?”Wolfgang narrowed his eyes. That was all the answer he needed. He swiped to another screen on his tablet, grunted, and typed, “Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.”With that, he turned to leave. Joanne grabbed his hand, bawling. “Don’t walk away from me! I’m your mother, Justin!”Wolfgang pulled out of her grasp and kept walking.“Justin!” Joanne trailed behind, shouting at him. “You still don’t listen! Justin!”Aretha jumped out of her car and punched her so hard she lost three teeth as she stumbled against the hedge lining her curving walkway.“You sadistic jerk!” She pointed an accusing finger at Joanne’s tearful face, growling, “Those tears are as fake as your love for him! He’s a member of the royal Koopa family now! We know what you did to him, and I’ll make sure everybody finds out! He lived because people better than you care about him! Now you get to watch him walk away.”“You’ll ruin me!” Joanne wailed.“No, bitch, you ruined yourself when you hurt him.”Wolfgang and Aretha left her there to sob pitifully. He didn’t show any emotion during the drive back. Aretha rubbed his shoulder anyway, knowing it was building up.She stopped at a ShellBucks drive-thru to get him his favorite treat, chocolate ice cream in a cup, and he gazed questioningly into her eyes as she fed him every delicious bite.“Hey.” Aretha cleaned the brown dribbles off his chin with a damp napkin. “You don’t belong to her. It doesn’t matter that she gave you life. Blood doesn’t bind families together, love does. You’re part of the Koopa clan, Wolfgang, and we love you.”That night, he woke Ludwig and Black while bawling his eyes out. He played a recording of what Joanne said, which Ludwig interpreted for Black.They leapt out of bed and embraced him, piling their love onto him as he wailed, screamed and sobbed.Ludwig took Wolfgang’s face between his hands and signed, “I chose you, and you were never too much for me. You were never hard to love. Never, my son. I loved you when I first laid eyes on you. I loved you when you struggled, and I loved you when you triumphed. I would do it all again. I love you for who you are. I love you. I love you. I love you. There was never a moment where I did not love you, my precious, wonderful, beautiful son, and there will never be a moment where I stop loving you.”His eyes were fierce, glistening with tears. He stroked Wolfgang’s hair and kissed his forehead.Black, who cried at seeing his son so distraught, pointed to Ludwig and signed, “Everything he said. I chose you, too. I love you, son, always! This house is better with you in it and I never regretted adopting you. You belong here! Anyone who says you don’t belong is lying, and I will fight them! I love you, my boy, my son, my sweet, amazing son, that is not ever going to change. Everybody in this family loves you and will love you forever.”Wolfgang nestled into the comfort of their arms and believed their words. Their love melted Joanne’s cruel hate off him like flames melting wax.The next day, Aretha called Wendy up to let her know who Joanne was, emailed her the recordings from Wolfgang’s tablet as evidence, and Wendy fired her from the company before the phone call concluded.Wolfgang chose not to have his mother arrested or executed. The scandal about Joanne as “the abuser of Baby X, later known as Wolfgang Amadeus Koopason” exploded all over the news. Nobody wanted to hire her. She never escaped the shame of her cruelty, and it followed her to her death a year later.Joanne crashed her car into a boulder, and her shell snapped her neck. Not even the coroners could tell if she did it by accident or intentionally, but they found enough alcohol in her system to indicate she was drunk when it happened.Wolfgang received her organs as her only living next of kin. He decided to throw them away because he refused to take anything of hers beyond her DNA.Ludwig and Black drove him to the lava pits near the ocean where most people disposed of rotting food and let him do the honors.He dropped the cloth bundle wet with her organs inside and watched it burst into flames as it landed. The cloth burned away first, revealing her organs as they bubbled to a crisp.“You’re better than her!” Black signed, kicking rocks into the orange pit.Ludwig kissed Wolfgang’s cheek and rubbed his shoulder, signing, “I’m proud of you.”Wolfgang stood with the dads who chose him, stared down at the burning viscera of the mother who threw him away, and felt vindicated.Junior found out about all of it via ClawBook, since Wolfgang, Ludwig and Black posted pictures of everything. He left scratches and heart emojis.Time ticked on, inexorable in its advance, and death lurked in its shadow. Junior had no idea of the many maelstroms about to unfold in his life, or how much it would hurt..oMorton died suddenly at sixty-two, the same age as Bowser.Sienna was on tour with Serrated at the time. Morton packed up the stage like he always did after a show and returned to the hotel room. He said he didn’t feel well because he pulled a muscle in his back hefting an amp.Aretha discovered him face-down on the floor, mouth open and eyes rolled back. His snout hit the footboard of the bed, denting the metal, gashing his nose and knocking out one of his teeth. Blood splattered everywhere, including on the phone beside his hand.Even worse, he was still warm, so he died minutes before their arrival.Sienna bawled while clutching his body. “I’m here, Morton. It’s okay, I’m here.”Aretha held her tears in until the medics zipped the body bag, then she sobbed in Sienna’s arms.She found Morton’s tooth as they prepared to leave the wrecked hotel room, and she kept it without telling anybody.Morton’s sudden death rocked the Koopa-Toadstool family just as much as Bowser’s. Junior never forgot holding Aretha while she screamed and pounded on his shoulders. He understood exactly how she felt.An autopsy revealed a massive aortic dissection, a rare complication of Crash. The torn arterial lining ripped free across his aortic arch, formed an aneurysm and burst. Blood flooded his pericardial sac, causing tamponade until his heart collapsed.The tear probably began that morning, formed a painful aneurysm during all the heavy lifting of equipment before the concert— leaving him feeling unwell with back pain— and the rupture happened after he returned to his room. Coroners said the rupture was so violent that he would have felt a sharp, intense chest pain and collapsed due to the abrupt loss of blood pressure. It took him under three minutes to go from alive to dead.Though Morton died tragically young like Bowser, he lived thirty years longer than he would have without stents. Once the coroners cleared all the blood away, they discovered his heart was scarred from a silent heart attack in his circumflex artery. His body surrounded the partially-blocked artery in neovascularization, a natural bypass.Larry read the report through tears, and said, “There would’ve been no way to save him after that. He was dead before he hit the floor.”But Morton’s phone malfunctioned when he dropped it, leaving it stuck turned on, and the screen showed he tried to call an ambulance.Junior wondered if Larry told the truth, or if he said that to spare everyone the possibility that Morton writhed on the floor in excruciating pain before he died. He kept his mouth shut and didn’t question it.“Dying alone like that is one of my worst fears,” Roy said, wringing his hands. “What’s your other one?” Larry asked, only half-serious.“Getting told I’m gonna die in a short time when there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t want to see it coming, or know it’s coming, I just…I’d rather go to sleep and never wake up.” Roy answered seriously.Iggy grumbled, throwing his sponge down. “Can’t believe we lost Morton this way. Sucks.”The morticians couldn’t close Morton’s mouth properly, so the wires and stitches were visible despite their best efforts. They did a beautiful job of sealing the gash in his nose with transparent stitches until it barely showed, so Junior didn’t complain.Aretha sobbed throughout the entire process of bathing Morton’s body for the wake. Sienna numbly dressed him in a dark brown tux, and the stiff shirt collar helped push his mouth closed.Cherry cried when she saw him laid out on the hay. Lemmy laid on his chest and bawled helplessly. Everybody was wrecked.Junior thought back to the last time they talked. It was a video call, while Morton stayed in the colorful Rainbow Road Hotel on the south side of Sarasaland.“Just some heartburn this morning. Probably those dang chili pepper scrambled eggs I keep eating.” Morton laughed, his wide face half in shadow. “I’m keeping the pharmacy downstairs in business with all the antacids I’m buying!”“Those eggs will get’cha.” Junior grinned, those things were like eating fire. “I better let you go, I know you have a busy day. Tell Aretha and Sienna hi.”“Will do.” Morton’s eyes softened. “Love you, stent bro.”“Love you, too, stent bro. Bye.”They waved to each other on their screens, and Junior would never see Morton alive again.The family entombed him in the interior southeast wall of Bowser’s volcano per his instructions, and a stone plaque marked his final resting place. Sienna pushed an amp into the tomb with him.Larry took Morton’s donated heart apart and studied it all the way to the molecular level, determined to find a cure for Crash.Wendy, Cherry and Pom-Pom surrounded Sienna and Aretha in as much love and support they could offer while they struggled through their grief.Life wobbled back towards equilibrium, albeit scarred and wounded by loss..oJunior, Cherry and Iggy sat together in the lavish marble living room while afternoon summer rain beat against the window.“…so Lemmy wiped it on me instead and left me with the mess!” Junior finished telling Iggy about one of Lemmy’s many gross booger mishaps.“Gross.” Cherry snickered.Iggy laughed uproariously, slapping his knees. “He used to eat ‘em as a kid! That’s nasty! AHAHAHA!”He froze, his laugh transformed into a grating banshee shriek and he twisted to look in horrible fright at something behind him. A moment later, his limbs extended in front of him as if stretching after waking from slumber, except they continued tensing up.Iggy never seized like that before, not without going through a focal dyscognitive aura first. He tipped sideways in the chair, dangerously close to falling off head-first.“Iggy!” Cherry set her book aside and grabbed his shoulders to stop him from sliding forward. She placed her delicate abdominal area in reach of his sharp claws, unaware of the danger.Junior followed, staying calm despite this not looking like Iggy’s normal seizure pattern.“Tonic clonic. Start timing it, and stand back. His claws and spikes will cut you.”Cherry backed off.Junior eased Iggy onto the floor, rolled him onto his side and tucked a pillow under his head. Iggy stayed in the stiff tonic phase for over a minute, far longer than he usually did. His tongue paled to sickly white.“He’s getting pale!” Cherry pointed out. “Is he breathing?”“I can’t tell. Shit!”Junior grabbed Iggy’s emergency Ativan gel out of his shell and squirted it into his nostril rather than his mouth. He was drooling too much, and it needed to be in contact with mucous membranes to work.“Come on, Iggy, fight your way out.”“Three minutes,” Cherry whispered, hugging herself. She teared up. Junior rubbed her arm.Finally, Iggy transitioned towards jerking. Big, wide, violent contractions wracked his muscles. He gasped and grunted in wet, gurgling spurts, so at least he was moving air into his lungs.Spit poured out of his mouth in frothy white foam stained red from his bitten tongue. The brown pillow cushioning his head darkened as his spittle soaked the satin fabric.Cherry sniffled and tapped Junior’s shell. “Five minutes, thirty seconds.”“Too long. Call downstairs.”She grabbed her cell phone.A horrid smell permeated the room because Iggy ejected everything in his bladder and bowels. Junior pulled him away from the mess, but he kept producing more. It smeared everywhere.Iggy was still convulsing when Israel, Peter and Gabriel rushed in with a stretcher.“We’re at the seven minute mark now,” Cherry told them, her face pale with worry. “Junior gave him the Ativan, and it won’t stop.”“It’s okay, we’ll take care of him.” Israel said gently. He took Iggy’s glasses off and passed them to Junior.“We’re looking at convulsive status epilepticus. We have to stabilize him before we can transport. Over.” Gabriel murmured into his walkie-talkie. The response was too garbled to make out.Israel had to clean the urine and feces off Iggy’s tail to start an IV. He did it without hesitation and threw chux pads over the disaster on the floor to help stop the stench.Peter managed to stick ECG cups to Iggy’s chest and upper arms. All-too-familiar beeps and chirps broke the susurrus of wind-blown rain on the window. Iggy’s pulse showed up on the screen as green spikes beating over a hundred times a minute. His SATs were in the eighties. Nobody could get the oxygen on him with his head shifting so much. Not good.“Pushing Keppra,” Gabriel said, his gloved hands drawing up the medicine in the syringe and injecting it through the IV line Israel established.“Gods,” Cherry turned away, sniffling.“How fast will that work?” Junior asked. “I gave him an Ativan squirt in his nose and it isn’t doing a thing!”“Give it a minute. The combo of both might do the trick,” Peter said.Junior kept his hand on Iggy’s shoulder while his violent jerks slowed down to a stop.Iggy rasped twice, groaned and stiffened, going into another tonic clonic seizure without recovering.“Damn!” Gabriel cursed, grabbing the nasal cannula. He fit the prongs into Iggy’s nose just before his body started jerking violently back and forth again.Cherry crammed herself next to Junior and stroked the top of Iggy’s head. “Iggy, come out of it! Please!”Blood spilled through Iggy’s jaws as his teeth sawed into his tongue. His SATs wouldn’t rise despite the oxygen in place.“No choice. Israel, get the phenobarbital,” Gabriel said.Junior’s blood ran cold. That was the last line of defense, it basically shut the brain off. He sobbed once and whispered in Iggy’s ear, “Hang in there, big brother. We’ll sort this out.”Israel bent over them, soft voice gentle, “You have to move, I’m sorry.”Plastic packaging crackled. Everybody wearing gloves changed into fresh pairs.Junior and Cherry stepped back. Israel pushed the phenobarbital, pulled Iggy’s shell off, suctioned the excessive spit out of his mouth and intubated him as soon as he stopped convulsing. Gabriel squeezed the ambu bag, Israel lifted Iggy onto the gurney, Peter gathered all the medical equipment and Gabriel led them out into the corridor.Cherry looked at Junior, her dazed eyes not focusing. Junior swallowed. He felt sick to his stomach. The room reeked of piss and shit, the same as it did when Bowser died. Iggy’s shell was still on the rug next to plastic wrapping and bodily waste material.Three Toad maids came in to clean up without complaint.“It’ll be all right, your majesties,” the chubby one said, her eyes glistening with grandmotherly warmth.Goombas joined them with buckets, brushes and disinfectant. The room went from stinking to lemony fresh in under fifteen minutes.Junior looked out the window at the gloomy sky. The rain suited how he felt.Four hours later, after a quick sandwich dinner neither ate much of, Junior and Cherry sat together in the pale green intensive care ward. Iggy was lifeless on the pastel yellow bed, his chest rising whenever the hissing gray ventilator tube pushed air into his lungs. He was in a medically induced coma to halt the unstoppable seizure activity. A burst-suppression pattern, Michael called it.CT and MRI scans didn’t show anything abnormal for him. They risked an encephalogram to check for strokes, aneurysms or brain bleeds that didn’t show up on CT or MRI scans, but that came back looking normal.Iggy was perfectly compliant in taking his Depakote. If he needed a change of dosage, he rolled with it. He didn’t drink, smoke or do anything that risked lowering his seizure threshold.Tests continued, checking him from top to bottom. The only thing the medics found was a budding kidney infection that hadn’t become symptomatic yet, so they started antibiotics to treat it.Cherry held Junior’s hand while she mass-texted their families to alert them of what happened.Junior struggled to not see Bowser lying there. The horrible memories of intensive care seemed to follow him regardless of location.The kidney infection cleared up in twenty-four hours. Iggy’s condition stabilized, so they reduced the phenobarbital and began to gently introduce his Depakote again. He stayed on the ventilator since his respiratory drive hadn’t returned yet.“Iggy,” Junior rubbed his older brother’s forearm while Cherry held his hand.“Hi, Iggy. Can you squeeze my hand?” Cherry asked.Iggy’s eyelids fluttered and he gripped Cherry’s hand tighter.She smiled as she kissed his cheek. “Good job. You’ll be feeling better real soon.”“Hey, Iggster.” Junior picked up his other hand. “Looks like you had a rough time, huh?”Iggy opened his eyes and squinted since he didn’t have his glasses on. His thin green eyebrows furrowed, as if he didn’t know where he was or what happened. And who would after the mess of seizures he had? He closed his eyes and gave in to slumber once more.Junior and Cherry left him alone to rest, comforted that he would be okay.The phone rang at two in the morning. Iggy went into cardiac arrest, but they got his pulse back.His heart stopped again three hours later, and yet again two hours after that. Junior walked in on the final, valiant resuscitation effort following a fourth arrest. He never forgot the silence, or George’s voice trembling as he said, “Time of death, oh-seven-sixteen.”Junior bawled as he called his siblings and told them to get to the KTC immediately. Cherry hugged him as the medics rushed Iggy away.Iggy wanted to donate his usable organs, so the medics took him into surgery to hook him up on bypass and extend how long his organs would be viable. They administered anesthetic drugs and painkillers to ensure he wouldn’t perceive any kind of pain during retrieval, and they left the bypass machine running after they finished.Peter cleaned up all the blood and disposed of bloodied sponges and instruments. George placed Iggy’s life-saving organs in coolers and sent them on their way. Israel covered his open torso with a sterile black sheet that wouldn’t show bloodstains for Cherry’s sake before bringing his family into the OR.Iggy laid there, the endotracheal tube still protruding out of his mouth. His foggy eyes were half-closed, his muscles slack. Hyperactive, wild Iggy did not look right lying so motionless.Roy sobbed inconsolably against Iggy’s forehead. Wendy caressed his cheek, sniffling. Larry smoothed his graying plume of hair. Ludwig kissed his hands and massaged them with his thumbs. Lemmy sat on his feet, whimpering.Black led Jack to the table and Ludwig gave him Iggy’s hand to hold. Junior helped Scott perch on the table next to Lemmy. Cherry clutched Junior’s wrist so tight her knuckles were pale.Ludwig beckoned Sienna to bring Aretha and Wolfgang forward. Sienna brushed her knuckles against Iggy’s neck. Aretha took one look at him, sobbed and hid her face against her mom’s shoulder. Wolfgang patted Iggy’s knee. Junior looked on, numb.Everybody was raw. Morton died just last year, and now they were losing Iggy. It wasn’t fair.Nobody wanted to give the order to shut off the bypass machine. Cherry did it, quietly, with teardrops streaming down her face.Israel shut off the bypass device. Tears glistened in his eyes.“Twin!” Lemmy scurried forward to hug Iggy’s head and screamed when the bypass machine stopped whirring.Just like that, Iggy was gone far too soon.His lungs, liver, kidneys, bone marrow and blood saved many lives. The medics kindly retrieved his heart and entrails for the wake meal.Iggy was sixty-nine years old, and medics listed his cause of death as SUDEP.At his wake, Iggy wore the obnoxious bright green tux he had on at Junior’s wedding. His slack face was locked in an expression of profound sadness that wasn’t typical of him. A Koopa Troopa stood by with a towel to mop his face because embalming fluid kept leaking out of his mouth. The whole place reeked like the morgue. Sienna threw incense into the fireplace to get rid of the stench.Lemmy sobbed, “Where are his glasses? He can’t see without his glasses! Put his glasses on! Put on his glasses!”Junior retrieved them. Iggy looked more like himself with those round black frames on his face.“It ain’t fair!” Roy sobbed against Pom-Pom’s chest.Black cried on Ludwig’s shoulder. Wendy leaned on Sienna and Aretha. Jack patted Wolfgang’s shell.Scott, Lemmy and Larry clung to each other. Iggy was their neighbor and roomate, so their household lost its loudest member.Three weeks later, Lemmy put Iggy’s glasses on him one last time before sealing him into his shell for his lava flow burial. South Darklands Peak was a popular gravesite.Everybody stood around, watching the lava consume Iggy’s shell. The roses Cherry threw burned up before impact.Junior cried, watching his devastated family flounder in the wake of two close-together deaths.Iggy’s and Lemmy’s joint hatch-day rolled around a month after Iggy’s funeral. He used to prank Lemmy horribly every year, so it didn’t feel right without some kind of smoke, confetti, silly string, fart noises or scream-laughing.Lemmy spent it crying and refused to celebrate. He ate his cake and opened his gifts the next day, alone, without celebration. From that year on, his hatch-days were quiet affairs.Time charged onward, uncaring..oJunior found his first gray hair right after he turned fifty-nine. Maybe his dad aged prematurely due to all the heart attacks. But once he found one, more slowly appeared.Cherry had grays in her heart shaped bangs and mixed into the length like pepper. She said her graying pattern followed Mario’s, and she didn’t bother dyeing it.“Will you let your mustache turn white, too?” Junior teased her.Cherry bopped him with her spoon, which had spaghetti sauce on it, and cracked up at the chunky red streak it left on his snout.Junior’s five-year echo-angio rolled around three days after his sixtieth hatch-day. Everything checked out. Perfect valves and no dangerously narrowed arteries of note.Ludwig took him out for drinks to celebrate. Junior was still recovering from the sedatives he got twenty-four hours previous, so he ended up more drunk than usual.“Damn, my head is spinning,” Junior signed.They got quite the laugh letting Wolfgang try a shot of Hard Scale Golden Whiskey. He asked for it, slammed back the shot and his face almost turned inside out.“Best whiskey face ever!” Junior caught a photo of the moment. “How’s that taste, Wolfgang?”“Shit!” Wolfgang signed, shoving his thumb into his fist. He grimaced and shook his head.“Don’t encourage him.” Ludwig smirked over his martini.Wolfgang unleashed the loudest belch Junior ever heard in his life. Even Ludwig perceived it, and he rarely made out individual noises in crowded places.He furrowed his brow, signing, “What do we say when we belch?”“Excused,” Wolfgang signed, giggling.Junior high-foured him for that impressive burp. Bowser would’ve laughed the hardest at it..oTwo years later, Junior started his sixty-second hatch-day on his balcony, watching the sun come up with Cherry at his side and wondering what all of this meant.“Dad, I’m as old as you were,” he whispered to the sunrise. The light gleamed off the gray streaks in his hair and bushy eyebrows.Cherry kissed his cheek and held him while he cried on her shoulder.Junior wanted this hatch-day to stay simple. No wild party, no presents, just cake, his family around him and quietude. Everyone understood why and abided by his request. That year, Bowser’s death date hit Junior harder than watching him die. It wasn’t a grief wave, it was an overwhelming tsunami. He didn’t talk to anybody or leave his room until it receded.Iggy’s and Morton’s hatch-days and death dates hit everybody hard. Nobody smiled on those dates.The curse of a large family was mourning many deaths. Bowser, Morton and Iggy were only the start of a long cascade..oMario never wanted to admit his growing frailty, not even when he lost a lot of weight, developed kyphosis and changed out his little half-moon glasses for full on bifocals.“You poor old-a fart,” Mario said to Junior in jest.“Hey, you’re a fossilized fart,” Junior quipped back. “Look at you, you’re getting skinnier than Luigi! I’m gonna mistake you for a spaghetti noodle and boil you one of these days!”Mario cough-laughed. “Touché!”During the winter, He replaced a cracked pipe that sprayed him with icy water. A younger man could shake that off, but he came down with bronchitis and pleurisy at the same time, a painful combo.The pleurisy cleared up, but the bronchitis sank into pneumonia that wouldn’t wholly dissipate despite rounds of antibiotics. He got better, started coughing again, got better, started coughing again and it continued on like that for five months.Even worse, he made the same mistake as Bowser by not being forthcoming about his struggles. “It’s just a little cough, I’m almost through it,” he told Cherry over a video call.Mario collapsed and fell down the same staircase that killed Peach. The only thing that saved him was he tucked himself in a ball, so he tumbled sideways instead of headfirst. Miraculously, he didn’t break any bones or bleed internally, but he was in too much pain to get up. His guards made him lay still until the castle medics took him away and verified no neck or spinal injuries.He laid in the medical ward bruised, battered, and horribly sick.Murphtoad didn’t mince words when he told Mario that his lungs were failing. Mario knew his time was coming, he could feel it. He signed a DNR and asked to be taken upstairs to his own bed.Murphtoad called Cherry to alert her, because Mario wasn’t going to. She thanked him for the call and turned to Junior after. Tears spilled out of her eyes.“Now we’re both going to be without our daddies.”Junior enfolded her in his arms and cried with her because he understood the dread opening a pit in her stomach. They packed some essentials and took a warp pipe to the Mushroom Castle.Nurses attended to Mario, ensuring proper pain control and comfort. He never felt a twinge thanks to their care. When Cherry and Junior arrived, he was sitting up in bed, eating soup and looking through old photo albums of Cherry’s childhood.“Daddy,” Cherry sniffled.Mario pushed the album aside to hug her. He wasn’t wearing his white gloves, so his soft hands caressed her cheek.“Everything will be okey-donkey, my sweet-a Cherry blossom.”Luigi and Daisy arrived not long after Junior and Cherry. Luigi’s hair and handlebar mustache were all white now. He hunched over a silver folding walker and hobbled along on shuffling feet. Daisy wore thick glasses with brown cat-eye frames and carried a simple wooden cane. Cherry ran to greet them and cried on their shoulders.Five days later, Cherry slipped her arms around Mario, and Junior held his small, bony hands. Luigi and Daisy placed their hands on his chest. He was gasping intermittently, yet calmer than anyone had ever seen him.Murphtoad woke everybody up at four in the morning to tell them Mario looked to be near the end, and for the past three hours they gathered at his side.“I love you. It’s-a fine. I’m fine. I can’t keep-a Peach waiting.” “Can you see her, daddy?” Cherry asked through her tears.Mario nodded, his eyes growing faraway.“Then go,” Luigi clutched at his soft red pajama shirt. He sobbed, “Go be with-a your wife.”Daisy kissed Mario’s cheek and wrapped an arm around Luigi. “Sleep, sweetheart. You earned your rest.”Junior scooted closer when Cherry started to cry. “Tell my dad hi when you see him.”“It’s okay to go, daddy. I love you so much,” Cherry murmured in his ear. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”Mario stopped responding as he faded into unconsciousness. His lips turned blue, he gasped a few more times and was still. No long, dramatic, drawn out struggle, because Mario didn’t mess around.Nobody moved for a while. The silence blanketing the room rang eerily familiar.“I think he’s gone,” Junior whispered, stunned.“Daddy!” Cherry let out a wail and muffled her bawling in the pillow cradling Mario’s head.Luigi pressed a hand over his eyes. Daisy dialed on her phone.Murphtoad came upstairs to confirm with his stethoscope.“He died,” he said simply, clasping his hands together. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”Mario didn’t slide gently into death, he ran and leapt at it.Cherry kissed his forehead and smoothed his white hair behind his ears. She turned to Luigi, Daisy and Junior with puffy eyes, and said, “He’s with mom. Now nothing can hurt him.”Luigi took it the hardest. He sobbed on Mario’s chest first, then Daisy’s shoulder. Junior held Cherry while she hugged Mario’s head to her chest. Daisy tried to hug everyone at once. They cried over Mario together, knowing their combined families happened because he stumbled into their world through a magical sewer pipe.Mario’s funeral was huge, as spectacular as Bowser’s. Ludwig conducted music Cherry chose. Mario’s favorite composer was Toadfield, so his compositions sent him off.The morticians did a beautiful job on Mario. His funeral makeup wasn’t so caked on like it was for Peach. Wendy sent over a facial gloss normally used on Koopas, and it gave his skin a slightly dewy look that mimicked life.Cherry dressed her dad in his red shirt and denim overalls instead of formal royal regalia. He would have preferred his old clothes. She placed his favorite wrench between his folded hands. Luigi made sure his hair and mustache were combed to perfection. Daisy tucked a photo of Peach into his overalls pocket. Junior transferred his small body from the table to the clear crystal coffin without disturbing a single fold of his clothing. He weighed less than Lemmy.The funeral concluded with a cortège through the whole Mushroom Kingdom, which took almost six hours. Cherry cried in Junior’s arms the whole time.Mario’s family buried him on Peach’s right side, leaving her surrounded by people who loved her. Cherry commissioned a golden grave statue, and soon Mario’s smiling face joined Bowser and Peach on the hilltop.She turned to Junior after seeing the statue for the first time.“I get it now.”Junior pulled her close while she sobbed on his chest..oIt didn’t stop at Mario.Luigi slipped on black ice and broke his hip five years after Mario passed. Doctors found osteosarcoma in his bones that had already metastasized to his lymph nodes. His hip never healed, and he succumbed in Daisy’s arms three months later. He was a hundred and five.Daisy soldiered on for eight more months before ovarian cancer took her life. She never told anybody she had it, blaming her weight loss on a new diet and her pain on old age.Stubborn Daisy wanted to face it all by herself, so she sent all her servants away and went upstairs to lay down on her bed. Larkspur and Amaryllis found her comatose and gasping, and held her until she slipped away. She was a hundred and five.Cherry never knew Daisy was sick, and didn’t find out she died until the day after. She bawled upon hanging up that horrible phone call and stood stonily silent at Junior’s side as Daisy was buried on the hill next to Luigi, Mario, Peach and Bowser.Larkspur and Amaryllis became the new rulers of Sarasaland. Yoshis lived up to three hundred years with good health, so they would have a long reign.“She was my other mom,” Cherry sniffled, “I never got to say goodbye to her, either! I hate this!”She was depressed for months after. Daisy unintentionally trampled onto old trauma, because sometimes people trying to help ended up doing harm. Cherry never blamed her for it.Sienna, Wendy, Pom-Pom and Aretha rushed to support Cherry while she grieved. Junior held her at night while she cried herself into sleep.Cherry’s side of the Koopa-Toadstool family was gone, all in the span of five years. She wasn’t her usual self for two years.And time spun forward..oLemmy had a heart attack at eighty-nine. He complained of an upset stomach all day long, and collapsed getting into bed that night. Scott called an ambulance and told them to warp Lemmy to Celine’s floor in Junior’s castle.Billie couldn’t be reached due to being in surgery. Lemmy’s situation was so dire that Larry got called in to perform emergency quadruple bypass surgery on his own older brother. Stents were off the table because they would tear his sclerosed coronaries open.Lemmy went in and out of v-fib after being removed from the bypass machine. Larry used internal defibrillator paddles to restore normal sinus rhythm.It was just like Bowser— Lemmy emerged hooked up to all the life support equipment. He almost disappeared behind everything because of his small size.Scott planted himself at his side. He played his piccolo for him, talked to him, washed his face, kissed him and held his hand.Everybody rallied around Lemmy. Wolfgang brought his favorite glittery rainbow ball and placed it in Lemmy’s hand.“C’mon, Lemmy, you gotta pull through,” Larry said tearfully.After a month, he began to deteriorate. Rigorous neurological tests revealed him to be brain-dead, so the only things keeping him alive were the ventilator and IV nutrition.Bowser survived the same thing by sheer luck. Lemmy didn’t get lucky. The worst kicker was he might have lived if he sought help sooner, but, due to being autistic, he perceived his pain differently than most and the vague discomfort he complained about never registered to him as a massive heart attack.Scott cussed Billie out when she delivered that awful news. He would apologize later and send her flowers to make up for it, but in the moment he was too compromised to think straight.Nobody told Junior that the withdrawal of life support wasn’t a silent, still end. Lemmy gasped like a fish out of water after being extubated, and he did it for twelve hours. Billie kept him medicated to prevent any perception of pain and checked in regularly.Lemmy died while everybody except Scott and Junior slept around him. Scott was on the bed, cradling him. Junior stroked his rainbow Mohawk. The regular spikes on the monitor went into a sawtooth pattern that grew finer and finer until it flatlined. There were no dramatic spasms or rolling of the eyes. He exhaled and never inhaled again. “It’s okay, sweet stuff,” Scott nuzzled their cheeks together, “I love you.”What Junior remembered the most was how tiny Lemmy looked in the bed. He seemed tinier lying on the straw at his wake. Scott bought a stylish gold tux to dress him in for the service.His organs were so small that Junior accepted the responsibility of preparing them all for a thick stew. There was just enough to feed everyone who wanted to partake.When the mortician prepared Lemmy’s body for sealing in his shell, Junior carefully fit his favorite white ear defenders over his ears and tucked his gold glitter ball into his hands. The same kind of ball he wanted Bowser buried with.Lemmy’s burial instructions stated to put him wherever Iggy went. They had to wait a month for South Darklands Peak to erupt again and interred him in the path of the lava flow. Scott almost threw himself into the flames. Roy yanked him back and held him while he wailed helplessly.“You can’t destroy yourself,” he said, pulling Scott to his chest and hugging him. “Lemmy wouldn’t want that.”.oLemmy’s death traumatized Scott so much that he moved into a tiny studio apartment near the beach to escape the house where everything happened.Despite what Roy said, he went on to destroy himself. It took six months to find him since he took off in the middle of the night without a trace. Larry happened to see him leave the Bumblebee, a small bee-themed bar between downtown Koopa City and the beachfront suburbs, and sneakily followed him to see which apartment he went into.In those six months Scott descended hopelessly into alcoholism. Everybody tried their best to help, but Scott was a bitter, angry drunk, and drove almost everyone away.Sienna went to his apartment after he didn't answer his phone for two weeks and found him vomiting blood all over his bedsheets. His living area stank like copper and rotten meat and his bed resembled a murder scene. Days-old brown stains marred most of the orange comforter and the gray rug on the floor. The whites of his eyes were bright yellow with jaundice.Scott didn’t recognize Sienna when he leaned over to vomit more blood into his lap. He opened the whiskey bottle next to him and finished what little was in it.“Oh, honey.” Sienna scooped Scott up and took him into the bathroom to wash off the mess crusted on his scales. He was covered in blood, urine and feces, and his bed fared no better.“M’fine,” Scott moaned. “Leave me alone.”He threw up more blood on the shower tiles. Bright red this time, not coffee grounds.“Look what leaving you alone did. No. You need help,” Sienna said.She called an ambulance and held his hand while he cried out in confusion and pain. Scott crawled into her arms, his unfocused eyes slowly glazing over. She kissed his forehead, gently washed his face and held him.“I’m sorry about everything,” Scott whispered.Sienna stroked his cheek. “Don’t worry about it, dear. We’ll take care of you.”Scott didn’t gasp for breath or lift his head after heaving into the toilet trench. She pulled him against her chest again and his head flopped limply back over her arm, his gaping mouth stained crimson. He gasped weakly, reeking of blood.“Scott?” Sienna jostled him as paramedics burst into the apartment.“In here!” She shouted.They were pumping Scott’s chest when they took him away, and doctors pronounced him dead at the hospital. He was two days shy of turning eighty-nine.An autopsy revealed alcohol poisoning, acute liver failure and a stomach lining eroded into bleeding ulcers. He died as suddenly as he did because all the vomiting ruptured his esophagus, and his body couldn’t handle more blood loss.Their final interaction ate at Junior. It happened the afternoon before Scott disappeared.“Getting drunk like this isn’t going to bring Lemmy back.”“I had two drinks. What’re you crying about?”“Lemmy was my brother, in case you forgot! Look at you! You pissed yourself and didn't notice you did it!”“Tch, Wolfgang pees and craps himself all the time.”“Wolfgang doesn’t feel bathroom signals. Come on, Scott. You’re a mess.”“Hey, at least you still have family left to take care of you, go cry to them.”“I thought we were family.”“You know what? I don’t care if you’re the king here. Get the fuck out.”“Whatever. Have a nice life being drunk off your ass.”Junior left, slamming the apartment door. He would never see Scott alive after that.“I’m sorry,” Junior whispered tearfully to Scott’s pale, motionless corpse. “If what I said made you drink more, I’m sorry.”Scott looked even tinier than Lemmy laid out on the hay at his wake. He was dressed in his concert attire, a black tuxedo.Scott had no burial instructions. All he left behind were notes asking to donate his wheelchair to someone who needed one.Sienna told Junior to bury him with Lemmy, so he did. Junior never forgot placing Scott’s piccolo in his hands before pushing him into his shell for the final sealing.Pom-Pom gave Scott’s wheelchair to a Toad whose legs were amputated after a construction accident. He had no idea of the history echoing in those wheels.Scott’s death shook everybody. Wendy, Pom-Pom, Sienna, Aretha and Cherry cried on each other. Sienna had the hardest time, since he died in her arms. She comforted herself with the knowledge that he didn’t die alone, as if it somehow made up for Morton.“He was the best piccoloist I knew,” Ludwig signed tearfully after his internment. “I remember introducing him to Lemmy. He was so funny, so warm, and incredibly talented. This is tragic beyond belief.”Junior spent weeks in a haze. Without Cherry, he would’ve done the same damage Scott did to himself after seeing Bowser die.He shielded his family from the horror of Bowser’s final moments, but he couldn’t stop the horror of everyone else dying.Cherry had no idea how much she saved him..oSienna left Serrated, which ended the band, and didn’t play drums again for years.Then, one morning out of the blue, she got up early, played a quick paradiddle and banged the cymbals twice. Aretha awoke to her mom’s drumming and went to wish her a happy hatch-day. She found her slumped backwards in the chair behind her drum set. The sticks were still in her hands, which rested on her lap.Sienna died of natural causes on her ninety-fourth hatch-day.Aretha kept a lock of her mother’s coily white hair, which she wove around Morton’s tooth, and wore it on a silver chain as a pendant for the rest of her life.When it was time to bury Sienna next to Morton, Aretha kissed her and slid her drumsticks into her hands before she was sealed into her shell.Pom-Pom, Cherry and Wendy surrounded Aretha in love while she grieved her mom. She was surpassingly okay after the ordeal of losing both her parents so suddenly.“They lived good lives,” Aretha told Roy once over dinner.“Still hurts to lose ‘em,” Roy said back. “If you need anything, Pom-Pom and I are a phone call away.”Aretha teared up and finished her Cheep-Cheep fin soup..oBlack’s hair transformed from inky black spikes to silver waves. He grew absentminded in his mid eighties. Sometimes he forgot his phone, or why he walked into rooms, or what day it was.Then he completely forgot how to cook two days after his ninetieth hatch-day.Then he got lost driving around in a city he drove ambulances through his whole adult life. Then he forgot names and faces he knew for decades. He didn’t know who Roy and Pom-Pom were during a visit, and managed to hide it until they referenced something he also didn’t recall anymore.Ludwig took Black to a doctor because that wasn’t normal aging.A battery of tests revealed dementia.The day he received the diagnosis, Black sat Wolfgang down and signed to him, “My brain will forget everything, but my heart won’t. Don’t be afraid if I stop recognizing you. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, I will always love you.”Ludwig— now eighty-eight years old with thinning white hair and wrinkles creasing his snout— put his whole life aside to be Black’s caregiver. They used the short window of Black still being cognizant to plan ahead. Junior and Cherry volunteered to take over as Wolfgang’s caregivers in the event something happened to Ludwig before it was all over.The dementia moved fast, chewing up Black’s brain. His friendly personality didn’t change, but he became more and more confused about time, place and people. He stopped recognizing Wolfgang as an adult because he kept expecting a two year old.Wolfgang helped where he could, like retrieving Black when he wandered out of the penthouse thinking he had to go to work or getting Ludwig’s attention whenever he became distressed.Within five years, Black only recognized Ludwig, but he sure loved meeting all the ‘new people’ who kept coming by to hug and kiss him. He thought Junior was Bowser. Junior stopped correcting him because it was useless.He had a hard time visiting. Seeing Black’s steady decline broke his heart. Cherry went the most often, always bringing snacks because Black loved those.“You look just like a little princess I know! Are you her mom?” Black signed over a slice of cherry pie.“No.” Cherry smiled sadly and signed back, “People say I have a friendly face.”“You do. It’s a very pretty face!” Black gestured, his mouth full.Black’s biggest source of agitation was Jack, and it wasn’t Jack’s fault. He never remembered his brother went blind, so he would wave to get his attention, or sign something, and groan in frustration at the lack of response. The only trick that worked became Jack taking his glasses off, because Black knew he couldn’t see without those.There was the six week streak where Black got obsessed with rearranging the furniture in the house into the most illogical configurations. A couch across the hallway, the TV in the kitchen, end tables blocking the front door and vases spread across the floor. Ludwig and Wolfgang spent that morning putting everything back where it went only for Black to do it again later.The whole family chipped in to help take care of Wolfgang during the times Black was still mobile. Wolfgang cooperated because he understood Ludwig needed to focus on Black.Black’s furniture moving distressed Wolfgang, so Junior and Cherry let him stay with them for the six weeks it took for that to stop.Boom-Boom took him out to get chocolate ice cream one summer afternoon, and for three weeks he wanted that as dessert.Roy and Pom-Pom took him to the beach, and he had fun collecting shells and lining them up in neat rows.Larry took him on a Kart track and gave him the experience of driving a Kart. Wolfgang crashed immediately, and laughed.Wendy and Jack took him overnight once, and he remembered the bathroom they put him in when he was found as a child. He slept on the floor in it.By nine years post-diagnosis, Black lost his ability to communicate altogether. He signed gibberish, and shouted when he wanted something or felt lost in his own penthouse. Most of the time, he cried out of nowhere.Wolfgang tried giving him his PECS cards, but that venture proved unsuccessful. Black couldn’t grasp the meaning between the card for water and a glass of water.Ten years following the diagnosis, Black was so incapacitated that he stopped moving, eating or drinking. Those glorious, bulging muscles he spent his life perfecting withered away to scales over bones.Ludwig developed relentless headaches that he ignored because he never wanted to be away from Black or Wolfgang for long. They had enough to worry about without including him in their anxieties too.“Have you seen a doctor for that?” Larry signed during a video call.“It’s the stress,” Ludwig gestured back, eyes drooping from the obvious pain. “Black doesn’t do well if he can’t find me. He’s frightened all the time, like Wolfgang was when we first brought him home.”“Never heard of a tension headache lasting three weeks,” Larry pointed out.That spring, Ludwig invited KMDN journalists seeking to interview notable deaf Koopas. They brought a camera crew into his house for a short interview about his life as a composer and conductor, so he talked at length about his life, his personal losses and his current situation. He had to stop twice for Black and once for Wolfgang. They were gracious, telling him to take his time.After they left, he sat down at the kitchen table and massaged the sides of his head in an attempt to stop the pain.Everything changed three days later. Wolfgang woke before the sun to the sound of Ludwig throwing up in the bathroom. He left his room to see Black, who had been flaccid and unresponsive for weeks, grab onto Ludwig’s wrist as he climbed back into bed.“I don’t want to go alone,” Black signed.“Let me prepare,” Ludwig signed back. “Will you wait for me?”Black nodded and closed his eyes. They kissed each other for the first time in a long while. It was slow, tearful and tender.Ludwig ran to the bathroom to vomit six more times in rapid succession. He only put one hearing aid in, picked up his phone and called the rest of the Koopa family to say he loved them. Nobody else was awake at this hour, so he left voicemails. When he spoke, his voice slurred more and more incomprehensibly.He set his phone aside, took his hearing aid out and placed it by its twin on the nightstand. His left eyelid drooped half-shut. Nothing about his face or movements looked right.Wolfgang waved from the doorway, attracting his dad’s attention. Ludwig took his hand and led him into the kitchen. When he walked, his left leg didn’t move as well as his right. He sat at the table for a moment, clutching his head and sweating. Wolfgang patted his arm, his way of asking what was wrong.Ludwig didn’t answer, except to look sadly at him. He held up a “one moment” finger and prepared Wolfgang’s breakfast— apple cinnamon oatmeal with iced green tea. Food and a drink he knew Wolfgang would eat, but didn’t like as much as ash oatmeal or orange juice.He struggled to transfer the spoonfuls of oatmeal between the bowl and Wolfgang’s mouth. Twice, he stopped to throw up in the sink. He dropped the bowl while tidying the kitchen table.Wolfgang signed for a change, since he soiled his briefs. Ludwig took far longer than usual, his face twisted in pain the whole time. The smell made him vomit in the sink again, all bile. That never happened before. He cleaned up and washed his hands afterward.Wolfgang stroked his dad’s soft hair, trying to soothe him.“It’s not you, it’s my headache,” Ludwig signed.Daylight crept into the window. The distant mountains were black silhouettes like teeth under the brightening sky.Wolfgang watched Ludwig through worried eyes. Ludwig didn’t put his glasses on, insert his hearing aids, make breakfast for Black, prepare coffee, or nibble on a bit of ash toast. Those were routine acts he did every morning in that order, why change it now?He tapped Ludwig’s arm again, whining softly in brewing distress. Something was wrong.  Ludwig stopped washing dishes and pulled him against his chest with cold, wet hands. Confused, Wolfgang patted his head, which seemed to be causing him terrible agony.Ludwig’s signs were slow and sloppy, as if his arms and fingers didn’t want to work. Especially the left. It flopped more than it signed.“Black is dying, and now I am, too. This is fate. I have to go with him, Wolfgang, but it means I’m about to leave you. I’m sorry, my love.”“Why?” Wolfgang signed.“I have to help him reach the Great Beyond. It’s nothing you did wrong. It’s not your fault. He gets lost going places, and he needs my help to find his way. Do you understand?”Wolfgang shed a tear and nodded, gesturing, “Music. Live forever.”Ludwig’s left hand kept drifting lower than his right. “Yes. Together we will live forever through music.” Another tear escaped onto Wolfgang’s cheek. “Love, dad. Us. Love, always.”Tears filled Ludwig’s eyes. His signing was barely comprehensible, like his fingers weighed too much to lift.“I love you, too, more than I can say, and so does Black. Be strong, my precious son from the moon.”Wolfgang embraced him, breathing in the petrichor smell of his hair. Ludwig kissed his cheek many times and eased out of the hug. He stroked Wolfgang’s face one last time before he returned to the bedroom where Black lay dying.His left leg collapsed under his weight. He fell. The thud shook the penthouse. Pain wrenched a shout from his throat. He sobbed once, holding his head, and tried to crawl along the hallway floor.Wolfgang scooped Ludwig up bridal style and carried him into the master bedroom, which held the massive blue bed Black rested on. The walls housed the stories of their lives— framed pictures of smiling Ludwig holding his baton at ready, Black winking as he raised a thousand-pound barbell over his head with his bulging arms, both of them kissing Wolfgang’s cheeks, and endless photos from their wedding.Ludwig’s left arm and leg went limp as Wolfgang laid him on his side facing Black. He used his functional right arm to draw Black against his chest, where he kissed his face and hand.Black opened his eyes. They were focused. He was present. His gaze moved to Wolfgang first.“I love you,” he signed slowly.Wolfgang signed back, “Love, dad. Music. Live forever.”Black’s eyes teared up. He nodded. His gaze shifted to Ludwig and softened.Ludwig signed to him, one-handed, “I’ll see you where shadows do not fall.”Black’s hands moved, signing back, “Together.”“Together.” Ludwig laid his head on the pillow. Black nuzzled him, closed his eyes again and continued heaving air in slow, gurgling spurts. Ludwig groaned and squirmed a few times. They lay cheek to cheek, limbs entangled as if they just made love.Wolfgang sat on the foot of the bed, watching them. He wasn’t scared. They were together, and they weren’t afraid, so he didn’t see a need to be.Suddenly, Ludwig’s face sagged awkwardly and his limbs stiffened, pushing him away from Black towards the edge of the bed. His eyes flew wide open, bulging, unseeing. Convulsions followed, just like Iggy used to do.Wolfgang grasped the top of Ludwig’s shell, rolled him back to the center of the bed with Black and interlocked their hands. They had to keep touching, he would not let them separate.Ludwig kept seizing. Froth gathered around his mouth. His hands wanted to curl inward towards his chest, but Wolfgang held onto his wrist and kept his hand in contact with Black’s.The jerking motions stopped, yet his muscles remained unnaturally stiff. His eyes rolled back, his nostrils flared and his jaw twitched twice in rapid succession. Black’s eyes stayed shut and his expression serene. He knew he wasn’t alone.Sunrise poured light through the window, bathing their large wedding photo in gilded luminescence. They were jumping over the lava, beaming in joy at starting their lives together.Black groaned low in his throat and his arm contracted towards his chest. Ludwig convulsed again, more violent than last time. Wolfgang clung onto their wrists, holding their left hands entwined because death seemed determined to separate them.Ludwig stilled, his head sliding forward with white hair trailing behind it on the pillow like a comet’s tail until his snout rested against Black’s forehead. Neither took a breath after that.The pulses in their wrists stopped throbbing at exactly the same time. The second they were still, a love beyond comprehension shot up Wolfgang’s arms, enveloped him in a maelstrom of hope and whirled away into the ether.He laid their joined hands between their bodies and retrieved the stethoscope Black had, but couldn’t use. Nothing made a sound as he positioned the earpieces in his auricles and rested the chest piece on Ludwig’s chest first, then Black’s.They asked each other out and proposed simultaneously, it made sense that they flew hand-in-hand into the Great Beyond together like they hopped over the lava after getting married.Black was a hundred years old, Ludwig was ninety-eight, and they died on their seventieth wedding anniversary.The rectangle of sunlight shifted off Black’s and Ludwig’s wedding photo, casting it once more in shadow.Wolfgang set the stethoscope aside, kissed their peaceful faces and stroked their gray hair.They were together, free..oWendy awoke to a dozen texts from Wolfgang, all the same word.Help. She and Jack rushed to the penthouse where they discovered Wolfgang beating himself bloody on the living room floor. Jack called Junior because nothing calmed him down and he needed backup.Junior and Cherry got there via the warp zone. Cherry assisted Jack and Wendy in soothing Wolfgang. It wasn’t like Ludwig to leave him in distress like this. Something happened to Black, that had to be it.Junior charged into the master bedroom and froze at the sight of two pale dead bodies embracing on the rumpled blue bedding. Their reflection shone on the wedding photo across from the foot of the bed.He felt their necks for pulses, stumbled backwards and hugged himself. Ludwig’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, and they were weirdly flat in the front from the lack of blood pressure. Black’s jaw gaped in a way it never did in life. They appeared to be looking at each other.“They’re dead!” Junior screamed. “Ludwig! Black! They’re both dead!”Jack appeared in the doorway, eyes wide from trying to see even though he hadn’t been able to for decades.“Both of them?”“Yeah,” Junior tearfully led him to the bed, voice shaking. “Here.”Jack threw his cane down, collapsed and bawled, his fingers tangling in their white hair. Junior pressed a hand against his mouth. They cried over their brothers together.Wolfgang calmed down enough to stop punching himself in the head. He cut his snout on his claws and bruises marred his face. Wendy and Cherry changed his briefs, washed the blood off his nose and asked him if he was okay.He typed on his tablet, “Dads, home. Sad, gone, free.”Wendy hugged him tightly, crying on his shoulder. “We’re all sad, Wolfie.”Cherry went to see Ludwig and Black after Jack and Junior emerged, both with blotchy faces from crying. She wept when she saw how their hands were interlocked, their black wedding rings forming a lemniscate.Jack handled calling Roy, Pom-Pom, Aretha, and Larry to notify them of what happened.The house was chaotic. Wolfgang curled up next to the piano with his hands over his ears. Wendy gave him his ear defenders to wear. Everybody kept sobbing.Junior checked his voicemails and found the message from Ludwig. His older brother’s speech slurred so much it was too garbled to understand. Only the first sentence made any sense.“Junior, little brother, I love you more than you know and I’m sorry about the pain you’re going to feel.”The voicemail on Wendy’s phone was completely inscrutable. Only her name sounded clear.Cherry came out of the bedroom, a hand over her mouth. Wolfgang tucked her head under his chin and hugged her. Ludwig used to do that with Black.Jack leaned over to murmur in Junior’s ear. “Wolfgang isn’t going to let the retrieval team take them away separately.”“Yeah, it’s gonna be interesting.”Wendy went into the bedroom next. She emerged, weeping openly, her phone pressed to her ear.In the end, it wasn’t an ordeal. The compassionate retrieval team slid Black and Ludwig into an extra large body bag, still on their sides facing each other. They let Wolfgang see his dads together in the same bag. Ludwig’s hair was a rat’s nest. Wolfgang smoothed it with his hands and kissed his cheek. He turned to Black, cupping his face in his palm as he leaned in to kiss his forehead.The retrieval team zipped the bag shut once Wolfgang walked away. They wove through the penthouse and eased the gurney out to the warp zone.Wendy cried after they left. Jack washed the dish Ludwig left in the sink. The kitchen smelled like apple cinnamon oatmeal.“I guess Ludwig got confused. Whatever killed him must’ve happened in his brain.” Jack sniffled, holding up the bowl. “Wolfgang doesn’t go for apple-cinnamon when he has other choices.”He pulled another box down from the cupboard and held it close to his good eye.“Yup, this is a box of ash oatmeal.”Wolfgang groaned low in his throat and laid his head in Wendy’s lap.Cherry wrapped her arms around Junior’s neck. He buried his nose in her hair and tried to content himself with not knowing..oAn autopsy revealed Ludwig died of a catastrophic hemorrhagic stroke caused by a burst basilar artery aneurysm. Coroners said he would’ve had the most painful headache of his life due to increasing intracranial pressure. The blood squirted into the right side of his brain first, so it began to swell and die off, leading to left-sided deficits. Blood filled his skull as the rupture worsened and the rest of his brain swelled until his cerebrospinal fluid had no way to drain out. Coroners found his brain ventricles swollen totally shut and his cerebral cortex was so inflamed it looked smooth. Blood leaked into his sinuses and around his spinal cord, trickling all the way to the base of his tail. They called it miraculous that he stayed conscious and coherent long enough to prepare his high-support autistic son breakfast and feed it to him. That hit Junior the hardest. Ludwig knew he was having a fatal stroke when he woke up that morning. He was in tremendous agony, yet he spent his last hour calling everyone to say he loved them and feeding Wolfgang breakfast before laying down to die by Black’s side.It reminded Junior of Bowser comforting him as he suffered the pain of his final heart attack. The amount of love it took to do that…Junior cried thinking about it. He cried again thinking of the pain Ludwig suffered through.Everyone found a voicemail from him, and each one sounded worse than the previous. Larry’s was the most understandable.“Larry, you will cure Crash. I feel it in my bones. I love you, little brother, go save those lives.”Roy got his voicemail last, judging by the compared timestamps. There were no discernible words other than “I love—“, the rest was incoherent syllables and mumbling.Everybody looked at each other, realizing they were listening to Ludwig have a killer stroke and telling them goodbye, and only Larry got to hear what he wanted to say.Junior thought back to the last time he saw Ludwig and Black alive.His oldest brother was draped across the couch with a cold cloth over his eyes, desperate to soothe his headache.“Getting old hurts,” Ludwig had said, lifting the cloth.Junior remembered chuckling at that before going to see Black. Black was motionless and rarely opened his eyes anymore. His face looked plastered to his skull, his dark eyes sunken into their sockets.Junior changed his soiled vent bag. Black’s eyes were open when he came out of the bathroom after washing his hands. Junior sat on the edge of the bed, smiled and took his hand.“I love you,” he signed.Black gazed at him. The language didn't reach him, but the warmth behind it did. He grasped onto Junior’s hand. They could still connect through emotion. Junior stroked the side of his face until his eyes drifted shut again.He kissed his forehead, went out to Ludwig and kissed his cheek.“I changed Black. He’s comfortable.”“Thank you.”Ludwig suddenly uncurled from the couch and enveloped Junior in a hug.“Take care of yourself, little brother,” he signed one-handed.Junior returned the embrace, because Ludwig needed it.He chose to speak rather than sign back. “I hope your head feels better.”They exchanged smiles and parted ways for the last time. Ludwig’s head feels a lot better. He’s dead, he can’t feel pain.  Junior and Cherry took Wolfgang into their castle and loved him like their own son. They set his food PECs cards on their wall hanging by the refrigerator and showed him where to find it.Wolfgang settled comfortably into what used to be Ludwig’s and Black’s guest bedroom in the castle. He brought the glittery yellow star night light, Ludwig’s piano, Black’s medical bag, all of his stim toys and boxes full of sheet music with him.He plugged the night light into the outlet above the bed by himself. By some miracle it still lit up after almost a century. Sometimes he laid in bed, blankly staring at it while sucking his thumb. Nobody was allowed to touch it or turn it off. Wolfgang spent hours upon hours outside by the fountain, patting the water, staring at the spray and splashing around. When he wasn’t outside, he was making noise on the piano. Beautiful noise. Junior never interrupted his escapades because it offered him comfort.Sometimes Wolfgang played at odd hours, like one o’clock in the morning. Junior didn’t mind, it became a nice sound to wake up and fall back asleep to.As the days passed, he noticed Wolfgang was weirdly calm about losing his dads. The coroners said Ludwig’s final moments were extremely disturbing. Wolfgang made it clear he saw the whole thing happen, yet he remained reticent about it when asked. Nobody pressed the issue with him.Then, unprovoked, he typed, “Not awake. Shake. Iggy. Not awake. Dad. Shake.”Cherry had to walk away to cry where he wouldn’t see.Junior kept Ludwig’s and Black’s hands interlocked while bathing their bodies. He put the sponge in Wolfgang’s hand and guided him through the motion of washing their faces. Wolfgang caught on and did that by himself.Wendy shooed everyone away from Ludwig and styled his silver hair. He was particular about it and she made sure he looked as wonderful as he did on his wedding day. She cried when she found a few strands of blue that never grayed.With Black, she used hairspray and her comb to give him his spikes again, albeit white instead of inky black.For the wake, they were dressed in their wedding tuxedos, and laid out together in the same bed of hay with their hands clasped and their faces turned towards each other.The most painful thing was taking off their wedding rings. They asked for Wolfgang to have them. Neither ring fit around his huge fingers, so he wore them on his magnificent horns instead.Roy hosted the wake dinner. Wolfgang received Ludwig’s and Black’s hearts— as per their wills— and Roy cooked the heart steak strips he chose from the cookbook. He helped as best he could by rubbing the blood and wine into the meat and closing the lid on the sizzling pan when Roy told him to.At the wake meal, he signed for bites from every dish, and everybody fed him a piece of something they made. Junior saw Black’s brain briefly, and he didn’t recognize it as a brain at first because it looked so shrunken and atrophied. Dementia was a horrible thing.Ludwig’s looked worse, all engorged. Blood went everywhere as Junior cut it into slices for the blood soup he intended to make. He swore he heard music when he ate that soup later.Wolfgang insisted Ludwig be interred with his hearing aids in his ears and his conductor’s baton clasped in his hands. He made certain Black wore his old medic helmet. They were laid to rest together in the lava outside Bowser’s old castle.When asked if he was okay, he typed his cryptic answer, “They are.”The organs from two Koopas provided enough food to feed the rest of the family for nearly a month. Wolfgang wanted something of theirs at every meal he ate.Junior waited until after the funeral to inform the public. Ludwig’s death made the news since he was a well-known composer whose name turned up on everything. The KMDN aired documentaries tracing his life for months after.In their last interview with him in his home, the Toad host signed in perfect Koopa Sign, “You have a dramatic face when you conduct your symphonies.”As she gestured, the interview cut to several shots of Ludwig’s face and his phantasmagoria of expressions as he led his orchestra through his creations.He chuckled after the shot cut back to him, so she must have shown that super cut to him on her phone.“My orchestra responds to my face as much as my hands. One of my favorite icebreakers with new orchestra members is to keep my hands at my sides and only use my expression to direct the tone of their playing. The veterans know what’s going on, but it’s always fun watching the new ones figure it out.”There was a jump cut, followed by the reporter asking, “What is your greatest accomplishment?”Ludwig rubbed his forehead, yet another indicator of the growing aneurysm about to kill him. He smiled through the pain, pushed his glasses up on his nose and signed back, “I understand what love is.”The reporter leaned in, eyebrows raised and gestures nimble. “Can you elaborate on that?” Wolfgang walked into the shot with his thumb in his mouth. He sat on the floor by Ludwig’s legs and rested his head on his thigh.Ludwig’s expression softened as he smoothed Wolfgang’s feathery hair. He freed his hands to sign, “My dad taught me what love is, but I understand it because of my son. Love is the most beautiful thing we can bring into the world. Love is what stays behind when we leave, and it’s what matters the most above everything else. If you can’t give anything else in your life, give love.”Ludwig kissed his fingertip and tapped it on Wolfgang’s nose. Wolfgang giggled, closing his eyes.The interview faded to a monochrome photo of Ludwig in profile with his baton raised and his face intense as he conducted a concert. His black wedding ring matched the black coat of his immaculate tuxedo. Underneath the photo, his hatch date and death date.Reporters harassed anyone who knew Ludwig, including Wolfgang. Wendy threatened to send an airship after their headquarters if they didn’t leave the royal family alone, and they stopped.It was a month before anyone felt strong enough to visit the penthouse again. Junior couldn’t do it. Cherry, Larry, Roy, Pom-Pom, Aretha, Jack and Wendy handled cleaning it out.Ludwig willed all of his tuxedos to Glitterbomb, to be sold as used. They were in pristine condition, like new..oTwo months after the funeral, Junior cooked up a huge pot of apple-cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast. It was the last box and he wanted to hog it all to himself.Wolfgang burst in, hurled the pot out the open window and went into the most violent meltdown Junior ever saw him have. Aggression, head-punching, screeching, thrashing and flailing. It took Junior, Cherry, Aretha, Pom-Pom, Wendy, Jack, Larry and Roy four hours to stop him from injuring himself. He bawled nonstop in their arms for the rest of the day.Jack got a concussion after an elbow to the jaw nearly knocked him unconscious. Wolfgang never realized he did it. He was covered in bruises, nicks and had a swollen eyelid from striking himself.Cherry pulled up the old videos of Bowser reading childens’ books. She held it in front of Wolfgang and he slowly began to relax.“Sheesh, what started that?” Larry asked after Wolfgang laid down on the living room floor with her phone.“I made oatmeal.” Junior shrugged.“Apple-cinnamon? Ludwig’s house smelled like it the morning he and Black died.” Aretha furrowed her brow.Cherry gasped. “You’re right!”“That’s it.” Larry snapped his fingers and pointed at Aretha.“I think you’re onto something,” Roy chimed in, adjusting his shades. “That’s a flavor Wolfgang doesn’t go for if there are other choices. Doesn’t he freak out over sensory associations between things that upset him?”“Yes!” Pom-Pom leaned forward. “He couldn’t stand being around women for a year because of what his mother did to him. Remember?”“I remember punching her,” Aretha muttered, examining her claws, “I’d do it again. That bitch.”Junior and Cherry locked eyes, both coming to the same realization.Ludwig wasn’t confused because of his unfolding stroke. He prepared that flavor deliberately so Wolfgang wouldn’t be put off of his favorite breakfast by its association with death.Following that, Junior banned apple-cinnamon oatmeal from the castle.Cherry sat alone in the living room after soothing Wolfgang. Those old videos of Bowser reading Peter Piranha books still worked even though he was midway into his forties.“You okay?” Junior crouched beside her. This was the same living room Iggy went into status epilepticus in. She rearranged the furniture— moved the couch by the fireplace, the TV under the window, the coffee table closer to the bookcase, and she changed the throw pillow covers to purple satin— to try and erase the image his death left behind.Cherry looked up at Junior, eyes welling over. “Is there a point where grief stops hurting and goes numb?”Junior didn’t have an answer. He held her while she sobbed quietly into her hands..oWolfgang stopped eating with his usual enthusiasm, and Junior noticed he wasn’t leaving anything solid in his briefs. His bowel movements happened as he woke up to start his day or just after breakfast, so his morning changes were often messy.Junior never flinched at taking over this part of Wolfgang’s care. Poop didn’t bother Cherry either, so she helped. Wolfgang stayed standing to be changed since he wore Runners pull-ups that only needed the sides taken apart when he made solid messes.Today, he picked the dark gray ones. They looked like boxer shorts at a glance. Someone had to stare very hard to see the Velcro tabs at his hips.“Here comes the wipe,” Cherry said. “Hey, you’re not pooping. Are you okay?”Wolfgang grunted noncommittally. He stepped into the clean briefs she held open for him and hunched over while she slipped her hands under his shell to scoot the back above the base of his tail.That morning, he barely ate three bites of his favorite ash oatmeal. He turned away from the spoon and walked off to dink around on his portable keyboard.Junior offered him food throughout the day, which he refused. He accepted drinks, especially his favorite orange juice, and drank a glass of broth.“Is your stomach upset?” Cherry asked him.“Yes,” Wolfgang typed, and that was all the answer he could give.Cherry worried alongside Junior about the sudden change in appetite.Five days later, he still hadn’t done anything solid in his briefs, and he only ate a few bites of breakfast before walking away. He paced the halls, patting the sides of his head and groaning low in his throat.Then Wolfgang woke up wailing at four-thirty in the morning, scaring Junior and Cherry awake. They found him punching himself in the head, crying and stomping his feet.Nothing soothed him, Junior and Cherry tried everything. He threw up something brown next to his bed, he screamed in a high-pitched keening and he curled up on his belly as if protecting it. Anytime somebody touched him, he snapped his jaws like he intended to bite.“He’s in pain,” Cherry whispered in Junior’s ear. Turning to Wolfgang, she asked, “Wolfgang, can you show us what hurts?”He screeched in her face.With no idea of what to do next, Junior called Celine’s floor.Israel came up via the elevator. Wolfgang growled at him, teeth bared. Nothing convinced him to let the medic look at him. Israel asked him to stick his nose in a mask attached to a small tank. The gas knocked Wolfgang out in one breath.“That’s going to last thirty minutes.”“Okay.” Cherry took charge. “He’s refusing solid food, and he hasn’t pooped at all in the last five days. Whatever the problem is, I think it’s in his digestive system.”“Gotcha. Any new pica issues?”Junior shook his head. “No, he doesn’t eat things that aren’t food.”“Well, that rules out an intestinal blockage by a foreign object.”Israel pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Wolfgang’s abdomen. He moved it lower, sideways and towards the center again.“Hm, I don’t hear any bowel sounds. Let’s get him downstairs and look at this, okay?”Junior swallowed past the rising lump in his throat. His mind spun through the possibilities, everything from bowel ischemia to cancerous tumors blocking off his intestines.Cherry wrapped her arms around his bicep and squeezed.Israel called the team. George, Michael, Peter and Gabriel arrived with the gurney. They rolled Wolfgang on— he was so huge he took up the whole thing— and rushed him down the elevator.Junior rubbed his eyes and tried not to sob. He couldn’t lose Wolfgang. Not now.Cherry ran up to get her robe since she only wore a tiny purple negligee. She followed Junior downstairs where they worked Wolfgang over. Drawing blood, checking him for injuries and hurrying him off for X-rays.Israel led them to the staff lounge since it was empty at the moment. Neither Cherry nor Junior wanted any snacks, but Cherry accepted water.“You’ll hear from us as soon as we know something,” said Israel.The minutes began their slow, plodding march.Cherry paced, sipping her water.“Please, please, please,” Junior whispered to the universe. Nearly an hour went by before Peter came in, expression bright and steps springy.“It’s a bowel impaction, the same problem he had as a toddler. His entire colon is blocked up. No doubt it’s causing him a lot of pain. He woke up punching himself and we saw some fecal vomiting. We gave him morphine to control the pain.”He breathed in, jiggling his clipboard. “Hey, King Junior? It’ll be okay. An enema will clear this up.”“Nothing is wrong with his intestines?” Junior asked, mind still spinning.“Nope. No hernias, volvulus or intussusception. His bowel is full of stool that’s too large and hard to pass through.”Nodding, Junior breathed in through his nose and let it out from his mouth, trying his utmost to slow his brain down.“He, um…” Cherry grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him close to say it in his ear, “His mother molested him as a toddler, it’s suspected he had something forced into his vent.”Peter’s eyes hardened. “I worked with rape survivors back at Koopa General. Some of ‘em were kids. Awful stuff.”“Yeah.” Junior scowled. “I’ll be right back.”He hurried upstairs to get Wolfgang’s favorite red chew tube, his flickering colored egg light and his green vibrating bone pillow.Nurses ensconced Wolfgang in a quiet room at the far end of the hall. Morphine sedated most people, but he wasn’t most people. Wolfgang’s tenebrous growls vibrated the walls.Junior prepared himself before stepping inside and setting Wolfgang’s stim toys in the basket under the gurney.“Mmhmm, I hear you,” Peter said. His smooth voice stayed even and calm. “We have to soften up your poop so you can poop it out, and this is the best way. This nozzle here? It attaches to a bag with liquid medicine in it, and I have to squirt it into your intestines to soften up the hard piece that’s blocking you up. It’ll fix your stomach-ache. Putting the medicine in feels bad, but you’ll feel better after it helps you go poop. I promise.”Wolfgang’s nostrils smoked. He breathed fire for the first time in all the years Junior knew him. A wide, uncontrolled flame that scattered everybody in the room. Nobody got hurt, but the walls were scorched and a plastic tray melted on the counter.Peter gestured at Israel. Israel injected Versed into the IV catheter. Wolfgang didn’t see him do it, so he didn’t know who to ‘blame’ for it. He blinked sleepily and relaxed on the gurney with his chin resting on his hands.“I’m sorry,” Peter stroked Wolfgang’s hair. “We have to do this, big guy. I promise it’s not to be mean.”Wolfgang whimpered, trying one final time to squirm away. Cherry wiped tears off her face.Junior rubbed his shoulder. “We’re right here. We wouldn’t let him do this if we knew he was hurting you, I promise. Here.”He touched the red chew tube to Wolfgang’s snout and watched him take it in his teeth. A good start, but not distracting enough. He twisted the egg light until it flickered slowly through every rainbow color, drawing Wolfgang’s eyes to fixate on it. Finally, he switched on the vibrating bone pillow and rested it against the back of Wolfgang’s neck.Wolfgang’s pink eyes filled with tears. He whined, pleading. Peter grasped his tail near the bottom of his vent. “Wolfgang, I’m going to insert it. I’m sorry that it won’t feel nice. I’ll count, okay? By the time we get to ten, it’ll be in. Relax your vent for me. It’ll be over real soon. One, two, three…”Peter carefully inserted the long nozzle into Wolfgang’s vent, shifted it upward and pushed it the rest of the way in. Wolfgang shrieked around the chew tube in his mouth, no doubt experiencing horrible flashbacks.“…eight, nine, ten. There you go. The nozzle is in position. You’re doing real good, Wolfgang.” Peter clicked the roller clamp. “Now, I’m going to start squirting in the medicine. It might feel gross. Here we go.”“Dad! Dad! Dad!” Wolfgang signed over and over. Sobs heaved his whole body. The agony twisting his face cut Junior to pieces inside. Junior bit his lip so he wouldn’t bawl. He moved the colorful light egg into Wolfgang’s sight again.“It’ll be over soon. Hang in there, buddy.”Cherry clutched Wolfgang’s hand. “You’re being so brave right now.”Wolfgang’s screeching slowed to whimpers and sniffles, like he finally understood it wasn’t Joanne trying to hurt him.Peter emptied half the bag. He gave Junior a little nod, indicating it was going well.“You’re doing so good!” Cherry squeezed Wolfgang’s hand. “I know this feels awful. I’m sorry that it feels so awful. But look how brave you’re being!”Wolfgang stared at his light egg as it shifted through rainbow colors. She dabbed his runny nose with a paper towel and brushed his feathery hair backwards off his bushy eyebrows. He moved the vibrating bone pillow under his chin while chewing furiously on his chew tube.“I’m taking the nozzle out now. One, two, three, done!” Peter withdrew the enema nozzle and showed it to Wolfgang. “See? It’s out. You did it!”Wolfgang shot Peter a look that could melt iron. Somehow he managed to suck his thumb and keep his chew tube in his mouth.Peter chuckled softly, “Don’t blame you, that wasn’t fun. Now I’m going to set a timer. You can try to poop when it dings.”His biggest mistake was not putting briefs on Wolfgang, but briefs were not going to contain the oncoming disaster.Forty-five minutes later, faster than the recommended hour, Wolfgang climbed off the gurney and unleashed hell.Poor Hathatoad, she tried to get the bedpan under him to no avail. A pitiful metal bedpan had no hope of containing the torrential turd-tastrophe. Junior never saw anything like it!Wolfgang only strained once to pass the three-foot-long monster log responsible for the blockage. It was as big as his arm.Cherry gagged a little watching that leave his body.His eyes fell half-shut in obvious relief. Without the blockage in the way, all the trapped gas behind it escaped. Nobody in history was going to top those tuba-blast farts, they even put Bowser’s to shame.The timer dinged as he finished relieving himself.His epic code brown shut that room down. Toads and Koopa Troopas in hazmat suits went in to mop up and disinfect the room. Junior was glad he wasn’t them.George peeked in, slammed the door and dry heaved.Junior took pictures of the malodorous disaster zone because he couldn’t believe his eyes. Not one white tile showed up. Wolfgang coated the whole floor! It was as unreal as Morton’s legendary ceiling puke after his first angiogram.Wolfgang left brown footprints when Junior led him to the patient showers. He giggled, chirped and made fart noises with his mouth the whole way, already showing signs of feeling better.“Did that just happen?” Cherry asked. She raised her eyebrows as she twisted the water temperature dial before turning on the mobile shower head.“Yup.” Junior laughed at the absurdity. “Wolfgang, you are King Shit. How’s your stomach now?”Wolfgang grunted, sucked his thumb and let Junior spray his hair to wet it. Junior and Cherry set his stim toys outside the shower while they scrubbed him clean.Aretha came downstairs after sleeping through the whole ordeal.“Uh, what did I miss?”“A lot.” Junior and Cherry said at the same time.Wolfgang flapped his hands, which flicked water everywhere, and hummed contentedly.The enema gave him the stinky squirts and he needed a lot of changes for the next three days. Cherry fed him gentle foods, like bananas, ash toast, chicken soup, Piranha leaf tea and crackers.On the fourth day he acted like his usual self again, content and delighted to eat his favorites at mealtimes.Junior breathed a relieved sigh. This medical disaster didn’t end in somebody dead. It still took him a week to fully calm down.Wolfgang was so proud of his giant poop that he called himself King Shit for weeks. He sent Roy, Larry and Wendy pictures of the room he wrecked with zero context.That’s massive! Larry texted back.EW, WOLFIE! I’M EATING BREAKFAST! WHY? Wendy replied.HAHAHA, nice one! Roy sent back.Wolfgang’s Shit-Bomb became a hilarious story of legend on Celine’s floor, one meant to be passed down the nursing generations alongside Morton’s side-splitting Puke-Pocalypse..oWolfgang composed a symphony to tell the world how much he loved his dads. He called it The Fountain. Music was his main communication tool, offering a glimpse into the esoteric turn of his mind. Junior cried the first time he heard him play it all the way through on his piano. The love was there, so obvious in every note and chord.But Wolfgang didn’t transcribe on paper the same way Ludwig and Bowser did. It all happened in his head.Aretha wrote a program on his tablet that responded to his piano playing and placed the notation accordingly. Wolfgang went through to manually edit. Little things, like placing fermatas, accents or tenutos, changing dynamics or adjusting rhythms. One part required a very precise rubato ending in a fermata, he was stubborn about people heeding that direction.Still-living members of Ludwig’s old orchestra piled together for it. They were hesitant initially, when they saw how Wolfgang behaved. Aretha gave them the rundown on him, and how their rehearsals would work. Wolfgang beat out time using the baton, and Aretha provided the expressive gestures, entrances and cutoffs. If Wolfgang didn’t like something and wanted it done again, he stopped, waved his hands and stared at the section he heard a problem in. Within a week the orchestra acclimated to the arrangement and worked with Wolfgang as faithfully as they did Ludwig.Wolfgang held the symphony in the Koopa City Convention Center, the same place Ludwig held his. Junior never forgot how it took himself, Cherry and Aretha to get Wolfgang dressed in his charcoal gray coattail tuxedo. Aretha, who wore a white pants suit in an identical style, combed his hair into a slick ponytail. He looked stunning, and she was a dream.Before the symphony, Aretha appeared outside the curtain with a microphone in her hands.“Everyone, your attention please.”Once the audience focused on her, she said, “This will be a slightly different performance than you’re used to. I ask that you not applaud as you normally would. Instead, use deaf applause.”She demonstrated by pivoting her hands as if waving.“Wolfgang is autistic, and the clapping will hurt his ears. This piece is special to him, let’s make sure he can enjoy it, too, okay? Thanks!”Murmurs rumbled through the audience as Junior sat down. Cherry interlocked their fingers. Beside her, Roy, Pom-Pom, Larry, Wendy and Jack took their seats.“What’s going on again?” Jack mumbled.“Shh,” Larry shushed him.Wendy took a deep breath and cast Jack a sad sidelong look. “We’re here to see Wolfgang’s symphony.”Jack’s face flushed. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”Aretha went backstage and led Wolfgang out by the hand. He froze briefly at the amount of people, saw the deaf applause spreading throughout the audience and giggled as he climbed onto the podium with her.The performance went beautifully.Wolfgang swooped the glittery baton Cherry gave him. It sparkled spectacularly and kept his attention focused on directing. Together, Aretha and Wolfgang were a team on that podium. The orchestra brought his vision to life.Lights came on and off slowly, fading through colors without flashing or flickering. The screen behind the stage always showed water droplets falling in slow motion.Wolfgang cried audibly just before the explosive climax of the penultimate movement, titled Death Is The Road To Awe. He held a long fermata of silence over a rest.Aretha waited with him, the auditorium silent enough to hear a pin drop. Wolfgang sucked his thumb for a moment to quiet himself. His brief cries in the silence added something to the recording that would never be repeated.SIlence fell again, roiling in anticipation. Wolfgang gave the downbeat, spread his arms like Ludwig used to, and all musical hell broke loose in the most amazing way.Junior gripped Cherry’s hand as teardrops glimmered on his face. He saw Ludwig and Black dying together through the drumming, bells and strings, and it opened a well of grief he left untapped for too long.Roy pulled his sunglasses off and hid his face in his hands. Pom-Pom sniffed and wrapped her arm around him.Larry looked away from everybody, wiping his eyes.Wendy sobbed quietly on Jack’s shoulder, and he had tears streaming down his cheeks.Cherry squeezed Junior’s hand.Nobody moved for a solid thirty seconds after that piece concluded. In the corner of his eye, Junior swore he saw Ludwig and Black standing in the center aisle, beaming proudly. Of course nobody was there when he turned his head to look.The final movement was a simple piano number symbolizing peace, titled Together We Will Live Forever. Wolfgang sat under the spotlight and played it himself, bathed in white light while the orchestra surrounded him.Again, he hummed and whimpered, something never to be repeated for other performances. He gazed upward into the spotlight above him, no doubt seeing his dads smiling down at him.Wendy got a beautiful photo of that moment. Wolfgang in profile, limned in white light with his huge fingers delicately touching the piano keys and his pink eyes full of longing gazing skyward.At the final chord, which ended in a rumbling bass note, the spotlight slowly turned off to signal the symphony was over.Wolfgang stood up in the darkness. Aretha hugged him tight while he wept on her shoulder. A few people in the audience forgot to applaud the deaf way, but some random claps were better than a thunderous wall of noise.Aretha waited for him to collect himself before pointing to the audience. He approached the front of the stage to a standing ovation, and covered his ears with his palms when audible applause gradually replaced the wiggling hands. Despite it being too loud, he smiled, his eyes glistening with tears.Critics compared Wolfgang’s The Fountain to Ludwig’s Interstellar and stated nobody would write anything like it ever again.Like Ludwig, he appeared on talk shows and interviews. Aretha went along as moral support and to ‘translate’ him when his communications fell outside the hosts’ understanding. Sometimes he shut down, and let her do all the talking. Most of his interviews were pre-recorded to allow him time to type, or to edit out moments where he panicked and fled off the set. Once, he walked out of a rare impromptu interview because the host talked to him like a toddler.Aretha opened every session with the same spiel, “He understands what’s going on around him, and he understands what you say to him. Sometimes he processes information better when it’s signed, so be patient with us if I translate.”Mishaps aside, Wolfgang Amadeus Koopason became a household name. He made waves in musical spheres that immortalized him alongside his dad, Ludwig von Koopason..oTragedy lurked behind the triumph. It always did.Jack developed dementia just like Black, albeit later, and he did not decline peacefully. He fought, he screamed, he constantly forgot he was blind. A fall down the stairs in Wendy’s castle finished detaching his retinas. He lost his remaining sight, confusing him further, and the concussion worsened his dementia symptoms overnight.“Where’s my brother? Take me to Black! Stop hiding him from me!” Jack hollered.Telling him Black died seemed cruel when he couldn’t hold onto that knowledge for more than ten minutes. People found a lot of excuses, like he was at work, or stepped out for a beer, or on a date with Ludwig.Jack went through a disturbing hypersexual phase during his descent into dementia. Cherry decided to stop visiting him unsupervised when he tried to have sex with her. He forced himself on Wendy a few times, which left her shaken. Sometimes he masturbated compulsively. Everybody knew he would be horrified if he was aware of himself.Wendy became more and more distraught trying to care for Jack. The night she slapped him to escape an unwanted advance, she knew this situation was beyond her control. She brought him to the KT castle under the pretense of a vacation because she needed help, and her castle staff members weren’t strong enough to handle Jack’s growing needs.“Why are the fucking lights always off?” Jack snarled when Junior visited him in Wendy’s very pink room.“Uh…power outage, sorry,” Junior said.Jack went back to pacing, rarely hitting anything since all the furniture had been cleared out of his path.“Hey, how about a snack? I have banana chips. On your left, here.” Junior awkwardly offered the bag.Jack upended it, spilling chips all over the floor, and trampled them. He scowled at nothing while he stomped. Always with the endless need to pace.Junior assigned a nursing team just to him. They posed as ‘hotel staff’ and Jack accepted their aid. Boom-Boom hid the bedroom door behind a false wall to stop Jack from wandering the halls unsupervised, yet allowed everyone else to enter and leave as needed.Wendy could finally breathe.Jack declined much, much faster than Black. In five years, he was bedridden, unable to move much or feed himself. Those bulging muscles he worked so hard on shrank away to nothing, and his arms curled up in contractures.Wendy parked by his side, changing his vent bag when he needed it, feeding him, comforting him and stroking his face. She was a stranger to him now, just one more voice in a sea of many.Every time she touched him, she said, “Jack, it’s Wendy. I love you.”“Mama?” Jack murmured. He never spoke a word again after that.The morning he died, Wendy kissed his forehead and went into the bathroom. He was alive when she left and gone by her return. She hated herself for not waiting five more minutes, until Larry pulled her aside and hugged her tight against his chest.“Sometimes, people wait until they’re alone to die.”“He’s right.” Pom-Pom joined Larry in embracing Wendy. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Death is personal and intimate. Some people don’t want to share it with anybody.”“Some don’t get a choice,” Wendy sniffed. “This is hard! I love him! He wasn’t the Jack I fell for, but I never stopped loving him!”Pom-Pom stroked her hair while Larry nuzzled her cheek. “His heart knew you, Wendy.”Junior went up to see Jack after he passed. He looked identical Black— eyes mostly closed, mouth ajar, face sickly gray. His messy silver hair formed spirals on the red pillow cradling his head.Jack left a will saying he wanted to be interred in the wall of Bowser’s volcano, so Wendy made sure he had a nice tomb on the east side close to the lava.She coiled his long hair into a bun, slipped his old medic helmet onto his head and sent him to his grave with his red-framed glasses on his face and his folded white cane in his hands.Jack died at a hundred and eight years old.Aretha, Pom-Pom and Cherry poured love over Wendy while she mourned.Wendy threw out all her old hats, jewelry and makeup that weren’t gifts and went on a shopping spree to replace them. Store therapy, she called it.Time surged ahead, catching everything in its endless swirl..oWendy, Pom-Pom, Aretha and Cherry arranged a girls’ three-day-stay at the Koopa City Mud Spa. It ended up being a bigger deal than they anticipated, with Cherry being the queen, so the place shut down to allow them an unbothered visit.“Okay, if they’re having girl day, we’re having guy day. I’ll cook those oysters I got.” Roy called Junior, Larry and Wolfgang on a group line.“Sure!” Junior grinned. “We can create mischief while they’re gone.”Wolfgang grunted into his phone.“Right,” Roy laughed his little high-pitched laugh, “I’ll do Cheep-Cheep kabobs for you, Wolfgang.”“I’m game!” Larry said. His phone blustered since he was outside. “I’ll bring cards and chips so we can ruin each others’ day.”Junior hosted it in the kitchen, since the table was huge and Wolfgang wouldn’t have to worry about being anxious. He had plenty of beer, tea and water to keep everybody topped up.“Geez, Roy,” Junior said when he saw his older brother emerge from the warp pipe, “Are you going to the gym more often?”Roy’s neck was half as thick as it used to be, and his once-beefy arms and legs were thinner than Junior’s. He never had hair, so the only visible signs of his aging were wrinkles on his snout and his white eyebrows. Somehow, they grew shaggier as he got older.“It’s that damn stomach bug I had two months back. Bastard keeps biting my guts, I guess. C’mon, I have meat that needs to go in the fridge. Hey, Wolfgang! Hold this.”Wolfgang held his huge hands out as Roy set the box of oysters on his palms. He sniffed once, gagged audibly and shoved it back into Roy’s arms.Roy chuckled. “Everyone’s a critic.”Larry brought a giant bag of ash nachos and lime dip along with his poker paraphernalia. “Fair warning, guys, I’m on call. I might have to bolt.”Junior slapped his shoulder. “No problem. We’ll work with it.”Their day commenced as a huge cookout, playing hide and seek with Wolfgang in the hedge maze, shouting at a basketball game on TV and indulging in poker.Wolfgang’s stimming became his tell. Nobody wanted to bet against him if he smirked, hummed or bounced when he picked up a card. Only after he won the pot by getting everyone else to fold did he drop his measly pair of deuces. He bluffed!“Shit!” Junior laughed, throwing his cards down.Roy got Wolfgang to taste exactly one bite of grilled oyster. The gooey mess ended up spat out on the table. Lemmy did that with a lot of food after the first try. Wolfgang wasn’t as picky of an eater, but he had a few foods he rejected immediately. Oysters became another one on his short list. He giggled and accepted the Cheep-Cheep kabob Junior forked into his mouth. Larry offered him beer, which he gladly imbibed.Next round, Junior called Wolfgang’s bluff, and lost again.“You, sir, are an artist,” Junior dramatically pushed his lost coins away.“I’m cleaned out.” Roy dropped his cards. He smiled, downing his beer. “Who taught you how to play like such a menace, huh?”Wolfgang rubbed his fingers along his plastron as he processed the question and answered with Black’s sign name.“Figures.”Larry’s phone rang at six o’clock, and he answered it as he picked up after everybody else.“And there it is.” He fed Wolfgang a stray nacho off someone’s plate. “Heart transplant on the way. Time to bounce. Sorry.”Junior handed him the coins he won during the game. “Surgery trumps parties. Go get ‘em, Larry.”“I’ll pick up my poker stuff later. You mind?”“Nah, go be a surgeon.”Roy rubbed his stomach like it hurt once Larry departed for the warp pipe outside. He finished his third bottle of Stellar beer and got up to load everything washable in the dishwasher.Wolfgang eyed him curiously, his face inscrutable.“Oof.” Roy’s forehead wrinkled. He held his stomach and bent forward, exhaling heavily. “You okay?” Junior eyed him.“Argh... Yeah. Maybe I’m not quite over that damn bug after all. My stomach hasn’t stopped hurting since I had that bastard. Do you mind if I sleep here and take off tomorrow? I’m tired and a little bit drunk.”Upset stomach and drunk. Nothing to worry about. People went to bed at six o’clock when they didn’t feel well, and it made sense for Roy to look thin if he had a stomach bug that cleaned his guts out. Those things lingered longer in older Koopas.Junior shrugged, looking over his shoulder at Wolfgang doing his evening ritual of pacing circles around the kitchen island.“Go ahead. Hit my phone if you need anything, I’ll bring it up to you.”“Thanks, baby bro. G’night.” Roy smiled, tipping his sunglasses like a hat.Wolfgang grasped Roy’s arm and peered worriedly at him. Before Roy could shake himself loose, Wolfgang embraced him, tucking his head under his chin.“I’m f— okay. Yeah. I need a hug. You’re right. Thanks, Wolfgang.”Roy disappeared upstairs. Goombas and Koopa Troopa servants cleaned up the crumbs and messes that hadn’t been tended to yet.Wolfgang continued his laps, his basso profundo voice rumbling off every surface as he hummed low in his throat.Junior followed him for a lap around the island. Wolfgang suddenly turned, touched their foreheads together and hummed louder, his voice vibrating Junior’s bones. His way of sharing what his own humming felt like to him.For a moment, just a brief, flash of an instant, Junior was four years old again, listening to Bowser sing him lullabies.“I miss my dad,” he murmured.Wolfgang patted his shoulder and kissed his cheek. He missed his dads, too.They went outside, took a walk through the courtyard and watched the sunset together. Abendrot skies gave way to stars. The dense Milky Way loomed above the southern horizon.Later, Junior changed Wolfgang’s briefs— he soaked them completely because of the beer he drank— and combed his feathery hair. He liked having his hair brushed before going to bed, it helped calm his overly-activated nervous system.Wolfgang ducked the brush when he had enough and crawled onto his huge slab of a bed.“Good night.” Junior kissed his forehead.Wolfgang signed, “Sleep.”Junior slept fitfully, hugging a pillow because Cherry wasn’t there.In the morning, he was in the middle of spooning Wolfgang’s ash oatmeal into his mouth when Boom-Boom entered the kitchen.“Go downstairs and see Roy. Celine’s floor, room seven. I’ll feed the Wolf.”His serious face left no room for argument. Oh, no. Junior’s mind raced. He bolted for the elevator, and his breath whooshed loudly in his ears when he traipsed through the white halls. Every footstep jarred his hips. He wasn’t a young Koopa anymore, and now his body began to let him know it.Roy sat on the edge of the bed with the blankets wrapped around him. His shell was on the floor by the wall and his sunglasses sat upside down on the bedside table. An IV hung above him, dripping clear liquid through the catheter embedded in his caudal vein.“Roy!” Junior skidded into the room.The cheery pastel greens and blues didn’t match the corrosive atmosphere surrounding the bed.Roy’s forehead furrowed, dark eyes glazed in terror. “I came down because I kept getting sick out of both ends and I couldn't stand the pain. I thought the oysters disagreed with my stomach, and then I thought it might be gallstones.”He took out his phone and showed Junior the CT scan of his torso, a front-on view. There were masses on the outlines of his organs where masses weren’t supposed to be. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes.“I’m all tumors inside. Some of ‘em are as big as Birdo eggs. It started in my pancreas and blew up from there.” His voice cracked as tears glistened on his face. “Docs say I’m gonna be dead in less than a week. What am I supposed to do?”Junior’s stomach dropped through the floor. Dread opened a pit in his chest. Nothing made sense. It was just a stomachache!“No.” He shook his head.Roy grabbed his biceps and clung to him, claws almost tearing into his scales. Junior pulled him closer. They held onto each other and cried until their heads hurt.Junior called up the girls and told them to come to the castle immediately. Roy wanted to break the news, so Junior silently watched their eyes glaze over in a mixture of shock, horror and disbelief.“We’ll figure it out.” Pom-Pom stroked the top of Roy’s bald pink head.Roy declined rapidly, as if the discovery of the cancer allowed it to attack his body even more relentlessly. Within six hours he could no longer sit up due to the pain. Junior almost vomited watching his brother writhe and scream. Morphine and dilaudid weren’t helping at all.George hooked him up to a slow fentanyl drip, the strongest pain medicine available in the castle medical ward. It took two minutes for Roy to relax among the pale green sheets. George offered him oxygen as a comfort measure, but he declined it.“Oh, Roy.” Wendy sobbed, holding his hand.Pom-Pom sat behind him and rubbed his back. Her eyes were blank, empty, as if she barely held herself tethered to reality.Cherry stayed close to Junior’s side, trembling.“Larry’s stuck with patients,” Junior reported after getting a text. He updated him on Roy’s condition before putting his phone away.Aretha kissed Roy’s cheek and went upstairs to take care of Wolfgang.Roy and Pom-Pom never got the time to put their affairs in order. In the twenty four hours between diagnosis and the present, he went from fully alert to in and out of consciousness. He was constantly agitated, picking at his sheets and groaning.The room took on a vague coppery, rotten smell, like decaying meat. Nobody acknowledged it or talked about it but they all knew it meant imminent death.Michael came in to put a vent bag on Roy and discovered he urinated blood all over the bed. Roy groaned as he was rolled side to side and had his bottom end washed clean. He peed blood again as soon as he had a vent back in place, turning the absorbent cotton brown.Junior stepped out to cry in the hall. Cherry found him sobbing. She hugged him, hiding his face in her chest.Pom-Pom camped in the room so Roy wouldn’t be alone. His chest gave off a horrific gurgling rattle that sounded like drowning.Cherry took Pom-Pom food, light things such as sandwiches, or fruit bowls that were easy and quick to eat.“Dad?” Roy mumbled when Junior sat on the bed. “Make it stop, dad.”“It’ll stop soon.” Junior rubbed his older brother’s shoulder.Pom-Pom set her fruit bowl aside and reached for Roy’s hand. He looked at her and lifted his head off the pillow, his eyes faraway in their dreaminess.“Will you marry me?”Tears glistened on Pom-Pom’s cheeks. She nodded, kissed him and caressed his face. “Absolutely, yes.”Roy smiled, letting his head flop back into the pillow. His raspy breathing resumed.Wendy followed Pom-Pom when she fled from the room. It wasn’t the first time Junior heard her cry, but never that loudly or explosively.“I’m not ready for this!” Pom-Pom bawled. “He was fine, why is this happening? Why?”Wendy’s replies were inaudible.Junior cupped the top of Roy’s head. Israel came in earlier to help him roll onto his side, the only comfortable position for him. Pillows propped his legs up underneath the blankets. Fever left his scales clammy. The empty void in Junior’s chest felt the same as watching Bowser take his last gasping breaths. It never got easier.Cherry took hold of Junior’s other hand. Their eyes met. He saw the same emptiness in her gaze, too.Aretha brought Wolfgang down just after dinner time. He sat by the foot of the bed and played a litany of songs on his portable keyboard. Most of it was Ludwig’s, and he did it all from memory because he didn’t have a single sheet of music with him.But he segued in one piece that cut through the sadness blanketing the room.Cherry let out a giggle. “That’s Bowser’s song. He wrote it about my mom.”Wolfgang smiled like he knew it would bring them a moment’s joy. His mischievous grin had the curl of Ludwig’s slyness and bared all his sharp teeth like Black’s unhingedness.Aretha touched her lips to Roy’s furrowed brow and nuzzled their cheeks together. “Uncle Roy, it’s Aretha. I’m here with you.”Roy’s fingers twisted against his sheets. His mouth had a sickly grayish cast. He burst into tears, his gurgling sobs quaking his whole body. Pom-Pom rushed over to hold his hands and kiss the tears off his snout.“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” She sniffled, “I’ll figure things out.”Aretha moved to give Pom-Pom room to sit on the bed.“Don’t make me do this,” Roy cried. “Pom-Pom…I’m not ready!”“Roy,” Pom-Pom’s eyes were puffy. She wanted to scream, yet she held it back, somehow.“I’m dying! I can feel it happening!” Roy’s voice rasped in his throat. “I’m scared!”Junior bent to kiss his older brother’s cheek. If he spoke, his voice would break. He didn’t know what to say, because everything people said in moments like this rang too hollow. Roy stared desperately at him, pleading, eyes huge and dilated in unspeakable terror. The shadow of death hung over him, bleeding his life away.“It’ll be okay,” Junior said, because what else should he say?“No, it’s not okay! I’m fucking dying!” Roy sob-gasped.And there wasn’t a thing anybody could do about it.Wendy laid down in the bed behind Roy and wrapped her arms around him. She wept silently where he couldn’t see.Cherry curled against Junior’s chest. He hugged her, fingers stroking through her gray hair.Wolfgang tilted his head in that sagely way he did to look at things through his peripheral vision. He segued from one of Ludwig’s pieces into his own Together We Will Live Forever.  Aretha perched on the foot of the bed, her hand on Roy’s hip. “I’m here, uncle Roy.”Roy gulped air like a fish pulled from the water. Tears continued to dribble across his snout, which grew paler and paler by the minute.“We had a lot of good times, you and me,” Pom-Pom murmured in his ear. She stroked the top of his bald head, voice cracking, “Like that sailing trip by the icebergs, and that night at the Triton where we broke the water bed, and that stupid moldy sub sandwich in the fridge you didn’t throw away for a year because you wanted to see how disgusting it could get, and when you let Wolfgang bury you at the beach that one time…we laughed a lot, didn’t we?”“Yeah. And— the— the gardening— your flowers.”“I love those flowers, Roy.”“Pom-Pom— m’sorry— love you.” Secretions rattled thickly in Roy’s chest. He reached for her, panting faster and faster. Pom-Pom caught his hand and clutched against her forehead, sobbing helplessly.“I love you so much, Roy. This isn’t fair!”Wendy pressed closer to his back, claws digging against the plastron of his chest. Aretha brushed tears off her cheeks as she patted his hip. Junior kept hugging Cherry while she hid her face in his chest. Wolfgang bent low over his keyboard, fingers never faltering in their playing across the keys.“I love you, big bro,” Junior whispered.“Help,” Roy rasped. He shuddered, gasping, his eyes closing halfway with his dark irises barely visible beneath the lids.“Oh, no!” Pom-Pom wailed, keeping his hand against her cheek. “Roy! I love you, Roy! It’ll be over soon! Oh, Gods, I hope he sees the light!”Roy breathed in short, shallow sips, the pauses between lasting agonizingly long.“He does.” Junior held onto Pom-Pom’s shoulder while she sobbed so hard she gagged.“Roy,” she whimpered, cupping the top of his head. “Go with the light.”Cherry sniffled in his arms. She didn’t turn to watch Roy’s desperate final struggle.Aretha rubbed Roy’s forearm. A faint sob escaped her. “I love you, uncle Roy.”Tears continued their endless tracks across Roy’s pale, cyanotic snout. His face twisted in agony. He moaned just before Wolfgang played a final chord on his keyboard. Frothy yellow secretions dribbled out of his mouth as his eyes rolled back into his skull. Silence enveloped the room. A familiar silence Junior knew all-too-well.Wendy popped her head up to look at Roy’s gape-mouthed face. Her expression contorted. She wailed against the back of his neck. “He died! I felt his heart stop! He just— he died! Oh, Roy!”Pom-Pom clung to his hand. Junior would never forget the glass-shattering keening that left her throat. Wolfgang clapped his hands over his ears and whined softly.Larry burst into the room, panting from running, his salt and pepper Mohawk practically bristling. His absence spared him the horror of Roy’s final moments. He took one look at the scene and exploded into tears. Aretha patted the spot next to her, giving him room to curl up on the bed and lay his head on Roy’s shoulder.“I’m sorry!” He bawled, “I was in surgery! People kept coming in, needing me! I’m here now, Roy, I’m here!”Cherry looked over her shoulder at Roy, then up at Junior. Tears glistened in her eyes. Junior nodded, he understood why she couldn’t bear to watch.Wolfgang let out a quiet, whining sob. Aretha sat on the floor next to him.In the midst of it all, Roy lay still. Ripped out of life by cancer he didn’t know he had until less than two days ago. He was a hundred and two years old.Junior didn’t cry properly until the shock wore off while he was alone in the shower. Cherry found him sitting on the floor with his face buried in his folded arms. Her dress got soaked from her pulling him into a hug.Roy’s wake was one of the quietest Junior remembered. He looked so weirdly normal lying there in the white tux and black bow tie he wore at his wedding so long ago. His face didn’t sag backwards like everybody else, he appeared almost the same as he did in slumber.Pom-Pom stayed by his side, crying inconsolably. Aretha, Cherry and Wendy took turns hugging her while she wept.“He was so scared,” she sniffled, face soaked in tears. “He didn’t want to die!”Wolfgang picked her up like a baby in his huge arms and kissed her cheek.“Love, aunt,” he signed to her.Pom-Pom buried her face in his neck and cried more.Cancerous organs were forbidden from being consumed. The only parts of Roy that didn’t have any were his heart and brain.Junior couldn’t avoid a sad smile at Roy’s two mirror image left anterior descending coronary arteries. He was the only Koopa in the family with that anatomical variation.“Take his heart,” Junior said to Pom-Pom. “He loved you with all of it.”She teared up, took it home and returned to the wake later with breaded heart meat wraps for the dinner.Pom-Pom slid Roy’s dark sunglasses on his face and threaded lace bobbins into his hand before he was sealed inside his shell. The family buried him on the south side of Bowser’s volcano.Wendy, Aretha and Cherry surrounded Pom-Pom in love and comfort. They did their utmost to support her, but the trauma of Roy’s sudden death trampled her. She declined, mentally and physically, less than six months after Roy died.Wendy drove her to the Koopa General hospital when she collapsed at her castle and wouldn’t wake up. Doctors found sepsis, but couldn’t figure out where it came from, and she deteriorated while they poked and prodded her looking for answers.Wendy cradled Pom-Pom in her arms for three straight hours and kissed her when she gasped her final breath. She knew the doctors’ attempts to revive her would fail, and she sobbed while they tried.From start to finish, she died in under six hours. She was a hundred and two.“You missed Roy that much,” Wendy whispered as she held Pom-Pom’s limp hand.Boom-Boom arrived as medics pronounced Pom-Pom dead. Wendy passed her to his arms and held him when he broke down weeping over her lifeless corpse.“My baby sister!” He shouted through his tears.Neither doctors nor coroners found the source of the sepsis that killed her. It was as if her body destroyed itself in grief. They okayed her organs for consumption, but only if cooked thoroughly at the hottest possible temperatures, so her wake dinner had a lot of hot stews.Pom-Pom looked so tragically beautiful laid out on her hay nest. Wendy braided flowers into her white hair, painted her claws iridescent pink and lightly dusted her closed eyes with gold glitter eyeshadow. The family buried her in the volcano next to ROy.Wendy cried bitterly for months after. Cherry pulled her back from alcoholism the way nobody could for Scott.“Girls stick together, and this is going to make you sick,” Cherry told Wendy as she poured her vodka down the sink. “Come on, let’s drink tea instead.”Wolfgang held Wendy’s graying hair back while she threw up the tea later. He wrapped her in a blanket and helped Cherry put her to bed.The next day, Wendy woke up and chose to keep living. Pom-Pom and Sienna would want that..oThrough decades of dogged research on Morton’s heart and other donated hearts, Larry found a way to turn off the gene that triggered Crash in embryos who developed it. All it took was shifting how the proteins in the genes folded as they formed.The experiment took six months to work. People who hatched with Crash couldn't be cured, but computer models showed their children were a different story.He called Junior at three in the morning to yell excitedly at him about it while driving home.“I cured it! Junior! The model worked! I ended Crash!” The phone was on speaker, giving him a muffled sound. “HAHA! It’s over! Crash is over! I beat it! I— AAH!“Larry screamed. Tires screeched. Metal crunched.“Larry?” Junior shouted into his phone. All he heard was horrific gurgling, so he used another phone to call an ambulance to the coordinates on Larry’s phone. Larry’s breathing slowed. He moaned. Junior stayed on the line.“Don’t move, Larry! I’m here. I love you. Don’t move!”Sirens rang. Radio chatter undercut the raspy groaning. Something whirred and snapped. Voices spoke over each other.One of the paramedics picked up the phone.“King Junior? Sire? A boulder fell into the road. His car struck head-on and the airbags didn’t deploy like they should have. We’re taking him to Koopa Central.”“Thank you.”“What’s happening?” Cherry yawned.“Larry crashed his car. I’m going to the hospital. It’s bad. I’ll call you when I know more.”Junior— now with all white hair and a limp from arthritis in his hips— hobbled to the hospital via warp zone. No word yet, so he kept the family updated in a group text. Time ticked by. Hours hung among cold fluorescent overhead lights that deepened the wrinkles around his snout.Finally, a petite green-shelled Koopa Troopa named Nora showed him upstairs to the ICU where they kept Larry.The walls were depressingly gray with cream-colored stripes. A tall tinted window took up most of the wall behind the bed, offering a view of white street lights and smaragdine treetops. Junior’s nostrils flared in the antiseptic air.Larry looked horrible in the white bed, his swollen, bloody snout smashed backwards into his facial bones. His eyes weren’t wide open, but they weren’t fully shut either. Doctors couldn’t intubate him due to his shattered maxilla and mandible, so they cut a tracheostomy into his throat and attached the ventilator there. The tube was black, a change from the usual blue, white or clear. Blood stained the gauze squares packed around his tracheostomy stoma reddish-brown.All the equipment Junior laid eyes on rang too familiar in his memory. He could name every piece of machinery and what it did because Celine took the time to explain it to a scared four year old who found his dad fighting for his life.Junior picked up the chart from the rack by the door and read through it.The collision snapped Larry’s left arm into three pieces, fractured two of his ribs on his left side, crushed six vertebrae in his tail and tore all the ligaments in both his knees. His liver, spleen, left lung and liver were lacerated and slowly bleeding into his abdominal cavity.MRI scans revealed brain trauma incompatible with life. One doctor crassly described it in his notes as an egg yolk getting smashed inside the shell. That only happened when the tip of a Koopa’s snout took the brunt of an impact, shattered, transferred all the force into his skull and slammed his brain around inside his cranium until it nearly liquefied. A one in a thousand shot. His brain stem and cerebellum were the only intact pieces.Larry wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. In his moments of euphoric excitement, he forgot to put it on. All that damage happened to his body in a fraction of a second.Junior signed the form to withdraw life support because that seemed like the merciful thing to do. Doctors hooked Larry up to fentanyl, the same medicine Roy got for his cancer, to prevent him from perceiving any pain or air hunger.“Please don’t unhook anything until we’re all here.”“We won’t, your majesty,” said Nora. She bowed, eyes downcast.Familiar hisses, clicks and beeps speckled the silence. Junior called everybody at five o’clock in the morning because he didn’t want to leave Larry suffering any longer than necessary. They rushed over, and by six everyone gathered around the hospital bed.“Oh, Larry.” Cherry picked his uninjured hand up and stroked his fingers.“His star,” Wendy said sadly, touching a gash where he used to have his hatch-mark. Stitches ran right through the blue star, deforming it.Aretha led Wolfgang in by the hand. Wolfgang was afraid to touch Larry’s hands, so he rubbed his feet instead. He wore his tablet on a black strap hooked over his shoulder.“Bad. Hurt.”Cherry touched Wolfgang’s arm. “Yeah, he is.”“Uncle Larry,” Aretha whispered, kissing his forehead. “We’re all here.”Junior looked out the door at Nora, who sat at the ICU nurse’s station. Their eyes met. He gave the nod nobody wanted to giveNora okayed it with the attending before she muted the heart monitor alarms and shut off the ventilator. She rubbed Larry’s shoulder as she popped the tube off his trach and coiled it atop the ventilator machine. Mucus bubbled in the trach. Nora suctioned it away, and the lack of a cough response was telling. Her movements were gentle, yet quick, seeking to make Larry comfortable and get out of everyone’s way. She reminded Junior of Judy.Larry’s throat muscles flexed rhythmically, like he wanted to gulp and couldn’t. Lemmy did that after having his ventilator turned off.Wolfgang scrolled through an app on his tablet and highlighted something. Bowser’s rough, distinctive singing voice permeated the quiet.“ Somewhere over the rainbow… ”Cherry covered her mouth as tears streamed onto her cheeks. Junior swallowed over the lump in his throat. Aretha and Wendy hugged each other, crying quietly.“Hear that, Larry?” Wendy sobbed, lower jaw quivering, “You’ll hear him singing for real soon.”The room quieted again once the song finished. Larry struggled on for another forty-five minutes.Cherry scooted behind the head of the bed. She caressed the side of Larry’s face with her knuckles. Aretha took hold of his other hand, albeit gently since it was so bruised. Wendy stroked the uninjured side of his head, her eyes glistening.Junior was about to let go of Larry’s hand to take a break. Much larger white hands clamped onto his wrist and Larry’s, halting the separation. He glanced up at Wolfgang, whose eyes were fixed on the monitor.The pulse oximeter, blood pressure and heartbeats per minute numbers dropped steadily. Everyone watched the spiking white line dissolve to a sawtooth pattern growing finer until it flatlined. Larry’s whole body gave the faintest shudder and stilled. Sunlight shone through the window as he died surrounded by what remained of his family. No alarms broke the peaceful quietude since Nora so compassionately muted them.He was ninety-nine years old, and he never got to see his Crash cure in action.Wolfgang let go of Junior’s and Larry’s wrists. He cupped his hand over Larry’s forehead. Cherry kissed the top of Larry’s head. She moved, giving Wendy and Aretha room to hug and kiss him. Junior kept holding his hand.The flatlining heart monitor traced Larry’s absence. Everybody stared at each other in the dim morning light, numb.Aretha pushed the call button and alerted Nora.Orderlies came in, disconnected the IVs, shut everything electronic off and moved Larry’s body into a black body bag.Larry wasn’t a particularly large Koopa. Taller than Wendy, but shorter than Junior. His body bag looked small on the gurney.Every doctor and nurse able to get away for a few moments lined the hallway. They raised their hands to their foreheads in stiff salutes when the  gurney passed them.As Junior and the others left the hospital later, Wendy stopped by the abstract heart-shaped sculpture outside the front entrance and unleashed a high-pitched scream at the sky. Wolfgang covered his ears. Aretha and Cherry led him ahead to get him away from the noise. Junior rushed to wrap Wendy up in his arms and hold her.“It’s just us, Ju-ju!” Wendy sobbed. “Don’t you dare die before me!”She knew that was a promise neither of them could make. Life showed them how death lurked everywhere, wrecking their family.Junior cupped the back of her head. “I love you, big sis.”Wendy slapped his shoulders, sniffling, “Shut up, you know I love you, too.”They embraced harder and wept together.Aretha made sure the mortician reconstructed Larry’s jaw before his wake. It still looked crooked and flat despite their best efforts, but it was better than what Junior saw in the hospital. Wendy dressed him in a smart blue suit and used liquid makeup to recreate the blue star hatch-mark on the side of his head. Wolfgang laid his stethoscope in his hands. Cherry combed his gray hair into a neat Mohawk.He was entombed on the west side of Bowser’s volcano. His iron burial plaque stated, Larry Koopa: the hero who cured Crash.  Junior went to Larry’s office where he performed all his research and found the written formula for the Crash cure. He looked at it in his hands, the solution to end the thing that killed his dad and brothers.“Who is the most senior person here? Who worked directly under doctor Larry?”“I did, sire,” said a blue-shelled Koopa Troopa. She wore black high heels and carried a folder under her arm. “I was with him when he made the breakthrough.”“What is your name?”“Janet, sire. I’m a geneticist.”There were thousands of Janets out there, but somehow Junior knew who this one was. He offered her the precious folder with both hands.“The rest is up to you, Janet. You’re a hero in this, too.”She accepted it and bowed, her eyes welling over. “Doctor Larry was relentless. I vow to continue his work.”Junior nodded and left her with it, knowing a future without Crash rested in her hands. All he could think about was Larry’s unbridled, howling joy as he broke the news. That joy would be the last thing he knew. Junior found comfort in that.And time trampled ever onward, uncaring..oWendy got tired of dyeing her hair, so she chopped it short when her roots appeared and let it grow out white. It only took her a year to reach past her shoulders.“I look so old,” Cherry groaned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her silver hair.She wasn’t exactly frail, even at ninety-two, but her skin wrinkled, her back hunched a little and her steps weren’t as springy.“You are old! Age is beauty.” Wendy smirked, swiping Cherry’s brush and arranging her long hair into a luxurious four-strand braid.“People have this stupid idea that women are only gorgeous when they’re young. That’s a crock of shit. They say that because most older women are taken. Look at you! Those big blue eyes? That smile? You’re a winner.”Cherry giggled, straightening her heart shaped bangs. “Junior is still a looker. I mean, that eyebrow wiggle he does? It always ends me.”Junior walked past the bathroom, poked his head in and waggled his eyebrows at them in the mirror. He had no idea what they found so funny after he left.Cherry chased him down to kiss him.“Tell your wife she’s beautiful!” Wendy called down the trapdoor. “Now behave, I’m taking Wolfgang out for an ice cream date!”Wolfgang chirped happily the whole time Wendy changed his briefs and combed his hair. They were out the door in less than thirty minutes.That night, Junior treated Cherry to a candlelit dinner. Fancy dinnerware, formal tablecloth, flowers and all. Soup, vegetables, breaded Blooper tentacles and wine were served on his finest china.“Cherry, you are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said as they finished eating. “I made all this fuss just to tell you that.”Cherry’s cheeks flushed. She smiled, reaching for his hand. “I love you.”They kissed tenderly in the glow of gold candelabras.When Wendy returned later, Junior hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Best big sister. Love you.”“I love you, too, Ju-ju. Be nice to your wife.” She poked his sides, giggled and headed for the warp zone..oWendy sat down for a WendyCorp meeting, flicked through their ideas and growled at finding the same old tired trends.“Do something original, like putting glitter on false eyelashes. People deserve to feel beautiful. Ugh, do better. I’m tired, let me nap.”She folded her arms on the table, put her head down on them and sighed dramatically. Everybody talked around her, bouncing ideas for glitter eyelash designs.When her colleagues went to rouse her, she toppled limply out of the chair.They called an ambulance. Medics attempted to resuscitate her, but she was blue and long gone.Wendy died of natural causes at a hundred and seven years old. She met a quick, painless, peaceful end. More importantly, she died bossing people around in the middle of a business meeting. It was such a Wendy way to go.Junior snickered in disbelief when he hung up the phone call that alerted him to her passing, and sobbed upon seeing her pale body. His beautiful big sister was gone.“Dammit, Barfhead,” he whispered, tearfully stroking her hair. “You took charge like you always do.”She still had on her gold bangles and red pearl necklace. Junior took them off and laid them at her side for Aretha to pick up later.Wolfgang spent two hours cradling her against his chest and bawling his eyes out. He was alive today because she cared enough to help him.The day before she died, Wendy texted Junior a video of herself feeding Wolfgang ice cream. He rubbed his plastron and hummed in delight while enjoying the frozen treat. Watching Wendy hug and kiss him was a marvel in itself. As a toddler, he wouldn’t let her touch him. Their last photo together had him beaming with joy while she kissed his cheek.Morticians couldn’t get Wendy’s makeup right, so Aretha chased them off and did it herself. No way was she letting her aunt look ugly at her wake. Wendy got her signature pink lipstick and a hint of glossy gold foundation to give her face a slight glow. Aretha stole a pair of experimental gold glitter eyelashes and put them on her closed eyes. Let her be the first to wear them! They were absolutely stunning on her!She styled Wendy’s white hair into beautiful soft waves, as if she just took out a braid after a day at the beach.Aretha painted Wendy’s claws fiery red and placed that nail polish bottle in her limp hands after. To finish, she adorned Wendy in the jewelry she had custom made for her wake someday— a beaded gold necklace engraved with the names of everyone in her family and fitted gold wrist cuffs. Junior held Wendy’s wake in her castle, so she could be laid out beside her glorious gold heart-shaped fireplace and surrounded by the reds, pinks, purples and golds of her beautiful home.Baby’s breath blossoms dotted her wake nest. Her face had the same unnatural sagging as everyone else, but she appeared to pout ever so slightly.No corpse looked more exquisite than Wendy O’Koopa. Aretha made sure of that.At the wake dinner, Cherry pointed to Junior’s black plate.“When you eat somebody who ate whoever came before, you get everybody, right?”Junior nodded dazedly. “That’s correct.”Cherry leaned over and ate the bite on his fork. She covered her mouth to choke it down and gulped her tea afterward.“What part of her was that?”Junior met her teary eyes, his own welling over.“Liver.”She sniffled, “Bowser and your siblings are in me now.”“So are Jack, Black, Pom-Pom, Sienna and Scott.” Junior said.“Yeah. I’m okay with that. I want them with me.”He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”The family interred Wendy beside Jack in the volcano. Before lowering her in, Wolfgang heaped flowers and glitter onto her shell. He didn’t cry visibly over many deaths, but he cried about Wendy for weeks.Her death made the news. It caused the same stir as Bowser and Ludwig. This time, reporters left the royal family alone.Cleaning Wendy’s castle out took five months. Aretha kept all of her jewelry and wore it whenever a formal occasion called for it.Cherry collected Wendy’s hair clips to wear. Junior smiled whenever he saw his sister’s favorites on his wife. Wendy would’ve been proud to know her beauty carried on.Junior found himself subdividing his life. With his dad, and without him. With his siblings, and without them. Now they were all gone.Time pulled forward, its ruthless sweeps leaving nobody behind..oCherry celebrated her hundredth birthday, and Junior celebrated his hundredth hatch-day the following year. Then they threw a joint party for the hell of it and shot off fireworks. Wolfgang had a meltdown from all the noise. Aretha took care of him until he calmed down. Junior apologized for scaring him, and they laughed about it later.Age stooped Junior over more, and he walked much, much slower than he used to. Arthritis maintained its grip on his hips. The pain responded well to anti-arthritic medication, so he didn’t feel ready to use a cane yet. I look pretty good for a century old! Junior thought when he gazed at his wrinkled reflection.He licked his thumbs and wiped them across his eyebrows. They got shaggier as he aged, and he had a menacing frown crease running straight between them. The laugh-lines around his eyes and mouth helped offset that wrinkle. His hair never thinned or fell out like his dad’s. Maybe the heart attacks had something to do with Bowser’s hair loss.The only thing Junior hated about aging was losing fat and muscle mass. He had the typical pot-belly of an elderly Koopa while his arms and legs lost some of their beefiness. No amount of walking treadmills in the gym or exercising (gently) with weights kept it at bay. I’m getting old. No, I am old. Junior looked up at the bathroom light above the rectangular mirror. I wonder if dad would’ve lived this long if his Crash got treated early.  Junior contented himself with never knowing. He shut off the light and padded out of the bathroom..oCherry developed an annoying, persistent dry cough. Several tests later, she had a diagnosis of lung cancer. Doctors removed her left lung entirely. New tumors showed up in the right one.They tried talking her into accepting her fate due to her advanced age, and she would have none of it, so full steam ahead she went. She wore ruby tiaras and stocking caps instead of wigs when the powerful chemotherapy drugs caused her hair to fall out. She fought it for five courageous years before the treatments began to fail. Junior sat with Cherry in doctor Ostoad’s earth-toned office. She was a mousy Toad who wore oversized brown glasses.“We’ve reached an impasse, your majesty.”Cherry squared her shoulders and adjusted her red stocking cap. “I’m ready.”Junior wasn’t, but it wasn’t his news to hear. He knew it wouldn’t be good.Ostoad folded her hands on her desk, lips pursed. “The tumors spread to your liver and kidneys. At this point the chemotherapy—“Cherry held out her frail, bony hand in a quieting gesture. Brown age spots dotted her wrinkled skin. “You’re asking me to decide between a lot of time sick with the chemo, or a short time of feeling okay before it’s over, aren’t you? What are my timeframes?”Cutting to the chase. Typical Cherry.Ostoad bowed her head, but did not mince words. “With chemo, a year. Without, three to six months.”Cherry’s blue eyes focused on Junior. Fear limned them. She returned her gaze to Ostoad and declared, “Seven months. I’m not missing my birthday.”Once they left the office together, Junior caught her up in a hug and pressed his nose against her stocking cap.“Eighty-three years of being married to you isn’t enough, Cherry.”“But we’ve known each other for a century, Junior. You were four, and I was five when we met, remember?” She smiled, nuzzling her forehead against his chin. “And that’s how long I’ve loved you.”The lump in Junior’s throat bled up towards his face and escaped as tears. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”“Then don’t.” Cherry kissed him. “I won’t. You’ll see me again when it’s your turn anyway.”She thumbed the tears off his cheeks and sniffled, shedding some of her own. “We got old together. You’re just going to get older without me.”He kissed the words off her lips. “Getting old with you is the best part of getting old.”“We’re old farts.”“Cherry, we are ancient farts.”They laughed through their crying..oChilly late winter wind blew snow against the window of the smaller, cozier living room. Orange light from the arching stone fireplace danced off the crown molding of the ceiling and illuminated many personal family photos hung on the marble walls.Cherry didn’t make the mistakes of Bowser and Mario. She gathered Aretha and Wolfgang and explained that her cancer was terminal.Wolfgang didn’t react much, except to rock back and forth on the floor where he sat. He stared down at his tablet on the floor in front of him.Aretha enfolded Cherry in her arms and rested her chin on her shoulder.Wolfgang grasped Junior’s wrist, almost yanking him off his chair.“Dad, fall.” He typed slowly, fingertip lighting up icons as he touched them. “Carry. Help. Together.”Junior swallowed thickly. “You helped Ludwig?”“Yes,” Wolfgang signed. He typed again. “Help auntie.”“Help me what?” Cherry asked.Wolfgang suddenly stood and scooped her up bridal style. She looked tiny next to Junior, in Wolfgang’s arms she seemed positively minuscule.He kissed her forehead, sat with her still cradled in his arms and hummed softly in the back of his throat.“Fall. Help. Promise.” Wolfgang typed.“Ludwig fell when he had the stroke. Wolfgang picked him up and laid him in bed with Black.” As always, Aretha knew how to translate him. She gazed at them, her eyes puffy with tears. “He’s offering to help you too if you fall.”Junior had to walk away for a few minutes. All this time he thought Ludwig laid himself down with Black to die, and now he learned Wolfgang helped him reach his deathbed. He couldn’t fathom the strength it took to do that.“Aw.” Cherry wrapped her arms around Wolfgang’s neck and stroked his diaphanous white hair. “I’ll appreciate it very much if you help me when I fall, Wolfgang.”“Today.” Wolfgang typed.“Nah. I’m not going to die today.”Aretha rested her hand on Junior’s shoulder. “You okay, uncle Junior?”Junior faced her, eyes overflowing. “Everybody’s dying. I remember when Morton put you in my arms barely an hour after you hatched. You were so new, so tiny, and I hated that you were going to know what grief is.”Aretha’s eyes softened as she gazed up at him. “It’s always easier when you’re a kid. The adults get to do all the worrying.”Junior remembered back to his siblings trying to protect him from the horror of his dad’s first heart attack. The innocence of youth was an occhiolism surrounded by an event horizon that couldn’t be returned to once crossed. Everyone in his life grew to be another layer surrounding him, and one by one they were dissolving.He looked away from Aretha, dreading the possibility of outliving her. His gaze landed on Wolfgang, and the dread inside him grew. Cherry, Aretha, Wolfgang, Lakitu and Boom-Boom were the last vestiges of his old life. How could he survive without them?Junior drew Aretha close, his big hands cupping the back of her shell while he hugged her.“I love you, Aretha,” he whispered.She smiled, giving him a tight squeeze. “I love you, too, uncle Junior. It’ll be okay.”.oSix months passed too fast for Junior’s liking. Cherry needed strong painkillers to stay comfortable, and she only spent very short times out of bed. A lot of her hair grew back once she stopped treatments to prepare for the end of her life, so she styled it into a cute silver pixie cut. Her eyelashes and eyebrows returned white, like frost.Junior told her she looked beautiful every single day, even as the cancer ravaged her body into skin and bones. “Hey,” Cherry elbowed him as they woke up together one late spring morning. “It’s D-day.”“Huh?” Junior opened one eye.“Today’s death day. I’m supposed to be dead, and I’m still here.” She folded her hands under her cheek and waggled her eyebrows.He kissed her tenderly and stroked her soft hair. “You look beautiful.”Three weeks later, Cherry spent more time asleep than awake. She threw up anything solid she ate, including her pain pills, so her diet shrank to broths, milkshakes and a lot of ginger tea for nausea. Ostoad ordered an IV for her port-a-cath so she had continuous pain relief. Cherry adhered the Huber needle in place using a bandaid with a skull and crossbones on it, and she named her IV pole Beatrice.“Feed Beatrice, she’s angry without a full bag,” she joked.The whole thing operated via touchscreens, and a wireless remote button allowed her to give herself bolus doses if she want. She wore it on a black strap around her thin wrist.Wolfgang wouldn’t come near the IV pole for three straight days. He didn’t have any problems seeing them while visiting Iggy, Lemmy or Larry, but something about seeing it out of a medical environment short-circuited his brain.Aretha wrapped it in a fake passion flower vine she found in an old box, and that helped him not see it as threatening.Wolfgang started taking pictures of leaves and flowers with his tablet and bringing them to show Cherry. She loved that.The day before her birthday, Cherry developed a horrid, painful fever that necessitated a trip down to Celine’s floor. Ostoad added a slow drip of acetaminophen alongside the morphine. She ordered Ativan next to help Cherry’s nausea and anxiety.“Where’s my mom?” Cherry murmured, looking around at the pastel greens and blues of the room.It wasn’t the same room Roy died in, but it looked similar enough that it rekindled bad memories.Junior remembered Bowser going through delirium after his second heart attack. He stroked Cherry’s baby-fine hair and kissed her wrinkled brow.“She’s busy making something beautiful for you.”“Okay.”Once Cherry drifted off to sleep, Ostoad pulled Junior aside. Her glasses flashed when she looked up at him through serious dark eyes.“She won’t make it through tonight. Get anybody who wants to say goodbye down here.”Junior’s heart sank, but he heeded Ostoad’s words and called Aretha. She brought Wolfgang with her. He led them to the room where Cherry was kept and walked away up the hall to give them privacy.In his hand, his cell phone holding photos from their childhood all the way up to this year. A hundred years of their lives together— there wasn’t anybody else in his life he could say he knew that long— and it was about to end.“Hey.” Boom-Boom’s gruff voice broke through his ruminations.He wasn’t young anymore. Creases and wrinkles framed his mouth and dark eyes like the lines on an old map. The pathways his life took him on were written on his face.Junior looked into Boom-Boom’s eyes and the tears exploded out of him with such intensity that he had to sit on the floor. Arthritic hips be-damned, the grief capsized him like a rogue wave.Boom-Boom sat next to him and patted his shoulder with one of his huge, heavy hands. The same hands that pumped Bowser’s chest so long ago to keep him alive.“Two days before she died, Pom-Pom said something that stuck with me. I’m gonna say it to you.”He stared straight ahead, expression grim.“There’s no such thing as a good death or a bad death. That implies how you die is always in your control and not random chance. Death is the same end for everybody, regardless of how it happens. It’s the people left behind who have to live with the memory of what happened, and there’s always a little bit of guilt that you got to live while they had to die. It’s hard.”The weight of that truth hung in the air.“Dad,” Junior whispered.“Huh?”Junior brushed tears out of his eyes with his thumb. Everyone who would be greatly upset to hear this was dead now, so he confessed the secret he buried far too long.“I lied my ass off telling people about how my dad died. He tried to jump off the bed. He spat fire, he thrashed, he roared and he fought. He grabbed Cherry’s hands and almost pulled her off her feet. He didn’t calm down until the last minute. The part about talking to Peach is true, but I left out what happened before. It was ugly, Boom-Boom. Up until that moment, it was the worst thing I saw in my life.”Confessing that pulled the weirdest, most rancid weight off his heart. His tears started anew, and he didn’t hold them back.“That’s rough.” Boom-Boom sat next to him, patting his shoulder again.Through his tears, Junior croaked, “Roy was worse than dad, looking back. Dad was ready, his body just didn’t want to let go. Roy didn’t want to die. He was terrified all the way until he stopped breathing.” He sniffled and coughed, “The way Ludwig died would’ve given me nightmares for the rest of my life, and Wolfgang seems so…I dunno, okay about it. Aren’t autistic people more prone to trauma than people who aren’t?”“Beats me.” Boom-Boom rumbled, “Ludwig and Black died together. Wolfgang helped them achieve that. Frankly, I think he did a beautiful thing.”“He carried Ludwig to that bed, Boom-Boom. He watched him have seizures until he was gone. He watched Black forget how to breathe.”“Yeah, I know. Wolfgang is smarter than us, King Junior. We get hung up in the suffering, and he doesn’t.”Up the hall, Aretha and Wolfgang emerged from Cherry’s room.Boom-Boom slapped Junior’s shoulder. “Go love your wife, kiddo.”“I’m not a kid,” Junior snickered mid-sob.“I’m older than you, yes you are.” Boom-Boom smirked. “Go on.”Junior returned to the room. Being held aggravated Cherry’s pain, so he stole a gurney, rolled it next to her bed and laid down with her.“Your hair is all gray,” She whispered. “Bowser never got to go all gray.”“Are you making fun of my hair?” He teased her.“Yup. It’s beautiful. I’m glad you kept it long.” She grasped his topknot ponytail and smoothed it.“My dad wore his hair long until he became king. He cut the braid off after his coronation.”Cherry smiled. Her messy hair stuck up off her head. The gray color clashed with the pastel green pillow cradling her head. “They think I’m dying tonight, so I have to prove them wrong.”She turned her head and drifted back to sleep. Despite what she said, her breathing got rougher and rougher as the night progressed.Junior held her hand and rested his head on his forearm. Something on the gurney had a smell like bleach, vinegar and new plastic, and it took him back to the intensive care stays with his dad. Back to the days his brothers and sister were all alive and gathered around in watchful hope.He tumbled into sleep without meaning to. Nobody disturbed him.Insistent tapping on the wrist shook Junior out of a dreamless void. He opened his eyes. Cherry was sitting up with the blankets thrown off her gaunt legs.“Junior?” Her voice sounded clear, like she wasn’t sick at all.“Cherry?” Junior sat up, rubbing his eyes. Sleepily, he blurted, “Happy birthday.”“Thanks. Now kidnap me, I want to bake a cake.”Still groggy, Junior stretched, “Mmh, what kind?”“Chocolate, of course.”Cherry stood up from her bed. The back of her plain gray gown flopped open, showing her bare butt.“Ooh, are you flashing me?” Junior grinned.She wiggled it side to side and sat again. “I’ll flash you any day, but I don’t want to flash the castle.”“Sit tight.”Junior trampled upstairs to get her prettiest pajamas— they were flowy cotton pants with a kimono-style top, and they depicted pink cherry blossoms on a red background.He returned downstairs to find Cherry brushing her teeth. She gave him a minty fresh kiss while he helped her change. Mischief glistened in her eyes.“Okay, you big brute, kidnap me.”Laughing, Junior pulled a wheelchair out of the hall, moved all her IVs onto the rack attached to it and pushed her towards the door. Four Goombas waddled past.“Everybody move, this is a kidnapping!” Junior shouted, and bolted.Three Goombas scattered, one got squished. The squished one popped himself back into his regular shape and grumbled.“Hold it!” Ostoad stepped across their path.“Scoot. I’m leaving.” Cherry folded her arms.“I didn’t discharge you, your majesty.”“I’m the queen, and what I say goes. I’m saying, so I’m going.”“And I’m the king, and this is a kidnapping.” Junior smirked, his nostrils releasing curls of smoke in a mock threat.Ostoad shook her speckle-capped head and got out of their way.That morning, Aretha and Wolfgang walked in on Cherry and Junior mixing up cake batter. There was room set aside for Aretha to cook Wolfgang’s ash oatmeal, so his breakfast routine wouldn’t be too disrupted.Wolfgang happily paced circles around the kitchen island, humming with his spectacular basso profundo voice. He was eighty-two years old, and he looked forty. Not a wrinkle on him. Just like Lemmy.Cherry wanted to bake a chocolate Bundt cake. Koopas were notorious for theirs, so the Bundt cake pan was enormous. She had to triple everything in the recipe to fill it.“This was the cake mom liked to make me on my birthday,” Cherry said as she smeared butter into the mold and coated it in cocoa powder. Her gaunt, bony wrists flashed past the sleeves of her pajama top.Wolfgang kept shooting her curious looks beneath his bushy white eyebrows. Aretha let him circle around the island and casually spooned oatmeal into his mouth whenever he passed her. She took a few bites herself using the same spoon.“Gods, that smells so good,” Aretha sniffed the cake batter.Wolfgang tapped his tablet. “Chocolate.”“Yeah, it is!” Cherry smiled.He giggled, flapping his hands between touching icons.“Chocolate. King. King. Chocolate. Chocolate.”Junior stood back, taking video on his phone. He laughed until he couldn’t breathe when Wolfgang picked up an egg and accidentally smashed it in his hand. Wolfgang sucked the slop off his palm, eggshell and all, before anybody could stop him.“Did you just eat a raw egg?” Cherry eyed him.He grinned, drooling eggshell chunks out between his teeth. She guffawed so hard she had to push her bolus button.Outside the window, rain showers doused the castle gardens in gray gloom. Try as it might, it couldn’t enter the lively kitchen where a family’s mirth waved away death’s cold shadow.Everybody worked together to pour the chocolate cake batter into the Bundt pan. Cherry closed the oven and set the timer. She eased back into the wheelchair with a contented sigh and played with the sparkling Koopa shell diamond ring on her left ring finger.“Feeling okay?” Junior asked.Cherry grinned, eyes shining like the stones in her ring. Her, with her gaunt face, her big nose, her eyelashes, her freckles, her age spots and her wispy gray hair.“It’s my birthday. I feel amazing.”Junior shifted his weight and dull pain stabbed his hips. He made a face, wondering idly if Celine went through this with her knees.Cherry moved the wheelchair closer to the counter and set the coffee maker to espresso.“For the ganache,” she winked.A deep, thrumming rumble vibrated the kitchen as Wolfgang paced circles, humming. That was his content stim, he only did it when he felt perfectly at peace in a space.Aretha took photos of him on her phone. She turned her lense to Junior and Cherry. Junior stuck two fingers up behind Cherry’s head.The hour passed in a breeze. Chocolate scents warmed the whole east wing of the castle when Junior helped Cherry take the huge cake out of the oven and flip it over onto the porcelain white platter.Cherry heated a cup of cream to simmer. Aretha kept Wolfgang from digging into the cake prematurely. Junior fed him a handful of chocolate chips before dumping the rest into the simmering cream to melt. He held Wolfgang’s hand and guided him through stirring the chocolate chips into the cream until the combination turned a delightful uniform brown.“There, you’ve got it.” Junior let go and watched Wolfgang work the whisk in circles. “Nice!”Cherry beamed. “He can lick the whisk when we’re done.”Wolfgang hopped in place excitedly. At Cherry’s word, he squawked and licked that whisk as clean as a dishwasher.Then they watched in awe while Cherry drizzled the ganache over the circular Bundt cake. Avalanches of chocolate poured along the sides with promises to delight their taste buds.“Hold it! Before anybody cuts this cake…”Junior fished a single birthday candle out of a drawer, lit it and stuck it into the top of the cake. He gave a three count on his fingers and he and Aretha sang happy birthday. Wolfgang clapped his hands in rhythm.Cherry struggled to draw enough breath to blow out the candle. Junior subtly helped from over her shoulder. The tenacious, juddering flame finally whirled out into rising smoke.“Yay!” Aretha clapped alongside Wolfgang.Junior and Cherry cut the cake together, locked eyes and fed each other a bite. Just like at their wedding. Aretha got a great photo of that moment.“My beautiful birthday wife,” Junior whispered in her ear.There would never be a better chocolate cake. The best miracle of all was Cherry got to enjoy her piece without throwing it up later.By noon, Cherry’s eyes glazed over from pain and fatigue. She wanted to go upstairs to their bed, so Junior took her up via the elevator. Once there, she wouldn’t let him lift her out of the wheelchair.“These are my last steps, Junior. Let me take them.”Cherry took those four feeble, flinching steps, turned the sheets down on her side of the bed and eased herself in.Ostoad was kind enough to return Beatrice. Junior transferred the half-empty IV bags onto the vine-encrusted IV pole and rolled it closer to the bed.He lit the fireplace using his fire breath, filling the chilly room in dancing orange warmth.“I’ll save you a spot,” Cherry murmured. She gripped her bolus button and pushed it. “When I get to where they’re all waiting, I’ll make sure nobody takes your spot.”Fresh rain blew against the windows, battering them in droplet constellations. The tears skittering onto Junior’s face matched the drops running down the window panes.He sniffled, drawing the sheets up to her chest. “Saving me a seat, how nice.”She giggled, brushing the tears off his cheek with her thumbs. Blue crept into her nail beds, a reminder of the future. “I’m so glad we happened. I don’t regret a damn thing.”“I have a couple regrets, none of them include you.”“Oh, yeah? Like what?”“Um…Scott. Just…we didn’t part on good terms, and then he died. I hate that.”“Then I’ll tell him you’re sorry.” Cherry clung to his index finger.Rain beat a steady susurrus on the windows.“I love you more than I’ll love anyone ever again,” Junior whispered in her ear. New tears trickled onto his face to replace the ones she wiped off.This was a goodbye, and they both knew it.He held her gaze, his russet to her sapphire. Their eyes glistened in the lambent firelight.“Can we stay in love like this forever?” Cherry murmured.“Yeah,” He kissed her, “We’ll be this forever.”“I’m glad.”She closed her eyes and fell asleep while he massaged her hands with his thumbs.Minutes stretched on into hours. Junior opened a hidden door by the fireplace and added another log to the fire to keep the chilly room warm.Lightning lit the windows in brilliant flashes, but the thunder stayed far away.Aretha brought up a tray of dinner. Light minestrone soup. Mario’s recipe, judging by the scent. A deep, large, Koopa-sized bowl for Junior, and a little cup with a straw for Cherry.Junior tucked into his soup and Aretha stroked Cherry’s cheek to gently rouse her.“Hi, I brought soup.”“Dad?” Cherry whispered.“Shhh. Here, sweetie.” Aretha helped her get the straw into her mouth.Cherry struggled to swallow three mouthfuls. After that, she pushed the cup away. “I’m marrying the best guy in the world tomorrow.”“Really?” Aretha glanced at Junior, who paused to listen in.“Mmhmm.”Junior almost spat out his soup snickering. Heat rushed to his face. He kept eating.“He’s excited to marry you, too. He gushes about you all the time, you know, he’s that in love with you,” Aretha said, voice trembling.“He’s everything I want in a Koopa.” Cherry mumbled, fading away towards sleep again.Aretha stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. Junior took the soup cup from her hand and held her while she sobbed against his shoulder.There it was again, the pain he wished he could protect her from.“She’s so at peace about it,” Aretha whispered. “Are you?”“I think so. Doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it. But I don’t want her to hurt anymore.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be okay. Will you?”“I’ll miss her.”“Me, too.”Thunder rumbled outside as Aretha gathered up the tray and padded down the trapdoor staircase.Cherry’s breathing slowed, yet stayed steady.Dusk darkened the sky more than the bloated clouds when Wolfgang popped his head over the trapdoor. He hugged his portable keyboard awkwardly against his shoulder.“Aah?” The noise rose at the end like a question, and somehow Junior understood it as if actual words were spoken.“Sure.” Junior whispered.Wolfgang sat on the floor by the fireplace. His immense shadow spanned the wall like a guardian gargoyle hunched over the bed.He played Ludwig’s Interstellar and followed it up with his own piece, Death Is The Road To Awe. Without pausing, he segued into Together We Will Live Forever, and it always amazed Junior that fingers so clumsy at everything else could be that nimble on a keyboard.But Wolfgang said something through his song choices. He played it for Roy, as a promise, and now he promised to take Cherry’s memory with him in his music. More than that, he hoped his playing carried her closer to peace the same way he carried Ludwig to Black’s side.Wolfgang hit the final chords and rubbed his claws along his plastron as he rocked back and forth, his white hair gleaming in the firelight.“She loves you for that. Go give her a kiss,” Junior whispered.Nodding, Wolfgang padded to the bedside and kissed her cheek. She didn’t respond, not even a flutter of the eyelids. He nuzzled the top of her head.“Sleep.” Wolfgang signed. “Peace.”He kissed Junior’s cheek, took his keyboard and thudded slowly down the staircase.Junior climbed into bed with Cherry.Hours pressed onward, weighing heavily in the darkness outside.Cherry breathed in short, shallow gasps with pauses in between, and her mouth gaped open as her muscles relaxed. Junior smoothed her favorite cherry lip balm over her lips to keep them comfortably moist.“Thanks for putting your bandaid on my toe when we were kids,” he whispered to her sleeping face. “Everything that happened after was amazing. I love you so much, Cherry. You and I…we were great.”Junior dozed off without meaning to. He woke with a start to Cherry tugging on his hand.“Huh?”“What time is it?” She rasped, voice barely audible. “Is it still my birthday?”Junior bumped the clock off the nightstand with his tail, hiding the actual ten o’clock time.“No, it’s after midnight.”She stared at him through unfocused, drooping eyes. “Is it okay if I go?”Grief stabbed his chest and stung his eyes. The same pit he got in his stomach when his dad, siblings and their partners died opened anew. There was no being ready for this, no matter how many times he suffered through it.Junior pushed the bolus button on her IV remote. He scooted over to pull her into his arms and stroke her hair. “If it hurts too much to stay, then let go. It’s okay with me.”Cherry caressed his snout and closed her eyes again. Pallor leached into her skin while Junior watched over her. She breathed just like Bowser, her jaw gaping open at inhale and falling shut at exhale, but the pulse in her wrist continued to throb.Junior sobbed quietly, dreading their imminent separation and hoping to keep her pain at bay. He pushed the bolus button every time her forehead wrinkled. There was never a moment where she wasn’t in his arms.The neglected fire in the fireplace shrank to orange embers. Cherry’s inhales were no more than faint sips with lengthening pauses between exhales.At midnight, her tongue shifted in her mouth and her eyes rolled back.“It’s okay, Cherry.” Junior sniffed, kissing her forehead. “Shhh, relax. Let it all go.”She gasped. The embers in the fireplace sputtered out. She gasped again. That was her last breath.Cherry died at one minute past midnight because she refused to leave on her birthday.Junior held her in the quiet darkness, listening to the wind bluster against the windows. He didn’t shatter into helpless tears like he expected to. Disturbing the silence with anything louder than sniffling seemed sacrilegious.“You’re so brave, Cherry.” Junior whispered in her ear. “You beautiful, amazing woman. I love you so much.”He lit the sconces on the sides of the headboard with his breath, giving the room a warm glow.Unlike Bowser, Cherry’s mouth was easy to close, he only needed a rolled up washcloth under her chin.Junior made the tearful trip to Aretha’s room. She was still awake when he rapped on the door. The tears on his face said it all, and she sobbed as she headed upstairs to where Cherry lay.Wolfgang slept peacefully on his belly in his bed. Junior rapped on his shell until he stirred and lifted his head.“Cherry died,” he said. No minced words.Blinking, Wolfgang sat up, yanked Junior against his chest and enfolded him in his huge arms. He was such a large Koopa that it felt eerily like one of Bowser’s hugs. His clean charcoal scent wasn't the same. He cupped the back of Junior’s head in one of his massive hands, rocked back and forth and hummed.The gesture had such raw, real, unguarded love behind it that it smashed through the walls Junior erected in his mind and unleashed the grief trapped inside.Junior clung to him and bawled. He just watched his wife of eighty three years take her last breath. Time swept her away like everybody else and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it except kiss her goodbye.“You’ve been alive almost as long as we were married. You and Aretha,” Junior choked between heaving sobs.Wolfgang hunched his shoulders, ensconcing him closer against his chest. He still wore his silicone spiked collar that spelled out King Wolfgang.  Cherry’s death devastated Junior beyond measure, but he plodded on because he promised her he would.The funeral he planned for her rivaled Peach’s in grandness and beauty. He held it outside in the dewy, flowering garden by the hedge maze.Everyone mourned their lost queen. The courtyard alone held standing room only, and still more watched on TV. People left flowers by the bottom of the hill the castle stood on.Junior dressed Cherry in her favorite puffy-sleeved red dress with the gold threads and lacy hem. She was barefoot when they met, so he left her barefoot and chose to paint her fingernails and toenails to match her dress.Aretha did Cherry’s makeup, putting on just enough to make her pretty without caking her face, and placed Peach’s tiara on her thin silver hair. Cherry looked beautiful, a woman who lived a long life surrounded by people who loved her.Wolfgang participated, too. With Aretha’s help, he picked the liner for Cherry’s coffin. He chose white velvet with tiny red cherries embroidered into it. She would’ve loved it.Cherry didn’t want a clear coffin, so Junior gave her a translucent one instead. Polychromatic crystal over frosted glass. Just enough to see she was inside, but only as a blurry, indistinct shape.Junior laid a single yellow tulip in her hands before he kissed her lips for the last time. His tears dripped onto her face as he closed the coffin lid.Just like Bowser did for Peach, Junior heaped red flowers on her coffin. Tulips, this time, because that was the first flower he gave her. Part of the funeral included a cortège through Koopa City and Toadstool Central, the new name for the city near the old Mushroom castle.The worst part of the service for him was watching Toad— or another, younger person who looked like Toad— take the Mushroom crown, orb and scepter off the coffin at the end of the ceremony and place them on their royal cushions to be taken away. Separating Cherry from her royal regalia signified the end of her reign.Cherry was interred on the hill with Mario, Peach, Bowser, Luigi and Daisy. Her statue joined theirs six months later.That winter was the coldest Junior remembered, with blizzards raging for weeks. Even the weather cried over Cherry.Peter, the Piranha Plant, didn’t survive it. Junior noticed him hanging limply out of his pipe while clearing snow off the balcony. He couldn’t believe he cried over a plant, but Peter was special. It hurt to drag his withered remains out of the pipe. He crushed him up into mulch to feed the roses in the pots.Winter blew itself away. The sun came out and the snow melted.In the spring, Junior planted a cherry tree on the west side of the castle, and it would one day blossom into a forest covering the countryside. The land was declared protected, so nobody could tear it down to build on it..oJunior took the audacious step of abdicating his throne following Cherry’s death. The compound trauma and grief from losing so many people kept affecting his decisions, and he knew he was no longer able to be the king his people deserved.His statement to the public caused a stir, and he took no questions about it.After a lot of deliberation with the people he hoped to be his successors and obtaining their consent to take the throne, he held a press conference stating why he was stepping down. Then he declared Wolfgang Amadeus Koopason and Aretha Koopa as the new king and queen of the Koopa-Mushroom empire.Koopas didn’t have to be married to be king and queen. Siblings were rulers in the past, with their spouses earning the title of consorts, so it wasn’t unheard of. Bowser got the throne by virtue of being a cousin four times removed of Felix, the king before him who never had heirs.A lot of people questioned whether Wolfgang could hack it as king, but they didn’t know him like Junior did.Their coronation ceremony commenced that autumn.Boom-Boom was the officiant. His voice got gruffer with age, so his shouted oaths had extra crackle.Wolfgang and Aretha both asked to utilize the Mushroom crown, orb and scepter during their coronation, to show their love to the Mushroom Kingdom— they wouldn’t be rulers if it wasn’t for Cherry and Junior uniting their kingdoms.Wolfgang said all his vows via his tablet. He wore gold ear defenders, and only took them off for the brief time he wore the crown.As Junior knelt to place the collar around Wolfgang’s neck, Wolfgang cupped his face between his hands and kissed his forehead. Love and affection radiated off him like heat from the sun.Aretha designed an iridescent white royal collar studded in glittering diamonds. Wolfgang’s was dark red leather with silver spikes and letters spelling out his name.When it was time for them to assemble their torches and roar, Aretha’s bell-like howl rang off the walls, and Wolfgang’s tenebrous bellow vibrated everyone’s chests.Junior kept his royal title on paper, could still make official decisions, continued to wear his royal collar and publicly accepted the title of King Father. He stayed in the castle and became Aretha’s and Wolfgang’s most trusted advisor.Wolfgang went down in history as King Wolfgang the Silent because he never spoke a word. With Junior’s and Aretha’s help, he proved himself an amazing leader. He prevented a war with the Kongs by standing in the center of the battlefield where both armies prepared to fight, and didn’t budge until both sides agreed to talk. History books named that moment Wolfgang’s Gambit.The dispute turned out to be over mining resources and food transport. Aretha earned the name Queen Aretha the Respected after she negotiated with the Kongs to reach a peaceful resolution. She sent them farming equipment to help them rebuild their lost crops and signed a deal to share mining resources. The Kongs responded by sending medicine and construction resources. Their kingdoms went from foes to friends in just over a year.People had to get used to how Wolfgang conducted meetings. If they happened in person, he paced the room, growling and puffing smoke over the shoulders of anyone who said something he didn’t like. If they were three-dimensional video meetings, he paced out of frame a lot. It didn’t take long for his audiences to learn they could keep talking and he would type a response when he felt like it.Becoming king didn’t change him. He was still the same old Wolfgang.Life wobbled into a new, friable normal, leaving everyone time to work through their grief..oFloor, a biographer, asked to create a documentary about Wolfgang’s day to day life, which Wolfgang okayed. It would be called Spectrum Life.  And that was how the Thunder brothers came along— Gaspar, Balthazar and Melchior Thunder. Gaspar and Balthazar were part of the film crew, and Melchior went wherever they did.This ragtag crew hung around the castle for a few days to get Wolfgang used to their presence before they started recording. Wolfgang got final say on everything used, from footage to audio, so nothing went into the documentary that he didn’t personally approve of.He presented the world with everything. Being fed, bathed, changed, dressed for symphonies, dressed for royal meetings, his typing, playing piano, transcribing his music, orchestral rehearsals done in tandem with Aretha, and his interactions among his family. All he asked the Thunder crew to cut out was the meltdown he had at the mention of Joanne. That became a conversational no-fly zone, and she wasn’t mentioned again.Balthazar, the eldest brother, revealed himself as a brash, loud, muscular Koopa with saw-blade teeth, red eyes, a thick purple Mohawk and a matching shell full of spikes. He daringly arm-wrestled Junior to a draw and cooked Birdo eggs like a champion.Melchior, the middle brother, was a skinny hunched-over Koopa whose beady emerald eyes lit up when he smiled. He wore his black hair styled in a bowl cut around his stubby horns. Irregular spikes dotted his black shell like sesame seeds. He had a visible facial difference— his snout looked disproportionately short with oversized nostrils, scarring from a cleft palate repair and small, crooked teeth that didn’t align. It gave him a charming open-mouthed smile.Like Wolfgang, Melchior was non-speaking autistic and communicated via his handheld tablet. He greatly enjoyed putting handfuls of rocks or beads into peoples’ hands, giggling and running away.And Gaspar, the youngest, stood back the most. Him, with his maroon hair slicked backwards off his black eyes and spiked maroon shell, proved himself so introverted and shy that it took three days to get his name out of him. He was the polar opposite to loud, extroverted Balthazar.Melchior could feed himself and use the toilet, so he did a lot to help Wolfgang eat meals and change his briefs during their visits with each other. They started showing affection through sidelong looks and hooking their pinkie fingers together and squeezing. There was a lot of simultaneous, synchronized stimming.Then Junior walked by the hedge maze one day and saw Wolfgang lean over and give Melchior a kiss. Melchior squeaked in surprise and threw himself against Wolfgang’s chest. They kissed again, clumsy and giggly.He smiled and kept walking.Another time, Junior discovered Wolfgang mounting Melchior from behind in the middle of the living room floor. He left immediately, told everybody to stay away from there, and didn’t go back until he saw them emerge. How Melchior could walk after the enormity Wolfgang buried in him was a mystery he didn’t think too hard about.“You should do that somewhere more private,” Junior muttered to Wolfgang once he walked out.“Do what?” Melchior typed, face smug.Junior eyed him and crossed his arms. “I saw you two having sex. Do you care if anybody walks in on you?”Wolfgang crinkled his nose and touched his tablet. “King. Fuck anywhere. Dads did.”Melchior guffawed so hard he snorted. He typed, “Yes. I like big dicks. Fuck me anywhere.”Junior laughed for days and left the matter alone. If they wanted to have sex everywhere, fine.They did it anywhere they could get away with it. On the stairs. In the sensory room. Behind the thrones. They were so quiet, unlike Ludwig and Black. Melchior rarely made any noise, and Wolfgang emitted the same droning groans he did while stimming.Then Junior discovered Melchior signaled he wanted it by patting himself on both shoulders, and Wolfgang went after him with fierce eyes like a Big Bertha about to lap up whatever poor unfortunate soul came too close to the water’s surface. Junior knew that gesture meant get out of there.At least Wolfgang had the sense to not respond to that signal during meetings. Melchior tried a few times, much to everyone’s amusement and annoyance.Their budding romance made it into the documentary. Unplanned, but a delightful addition..oBalthazar brought Wolfgang into the dining room alone and conducted a stunning on-camera interview. Of course he would know how to word his questions, he had an autistic brother with similar needs.Most of his inquiries got the briefest of answers, but one elicited a flood.“What do you remember about your dads, King Wolfgang?” He leaned forward, gently tapping on the table and signing what he asked. “King Wolfgang? What do you remember about your dads?”Wolfgang rubbed his claws up and down his plastron as he rocked, mulling the question over in his head. His pink eyes gleamed from the daylight coming through the window while he typed on his tablet at length, being extraordinarily picky about which words he chose.He glanced across the table from beneath his bushy eyebrows as if asking Balthazar if he was ready for his answer.Balthazar folded his hands on the stone tabletop and leaned forward, expressing silent interest.Wolfgang hit the green talk icon and sucked his thumb while his tablet pronounced his response.“Love always. Warm, care. Music always. Quiet sometimes. Kisses before goodbye. Arms, hold. Hands, feed, love. Safe, home. Free. Free. Free. Love dads. Remember always, pictures inside. Music. Hope. Free.”Balthazar grinned, tapping on the table. “What about Melchior? How do you feel about him?”Wolfgang laughed, it sounded like a cross between Black’s wheeze, a cough and camera shutters. He typed, flapped his hands and pressed the talk icon.“Funny face. Nice sex. Love, much.”Balthazar guffawed so loud it echoed off the walls. “You two did that?”“Yes. Often.”He howled, holding his sides.Footsteps thudded outside, the door swung open and Melchior crashed the interview to nibble on the side of Wolfgang’s neck. He poured a handful of pebbles from outside into his open hand, giggled and skittered out, slamming the door behind him.Wolfgang told Balthazar to leave that in the final edit.“One more question, King Wolfgang,” Balthazar lowered his voice. “Why did you call your first symphony The Fountain? Can you tell me why?”Wolfgang didn’t answer in words. He snatched up the handheld camera instead and rushed to the fountain outside with Balthazar hot on his heels. Once outdoors, he switched the camera to film at high speed.Taking Balthazar’s hand, he plunged it into the water. He splashed, waved his hands and reached towards the fountain spray, all while aiming the camera at everything he did.None of it made sense until Balthazar checked the slow motion footage later. Wolfgang showed how water droplets flew off his hands in scintillating, polychromatic spheres, the dancing caustics at the bottom of the fountain, the way the spray curled like crystals against the sky and the shimmers of moisture clinging to his fingertips.His conducting gestures looked exactly the same. The glittery baton Cherry gave him reminded him of the droplets sparkling in the sun.Never did Junior understand him clearer than after seeing that footage. Balthazar edited the penultimate song from Wolfgang’s symphony over that montage, immortalizing him forever in spheres of crystalline euphoria.Wolfgang’s joy by the fountain became the final exclamation point on the documentary.The Thunder brothers earned the full respect of the Koopa-Toadstool household by showing everyone a private screening. They had five hours of usable footage. Wolfgang gave the green light, and it aired an hour a day over the course of five days. Spectrum Life won awards, and the Koopa-Toadstool empire saw how their king lived..oAretha and Balthazar fell into a whirlwind romance of their own. He won her over with his outgoing personality. All it took was a dinner date, a daring kiss by the fountain and a stunning waltz under the stars to win her heart.“I’m twice your age!” Aretha said.“We aren’t children, your majesty, and you are very beautiful.”They laughed and danced again.Balthazar popped the question after the first date, just like Junior did with Cherry. Aretha accepted his proposal.The wedding was huge, as big as Junior’s wedding to Cherry. Balthazar obtained the title of king’s consort.Together, they created three children. It wasn’t easy on Aretha, since she had children when most Koopas were the grandparents of adult children, yet she never expressed regret.The first two were a surprise in the form of identical twins inside one egg. They received Larry’s Serum via injection into the yolk as soon as the egg was laid, and the Larry test that confirmed no Crash found two twitching heart sacs.Larry did it. He ended Crash for future generations.Junior took hold of Janet’s hand, knelt at her feet and cried when she told him the good news. He considered it an honor to hear it alongside Aretha before it made headlines.That winter, Aretha welcomed her melanistic girls, Eartha and Whitney. She kissed their little noses as they nudged out of their eggshell. They sported wide snouts like their grandpa, Morton, and had Aretha’s coily hair.Four years later, Aretha produced a third child, also treated with Larry’s Serum. The third child, with coily hair that came unmistakably from Aretha and whose green scales, purple hair coloring, purple shell, long snout and red eyes represented Balthazar, would later declare himself their son and be reintroduced as Jimi Koopa.Aretha remembered Joanne calling Wolfgang Justin, which wasn’t his name, so she sought to erase Jimi’s dead-name from history and nobody spoke or wrote it again. Balthazar accidentally said it one time. He realized it, apologized and vowed to forget Jimi’s old name.As for the twins, Aretha made sure people could tell Eartha and Whitney apart since they were easily mixed up. She styled Whitney’s coily hair with star-shaped hair bands or barrettes, and used hearts for Eartha’s. As they grew up into children, they would carry this theme on with their jewelry choices. Especially Whitney, who loved necklaces and bracelets dripping in stars.Before Jimi realized he was a boy and told everyone, Aretha styled his coily purple hair into braids with lightning bolt hair bands and barrettes. He always seemed miffed at his reflection, but it would be a few years before he named why.Balthazar helped the kids put on disguises to go out in public without getting hounded. Nothing major, just cute baseball caps to hide their hair and blue shell paint that came off in the bath. It reminded Junior of the time Cherry took him outside-outside for Halloween.They got to do a lot— visit parks, play in public and cause a little trouble when they got away from Balthazar once— without photographers tailing them everywhere..oThe kids accepted Wolfgang and Melchior, and treated them as they did everybody else in the family.Eartha got curious once and went up to Wolfgang, asking, “How come you don’t go potty on the potty? I thought grownups don’t need diapers.”Wolfgang sucked his thumb and typed back, “Some do.”“Do some adults need to be fed like you too?”“Yes.” Wolfgang signed.Melchior squawked from where he sat on the floor by the fireplace. More specifically, he sat on the famous Somersault Rug.“Different brains,” he typed, patting his legs. “Different needs. Still people.”She giggled, climbing onto Melchior’s shell. “You’re cool!”“Cool. Cool.” Wolfgang typed. He waved his hands and crouched next to Melchior. They kissed each other.“I want kisses too!” Eartha pouted.They gave her kisses, and then they tickled her sides until she squealed.Junior watched Eartha play with her autistic uncles on the exact spot Iggy went into status epilepticus decades ago. She had no clue her nascent life returned beauty to a place that once housed trauma.And Junior never forgot the morning he walked in on the trio putting swear words into Wolfgang’s tablet and making it speak. Wolfgang stood nearby, giggling while they fed him oatmeal and scrambled eggs.He started teaching them swear words in Koopa Sign, reminding Junior of the time Ludwig taught him those same swears.Junior crossed his arms. “Now, now, you all understand these are naughty words we don’t say willy-nilly, right?”“We say ‘poop’ outside, not shit,” Whitney laughed, baring her two sharp bottom teeth.Junior smirked. They had sense!That morning, he showed those troublemakers how to make Bowser bacon. They loved it.Melchior crashed through the kitchen, snatched Jimi up onto his shoulders and ran circles around the dining room table.Balthazar walked in on the chaos. He took photos on his phone and shook his head.“Kids.”“Yup,” Junior nodded.Eartha climbed onto his back. “Uncle Junior, you smell funny.”“Oh, really? I’ll smell even funnier. Watch.”Junior crouched and farted so loud it startled everyone. He counted down mentally from three to one, and watched everybody flee his side from the smell.“Ew!” Jimi yelled from the living room.Junior cackled.But the tragedy of time wasn’t done striking yet..oBoom-Boom dedicated his life to serving everyone in the castle in honor of Bowser.When an electrical fire broke out in the gym and the sprinkler system malfunctioned, he rushed into the smoke and flames to pull Jimi, Eartha and Whitney out a third-story window. He threw down ropes and brought them safely to the ground on his shell.Junior found him coughing with the kids safe in his arms.“Aretha, they’re over here!” He yelled. “Hey, Boom-Boom, you okay there?”Boom-Boom dazedly led the frightened children to Junior. He shook his head no, coughed and muttered, “Get ‘em checked out.”Then he collapsed, gasping for breath.His quick action saved the triplets’ lives at the expense of his own. The heat and smoke scorched his lungs, and he died despite valiant resuscitation efforts. He was a hundred and forty years old.All three kids checked out fine. Whitney needed eye drops because the smoke caused an allergic reaction, but beyond that they escaped unscathed.Aretha joined Junior in the morgue as he sat staring at Boom-Boom’s lifeless corpse on the slab. His face was relaxed and peaceful, like he accepted death when faced with it.“He was a noble Koopa,” she said, petting the top of his head.Junior gave Boom-Boom a full royal funeral to honor his service and had him interred in the lava under the drawbridge of Bowser’s castle.An iron plaque on the drawbridge stated, Boom-Boom, loyal servant to three kings.   The fire stayed contained to the gym and the small living room above it. It took three years to repair the damage and erase all traces of smoke or flames. Junior pulled some of Wendy’s old furniture out of storage. Her lush purple couch, oak end tables and gold rugs looked nice by the fireplace..oEven Lakitu succumbed to age. Nobody knew how old he was. Junior found him in the middle of the castle hedge maze, curled up as if he laid down to sleep and never woke up.He cried— Lakitu was the last person he knew who saw Bowser with his own eyes.It rained for the first time in history over the volcano when Junior entombed Lakitu in the northeast wall. His clouds knew he died, and they mourned.And the cruelty of time continued..oBalthazar died very young at forty-nine. The autopsy found stage three Crash. He and his brothers were adopted as infants, so he never got checked for it. Everyone thought Aretha’s genes carried the Crash, but it came from both of them.Aretha was with Balthazar when he collapsed into horrific agonal breathing in the middle of breakfast, and no resuscitation revived him. Medics pronounced him dead at the scene.Junior woke up because all the chaos had Wolfgang and Melchior locked in simultaneous meltdowns that required immediate attention, so he didn’t find out what happened until Balthazar was in the morgue.Gaspar took over helping Melchior and Wolfgang, freeing Junior to check on Aretha and the kids.Jimi sat in the living room in silent shock. He saw it all happen. Whitney and Eartha rushed home from the movies to find out they lost their dad. They were distraught. Junior held them while they sobbed. He cried with them because he knew this pain. Watching Aretha scream and pound the floor broke his heart into a million pieces.Wolfgang embraced Melchior as he wept over his brother’s lifeless body in the morgue.Gaspar ran to get tested, and discovered stage two crash. He had stents put in the day after Aretha lava-buried Balthazar in Bowser’s volcano.Melchior couldn’t be tested. He melted down violently at the sight of needles. The echocardiogram was all doctors got, and it showed abnormalities in his aorta, mitral and tricuspid valves that pointed to Crash. Everybody had to cross their fingers and hope he lived a nice, long life..oA year after Balthazar’s shocking death, Wolfgang married Melchior in a small, intimate ceremony. Throwing a giant wedding would’ve been too much for both of them to handle— Wolfgang barely made it through his coronation. They allowed a two-person camera crew to record it and share it the day after.Junior officiated. They said their vows via their tablets. At the end, they somersaulted over the fire pit together and came up laughing.For them, married life was a dream. Anytime Aretha and Wolfgang traveled, Gaspar and Melchior came along.Gaspar became Aretha’s personal attendant and comforter. Somewhere along the way, he fell in love with her. They had quite the torrid affair, though they never married. Sadly, Gaspar had a heart attack despite the stents. He underwent bypass surgery on his left anterior descending coronary artery, developed an infection afterward and died in Aretha’s arms of sepsis. He was barely fifty-four years old.Melchior wailed at losing his other brother. He ran away off the castle grounds, and it took three days to find him. Wolfgang didn’t sleep at all until his beloved was back at his side.Aretha held in her cry until her kids weren’t around her to see. Junior held her while she wept and raged. He hated watching her go through the grief of losing two lovers. One was traumatic enough!But Aretha carried on for her children. She wiped her eyes, squared her shoulders and raised them..oWhitney and Eartha grew up to take over Wendy’s floundering WendyCorp business. They renamed it Koopa Beauty Enterprises and became forces to reckon with in the industry. Their fresh ideas changed the landscape of fashion, jewelry and makeup.They broke away from identical hairstyles once they turned eighteen. Whitney clipped her hair short against her scalp, while Eartha kept hers long and braided.When Jimi turned eighteen, he underwent plastic surgery to have prosthetic horns implanted on his head. The hormones he took deepened his voice and gave him the muscle mass he wanted, yet didn’t prompt horn growth. Not all Koopas grew them— none of Junior’s siblings had any— but Jimi wanted them.He emerged from the procedure with beautiful curved horns like Junior’s, and he smiled at his reflection.Jimi grew his hair out for a year after the procedure. It looked short at a glance because of its coily nature, but the longest strands reached his shoulders when pulled straight.Aretha, Whitney and Eartha helped him style his purple hair into locs once his surgical sites healed.Junior watched them do it, fascinated. They took sections of his hair, rubbed in locking gel and twirled the gathered strands in circles using the teeth of a comb. It took three months of diligent care for his locs to smooth out the way he wanted them. He shed tears when he looked in the mirror one morning as his locs fell around his horns and framed his shoulders.“I finally look like me!”Aretha kissed his forehead. “I love you, my son.”To celebrate, Junior took Jimi downstairs to the basement level and pointed to something covered in a gray sheet.“If you can get that working, it’s yours. Good luck.”Jimi dragged the sheet off the dusty old Koopa Clown Car that hadn’t seen daylight in nearly a century. Its smiling face gleamed under the overhead lights.“Whoa, is this what I think it is?”Junior grinned. “Yup.”Two weeks later, he watched Jimi’s purple locs whip back as he flew the Koopa Clown Car for the first time.“Wahaha! Look at me, mom!”“Be careful!” Aretha shouted up to him.“He’s fine.” Junior smiled knowingly, “I flew that thing before I was ten.”The Koopa Clown Car lasted five more months. Then it stalled over the ocean. Jimi got out fine, the Koopa Clown Car sank into the deep, never to be seen again. A passing cruise ship was quite shocked to see the prince of the Koopa-Toadstool empire swimming in the sea. The ship’s captain plucked him out and returned him home post-haste.It took Jimi three days to wash the seawater smell out of his locs. Whitney and Eartha made fun of him for smelling like fish. Junior was so grateful Jimi got home in one piece that he gave the ship’s captain a Medal of Honor.“I’m glad that blasted old thing is gone, it was a dangerous toy,” Aretha grumbled. “What were you thinking, giving that to him?”Junior laughed for days. Aretha had no idea she sounded exactly like Celine used to. He decided not to send out a search party, let the old Koopa Clown Car rust at the bottom of the ocean. It was a relic of a time long past.Life smoothed into equilibrium and cruelly spun out again three years later..oJunior awoke at four in the morning when Aretha shook his shoulder. “I didn’t want to be alone. I think I’m about to die,” she said, panting. “My chest hurts. I’m scared, uncle Junior.”“Aretha?” Junior sat up, heart racing as if watching an oncoming train he couldn’t escape. He pulled her to him, one arm around her shoulders. “Hang on, I’ll call for help.”“Tell my kids I love them.”“Aretha, I love you, and so do they.”“Don’t leave me alone.”“I won’t. I’m here.”Junior held her and dialed on his phone with his thumb. He told the medics downstairs that Aretha was having a heart attack. They confirmed they were on their way.His stomach dropped and his mind spun. Here it came again, the cold, dark, cruel thing that kept snatching up everyone he loved. He felt so distant from the pain in the moment. All he wanted to do was focus on being present for Aretha.He shoved the phone aside and hugged her, petting her cheek. Her graying hair was twisted in a single bun atop her head, the way she wore it to sleep.Aretha stared into his eyes, her face dusky in terror. Her hand went to her chest, an all-too-familiar gesture.“I don’t want to die! Help me.” She sobbed, tears streaming onto her cheeks. Just like Roy, she pleaded. “Please, please, help me.”Junior kissed her brow and rubbed her shoulder. “They’ll be here soon. You’re not going to die, Aretha. Everything is going to be okay.”Cold sweat dotted her forehead. She shook her head, like she knew.“Uncle Roy was right. It’s not okay. Help me. Please, I—”Her face froze in wide-eyed horror. Everything she was faded as her eyes rolled back into her skull.“Aretha!” Junior screamed at her. “Aretha, stay with me!”He popped her shell off, laid her flat on the floor by his bed and began chest compressions. His aged body wasn’t used to doing this anymore, so every movement hurt like ice picks to his hips. Her ribs bowed under his palms as he pumped her heart the way Boom-Boom taught him when he was a kid.She kept gasping. Agonal breathing. Her arms flopped like loose ropes at her sides. Because of her melanism, the inside of her mouth took on a weird purplish-black hue.Whitney scurried upstairs at the sound of his wailing. She grabbed the AED and got the pads positioned as medics poured in through the elevator to take over.“Aretha, come on!” Junior shouted, holding her hand between defibrillator shocks. “Please! I said you weren’t going to die, you can’t die!”The medics intubated her brutally fast. Junior grabbed the ambu bag and breathed for her. Nobody stopped him.They got a rhythm, and lost it, and got it, and lost it again. Aretha’s eyes rolled beneath their lids.Medics worked on her long enough for Jimi and Eartha to arrive.“Mom!” Eartha sobbed, clinging to Whitney.Jimi took Aretha’s hand while the medics pounded on her chest.“I love you, mom,” he murmured through tears.All attempts to restart Aretha’s heart failed. The medics tried everything. Epinephrine shots, defibrillator shocks, vasopressors, the works. Her heart wouldn’t hold onto a rhythm. She started in v-fib, went into v-tach, fell into torsades de pointes, shot back into fine v-fib and finally stayed on asystole.“You can’t stop!” Junior roared when they called it. He kept squeezing the bag, scowling at them.“I’m sorry, sire,” Lewis, the Hammer Brother medic, cupped his wrist. “We’ve been at this for an hour. I’m sorry. Queen Aretha Koopa is dead.”Aretha’s eyes and mouth gaped unnaturally wide open. Like Morton. Like Bowser.Whitney screamed. Eartha bawled. Jimi sobbed.Junior gave Aretha her last breath by squeezing the bag a final time. He gathered her limp form to his chest, her soft bun scraping against his cheek. The endotracheal tube and ambu bag hung out of her open jaws like morbid jewelry. All he saw was the tiny, hour-old hatchling Morton placed in his arms exactly a century ago, and he wailed. “She’s just a baby, she shouldn’t know this!” Junior cried, choking on his tears. “No, no, this isn’t fair!”Every old wound on his soul ripped open and bled rivers. Aretha died on his bedroom floor, surrounded by her family. Death wrenched her out of his grasp. He had his hands on her, and she died anyway.Wolfgang slept through the whole thing. Whitney had to waylay Melchior from coming in while the medics took Aretha’s body away in a bag.Junior didn’t tell either of them what happened until she was downstairs, laid out on the table in the morgue and extubated.Wolfgang settled his head on her chest, sucked his thumb and closed his eyes without a sound. Melchior sat by her feet and cried softly as he rocked back and forth.Pain stabbed through Junior’s chest. He took the elevator up a level to Celine’s floor, gasping. LeAnn, his blue-shelled Koopa Troopa cardiologist at that time, hooked him up to an ECG and ran blood tests.No heart attack. Just panic. Lewis gave him Ativan and LeAnn talked him into breathing deeper, and after that he didn’t remember because the drugs put him to sleep.To add insult to injury, Lewis watched how Junior hobbled around on his arthritic hips and suggested he invest in a cane. He even brought one the next day, a green metal quad cane with a black palm grip. Junior took the cane when he left and threw it in the bedroom closet. He had a family to watch over, he didn’t have time for this cane shit!.oWolfgang took over telling the public that Aretha died. Junior helped him transcribe his message into complete sentences. Once the cameras rolled, Wolfgang pushed the talk button on his tablet and stared into the lens. He made eye contact with everyone watching, sharing their sorrow.Junior handled the press conferences. Jimi, Eartha and Whitney put the funeral together. It was a massive event that took a month to plan and execute.They weren’t strangers to death. They saw their dad and his brother die. But Aretha’s sudden demise rocked the castle.Hot summer sun beat down the day the Koopa family lowered Aretha’s shell into the lava where Balthazar and Gaspar were interred.Wolfgang wailed in Melchior’s arms for months after. Junior grieved endlessly. Jimi, Whitney and Eartha were wrecked.So many losses, and Junior didn’t know how many more he could weather. He was already older than all his siblings lived to be. Would this break him?Death wasn’t finished dealing out pain.Three years later, it struck another staggering blow..oA thunderstorm raged over the castle on a chilly autumn evening. Bone-shaking thunder followed every lightning flicker.Junior checked in on Wolfgang and Melchior because thunderstorms tended to rattle them. They stayed in what used to be Ludwig’s guest room. The soft, dark midnight blues and silvers gave the space a peaceful atmosphere.Melchior was pale and tired, and he barely ate dinner earlier. He got like that when he missed his brothers, so it didn’t strike Junior as unusual. Besides, he bounced back after the sadness passed and resumed eating normally again.“I miss them, too.” Junior wrapped Melchior in a hug and patted the back of his neck.Melchior rubbed his face on Junior’s shoulder. His hair was almost as soft as Wolfgang’s. He wiggled out of the embrace after a few seconds to bite his nubby green chew ring. Sometimes he liked hugs, sometimes he didn’t.Lightning illuminated Wolfgang’s white hair. He stared out the rectangular window with unfocused pink eyes, his face inscrutable. Fine lines finally began making their appearance around his mouth, the only sign of his growing age.Junior patted his arm and hugged him, too. “Doing okay?”Wolfgang grunted, his version of yes.  Junior kissed his cheek. That drew Melchior over to get a kiss, too.“I know the storm is scary, but it’ll be over before midnight.”Wolfgang reached for his tablet and typed the only complete sentence Junior heard from him.“I will be lightning.”Junior hugged him again, smiling. “You already are. You came into this family like a lightning strike, and we love you for it.”Wolfgang hummed contently and turned to rub Melchior’s face. The caress didn’t look pleasant, but Melchior leaned into it with his open-mouthed smile.Junior left them there and headed upstairs. He shut off the lights to watch the clouds flash.The storm matured as it reached the hilltop. Thunderclaps shook everything.Melchior screamed six times in rapid succession. Sometimes he melted down during storms, so it didn’t raise any alarms. Wolfgang would comfort him like he always did.Lightning hit the castle at exactly ten o’clock that night, knocking the power out until the alternate circuit tripped to bring everything back on. Junior went to bed after that..oNeither Wolfgang nor Melchior appeared for breakfast the following morning, and they were usually the first ones in the kitchen.Junior discovered them in bed with their eyes locked. They were dead. Long dead, already in rigor mortis.Bruises littered Melchior’s snout, likely from a self-injurious meltdown. His hands maintained a vice-like grip on Wolfgang’s wrist and shoulder, even in death. Wolfgang had one arm around him and cupped his free hand over his cheek, like he hugged him tight to comfort him and help him stop hitting himself.Melchior’s face assumed the same blank, slack-jawed expression Bowser and Aretha did at death. Wolfgang’s jaws stayed closed, somehow. His forehead was wrinkled in that determined look he got when nothing would stop him from accomplishing a task.Junior’s eyes shifted above the bed, to the nightlight. The glittery yellow star, which shone without fail for over a century, burnt out. Maybe the power surge from the lightning strike did it.Autopsies couldn’t be performed until the rigor mortis passed. Wolfgang and Melchior held each other for forty-eight hours because nobody wanted to force their dead bodies apart. Junior took them finally going limp as a sign that they reached the Great Beyond.Melchior had a Crash-related aortic dissection similar to Morton. His aortic intima dissected in his thoracic area instead of his aortic arch. The arterial wall ballooned into an aneurysm and burst open, spilling his blood supply into his chest cavity and abdomen. The excruciating pain of it triggered his final meltdown, and he bled to death in under five minutes.Coroners couldn’t find Wolfgang’s cause of death. Medically, he checked out as perfectly healthy. The determined look on his face suggested he willed his heart to stop. He took a page out of Ludwig’s book and led Melchior into the Great Beyond.One thing the coroners could pin down was their time of death: approximately ten hours before Junior found them. He went into their room at eight in the morning.Lightning hit the castle at exactly ten o’clock that night. Or was it Wolfgang following Melchior into the clouds?Junior hated that Melchior died in agony, and he hated himself for not checking on him after the screaming stopped. Melchior had to know he was dying.Being told he would have perished regardless of the heroic measures available didn’t offer Junior much comfort, but knowing he kissed and hugged the pair before leaving them to their devices in their room took the edge off.Wolfgang was a hundred and six years old, and Melchior was fifty-three.Junior held back tears while he bathed their limp bodies in preparation for the double wake. Bathing Wolfgang was particularly hard, he kept picturing the hulking kid hunched over a toy piano.“Now you’re with your dads again,” Junior whispered.He didn’t tell Eartha, Whitney or Jimi about their deaths until he washed their bodies.All three bawled over their lifeless uncles. They combed their hair, kissed them, hugged them and talked about how wonderful they were. Jimi took Aretha’s gold claw polish and painted lightning bolts on Wolfgang’s palms. He used the silver to create clouds on Melchior’s.“They went with the storm,” Jimi said.For the wake, Junior positioned Wolfgang and Melchior on their sides, embracing, with their snouts and foreheads touching. They slept that way, so they looked as natural as two dead Koopas could in their wake nest.Wolfgang’s organs were massive. His heart didn’t fit in the roasting pot! But Junior made it work, and the combined organs of two Koopas fed the family for two months.Only after they all ate did Junior tell his family who else came with their uncles..oInforming the Koopa-Mushroom public that their king died wore Junior out because he wasn’t a young Koopa anymore, and he remembered what it was like with his dad. He held one press conference, answered the questions and refused to do more. Reporters got his voicemail, never him.Journalists harassed Jimi, Whitney and Eartha until Junior threatened to burn their headquarters down. After that, they took a few comments and left the royal family alone.Neither Wolfgang nor Melchior wrote down burial instructions, so Junior threw a lavish royal funeral a month after the wake and interred them together in the same place as Ludwig and Black.Melchior’s favorite stim was stuffing his hands into boxes full of beads. Junior placed two bags of beads on his palms before sealing him in his shell.He made sure Wolfgang’s tablet went into his shell with him, wrapped his red chew tube around his neck and placed his glittery conductor’s baton between his enormous hands.Junior didn’t cry properly for them until their shells vanished into the lava and flames. The grief was so overwhelming that he didn’t eat or leave his bed for two straight days.He had the grand piano played by Wolfgang, Ludwig and Bowser sent back to Ludwig’s room in the Koopa Royal museum where it belonged, because looking at it destroyed him.Two weeks after burying people he loved, Junior watched the sunrise from his balcony with a heart full of pain.Every living tie to his past was dead. The loneliness chewed at his viscera like acid. How did he outlive two people he met as infants? How?Junior stooped over his green metal cane with its black palm grip, having accepted that he needed it. Bowser had been dead for sixty-two years— as many years as he lived. Now over a dozen other deaths surrounded him, each one a minefield of trauma and misery. Junior stood alone in grief’s wake, unable to see the glorious beauty of a new day. Jimi, Whitney and Eartha, the next generation, swam forward through the tides of history. They were young, was he going to outlive them, too?Junior couldn’t afford to be distant from them, as much as his mind longed to shut out the world and avoid more pain. Life didn’t work that way. Going on was all he knew to do, and he promised that to Cherry.Those three kids— not really kids, but kids compared to him— needed a guide.He focused his eyes on the colorful sunrise and swore to give whatever future generations came next the same love his dad showed him.But first, he healed..oTime, the capricious thing that it was, it flowed onward, blossoming brumous despair into halcyonic hope.Jimi ascended to the throne as king six months after Wolfgang and Melchior passed. Junior officiated the ceremony in front of the whole Koopa-Mushroom empire. It was an emotional experience, especially when he placed the collar around Jimi’s neck. Black leather with gold spikes, similar to his great-great grandpa.Jimi wore black and gold spiked rings in his purple locs, a fashion trend that caught on among other Koopas with coily hair.Eartha met and fell for Toadiel, a tall Toad woman who wore a red cap, purple vest and green shoes and made a living as a singer. She had an exquisite mezzo soprano voice. Some swore she could part the sea just by singing to it.“Gosh, I love being part of this world,” Toadiel said when Eartha introduced her to the family.Eventually, Eartha married Toadiel in a glitzy, but intimate evening ceremony surrounded by flowers and gold fairy lights. Jimi officiated. Whitney was their maid of honor. Junior cried through the vows.Then Jimi met Bruce, a chubby, blue-eyed Koopa with a brown shell, tan scales and thick chocolate-brown hair growing around his curved horns. He wore it in a mullet. Wendy would have loved to get her hands on that hair and play with it.Junior liked the guy as soon as Jimi introduced him— sharp wit, gentle nature and quite funny once he got past his shy exterior. He reminded him of Morton in a lot of ways, though he had a soft tenor voice instead of a deep, guttural growl.What Junior liked most was Bruce never blinked when he found out about Jimi being trans.“We can have kids!” He said in delight.Then came the proposal, the huge wedding and an egg. Jimi’s hormones didn’t affect his fertility at all.Bruce and Jimi welcomed a daughter, Sinead O’Koopa, who inherited Jimi’s green coloring, his purple hair and Bruce’s blue eyes. The coily hair trend continued, though Sinead’s coils were looser than Jimi’s.Junior cried enormous tears the day Jimi and Bruce placed Sinead in his arms for the first time. There she was, brand new, like Aretha had been. She looked like Bowser— or what he might have looked like if he hatched as a girl with coily purple hair and blue eyes.He pulled up his dad’s old baby pictures to prove it, and it was uncanny.“Wow!” Jimi showed it to Bruce, “Look at that!”“Incredible.” Bruce’s eyes went from Sinead to Junior. “You look like him, too.”Junior smiled at that. “I’m more wrinkled now.”He stroked Sinead’s soft hair, fingers trembling. “Sinead, there’s a legacy inside you, and I hope I get to tell you about it.”She sneezed as she gripped his claw tip in tiny fingers.Bruce kissed Jimi and gazed at him with affection shining in his eyes.Months passed. Sinead didn’t walk or crawl much. Most Koopas figured crawling out by four months, and walked by ten months. Her legs frequently curled up on themselves and her tail often did its own thing independent of her legs.Bruce took her to a doctor, who diagnosed her with cerebral palsy. Spastic triplegia, which meant it affected her legs and tail.Sinead’s egg was accidentally knocked over briefly two months before she hatched. The doctor suspected the yolk blocked her airway just long enough for the lack of oxygen to do damage.Therapists taught Sinead how to stretch her legs and tail so they wouldn’t develop contractures. Her spasticity caused a lot of pain as she grew. She screamed when she tried to walk, so they didn’t force her and suggested a power wheelchair. Jimi let her pick the colors she wanted, asked the therapists what they suggested worked best for her, and they watched it being assembled like a Kart.In the end, it appeared as a front wheel drive power chair with green wheels like her scales, glittery hot pink hubcaps on the drive wheels and casters, a hot pink joystick controller, and purple upholstery matching her hair. The backing had solar charging capabilities to charge the battery nacelle while outdoors and a cord for plugging it in when inside.Junior thought the wheelchair suited Sinead the way Scott’s wheelchair suited him. She loved her pink and purple!“Look at me, I’m flying!” She spun it around in circles.Jimi couldn’t stop crying on Bruce’s shoulder. His baby girl could get around without suffering in pain at every step.Sinead was a tiny child— the same size as Lemmy at that age— and she wanted to know everything. She had endless questions and she devoured his knowledge like plants absorbing rain. Junior enjoyed answering her nosy inquiries..oThrough the years, Koopa Sign and Mushroom Sign evolved to become a single language over time. Koopa-Mushroom Sign, or, more colloquially, KoopMush. Junior kept himself up to date on the changing language. He never knew when he might need it. As it turned out, he made the right choice.Junior aged into a hunched-over Koopa with snowy white hair. Wrinkles framed his eyes, festooned his snout and marked his neck. Koopas lost teeth in their old, old age. He gave them away as they fell out. Only a single tooth remained in his mouth, the same one he had his whole life. His eyesight deteriorated to the point that he needed glasses to see past his snout. He wore rectangular metal green frames with little orange flames in the top outer corners. They were the tackiest damn things he ever saw in his life, but they looked snazzy perched on his nose.Elton would’ve been proud.A pair of Sledge Siblings became Junior’s personal nurses and assistants for things like getting up from chairs, helping him bathe and making sure he took his pain medications on time. Neither was muscular like Jack and Black, but they were just as strong.They turned out to be Sledgesons, distant cousins on a branch of Jack’s and Black’s family tree. Darryl and Hannah made quite a splash— Junior met them when they ground pounded outside and caused the fountain to splatter water on him! He hired them on the spot because they made him laugh.Darryl kept their blonde hair in a buzz cut and had black inked scarification tattoos of shooting stars along both their arms. They wore hearing aids, like Ludwig, but in gold. Hearing aids gave them awareness of sounds— such as hands clapping or a shout— but they couldn’t understand speech. They communicated exclusively in KoopMush Sign and only spoke around people who didn’t sign. Their laugh squeaked!Hannah had a yellow cochlear implant nestled in her long, blonde hair, which she twisted into a bun atop her head. She wouldn’t be caught dead without painted claws, always pretty colors with glitter or shimmer.That morning, Darryl brought Junior breakfast in bed. Scrambled eggs, Bowser bacon, sausages and orange juice, his current favorite.“Is it a shower day?” Junior signed.“Yes.” Darryl signed back, green eyes twinkling. They used Hannah’s sign name, which cupped their hand above their head like her bun. “Will you behave for Hannah in the shower today?”“Never.”They chuckled together. He ate, washed it down with orange juice and pushed the tray aside.Hannah came in to assist him into the bathroom.“Ready for the water, grandpa?”Everybody called him grandpa. He loved that.“Yeah. Hit me with it.”She scrubbed him with the Brimstone soap his dad used to like and washed his hair using sweet-smelling Pyroclastic shampoo. He still wore his hair long, but it never grew past his second shell spike.“What color is that called?” Junior gestured to her claws.Hannah smiled. “Wendy’s Kiss Crimson.”Wendy. His sister. In the other room, Darryl’s squeaky laugh burst through the air. Thanks to the bathroom mirror, Junior put his glasses on and watched them sign excitedly to Whitney as they raved about a new jewelry line coming out.Both had stars in their eyes, just like Ludwig and Black.“I love your ink,” Whitney signed, indicating Darryl’s arms. “Do they mean something?”“They are all my wishes.” Darryl turned their arms over, showing how intricate the tattoo scars were. They used one hand to sign, “I can’t say what they are until they come true.”Whitney blinked, covering her mouth with both hands. She laughed, signing Darryl’s name by rippling her fingers near her arm, “I just figured out why your sign name looks like it does. It’s your tattoos.”Darryl squeak-laughed again, nodding.They both walked out of sight of the mirror, so Junior lost track of the conversation.Hannah shut off the water and knelt. Junior winced when she shifted his feet forward to towel them dry.“I’ll be fast,” she said.That day, his legs were not having it. Hannah called Darryl in by flashing the lights, and together they helped him transfer from the shower to his wheelchair. Darryl rushed his pain pills into his hand. He took them with a mug of cactus tea. The mug was glittery gray, and iridescent white writing on the side said I’m too fucking old for this aging shit.  Ludwig gave it to him as a gag gift on his fortieth hatch-day. The bottom had Glitterbomb’s rainbow logo. Junior told him, “I’ll start using it after I turn sixty-two.”And then he did.“Thank you, you’re both dears.” Junior signed, smiling through the stabbing in his joints.Darryl and Hannah bowed, and slipped out through the trap door.“Good morning, grandpa.” Whitney kissed his cheek and draped a blanket across his lap. She looked just like Aretha when she smiled, all big teeth and bright eyes.“Hi, sweetheart,” Junior wrapped his arm around her. “Looks like you and Darryl are getting along.”“Do you think they like me?” Whitney raised a brow.“What’s not to like? You’re cute, funny, smart, can whip a runway show up in no time flat…”She ducked her head and played with her tight coily hair. It was clear in her eyes, she fell in love.“Hey.” Junior leaned closer, raising his white eyebrows while looking over the rims of his glasses. “Everybody looks stupid asking somebody out. Just do it. Be yourself. Darryl will love you for it.”Later that afternoon, Junior peeked out the window and saw Whitney catch Darryl by the fountain. Not even glasses gave him the clearest sight, he didn’t see exactly what they signed, but after a few minutes Darryl bent over and kissed Whitney mid-sign.Junior smiled, his russet eyes twinkling.Time, as merciless as it could be, was also a healer..oDarryl, Hannah, Bruce, Sinead, Jimi, Whitney, Eartha and Toadiel loved listening to Junior tell stories about his younger years. Through his tales, all the people he lost found life again.“You lived in a volcano?” Sinead’s eyes widened.Junior laughed, signing while he spoke. “Yup! It’s a museum now.”Toadiel cocked her head, brows raising inquisitively. “So I’m not the first Toad to love a Koopa?”He grinned, flashing his one tooth. “Cherry was human, like Mario and Peach, but…sorry. My wife beat you to the punch. We were married for eighty-three years when she died.”“That’s a lot! That’s…that’s so many the Earth exploded!” Sinead exclaimed.Junior guffawed, waving his hands. “But we’re on it, what happens to us?” She thought about it, pursing her mouth. “I guess we go boom. Oops.”The gathering exploded in mirth. Their laughter was beautiful music to him.Darryl pulled Whitney aside out of the blue. They signed,  “Do you remember what my tattoos mean?”“Yes. Your wishes.” Whitney wiggled her fist up and down.Darryl took a deep breath and knelt, signing upward, “I made another one, and only you can make it come true. Will you marry me, Whitney?”They used Whitney’s sign name, a two-fingered gesture by their mouth to indicate her sharp teeth.Whitney clasped Darryl’s hands and knelt to be eye level with them. She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. They kissed tenderly.Junior caught the whole thing on video. That was a precious memory.Two days later, Junior visited Celine’s floor to see Chester, his sixth cardiologist. He kept outliving them! Neil, Billie, LeAnn, Warren, Jaci, and now Chester, a yellow-shelled Koopa Troopa who wore round orange framed glasses and had a prosthetic left leg. Junior never would’ve noticed it was a prosthetic if he hadn’t seen Chester take it off once.The fantastic turtle standing before him was Judy’s great-great-great grandson, and he inherited her nose.Chester kept a collection of tiny battery-operated lamps all over his desk because Junior kept giving them to him as gag gifts. There were Koopa shells, flowers, a beer can, a boot and an eyeball.For that visit, he handed him one shaped like a small Spiny shell.“Eh, what’s one more light?” Chester smiled, placing it among the rest. “You’re looking short of breath, old man.”Junior leaned heavily on his green quad cane, flanked by Darryl and Hannah. He shot him a fake scowl from beneath his frosty white eyebrows. “I’m so old my back goes out more than I do, and some of my farts are wetter than my mouth.”They scoffed, Chester beckoned him towards the exam room and they set up. Darryl and Hannah helped him remove his shell so he could recline on the table. This position wasn’t comfortable for him anymore, so they rested pillows under his knees to make it bearable.Chester laid the transducer pad on Junior’s chest, and a three-dimensional projection of his heart appeared above it like a ghostly specter. He moved his hands through it to twist the image into whichever angles he needed, and a pinching motion opened it up to see what happened inside. For the first time in his life since childhood, Junior’s echocardiogram came back abnormal. Dilated cardiomyopathy, likely there for the past four years. He knew it meant a countdown. “I’m dying,” Junior pronounced the words slowly.Chester bowed his head, nodding.“Any idea how long I’ve got?”“It’s hard to say. You’re healthy in every other way, and still fairly strong.”“Okay, give me your best ballpark estimate.”“A year, maybe two.” Chester adjusted his glasses. “But it can easily be tomorrow, if a heart attack finally hits.”Ice pulsed down Junior’s spine, an instinctive ripple of fear. Peace replaced it in the span of a breath. He spent years being the one watching people he loved find out they were dying, so it felt eerie to be in the crosshairs.Maybe seeing his whole family die a variety of deaths before him added to the sense of calm. Death wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him.“I went through this with my dad. I think I know what’s coming.” Junior said later, as he signed the DNR papers and handed Chester the pen.Chester shed a tear. “Your heart isn’t battle scarred like your dad’s was. Chances are, it’ll be quick and peaceful for you when it’s time. Are you okay? Do you have any other questions?”Junior smiled wryly at that. “No. But, Chester, someday you’ll be an old man. Maybe you’ll live through seeing a lot of people you love die in many different ways. It changes how you look at life. Cherish yours while you’re living it, and cherish the people you love while they’re here.”Sniffling, Chester picked up a tissue. He lifted his glasses to dry his eyes and wipe his nose. “I’ll take that advice to heart, sire.”Junior patted his shoulder and hobbled out, his quad cane thumping on the floor.Darryl and Hannah got the news with him— Hannah signed everything for Darryl— so he didn’t have to repeat it to them.Unlike Bowser, he avoided the mistake of waiting to speak up. Once Darryl and Hannah situated Junior in his room again, he gathered Bruce, Jimi, Sinead, Whitney, Eartha and Toadiel to let them know his condition was terminal. He spoke at length, explaining Crash, heart failure and his approaching death.“…and it’s all right. I know you’ll all be okay.”Jimi teared up and crushed Junior in a tight embrace. “I love you, grandpa.”Junior kissed his cheek and stroked his purple locs. “I love you, too. I always will.”Whitney approached next, her dark eyes wide in fright. Rather than speak, she burst into tears. Junior hugged her to his chest and rubbed the back of her neck.“It’ll be fine, sweetheart.”“I’m going to miss you,” she sniffled, “I will always love you, grandpa.”He chuckled at that. “Sweetie, I’ll always love you, too.”Toadiel and Whitney hugged each other after she stepped away. Whitney turned to Darryl and they hugged, while Eartha leaned on Toadiel. Hannah laid a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder.Junior turned to Sinead, who grasped the hot pink joystick on her wheelchair and came closer. Gods, she looked so much like Bowser, it was remarkable how those genes popped up in her. If her hair and eyes had been red and her scales a lighter shade of green…“When you go to the Great Beyond, grandpa, will you run across the sun?”“W-what?” Junior laughed at the unexpected question. “Will you? You’ll tell me you made it if you do.”Only a four-year-old could logic it out like that.He winked at her. “You know what? It’s a deal. I’ll run across the sun for you, Sinead. I’ll be really silly about it.”Satisfied, she headed towards Bruce, who frowned in deep thought, and took hold of his hand. “It’s okay, daddy B! He’s not sad, why is everybody sad?”“Oh, honey,” Bruce tried to smile for her, and it came out as a grimace instead.“You’ve been with us forever,” Eartha said, kneeling to look up at Junior. “It feels like you’re supposed to always be here. Like the mountains, or the ocean.”Junior nodded knowingly, remembering when he thought the same about people. “I won’t go away completely. I’ll be right here when you remember me, and I’ll be in the stories you tell. Stories are how we live forever, Eartha.”She surged forward and embraced him, laying her cheek on his shoulder.“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”“Grandpa, I love you, too. I know it’ll be fine, you make everything fine.”Junior gestured for Bruce, Sinead, Whitney and Toadiel to come over, and held them all along with Eartha. His precious family, a blooming future..oThe Koopa Royal museum unleashed a grief wave Junior didn’t expect. He held it in as he showed his family where he grew up, told stories only he knew, and passed on everything he experienced to two generations.All around him, ancient stone walls bled the past. It was heavy on his heart, being the only living person who remembered how to hear those echoes.Rather than put in replica furniture, projectors created holograms of what used to be in each room.“Grandpa, why are you crying?” Sinead asked.They were in Bowser’s old bedroom, her wheelchair partly blocking the hologram of his bed. She sat on the exact spot he died.“I saw a lot of hard things happen here,” he said. “I miss my daddy.”She rolled her chair alongside his and grasped his little finger. “Will I miss you like you miss him?”“Maybe.” He wiped away his tears. “It’s okay to feel any feelings after I die. If you feel happy because I don’t hurt anymore, that’s okay. If you cry, that’s okay, too. You’ll probably feel a mix of things at the same time. Grief is a complicated emotion.”Sinead’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked up at him with all the seriousness of youth, and whispered, “Am I gonna see you die, grandpa?”“You might.” Junior murmured through his tears. Kids! They were so innocent! “But it’s also okay if you don’t stay because you think it’s scary to watch.”“Nah! Nothing scares me! I’ll hug you so you know we love you while you leave.”She smiled, spun her chair and zoomed out the door.“Hey, the piano in here is real!” Bruce shouted from Ludwig’s room.Sinead followed his voice, and Junior trailed her at a slower pace since his chair was manual.The group gathered at the door while Bruce played the first movement of Ludwig’s Interstellar. He was amazing at it, his fingers rolling along keys that hadn’t made a sound in ages.Junior would’ve lit someone else on fire with his breath for touching such a sacred piece of history. But Bruce’s talented fingers didn’t taint it, he resurrected it.That piano shouldn’t have been in tune at all, and yet…Bowser and Ludwig had perfect pitch. Maybe their spirits maintained the strings.Bruce segued into the final movement of Wolfgang’s The Fountain with effortless flourish. Through the music, Junior saw Bowser, Ludwig and Wolfgang’s hands flutter over the keys. Their lives flashed before his eyes, vivid and real.Someday, they were all going to be together again in the stars. He listened to the piece while enveloped by that hope.And Bruce cemented himself as part of the Koopa-Toadstool family through his musical prowess, so his fingerprints deserved to join the palimpsest of memories lying unseen on every key.When he finished, he smiled sheepishly at everyone’s shocked expressions. “I, uh, I went to the KMU.”“Damn,” Eartha whistled, “I can tell.”They went downstairs to the living room. Holograms projected brief, dreamlike moments of hatch-day parties, Bowser walking through and Junior’s siblings sprawled on the couch.Junior gazed at the dark gray rectangle of the dining room door. He could almost hear the cacophony his old family made each morning. Iggy’s woodpecker-like giggle, Ludwig percolating coffee, Wendy protesting someone touching her plate, Lemmy shrieking, Larry telling them to knock it off, Roy clanking plates, Morton belching and Bowser’s booming mirth.He smiled over the lump in his throat. So much happened here.Before they left, Junior wiped away tears and touched the wall outside the main entrance.“I’ll see you all soon,” he whispered..oThat summer, Whitney married Darryl in a quiet garden wedding by the fountain. Both wore flowers— Darryl had a crown of white hibiscus and Whitney wove white baby’s breath among her coily curls. Darryl didn’t wear any makeup, but Whitney glammed herself up with gold glitter eyeshadow and shimmery purple lip gloss. The fountain sparkled behind them as they signed their vows.After the nuptial kiss and simultaneous leap over the fire pit, Darryl held Whitney in their tattooed arms and spoke aloud, “My wishes were you.”Their words were difficult to understand, so they said it again, slower.Whitney burst into tears and held them close.“I love you,” she signed, “I’m honored to be your wish.”Junior glimpsed the marriage license and grinned. It was nice to see the Koopason name again..oIt took two more years for the heart failure to affect Junior’s day-to-day life. Chester prescribed oxygen via nasal cannulae, which he wore religiously to help his fatigue. Technology advanced so far that the concentrator was a tiny three inch cube dangling against his chest like a pendant, and it barely made any noise. No worrying about wrangling six feet of tubing.The swelling in his extremities became excruciating, so his mornings began with pain meds, diuretics and a shower before Darryl and Hannah helped him wriggle into compression stockings.He dozed off in his wheelchair a lot more often. Bruce took so many pictures of him sleeping in awkward places, they became a running gag.There were a few scary nights where the shortness of breath kept him awake. He started removing his shell and sleeping on his back just to get proper rest.One night, Junior awoke— or at least thought he did— to Bowser sitting on the edge of his bed. Just how he used to during his childhood. His hair was mostly gray, like it looked when he died.“Hey, kiddo!” Bowser grinned, all crinkly eyes and sharp teeth.“Dad?” Junior squinted. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. His dad should have been a colorful blur lacking in detail, yet he showed up as clear as ever.“Look at you. You got old! Wow.” Bowser ruffled Junior’s white hair and patted his wrinkled cheek.Junior licked his chops and swallowed. “I lived a long life for you and Cherry.”Tears welled in Bowser’s eyes. He stroked his forehead and kissed the tip of his nose. “You went through hell watching them all die, too.”“That was hard…but I made it through.” Junior blinked, “Can I go with you?”“Not yet. We’re still getting your spot ready.”“Aw, dad…”“Nope.” Bowser grinned playfully. “You’ll know when it’s time. Cherry’s been itching to hug and kiss you again.”Junior’s throat ached at her name. He nodded because he longed to wrap his arms around her, too.“I guess you met Aretha and Wolfgang.”“Oh, yeah! Great pair, those two. And that twat, Joanne and that dickhead, Andrew? Wolfgang lit ‘em on fire as soon as he saw ‘em. They’re still burning. BWAHAHAHA!”That laugh. That big, booming laugh. Junior sniffled and extended his arms. Bowser ducked into them and they embraced tightly. His dad still smelled the same, like brimstone.“I love you, dad. I miss you.”“Ah, Junior.” Bowser squeezed him tight and rumbled in his ear. “I love you, too. Always, Junior. You made me proud.”His love hit Junior like a blue shell on a Kart track.“Listen, I know what you need. Lay back. There. Relax. I’ll take care of you. Everything is gonna be okay, Junior. I promise.”Bowser settled on the edge of the bed again and pulled a book out of seemingly nowhere. Peter Piranha’s Bad Day.  “Aren’t I too old for that?”“Nah! You’re never too old to need your daddy.” Bowser was right and he knew it.Junior drifted back to sleep to the sound of his dad’s comforting bass voice making silly noises at him. The last thing he felt before he dropped off was a hand stroking his hair and a soft kiss on his cheek.He woke up alone, and wept as a grief wave submerged him. After he finished crying, he put his glasses on, took out his phone and studied the holographically projected calendar. His sorrow melted into peaceful acceptance.Deep in his heart, he knew exactly when he would die. Date and time. It was four days away.The dream he had the following night only cemented this.He laid across the couch in the living room of his childhood home. The walls were polychromatic crystal, and he heard his family talking and laughing in the brilliant light coming through the dining room door.Junior startled awake the next morning and asked Eartha to take him into Valley City. He lived long enough to see it built after all, and wanted to look at it..oTowering skyscrapers glowed in the late morning light. Traffic zoomed and people bustled. Cherry trees from the forest above the valley lined the sidewalks, their pink blossoms raining petals like snow.Junior visited all the streets named after people he loved. Eartha pushed him along in his wheelchair while he sat hunched over, squinting through his glasses and adjusting his nasal cannula.The sun climbed higher. Due to being in a valley that was partly a canyon, it took a while for its light to fully shine on the city streets.They stopped at the intersection of Ludwig Avenue and Black Street, and Junior looked up at the beautiful Koopason Music University, or KMU, a blue, black, green and silver building in the shape of a stylized flame.Across the street from it, the Koopason Medical Center, a silver-windowed hospital with a glorious waterfall fountain outside its main entrance.Next door to the music school, the Koopason Deaf University, though everybody called it KDU. Its campus was a sprawling complex of cherry trees, gardens and dorms. The central building where classes  happened had a large bronze plaque explaining who Ludwig and Black were, and what they did.Wendy Way included the Wendy O’Koopa School of Beauty, where budding makeup artists and fashion designers went to learn their craft. All the windows on that building were pink outlined in gold.Intersecting with Wendy Way was Jack Avenue. The Sledgeson Blind School, SBS, lived there, a towering building surrounded by palm trees, vines and brick-lined walkways. The street lights on this intersection chirped to help blind pedestrians cross.Lemmy Lane had an amusement park named Lemmy’s Ballpit, like his old website. The tallest roller coaster in it was Lemmy’s Loop, an orange five hundred foot tall monstrosity that took people straight up, dropped them into a descending spiral and put them through a vertical loop before ending in a final corkscrew twist.Junior rode that thing a thousand times when it first opened, back when the city was dirt roads and construction pits. The central pole cars dropped from had a little gold statue of Lemmy balancing atop his ball. Lately, riders had an internet challenge going around to take a clear photo of it as the car dropped.Scott’s Stop, a shopping complex next door to Lemmy’s Ballpit, sold and repaired musical instruments.Iggy Street was full of technological storefronts, including Iggster’s, a computer repair shop. Anybody who wanted to build computers, hack systems, or buy their tech-ignorant grandparents something user-friendly came here to get it.Roy Road had arts and crafts shops, exotic cuisine restaurants and sunglasses. Pom-Pom Avenue provided martial arts schools, dance classes and yoga.Morton Street had Morton’s Moment, a hotel and casino based around Serrated. Sienna Street intersected it, and there people could find drum kits, take drum lessons and learn how to manage a stage.Larry Avenue offered Larry’s Cardiac Hospital, a teaching hospital where people went to learn about Koopa heart problems. Crash remained part of the curriculum. A small fountain outside housed a stone statue of Larry holding an anatomical Koopa heart. The plaque underneath explained who he was and that he found the cure for Crash.Smaller side streets leading into the suburbs included Wolfgang Way, Aretha Avenue, Balthazar Road, Melchior Lane, and Gaspar Street.Mario’s Mall was a mall for plumbers, of all people. Peaches, the pastry next door, sold peach pies.Cherry Road lead south out of the city, and Junior Road went north out of the city.They intersected on Bowser Boulevard.Eartha walked Junior down Bowser Boulevard, the city’s main thoroughfare. He watched Toads, Kongs and Koopa Troopas mingle with no sign of unrest, and he smiled. In a park, he watched a Kong kneel and propose to a Koopa Troopa. It was a magnificent moment of sonder, to see people in short snapshots and know they lived rich, complex lives with long stories to tell.Everywhere his eyes landed, he saw life carrying on in a space that used to be an empty valley.Where did all that time go?Eartha took him to Junior’s Joint— a fast-food place named after him— and they shared a lemonade smoothie. Nobody recognized him because he was so damn old. He laughed pretty hard at that.After the smoothies, he slumped forward in the chair and focused on breathing. He didn’t want this day to end, but his body had other plans.“Grandpa, are you okay?” Eartha placed her hand on Junior’s shoulder.Junior shook his head and panted, unable to catch his breath.“Home,” he murmured.She stroked his white topknot ponytail. “I’ll warp us there, okay?”He looked up at Eartha and nodded. “Thank you for this. You’re a good kid.”Forty-nine years old wasn’t a kid, but she seemed like one compared to him.She kissed his cheek and attached the warp receiver to his chair.That night, a chunky cough and dull, throbbing pain in his joints kept him awake. No position offered comfort. This was the start of the dying process he saw his dad go through for months, and he would cross it in days.Junior put his glasses on and clapped his hands to activate his phone. “Call Hannah.”Her phone included a bright, blinking light. She always said to use it to wake her if he needed her at night, and for the first time he did.Hannah came to his bedside within moments, sans her cochlear implant earpiece. She signed, “What is it?”“Pain,” Junior gestured at his whole body, his forehead wrinkling. “I can’t breathe. It hurts. Help.”She held his hand and texted Chester. It took him fifteen minutes to arrive. He bustled in, listened to Junior’s chest, propped him up on pillows and eased the compression stockings onto his swollen legs.“This is it,” Junior whispered.“Yes.” Chester’s eyes welled over. “Your lungs are filling with fluid, that’s why it’s hard to breathe. I’m ordering morphine. It’ll help with the air hunger and the pain.”“My dad got that at the end, too. It helped him.”Chester patted his hand and made the call. The morphine and IV pole arrived in a locked box. He had to assemble it all, which he did with military precision.Junior endured the stinging needle stick in his tail without complaint. Chester taped it down and wrapped a clear dressing once around his tail to prevent accidental disconnects. He pushed an initial morphine dose via syringe to start some pain relief right away.Chester hung up the IV bag and tapped an orb on the pole to bring up the holographic control display. His fingers danced across the ghostly gold buttons. The pump started in a juddering whir.Finally, Chester slipped a small plastic white ring onto Junior’s left thumb. On it, a cylindrical single red button control.“This connects wirelessly to the pump,” Chester said, pointing. “You or somebody with you can push this button to get a bolus dose of morphine. You can only push it three times in fifteen minutes, so call me if you need more and I’ll up the base dosage. Can you push the button okay, or should I move it?”Junior shifted it onto his middle finger, where he wore his wedding band, and touched the button with his thumb without pushing it. “I’ve got it.”He felt better already. Looking up at Hannah, he signed, “Vent bag, please?”She blinked, nodded, and attached one. He wasn’t going to force himself onto a commode just to pee or poop, and the last thing he wanted to do was soil himself.She found one that matched his scales.In the morning, the morphine had him so sleepy that he couldn’t get his spoon to his mouth. Darryl fed him his breakfast. Hot cinnamon oatmeal, scrambled eggs and orange juice. He slept most of that day.Darryl, Hannah, Toadiel, Bruce, Eartha, Whitney, Jimi and Sinead camped out in Junior’s room so he wouldn’t be alone. They set up foam mattresses on either side of the bed.Junior didn’t want lunch or dinner, but he sipped lemonade from a straw when Sinead offered it.“Do you want a Birdo leg? Or ten?” Sinead asked teasingly.“Nope.” Junior smiled with his eyes closed.“What about peanut butter and pickles?”“Eew!” He stuck his tongue out.“Whaaat about…ooh! Ice cream on corn?”“Sinead, you are sadistic.”“What’s splackdiskic mean?”Junior opened his eyes to regard her. “It means you like causing misery.”Whitney looked up from her journaling. “Sinead, don’t bother grandpa, he’s resting.”“She isn’t.”Everyone quieted down anyway. Junior slept. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if the susurrus around him came from this world or the next.That evening, he ate a bite of Cheep-Cheep kabob. His last taste of food. He vomited it back up later.Chest pains had him pushing the pain control button in his hand several times. Chester came up to increase his baseline morphine dosage. He checked his blood pressure and pulled everybody aside.“He’s beginning the active dying phase. It won’t be long.”Junior snorted. “Chester, you can say it out loud. I know I’m dying.”“I’m trying to be kind about it.”“You’re kind enough, now relax. It’ll be okay. I’m ready.”Chester bent over the bed and squeezed Junior’s shoulder. Tears fogged up his orange glasses.“I hope the end is easy for you, sire. It’s been an honor.”“The honor’s mine.” Junior clasped his hand. “Thank you, Chester.”Jimi sat on the spot Chester vacated. He slumped against Junior’s chest, sobbing. Junior embraced him and kissed the top of his head.“Oh, Jimi,” He stroked his great-great-grand-nephew's locs, his fingertips touching the artificial horns he had put in ages ago. They felt real. “Keep being an incredible king.”Whitney joined Jimi. Junior played with a strand of her coily hair. “You’re beautiful, Whitney. Don’t ever doubt that.”She sniffled and nuzzled their cheeks together. “I hope it doesn’t hurt, grandpa.”“Nothing hurts, sweetheart.”Jimi moved aside to make room for Eartha.“Why aren’t you scared, grandpa?”He smiled sleepily, “I know where I’m going.”Bruce walked out of the room to collect himself. He hated people seeing him cry. Ludwig was like that, too.Toadiel sat by Junior’s feet, her eyes shiny with tears. “Do you need anything?”He shook his head and blew her a kiss. “I have everything right here.”Sinead held onto Junior’s hand while he faded into sleep. He slept the rest of that afternoon, into the night and didn’t stir again until dawn the next morning. In the interim, he felt somebody change his vent bag, but he never noticed using it.Bruce was awake, watching him. So they were on a death watch. Junior almost laughed.He slid his glasses on. “Hey, Bruce?”“Hm?”Junior made the audacious move of pushing his blankets off and sitting up. Morphine kept all his pains to annoying twinges. He felt obscenely naked without his shell, though that couldn’t be helped anymore.His clawed feet touched down on the floor. He stood on shaky legs, one hand gripping the IV pole like a walking stick.“Help me go outside. Hurry, before the sun comes up.”Bruce didn’t get much choice. Junior started for the balcony door. One swollen footstep at a time. Bruce rushed over to steady him when he stumbled and helped him sit in the stone chair.Those were the last steps he would take in his life. He remembered Bowser’s letter mentioning that. Nobody thought of lasts, so he did.“Sit,” Junior gestured to the other chair, where Cherry sat so long ago.Bruce eased himself down, eyes wide and worried.“You married into one hell of a legacy, Bruce.”“Mmhmm. I feel like an outsider, dancing in the dark.”Junior grinned, flashing his one tooth. “You’re not. You’re a Koopa-Toadstool too, you added to this family. You’re a damn good turtle.”“Sire, I—““That’s ‘grandpa’ to you, you goof.” Junior’s grin became a soft smile. “Take care of them for me.”Bruce’s eyes teared up. He nodded, wiping his fingers through his brown hair. “I swear it on my life, grandpa.”“Awesome. Now bring me Sinead, please? I need to talk to her. It’s important.”Bruce nodded and went inside.A chest pain almost bowled Junior over. He pressed the bolus button while nobody watched.The first rays of sunrise broke over the horizon as Bruce brought sleepy, bed-headed Sinead outside and sat her across Junior’s lap. Her feet twisted inward, toes curling down almost onto the soles of her feet. He hugged her to his chest.“Hey, sleepy.”“Hi, grandpa.” She yawned. “What’s happening?”“I’m preparing to die, sweetheart. It’s going to be soon.”She looked at him, eyes welling up. Her voice, so innocent, was like a bell. “Does it hurt, grandpa?”Suddenly, Junior understood why Bowser smiled while sitting in his Kart during his first heart attack. He smiled for Sinead even though his chest felt on the verge of caving in.“No. It doesn’t hurt.”“What’s dying like?”“You know how you fall asleep in your chair, and then you wake up in your bed because daddy Bruce or daddy Jimi carried you to bed?”“Uh-huh! I do that a lot! So do you!” She giggled.He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Dying is like that, too. Your whole body stops working, and the light that makes you who you are is carried off to the Great Beyond to wake up feeling better again.”“Really? Will you be with your daddy again?”“Yup, I will! And you know how people sometimes twitch and wiggle as they go to sleep? Sometimes bodies do weird things as they stop working.” Junior hugged her close, feeling her tiny heartbeat against his. “It might look or sound scary, but I promise you that I won’t know it’s happening. I won’t be scared or in pain. Okay?”The gnawing ache in his chest cooled away under the morphine haze.Sinead pushed his glasses up onto his snout when they slipped too low. She kissed his nose and pet his cheeks with her tiny hands.“Okay. I’ll take care of you, grandpa, and I’ll be brave.”Such an innocent child. Junior smiled at the nascent future sparkling in her eyes like the brewing morning.Alpenglow colored the mountaintops. Golden rays lit the ultramarine sky in arrays of pink, red and gold. The sunrise reflected itself in Junior’s glasses lenses and russet eyes.It was hard to breathe. So hard. But he watched the sun ascend because he would not be here to see it descend. He inhaled the sweetness of the dew-covered roses, listened to the melodic birds, welcomed the cool breeze on his face and cherished Sinead’s presence in his lap.Alive. Such a joyful, yet sad word. He was alive, and it would soon be over. Still, creation sang all around him. Throughout his life, for a moment in time compared to the universe— not just any moment, this moment— he got to play his note in its eternal song. It went on long before he came here and would go on long after he was gone.But oh, what a glorious, transcendent, superlative song he got to be part of!Junior blinked, breathing through another pang. Death was only a terrifying foe to those caught in its grip too soon, or before they were prepared. The suffering afterward stayed with the living. Pom-Pom’s wisdom rang true.Bowser was ready to die when he did, his mistake lay in not preparing everyone else. Junior tried not to repeat that. He hoped the grandkids were as aware as possible, so they could be present with him in love instead of shock and dread.Junior lifted his head, eyes drooping tiredly. “Do you see how huge the horizon is, Sinead?”She turned to look. “Uh-huh, it goes on forever!”“We’re like that on the inside, too.”“We are?”“Mmhmm.” Junior stopped to catch his breath. “We carry a light, and it goes on— it keeps going, even after we die. That’s what infinity is, kiddo. It’s— it lasts forever. It’s love. We’re made of love, Sinead. We exist to share it in this short time we call life, and the universe exists for us to look at it while we’re here loving each other. Love everybody while they’re here, because you never know when they’ll be gone. Remember that as long as you live. It’s important to remember. Love people. Just love them. If you give nothing else in life, give love.”Sinead hugged him, sniffling. “I promise.”Junior blinked back tears. “Love is a promise, you know.”“Then I promise because I love you.”“Oh, Sinead,” He kissed her cheek, “I love you, too. Like a blue shell on a Kart track.”She giggled, “You’re silly, grandpa!”Junior held her close, trying to shield her from seeing the strain on his face. He panted as if he ran. Where did all the air keep going?The soporific pull of the morphine dragged him towards sleep, a slumber he wouldn’t wake from.He kept his eyes open until the sun fully revealed itself above the eastern horizon. Then he mentally let go of his life, closed his eyes and sank into dreamless peace. There was nothing to fear.“Grandpa, are you sleeping?” Sinead patted his cheek. When he didn’t respond, she nuzzled her nose against his neck and stroked his long, white hair. “Okay, grandpa, sleep tight.”Bruce poked his head outside to find Sinead watching over Junior while he gasped for air. He scooped her up and called Darryl and Hannah for help, and they carried Junior back to his bed.Sinead wouldn’t let him take Junior’s glasses off. She pointed emphatically at his face. “He’ll want to see us if he wakes up again!”Bruce left the glasses on.Junior’s family spent the next several hours tending to him. They brushed his hair, swabbed his mouth with lemon-flavored swabs, changed his vent bag, pushed the bolus button if his face twisted in pain and took turns holding him in their arms. He was never alone.Sinead napped in the crook of his arm the way Lemmy slept on Bowser. Jimi snapped a photo with his phone, freezing that precious latibule in time.Nobody looked at Junior with fear or dread in their eyes. There was only love and the grief of goodbye.By nine o’clock, Junior’s mouth hung open and his breathing sounded like drowning. He did not respond to outside stimuli.Sunlight swept through the room and descended along the walls until it disappeared.Junior’s snout turned blue at eleven o’clock in the morning. By eleven-thirty, his face was gray. Chester came in to hang a fresh morphine bag and check his blood pressure. It wouldn’t read.“He’s leaving us,” he signed as he spoke, “Get ready.”Jimi sobbed out loud. He cradled Junior against his chest while Eartha and Whitney held his hands. Sinead scooted herself to sit across his lap. Bruce and Toadiel rested their palms on his knees. Darryl and Hannah cupped his shoulders.Sinead whispered to him, “Grandpa, don’t forget to run across the sun.”Junior’s breath caught in a faint laugh. He squeezed Eartha’s hand, thinking it was Sinead’s.“He has my hand.” Eartha teared up. She stroked his cheek, sniffling, “I’m okay. We’re okay. Let go, grandpa. Everybody here loves you so much.”Jimi rubbed Junior’s arm. There was nothing more to say that hadn’t been said.Just before noon, Junior opened his eyes and looked around at everyone. His gaze shot to the foot of the bed. He smiled tearfully, as if beholding something beautiful beyond imagining.“I’ll be right there, Cherry. I love you, too.”Junior looked straight into Sinead’s eyes and expressed to her all the love he knew in his lifetime. She wouldn’t see the memories, but she already knew about them. The future reflected back at him, her nascence brighter than a million sunrises. Hope, endless, boundless hope, poured over him. Euphoria tingled across his spine. His extremities went numb. Tears welled in his eyes as his vision dimmed around the edges.He loved them, and they loved him. They were together. Nothing else mattered. In his final moment of awareness, nothing else mattered.  Junior grinned, expression softening.“It’s beautiful,” he said, tears trickling onto his cheeks, “It’s so beautiful.”Then consciousness fled him, and his head slumped back against Jimi’s shoulder.“Grandpa!” Jimi pulled him harder against his chest and sobbed openly, face contorting. “Shhh, don’t fight it. It’s okay.”Toadiel’s eyes welled up. Bruce gave her back a reassuring pat.A horrid gurgle issued from Junior’s throat. His eyes rolled back until the whites showed between his eyelids. He looked like a fish out of water. Sinead remembered what he said about his body doing weird things as it stopped working, so she wasn’t frightened, not even when his tongue turned purple. She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him.“I love you, grandpa, sleep tight.”Jimi sniffled. Whitney sobbed. Eartha pressed Junior’s knuckles against her cheek. Everybody was so busy crying that only Sinead noticed how his muscles tensed and relaxed like a garment being cast off. His mouth stayed open, his empty eyes staring into space.A few moments went by before Bruce murmured, “Did he go?”Chester leaned between everyone to lay his stethoscope on Junior’s chest. Sinead scooted aside to make room. The gathering pulled their crying back and watched him with large, worried eyes.He moved the stethoscope up, down and to each side. After a moment, he withdrew, head bowed, and pronounced what they all dreaded.“He’s gone.”Everyone cried at the same time. Even Bruce, who normally walked away to break down.Tears welled in Sinead’s eyes as she took Junior’s glasses off, folded the arms and set them aside.Into his ear, she whispered, “Bye, grandpa. I hope it’s really pretty where you are.”.o Junior vaguely heard the future generation wailing, but it faded into the voices he knew from the past. He sat up on the couch of his glowing childhood home and approached the lambent white brilliance cast by the dining room door.   Cherry poked her head out, grinning, her dark hair gleaming. “It’s about time. You! Handsome guy! Come on!”   “Junior!” Bowser hollered, “Your spot’s ready, c’mon, kiddo!”   Junior’s hair went from white to reddish-orange when he kissed Cherry and hugged her to his chest. Everyone cheered and hollered when he walked in with her. Luminescence overtook everything, he barely made out the faces of his family gathered at the polychromatic table.   Peach sat beaming between Bowser and Mario, holding both their hands while they smiled at her. Luigi kissed Daisy’s cheek. Daisy played with his mustache. Ludwig and Black signed animatedly to each other. Wolfgang and Melchior hooked their pinkie fingers together and rocked in unison. Scott spun his wheelchair as he playfully bonked heads with Lemmy. Aretha wrapped her arms around Gaspar and Balthazar. Pom-Pom and Roy gazed lovingly at one another. Wendy pushed Jack’s red-rimmed glasses up on his nose. Morton and Sienna kissed softly. Boom-Boom and Lakitu chatted as they walked in with trays of steaming, delicious food. Iggy and Larry pulled out a chair for Junior.   They were together again, but when did they part ways? Hadn’t he always been here?   Light superseded everything when Junior sat at the table beside Cherry, and from that moment on he never felt pain or sorrow again.  .oJunior died at noon on the same date as Bowser. His death marked the end of an era.He was a hundred and sixty-two years old— the oldest Koopa in recorded history— even beating out Kamek, who lived to a hundred and fifty-five. Junior’s family tended to his body as a final act of love for him. When they removed his organs for the wake meal, his heart was completely unmarred.His funeral brought four kingdoms together and ended in a party more massive than his wedding to Cherry. Ludwig’s and Wolfgang’s music sent him off to his rest via Toadiel’s beautiful singing. They buried Junior on the hill next to Bowser, Peach, Mario, Luigi, Daisy and Cherry. Their gilded grave statues formed an incomplete circle overlooking all directions. His statue would complete the gap.There was a total solar eclipse on the day of his funeral. His family forgot all about it because of the circumstances, so nobody thought much about the darkening sky at his burial until it turned eerily black.Everybody looked up as the brilliant diamond ring effect gave way to the diaphanous white solar corona spreading out against the darkness.“It’s grandpa!” Sinead shouted, pointing excitedly, “He’s running across the sun! He’s there! He’s in the Great Beyond! Hi! Grandpa! Hi! I see you! Hi! Grandpa! We’re all here! Hi! We love you!”She wondered why most of the adults broke out crying. Wasn’t this supposed to be happy? Junior made it home!The pretty white corona faded as slivers of sunlight burst through, and she had to look away. Only then did the tears come.Grandpa Junior was gone..oA year later, at the Mushroom Carnival, Sinead crashed her wheelchair into the spiked shell of a dark red Koopa kid while watching the Gravitron spin.“Watch where you’re going!” The kid spun to scowl at her, charcoal eyes hard and black Mohawk bristling.“Excuse you,” Sinead raised a brow. “What’s your name?”“Luciano,” he said, arms crossed. “You?”“Princess Sinead O’Koopa. I have the right of way.”“Tch!” Luciano rolled his eyes and stepped in her path with a grin that only flashed two front teeth. “What’s with the wheelchair?”“I hatched with funny legs.” Sinead shrugged, unruffled. “Wanna get cotton candy?”“Sure. Why not?”Ten years later, when they were a pair of shy seventeen year olds, they kissed for the first time on that exact spot.And ten years after that, everyone stood together in the castle’s great hall to watch their wedding. It was a sight— Luciano grew up to be huge, and Sinead remained tiny. They tried for children on their wedding night.Sinead became egg-bound due to her cerebral palsy and small size, and doctors had to assist her through laying it. She didn’t regret bringing a child into the world. Luciano held her hand the whole time, making sure she stayed as comfortable as possible.Luciano called everybody into the room when the egg hatched. The baby nosed out of the eggshell sporting very curly white hair, a spiked purple shell, black eyes and light green scales.Luciano picked the confused baby up, lifted the tail and something dangly fell out. He grinned.“A boy!”“You sure?” Jimi snickered, which had Bruce cracking up. Sinead named the baby Simon Bowser Koopa-Toadstool in honor of the ancestor who started it all. She wrapped him in a red blanket and held him to her heart, where he would stay for the rest of her life.A year later, Sinead went through it again to bear a second egg. That autumn, she welcomed a melanistic daughter— Tina Peach Koopa-Toadstool.Jimi placed the egg in Sinead’s lap so her baby could hatch straight into her arms.Tina didn’t take as long as Simon. She stuck her nose out, pushed up and burst free in a shower of goop. Everyone rocked back in shock.Tina’s melanism showed up as coily black hair, black eyes, black claws, black spikes, a smattering of black scales all over her body and black splotches on her deep red shell. She looked like someone splattered black paint on her, and her speckles made her beautiful.For all that, Tina didn’t cry. Her eyes roved around the room, blinking and taking it all in. Simon did the same thing. It was remarkable.“Wow,” Luciano whispered. He held Simon while Sinead swaddled Tina. “We made these.”“We did!” Sinead kissed Tina’s nose. “I wish grandpa was here to see them.”Luciano nuzzled his nose against her forehead. “He sounded fun. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him before he died.”“You wanna hear about grandpa Junior?” Bruce poked his head in. “Just ask Jimi. He’ll tell you stories. He knows all about being a grandpa.”“Hush, you.” Jimi barked without venom. He reclined next to Sinead, beaming at the new baby. “She’s gorgeous.”Both Simon and Tina stared at each other.Jimi commissioned statues depicting the entire Koopa-Toadstool family to be built on the marked communal “spit spot” in the center of Valley City. They would take ten years to complete, since they were being carved from marble by hand.And life carried on..oSimon and Tina stood by Sinead’s and Luciano’s side as the Koopa-Toadstool family statues were unveiled for the first time. Tina asked, “Mommy, who are these people?”“Yeah!” Simon circled the statues, tail flicking. “Who are they?”“Oh, boy,” Luciano crossed his arms and grinned. “Can of worms time, right?”Jimi, Whitney, Toadiel, Eartha and Bruce looked knowingly at each other. Hannah snickered as she signed the question for Darryl.“Oh, Simon, Tina, you two…ah, heck,” Sinead shook her head in disbelief. “It’s quite the story. It’s full of love. There’s a reason your middle names are Bowser and Peach.”“What’s love got to do with it?” Tina arched a dark eyebrow. She turned her head, her coily Afro catching the sunlight like a storm cloud.Simon’s hair didn’t defy gravity quite the same way. His white curls were looser, falling down to his shoulders in billowy cascades.Whitney laughed as she circled the statues herself, taking in the lifelike details.Sinead smiled, wrapped her arms around her children and gazed past them at the statues.“It started two hundred years ago, when your great-great-great-great-grandpa, King Bowser Koopa, kidnapped Princess Peach Toadstool…”.oAnd somehow, as legends do, the tales of Mario, Luigi, Bowser and Peach flowed into outside-outside and warped backwards through time.A man named Shigeru Miyamoto woke up one morning after a fantastical dream and transformed it into a beloved franchise.In 1985, the Super Mario Brothers game emerged across Nintendo Entertainment Systems everywhere, bringing with it all the music and sound effects that would persist throughout the franchise’s history.In 1989, The Super Mario Brothers Super Show was the first seen in the USA.And later still, two major motion pictures came out. One in 1993, and again in 2023.Over the years, the games evolved as platforms improved. Story after story, through side-scrollers, three-dimensional maps and RPGs. Gamers sat mashing buttons, cursing in frustration, and cheering in triumph as they streamed on Twitch and posted playthroughs on YouTube.Thanks to Mr. Miyamoto’s dream, people watched Bowser, Mario, Luigi, Peach, Junior and his siblings play out a variety of stories on their screens. Fans immortalized them by creating latibules of love through fanworks.Not one of them knew the real stories of the pixelated characters leaping across their screens, that they lived, loved and died in a realm beyond magical sewer pipes buried deep beneath their feet. It’s unlikely that anyone from the outside-outside realm will learn of the legendary Koopa-Toadstool legacy because it was lost to time. That’s not to say the legend can’t leak out. Maybe it already did and all it needs is somebody to write it down, but who would write such a thing?.o.o
“…with shortness of breath,  
I'll explain the infinite.  
How rare and beautiful  
it truly is that we exist.”  “Saturn” by Sleeping At Last