In all the years Dante had lived in Delfino Plaza or thereabouts—as a Delfino citizen, with experience with all the festivals, all the crazy college crowds, all the summer tourists year after year—he could now say with certainty that he had never seen an uproar quite like this.

The flood was already an unprecedented affair (at least in his lifetime), and it had kept his hands full all afternoon in a way he'd never imagined possible. The excitement had died down a bit for a little while, especially after it became clear that the water was on its way out. But he had not had any semblance of a break before the next development blew the day—quite literally—out of the water.

He had managed to get all of the citizens to the rooftops not terribly long ago, with a little help from that ex-convict, who had performed excellently; and Mayor Dante was still pinning hope on him when the light broke.

The mayor would never forget the sight of the clouds tearing apart in the heavens when that giant shine sprite came down.

The light had been getting better over the past couple of days, to a noticeable degree; he had begun to feel confident that things would soon be back to normal. Shine sprites had been returning like boomerangs yesterday, and the Shine Gate really showed. But he hadn't expected that the giant shine sprite he saw falling, randomly it seemed, would solve nearly all their problems in one fell swoop.

He didn't see where it came from; onlookers would tell him that it just fell like a giant drop of sunshine from the storm clouds over the mountain. Mayor Dante had never seen a shine sprite so large in his life, so its appearance was all the more startling.

But when it began to descend and came slowly to rest over the Shine Gate, its true power became apparent. Like in a perfect dream, the shine's golden aura began to expand as it hovered, reaching outwards and extending its light over the city. Faster and faster, it grew like wildfire, until the entire Delfino Plaza was bathed in a dome of light.

Then, as if pushed by an activated force field, the floodwaters vanished.

They didn't exactly disappear into thin air, but it was the next best thing. All at once, like a crowd who had suddenly remembered it had somewhere else to be, the standing feet of water still filling the streets and alleyways across the plaza began to clear out, gushing for the open sea. As if being summoned back to the earth from whence they came, the entire capacity of the city's water had drained out to shore and was gone in a matter of seconds, pushed by the blinding radiation of the Shine Gate.

That was what caused the pandemonium that Mayor Dante could now hardly believe.

Piantas and nokis alike erupted in a torrent of cheers from every direction, people jumping off rooftops for the damp streets and whooping off beached boats which now sat awkwardly on the pavement. Everywhere he turned, the mayor could see excited parents tossing their kids in the air and strangers squeezing each other until they nearly popped.

"DID YOU SEE THAT??"

"The shines have returned to us!!"

"Summer is saved!"

Trying to absorb it all at once, for a good few minutes Mayor Dante merely stood there on the low rooftop where he'd been when the shine hit. He was pleased, he was thrilled, even, he just couldn't—

"Mr. Mayor!" a loud pianta sailor suddenly yelled at his side. "What was that thing??"

"I don't rightly know," Dante replied slowly, staring back up at the positively scintillating Shine Gate. "But I bet I know who to thank!" Punching an arm into the sky triumphantly, the pianta finally joined the rising din around him.

"You've really done it this time, Master Mustache," he laughed, watching the dark clouds roll back like peeling tape. "You've done it!"

~

   Far, far away, across the channel that swept past the plaza lighthouse, a pair of figures sat side by side, watching the celebration in subdued silence.

   They couldn't see the celebration per se. But they knew it was happening, because they could hear even from a mile out the chorus of voices; and they could see, from much farther, the brilliant golden light that peeked over the volcano's gray cliffs.

   They could only envy the town's song and dance. But they would not stoop so low to that; for neither wanted to be first to admit defeat to the other.

   Bowser and his son sat there on the large raft, unspeaking, for a long time.

   The koopas had not had a lovely time of it falling from the top of the volcano. As soon as Mario had shown up, Bowser knew they would likely be in for a world of mayhem, but he wouldn't dare tell that to Junior. When he'd tipped the tub, they'd had little control over where they landed—which unsurprisingly turned out to be the ocean—but now, Bowser thought that they really couldn't complain. He'd hate to be in the middle of town right now, that was for sure.

   Luckily, among the wreckage that resurfaced from their fall was a large pool raft, which he and Junior had soon commandeered. Now, with them sitting side by side on the wide float, Bowser (restored to his smaller size) could feel a rising awkwardness growing.

   Secretly, he sighed, knowing he could not avoid this conversation much longer.

   Opening his mouth and then closing it, Bowser wasn't sure how to begin. He'd had serious talks with the boy before, but this one felt so... inexplicably different.

   Perhaps because Junior was a kid he would understand. Perhaps he wouldn't be too mad...

   The only way to find out was to try. Taking another deep breath, this one louder, Bowser put his hands together in front of him.

   "Junior... I'm sorry it didn't turn out the way we hoped."

   A second of silence as the boy looked up at him. "Whadaya mean, Dad? It was my fault we didn't stop him," he said simply. He didn't sound mad... just disappointed.

   "No, Junior, it wasn't you at all," Bowser assured quickly. "You did great. And all the graffiti and the police thing you pulled off? That was gold."

   Tilting his head slightly, Bowser Jr. watched his father as if he didn't quite believe him. "Really? But I didn't win!"

   "That's okay. I don't win all the time either," Bowser pointed out. "But what mattered is that you rose to the challenge and you blew my expectations to smithereens. I couldn't be more proud," he praised, reaching over to pat his son's tiny shell.

   Drinking it in with visible pleasure, the child slowly spread into a small smile. "Aw, thanks Papa," he said, turning back to stare at the volcano. "But I'm still sorry we didn't get him."

   "Don't be, Junior, it was only your first time," Bowser told him patiently. "And you'll only grow!"

   Visibly heartened by these words, Bowser Jr. took a deep breath and kept watching the faraway town on the horizon. The intervening silence was more comfortable now.

   And that was why, holding his breath painfully, Bowser was so afraid of what had to come next.

   Junior seemed satisfied enough to drop the conversation. At least, satisfied enough to ask, "What do we do now, Dad?"

   His father furrowed his eyebrows. It was a loaded question, really: it sounded so simple coming from a child. In reality it could have a thousand different meanings.

   What do they do with their lives? What do they do when they get off this raft? What do they do about Mario?

   Bowser took his umpteenth big breath. Ignoring all of those options, he went for the one at the front of his mind.

   "Junior... I've got something... difficult to tell you about Princess Peach," he ventured at last.

   The boy's response was almost an interruption. "I know, she's not really my mama."

Unmoving, staring straight ahead even still at the shape of Delfino Plaza, Bowser Jr. seemed calm and composed as if he'd rehearsed this a hundred times. Now it came out almost like a shrug.

   Bowser opened his mouth in shock, as if he'd received a slap to the face. He'd been planning to say something else, a follow up, perhaps; but now he found he had entirely lost whatever he'd been going to say.

   He... knew?

   His tiny son, suddenly not so childish-sounding anymore, sat at the edge of the raft below him, letting the silence sit a moment. He seemed content.

   "Someday... when I'm bigger..."

   Bowser looked to him in surprise as Junior turned all at once to meet his eyes.

   "...I wanna fight that Mario again," he said determinedly, dark eyes glinting in the sunlight.

   In that moment Bowser could not have been more proud. "That's my boy!" he exclaimed, slapping a hand across his back. Forgetting what had come before, forgetting what would be ahead—he beamed at his heir with a swell of unstoppable satisfaction. "Well put, son. The royal Koopa line is as strong as ever!"

   Grinning, the boy looked up at his dad, the youthful smile returning to him. "Thanks, Dad."

   Bowser stopped a moment, letting his hand slide from his shell. "But... how did you..?"

   "I don't think I ever really thought she was my mama," Bowser Jr. said matter-of-factly, looking back to the distant island again. "If she was I woulda heard about her before."

   Bowser knew what he was referring to. Princess Peach, while she had long been an obsession of Bowser's, had only become a serious target of his schemes in the past couple of years. Junior had been told plenty about her in that time, but not much in his early years. This was his first time seeing her up close.

"Also... it didn't make sense that she was in another castle," Bowser Jr. added, scrunching up his nose a bit at the memory.

   Thank goodness for his intelligence... I guess. "I get it," Bowser replied, ducking his head in slight embarrassment. "I... guess I shoulda just told you, huh."

Now the boy shrugged. "I dunno. I kinda liked the idea of having a princess mama in a castle far away."

There was another small silence between the two, this one more peaceful.

"...Your real mama isn't around anymore, Junior," Bowser said at last. "But I'll be here for you, always!"

   "I know, Dad. ...But I still wanna help you get Peach back, Papa," Junior went on now, leaning back on his little hands. "I don't think what you said about Mario is wrong. He was really pushy!"

   "Exactly! Exactly," Bowser cackled. "Just because he's got a bunch of skills doesn't mean he deserves everything handed to him on a silver platter!"

   "Yeah!" Junior agreed. "So... if he's your arch nemesis, I wanna fight him too!"

   Bowser, copying his son, leaned back on his arms with a contented sigh. "Sounds good to me, Junior," he replied. "Sounds good to me. But for now," he added, raising his eyebrows pointedly as he gazed towards the island, "let's just rest awhile."

   "Yes! Can we do the rollercoaster now, Dad? Can we can we??"

   Bowser, with a hesitant groan, eyed his son's ecstatic face. "Alright, Junior... as long as my gut is empty! No lunch hazards, okay??"

   Father and son stayed on the raft for a long time, watching the sun travel slowly across the sky to the sound of their wistful scheming.

~

   On the other side of the island, far, far away, two tranquil figures stood side by side on the ocean's edge, watching the dying sun slip into oblivion.

That evening was one of the strangest of Mario's life.

   Not that anything that happened was particularly weird. It just seemed to Mario that there was a funny feel to the air, something that made him feel off.

   To be fair, he'd been getting 'funny feelings' ever since he landed on Isle Delfino. But this time, at long last, his endless labor was over.

   Mario no longer envied the islanders' guilt-free lifestyle. By now he had finally been able to take a real shower in a real bathtub, and his clothes had been washed too. He'd finally been reunited with his luggage in his own hotel room, and he'd also managed to get that shave he'd been wanting (at last!).

The day had proceeded in a swirl of confusing events for Mario. Ever since the moment Fludd's robotic heart had given out on the tiny islet, one thing had led to another: shortly after the giant shine sprite descended and the princess pointed out to him that the floodwaters had abated, the sky had opened up with a wash of sunlight, banishing the storm clouds away. As the city rejoiced, Mario suddenly knew—with a bittersweet hint of victory—that his task was ending.

   And so it was.

   He and Peach hadn't been stranded on the little islet for too long before the plaza ferries began to operate again, and one soon passed by close enough to flag down. While Peach handled the details—Mario didn't even really remember them—a pianta had willingly agreed to pick them up. Carrying his lifeless Fludd in his arms, Mario had still not said a word until they reached the western dock off Delfino Plaza, where they'd found the toadstools were waiting for them. Having quickly tired of the party going on in the square, they welcomed the princess with all the gusto they could summon, jumping up and down on the dock like a royal welcome party gone wild.

   "HEY!! It's Princess Peach!" Benji cried, hi-fiving Oscar beside him.

   "WOOHOO! They're back!"

   "I told ya he'd do it!"

"Oh your majesty," Toadsworth had sighed in utter relief, barging through the crowd of them like a madman about to faint. Nearly forgetting himself, he threw down his cane and fell upon her waist in an embrace. Beaming serenely, Princess Peach ran to meet him, rested against his bulbous head and smiled.

"We were so worried. Thanks heavens you're safe," the butler murmured.

"I know," she replied. "I know. It's all thanks to Mario," the girl added, trying to give the boy an appreciative glance (he'd never yet let her thank him)—but Mario was still in another world. Looking from toadstool to toadstool with worried eyes, he'd quickly made apparent his predicament.

"Oh no," Jonathan murmured.

   Alexander stared. "What happened??"

"Fludd!" Benji cried. "Is he going to be alright?"

Toadsworth, sharing a very serious glance with the princess, quickly stepped forward with an authoritative air. "Of course he is," he declared, coming to look over the machine briefly. "I'm sure the folks at Hotel Delfino can fix him up! No harm done."

It took more than an unconcerned wave from Toadsworth to calm Mario's troubled mind. "We need to get him help right away," the boy informed, no humor in his voice.

   It was then that Toadsworth had called for a boat to take them to the hotel, without so much as going to look at the Shine Gate.

   The subsequent ferry over, though short, was just as strange. Peach didn't think she'd forget anytime soon the way Mario had sat with Fludd's parts in his lap, gazing over the boat's railing like someone had torn a piece of his heart out.

   Toadsworth, at the first, had pulled her aside a moment to confer. "I don't think it pertinent to discuss business while on vacation, your majesty, but I presume we will have to call a cabinet meeting as soon as we return home."

   She nodded discreetly. "Mario told you the details, I suppose."

   "Indeed." Toadsworth glanced at the others, who were fighting over railing seats.

   Peach took a brisk breath. "The kingdom may not react pleasantly to this news."

   "Don't we know it. I will leave off the questioning until we return."

   Gently, the girl nodded, grateful. She didn't necessarily have a desire to relive all of her new woes right now, no matter how many burning questions Toadsworth undoubtedly had. Instead, it seemed imperative that she enjoy the rest of the vacation given to her.

   On that note, it seemed strange to her, that Mario should be so sullen now. He'd been through so much, now and before, and he'd never taken it so ill as this. At least, that was the way it seemed to the princess. She supposed that she didn't quite understand; didn't understand what Fludd was, didn't understand what he meant to him. To say that Mario had become attached to his new toy—or, friend—was an understatement, that was for sure.

   Regardless of how he felt, she knew that she'd have to break through to him. The entire victory felt dampened and weak without Mario's contagious joy; it was one of the things she looked forward to the most on being rescued. Leaving the others by the front of the boat, Peach came meekly to where he'd sat by the railing, watching the island shore pass by.

   "Mario... are you alright?" She gathered her dress and sat down on the bench near him.

   For what may have been the first time she got a response, a glimmer of reaction. Lifting his eyes to hers for a second—he couldn't stomach the concern he read there for too long—Mario lowered his eyes back to Fludd's frame in his arms.

   "I'm sorry," he said at last, shaking his head. "I know... we should be happy. But I just... I should've been more careful!"

   The girl was next to shake her head. "Mario, it was clear to the very last that Fludd was doing his best to serve you," she told him earnestly. "That's what his mission was, and no one could have convinced him otherwise! I don't think it was your fault. And I certainly doubt that Fludd would blame you! If anything, he can blame Bowser!"

   Mario pursed his lips and didn't look up. "Well, I still think that something needs to change."

   Confused, for a moment the girl merely stared at him, tilting her head. "What do you mean?" she asked.

   Mario swallowed and lifted his head again to stare at the horizon; when he did, Peach was struck by the poise and resoluteness on his face. He had thought of something serious—she knew that look. By now, she had learned that it often meant something very controversial. Her stomach twisted for an instant in nervousness.

   Mario's voice was decisive. "When we get back, I'm gonna give Fludd to someone who will take good care of him. I'm gonna give him back to Professor Gadd."

   Peach's eyebrows raised in spite of herself. "Give him back? ...But why? Won't you miss him??"

   Mario had turned then, finally looking into her eyes in earnest; and the sorrow and decidedness mixed on his face told her all she needed to know.

   Of course he would.

   "I just want him to be safe," the boy told her, shifting the metal in his arms. "He spent all his time keeping me from harm... and I wanna return the favor." He sounded as if he'd thought about this.

   Still a bit surprised but understanding his decision, the princess nodded. "If you think that's best," she said gently. To herself, she kind of had to agree: broken or no, there probably wouldn't be much practical use for Fludd in the daily life of the Mushroom Kingdom. She didn't doubt that Mario could come up with a clever use, but to keep lugging the machine around for the rest of his life seemed impractical.

   "I do," he said resolutely, looking out again at the sea ahead, where the towering building of the homely Hotel Delfino was coming into view. "As soon as we get home."

   Peach nodded again supportively, but she still couldn't help one last question. "Are you sure? Even if we fix him?"

   But Mario, to her surprise, simply nodded and gave her a tiny lopsided smile. "Yes... but you never know, maybe I'll get to use him again someday."

   With these hopeful words, the hero got up to exit the boat.

~

   Such had been the flow of things for a little while, at least until the exhausted party arrived at Hotel Delfino at last. Princess Peach, who had never seen the place before, was positively delighted by the courtyard on the beach and the entire facility.

   As Toadsworth had speculated, the employees at Hotel Delfino—most of whom Mario was acquainted with in one way or another—were more than happy to take a look at Fludd. As soon as they arrived at the hotel's doors, the manager Mr. Romano was there to greet them.

   "Ahh, dear Mario! Well if it isn't the hero of the week!" the older pianta exclaimed in delight. "Welcome back, old chap! Please, come right in! Do I sense some reluctance? Come now, don't dawdle. My, that looks like a real pickle you've got there... don't you worry, my boys'll get it fixed up right away! For now, why don't you all take a load off?"

   Despite Mario's slight hesitance at giving Fludd away, they couldn't pretend they weren't excited at the sound of that. The toadstools, while they'd spent the previous night at the hotel already, were more than happy to show Mario and Peach to their rooms.

   As Mario vaguely recalled being told, they were situated on the second floor (the one Mario had crawled through multiple people's bathrooms on), with Mario's room stationed at one end by Toadsworth's. The princess' and toadstools' rooms were all beyond that, lining the front of the hotel over the grand doorway.

   Briefly parting from his friends to get settled in his own place at long, long last, Mario found the suite to be even better than he'd thought. The room was perfectly familiar to him by now—they were all fairly similar—but his had a nice spacious bathroom and thatched windows with a fantastic view of the ocean. And there was a bed—a real, actual bed—the likes of which Mario hadn't seen in many nights. At the sight of that, all of his bones wanted to crumble.

  Not yet, he thought, gazing around.

   As soon as he stepped into the room he felt a kind of weight shed off his shoulders. He was still sad, of course; but he had to be reasonable. Fludd would be okay. Surely he'd be okay; Mr. Romano's guys were all friendly and competent, and they had actually liked him from the start. What was there to worry about?

   Buoyed by the thought of seeing Fludd soon, Mario's thoughts began to race ahead of him to the upcoming week as he spotted his suitcase stacked on his bed and made for it. He had been occupied by so many pressing concerns, so many chaotic disasters and sticky situations over the last few days that all at once, it felt like he'd barely had time to think at all. He'd had authorities pressuring him, citizens scoffing at him, and a dark sky chasing him down. There was almost never a moment, never a moment... and now, as he opened his luggage and stared at his own long-forgotten things he'd packed last week, Mario suddenly realized that he was still supposed to have a vacation ahead of him.

    For real? A whole week or more of nothing but fun on shiny-clean Isle Delfino? With his friends? And Peach?

   It was almost too good to be true.

   Hurriedly pulling his clothes and other things out and throwing them aside, (except for a Game Boy which he tossed on the desk) Mario grabbed a paper and pen and scrawled a quick note to the others to meet him on the beach in a bit. He'd promised to join them for dinner—which he was just then realizing that he was STARVING for—but he'd wanted to take a little refresher and he was suspicious the princess wanted to do the same. Slapping the note to the outside of his door, he'd then finally taken some time to think about himself.

   And there he found himself a half hour later: actually clean and fresh for once, with a new pair of overalls and his dear old hat newly-cleaned in the washing machine, walking down the familiar steps into Hotel Delfino's lobby. Mr. Romano nodded cheerfully at him as he walked past, having told him to wait for word on Fludd.

   "Well now, Mario! You really should drop by the casino," he called. "It's fully operational and completely ghost-free, promise! I'll let my boys know you're coming, the bellhop will let you in...

   "Oh, thanks, but not right now," Mario answered. "I think I've got someone waiting for me on the beach."

   "Is it that sweet little lady with the yellow hair?" Mr. Romano asked, raising his eyebrows. "Mario you do have it all!"

    Shaking his head at him in embarrassment, Mario hastened his legs towards the door. He was so eager to get out that he practically bumped into one of the janitors, who happened to be there sweeping the lobby.

   "We're so busy," the pianta muttered as he almost took down Mario's feet. "Oh, hey there, Mario! Good to see you're still around!"

   Across the doorway, another janitor whispered over loudly. "Psst! Mario! Wanna give me a hand cleaning? Once your machine is fixed?... No?"

   The look that the man gave him would have been worthy of Toadsworth's photo album.

   By the time Mario finally got outside the sun was beginning to set. He remembered very well the brilliant sunset he'd seen from here before and he was looking greatly forward to seeing it again.

   Toadsworth and the others didn't appear to be anywhere in the little plaza. As usual a few pedestrians and guests strolled about, but Mario didn't recognize any of them—until he spotted her, standing alone on the beach near the western end of the cove. Her back was to the island, her figure quiet and calm. Umbrella over her shoulder, she seemed to be absorbed in the magnificent display in front of her, as if contemplating another world.

   As Mario approached, his eyes kept moving back and forth between her and the sunset. He hadn't meant to compare, but he really did think that she was still the more lovely of the two.

   The spacious sky was immense, drenched with a thousand different shades of orange as the dying daylight started to wane in front of them. The great sphere of light was still well above the ocean level, but it was rapidly descending now into a pinkish-yellow tuft of clouds that had settled over the surface far away. Somehow in closer proximity but not by much, the enchanting silhouette of Pinna Park with its sleek rollercoaster stood against the glimmering horizon to the right, marking the tail end of the dolphin. Reaching out to their feet, the sea shimmered purplish-teal as it died into gentle breakers on the shore.

   Jumping down from the courtyard wall, Mario felt his heart pick up as he strode across the fluffy sand. He wasn't nervous—at least he didn't think so—but still, something felt off. There was that funny feeling again.

   The air was balmy, endless and deep as Mario walked out to the waterfront, finding himself meandering slowly up to the princess' side. He knew that she must have noticed him long ago; but she made no move to turn to him. Instead, she simply stood and continued to stare, as if hypnotized by the sea.

   The young man came to a stop beside her. Saying nothing, he stood and fixed his gaze on the horizon where she was looking, quiet and unperturbed.

   At least, he hoped he looked unperturbed. There were so many things he still wanted to say.

   For a good minute or more—Mario didn't keep track of time—the pair just stood there and stared out at the departing day, saying nothing, moving not at all, side by side.

   That was when, slowly, he began to feel relaxed again.

   "It's beautiful, isn't it," the girl beside him spoke up suddenly, gentle voice blending with the high-pitched sounds of the waves far away.

   Still under the ocean's spell, he nodded slowly. Taking a tiny taste of the fresh wind blowing in off the water, he raised his head a little higher.

   Then something inside the girl seemed to all at once come awake.

   "I'm so sorry, Mario," she sighed abruptly, pulling her eyes down to the sand. "I'm sorry about Fludd—

   "Oh, no," the boy interrupted her, turning in surprise. "It's not your fault!"

   Peach shook her head slowly, ponytail swaying side to side. "I know... but it... ahem. Are you feeling alright?"

   Mario nodded gratefully. "Much better. I mean... my legs could use a vacation," he chuckled, shaking out his still-ringing ankles. "The hotel is so nice, huh?"

   Unable to help a tiny smile his way, she nodded. "Very lovely." Then, looking back up again towards the sea, she took a deep breath. She was about to say something else when he spoke up again.

   "What about you? Are you okay?"

   She flashed him a grateful smile, but only for an instant. "Well, much better now that you're here."

   He looked down.

   "I guess I owe you some sort of explanation," she went on at last.

   He raised his head again, now searching her profile curiously. "About what?"

   The girl gestured towards the volcano which still loomed, half-visible, over the rock wall far to their left. "Well... Mario, don't play clueless! About Corona Mountain!"

   Mario tilted his head at her. "It's a volcano, and the inside is very hot," he supplied.

   "Mario!" she scolded, but the corners of her mouth turned upwards as she whirled on him. Then she took another breath. "No, that's not what I meant. But I am sorry... that you had to go through all that. Everything, I mean." Twisting her parasol in her hands, she gazed back to the lowering sun. "It seems like this entire trip has been cursed from day one."

   "Don't say that!" Mario said quickly. "This kinda thing just... happens. A vacation's not complete until somebody gets arrested!" He shrugged a tiny bit at her.

   She chuckled faintly. "Only you could be so cheerful about it, Mario," she praised matter-of-factly. "I know I was quite upset about the trial."

   She fell silent for a moment. It was true; she couldn't have asked for a more patient and willing companion in all this. That was Mario's way in adversity, for the most part. Sometimes she couldn't believe how forgiving he was.

   "Don't worry about it," he told her now, looking lazily back to the sea. "It's all taken care of now, I think."

   "Yes? So the goop is all gone? No more shine hunting??" She looked to him urgently.

   "...No more shine hunting," he confirmed. "I mean, I guess unless I want to. ...There's more shine sprites to find, you know," he added at her incredulous look. "I only got a fraction of the ones out there!"

   Fixing him with a bemused expression, she cocked her eyebrow. "Don't you think it's time to rest? I mean... aren't you exhausted by now?"

   He shrugged again, and even as he did it she could tell he was making light of it. "Yeah... that'd be nice." He slipped his hands in his pockets. "Where's Toadsworth?"

   "He's on his way. I think the toadstools wanted to surprise us for dinner."

   "Mm, I can get behind that," Mario mumbled.

   "Was it very hard to find us? On Corona Mountain, I mean?" the princess asked now.

   "Well, no... and yes," he replied sheepishly. "Y'see, I kinda needed the shine sprites to reach you."

   She widened her eyes and stared at him. "You mean it accelerated your quest," she figured.

   He shrugged again. "I guess so."

   She sighed and looked away again. "I'm sorry. I hope it wasn't too... crazy."

   Hiding a grin, Mario shook his head. "No no. Well, I mean it was, but I was more concerned about you."

   Pressing her lips together, Peach looked down at the rosy hem of her dress, buried in the sand at her feet. "I'm fine, Mario—really. I was just..." She trailed off and let out a dry laugh. "I was thinking that you might be... disconcerted." She paused, contemplating the word she'd chosen. "You know, about Bowser..."

   Mario's back straightened. She could tell that he was trying to brush her off. "Well, he's always a bit of a handful."

   Peach, clutching the parasol over her shoulder, glanced at him pointedly. "I suppose we should've expected he was here. I just didn't know it was him, at first..."

   Mario's eyes flickered but he didn't remove his gaze from the horizon. As if roused from sleep, he removed his hands from his pockets and let them hang again.

   "Yeah. I guess he pulled one over on everyone, huh?" Though his voice was light, he seemed to be expecting a certain answer.

   At first, Peach was merely going to agree with him; but another moment and the princess felt that there was more to it than that. An unspoken longing...

   Of course... he wants answers. Glancing across at the man's face, Peach studied him in the amber light.

   He was calm and nonchalant, watching the sunset almost curiously as he lifted the brim of his hat to the wind so air would hit his face. Someone else might have taken him as simply a little shy, but for her: he was worried. She could see it in the gleam of his eyes, glassy and blue in the distant sun, reluctant to blink as he awaited her words. Exactly what he was worried about was a mystery, but she was sure it had to do with the child.

   "I'm sorry, Mario," she said, looking down again and finding her gaze on his shoes. "It must have been hard to take all that—on the rollercoaster."

   Mario's eyebrows raised, but he did nothing.

   "I—I felt bad after we left, when Bowser Jr. started talking to me." She made herself go on, but she still stopped a second to change her grip on the umbrella.

   The young man beside her held perfectly still, letting her talk. Bowser Jr. So that's what the little guy called himself.

   "I know you must have been so confused," Peach went on, voice wavering a little as she remembered the guilt she'd felt on the mountainside. "I wish I could've talked to you, Mario, but I... I didn't know," she said softly, words seeming to Mario to sink like velvet into the clouds beyond the water. As he watched the horizon and drank in her voice, the sky seemed to explode in a brilliant eruption of tangerines and magentas beneath the sinking sun.

   She didn't know... She didn't know anything?

   Well, he had always known it.

   "Bowser has been a thorn in our side for a long time—well, you know—and I had no reason to believe that... he was a father!" She widened her eyes as she said this, as if she could barely believe what she was now saying.

   Mario could feel a band, one he hadn't known he'd been wearing, snapping free on his chest. It felt strangely liberating.

   Turning again to look at his face, Peach kept talking, growing more confident and animated as she did. "He's just such an enigma sometimes—right when you think you know everything about him. I'd been to his castles—more than a few times!—and I never saw... or he never mentioned..." She shook her head, at a loss. "There was never a word."

   Mario, invigorated by this, finally turned to look at her, and when he did his animated eyes were the color of the darkening sea.

   "I know I know! And he seemed so big," Mario marveled, excited.

   "How old do you think he is?" Peach asked.

   "Probably can't be older than ten."

   "He seemed younger than that."

   "Well, that's also possible." The young man beside her ran a hand across his forehead, surprised by the lack of sweat he found there.

   "I guess so," the girl said quietly, watching the burnt sun start to dip into the ocean. "I... never quite caught who... you know."

   The mother. Mario nodded as casually as he could, following her eyes to the setting sphere across the water. "Yeah. I guess Bowser's inside story is still a mystery," he commented.

   "I was just afraid you might have been upset," Peach said now, tucking her chin as she kept her eyes steadily on the crimson sun. "That you might've thought I never bothered to tell you—

   Mario turned to stare up at her. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed. "Never never!"

   Comforted by his earnest surprise, the girl relaxed into a small smile. "Well, I'm glad." She took a deep breath. There was a peaceful moment of silence.

   "You know, for all the terrible things Bowser has done, I think he's actually a sweet dad."

   Mario's eyebrows shot up. "Really??"

   She nodded. "Yes. I mean, I don't really know how he's been raised—but it's quite apparent that Bowser Jr. follows his father out of love. There is no fear in it."

   The man beside her slowly studied the sand below, as if processing. "Bowser??" he scoffed at last. "I can hardly get used to the idea of him as a daddy, much less a good one!" He shook his head, eyes wide. "Mama mia! I'd a-be horrified if he was my papa!" he exclaimed, buoying his words with extra vowels like he did when he was excited. "Sounds a little horrifying, if you ask me." He glanced pointedly back up at the princess.

   Peach struggled not to smile at him. "Well, everyone has a surprising side, I suppose," she said. "And Junior has his sweet side, too. He's capable of being a nice little boy."

   "No!" Mario gawked at her in disbelief. "That little stinker?"

   "Yes!" Peach held back a laugh. "He was very polite to me. For the most part. I... I feel sorry for him." She didn't know why she wanted to laugh. It wasn't a funny memory.

   "But I thought you think Bowser's a decent dad," Mario replied.

   "I think he's tender toward him," she said, "but that's not it. Junior wants a mother. ...He wanted me."

   There was another silence, this one slightly strange. Mario didn't know what to say.

   "I couldn't give it to him," she said quietly, almost under her breath. "It's a shame..."

   Mario moved his hands back into his pockets.

   Peach opened her mouth to keep going, but her breath faltered on the air. How could she say to the man standing next to her what she was thinking now; that she wanted to admire Bowser's affection for his son, but she could not admire himself; how she wanted to be a mother, but not to that boy; that Bowser was not the father she wanted—not for her children.

   Peach knew she had rarely spoken of her line and legacy with Mario. He was her friend, her confidant in many ways; but to talk about her desire to someday have descendants—as she had long assumed she must—it seemed strange and wrong.

   Now, with her greatest rival ahead of the game—securing already his monarchy—she didn't know what she'd do.

   Twirling the parasol over her head, she said as much. "I shudder to think about what this will mean for the kingdom," she told him carefully. "With Bowser having a new heir—you can bet we'll probably see a lot more of him."

   Mario glanced up at her, interest written all over his features. "Yeah, that's a safe bet," he offered. He looked like he wanted to ask her a question but he couldn't form it.

   Peach lowered her eyes to his, and this time they held. "You're going to see a lot more of him."

   Mario raised his head higher. "I know," he said. "But I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess."

   Peach raised her eyebrows. "You're not worried?"

   He shrugged. "What's the point in worrying now? There's nothing I can do about it."

   Somehow, his words made her feel suddenly very saddened. She admired his calm in the face of trials, but...

   "No," she agreed suddenly, her eyes settling into a firm determined look. "There's nothing you can do. But we can face it. Whatever comes our way."

   The young hero lifted his eyebrows, as if surprised; then, as if almost hesitant to ask, he said, "Stand by me?"

   She looked at him seriously, sapphire eyes glinting in the sunlight. "Rain or shine, day or night," she promised.

   This seemed to induce an unavoidable lull in the conversation; neither knew what to say next. It was as if they had made right all things in one moment—even the unforeseeable future.

   That was what gave rise again to the princess' secret worries.

   And what of her royal line? She was still young yet. Bowser was a bit older than she was, she knew—so perhaps it wasn't fair to compare herself to him.

   Then again, Peach had often dreamed of that sort of thing, when she was small. She had always envisioned it with the kind of magic only a wishful little girl could dream of: she had dreamed of a handsome, golden-haired prince in blue silk, who would come along to sweep her off her feet to her happily ever after.

   Those dreams, while not gone yet, had faded in past years. They had faded the more she grew up and began to assume a real role in her kingdom; a role which left little time for daydreaming and fairytales. As she'd once been told by a very wise instructor of hers: fairytales are not real life.

   Real life...

   She had always taken those words as handy advice to heed. It couldn't hurt to believe that there was no such thing as fairytales... could it?

   Yet every time she almost told herself that...

   Blinking rapidly for sudden fear that she had missed something, Peach looked up at Mario. He was watching her still, big-eyed and curious, as if still searching for something; but the look of assurance in his eyes seemed to be pleading with her. It was as if deep down, they were saying, 'Don't give up on the fairytale. It does exist.'

   What would a prince's eyes have that Mario's did not?

   She had always thought his eyes were beautiful, from the moment she had looked into them for the first time she could remember. What was more, she knew them; and their gaze didn't betray her.

   That was perhaps the moment she realized she was staring.

   Clearing her throat suddenly, Peach shifted the parasol and looked up again at the sea. It had transformed much over the course of a few minutes, and now glittered like sugar beneath the wide, descending sphere of light sinking into it. The clouds at the sun's base were becoming dark purple, tinged with golden and peach hues against the tangerine sky. The giant orb, still glowing a fiery yellow, seemed to taunt her heart, daring her to cry at its beauty.

   "Oh," Mario spoke up suddenly, breaking her reverie. "I just remembered... I have your ring!" Producing a small, shiny object from his pocket, he held it up.

   At first the girl could only stare at him in surprise. "My... ring?" Looking quickly to her hand, which she only just then realized was ringless, Peach stared again at the object in Mario's hand.

   Sure enough, her large ruby ring set in gold was sparkling in the light glinting off the ocean. She had entirely forgotten its existence.

   "It came off the other day when Junior was taking you, remember?" the boy asked. "I had it." Chuckling sheepishly, he offered it to her.

   "Oh... thank you, Mario," she said at last, still taken aback. "Thank you... for everything!" She was just about to reach out and take it from him—her hand was already halfway there—when suddenly, she stopped and fell nearly still. A wave had passed over the area; a silent but unmistakeable trance. Slowly, Mario moved the ring in his hand, glancing up at her again as if for approval.

   She said nothing, but it seemed she had given it.

   Carefully, almost painfully gently, he eased the ring onto the finger she offered him. Then, eyes shining azure in the waning light, somehow passive and amazed all at once, he caught her eyes again.

   That wasn't all he seemed to catch. Peach found, inexplicably, that she had been holding her breath, and now let it out with a tiny gasp. It mingled with the fresh wave of sea air that blew in from the ocean, tickling their faces like magic.

   He never stopped breathing—she knew because she could hear his slow, shallow breaths hitting the dewy air between them like clock chimes. His sleek mustache, catching a sudden breeze, fluttered like a gossamer ribbon. She could even pick up the pleasant smell of his aftershave.

   Neither of them, in that moment, could foresee what might have happened next.

   The whole world seemed beautiful and serene, and there was not a care to be seen, and even that couldn't compare to the depthless eyes of the other before them.

It might have lasted forever.

   At about that time, Toadsworth and the rest of the royal court came out of the hotel, seeking their human companions. Strolling out along the walking paths and under the verandas, they soon made for the beach to look there.

   "Where could they have got to? They can't have gone too far," Freddy remarked to the older toadstool beside him.

   All at once, Toadsworth had stopped in his tracks along the edge of the wall, staring out into the ocean view, quite still.

"No, I... I do believe they may be quite far gone," he said quietly, surprise apparent in his voice. Clutching his cane tightly, the princess' butler slowly shook his head, as if aghast at himself.

   "How could I not have seen it," he said softly, more to himself than to the others, who weren't listening anyway as they gawked. "I suspected, but..." Adjusting his spectacles, the old toadstool chuckled now to himself, just a bit. "Perhaps I should've guessed this would happen."

   The two figures—almost nothing more than silhouettes now—stood out on the sand, hands joined, blissfully unaware of the small crowd of people now watching them from Planet Earth beyond.

   That was all. That was all...

   Perhaps it was just a pleasant sunset's momentary power. Perhaps it was simply a fleeting feeling.

Or perhaps—as the old toadstool watched in wonder—it was the foundation of a kingdom in the making.

Mario and Peach; and that was all.

   Until Planet Earth came crashing down on them, in the form of a few gallons of falling water.

SPLOOSH!!

   "Oh-!!" the girl yelped as a well-timed blast of water rained over their heads, sending the two jolting upright in alarm. She managed to block most of it with her parasol, but Mario didn't come out quite so lucky.

   Slightly dripping, shocked and wide-eyed, the pair looked around in bewilderment for the shore behind them, which they seemed to have forgotten about entirely. There, lined along the beach wall, was a row of joyous toadstools—their friends; and carried proud and sure in Alexander's arms, a shiny yellow contraption with a guiltily-dripping nozzle turned his head towards them.

   "...The vacation starts now!" Fludd chirped happily.