I'm back with another story that's been on my mind. I was bored one day and so I decided to write a story about myself going to the Mario Kart universe. Basically, how do Mii's get to the Mario universe? This will be my take on the matter, except it's me instead of my avatar. I was reluctant to do a self-insert story, mainly because I know no one will like me, the true me, but hey, I have been proven wrong by my fan's dedication. I just hope this doesn't blow up in my face. I'm always nervous about a new story so a little encouragement will be refreshing.

Evolution and Heart of Shadows will be continued. I wanted to focus on them more now that my Pokémon: Nightmare Incarnate story is up in chapters. I've missed my fans.

This Mario story will be a LuigixDaisy and OC (Me) x Rosalina. The former is my favorite Mario couple and Rosalina is my favorite female next to Daisy. If anyone has a suggestion or tips, I'm all ears.

Disclaimer: Mario is owned by Nintendo and other related parties. I do not own anything except me, myself, I, and the plot of this story.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins as my tires grind the pavement. The roar of the engine explodes louder, its yell purring in delight. My eyes look solely ahead, watching for the next turn. Pounding against my chest is my excited heart. It pumped scorching blood throughout my body, which tingled from the vibrations of my bike, my trusty Inferno, tearing up the track. The smell of rubber burning on the ground was intoxicating, filling my nostrils with its fumes.

"This is going to be a good race," I told myself.

My name is Marquis, and if it isn't already apparent, I'm a BMX Racer. I've been one for about six years, and I must say, I never thought I would enjoy it this much. It started out as a little hobby when I wasn't doing my main job, but soon, it grew into something much more. I don't race professionally, never cared about being sponsored or anything like that, but I never turn down a challenge. Many racers have thrown down the gauntlet, and some have proven to be difficult adversaries. It's a thrilling experience, having the air blasting in your face and roars of the crowd cheering on the excitement. It makes the heart pound vigorously, and I often find myself short of breath whenever a race is over, whether I participated or not.

It's a test of skill and courage, testing individuals' knowledge of how to ride and their willingness to take risks. A race is only decided until the final lap is crossed and one passes the finish line. It definitely gets the blood pumping and heart more active.

However, right now, my heart felt like it was about to explode. I accepted a challenger's race and is now speeding around the track against them. It was a standard race track with multiple turns, curves, inclines, and small but important obstacles. I noticed them when I first arrived. They were watching other racers from the sidelines, so I paid them no mind. But, imagine my surprise when they issued a challenge to me of all racers. It was a regular three lap race with the winner being the one to cross the finish lap first at the end.

The opponent is close behind me. Their green sports bike gradually entered my peripherals until they were perfectly parallel to me. I increase my speed, refusing to let them pass. When the next turn closes in, we both execute a flawless drift around the corner and continue through the straightaway with a short burst of speed. Since I took the inside, I gained a small lead, but my opponent quickly caught up. However, they didn't pass me and never managed to do so. I've maintained first place for the entirety of the race.

'They're good.' I thought to myself. I'm not surprised. Every racer on the track is extraordinary. I'm decent at least, but many people call me humble and modest. This mystery racer falls in the extraordinary category, but for some reason, I had a weird feeling about them. That's not to say I found them suspicious or anything, but every time I race beside them, I can feel this death stare following my movements. Needless to say, it gave me chills and threw me off multiple times. We were the only racers on the track, so my opponent must be responsible. I hope I didn't do anything to piss them off. A glare like that can freeze water.

"You're doing exceptionally well," my opponent said. Their voice was light, calm, and collected. Without a doubt, it was a man. It was hard to precisely describe their emotions since they wore a bright green helmet to mask their face. They also wore a green tracksuit with white stripes along the sides.

"Thank you," I responded. "You're very skilled yourself. How long have you been racing?"

"About twenty-five years, give or take," they replied.

My eyes open wider. "Twenty-five years?" I repeated. My face alone could tell I was astonished. I never met someone with so much experience under their belt. Ten years is the highest I've heard so far. "No wonder you're so skillful. I've only been at it for six."

"Not bad honestly, but don't forget what we're doing," and in a flash, I found myself looking at my opponent's back. In a split second, he passed me and gained a slight lead.

"Now let's see how good you really are." They sped up, distancing ourselves even more. After getting over my stupor, I kicked it into overdrive and blurred past the starting line, where our third and final lap began. For the first two, I held the lead, but now, it's time to play catch up.

Our vehicles sped down the straightaway, the blast of our engines releasing a fierce and mighty roar as the screech of our tires rang out, gliding across the pavement to make the first right turn. I could feel sweat roll down my cheek as my hands gripped the handlebars tightly, revving Inferno to higher speeds.

We flew like a rocket, hitting the turns skillfully while not losing much speed, but my opponent managed to stay ahead and cut me off on most of the turns. Using his slipstream wouldn't work either, as he knew exactly when to break away to prevent being overtaken. He was smart and cunning. Just when I think I'm going to pass him, he proves me wrong.

I felt annoyed, but at the same time, I was excited. It wasn't a one-sided race, and for that, it made me even more eager. I could keep up with my opponent and give him a run for his money, but his level of skill outclasses mine drastically. He had nineteen years, which is how old I am, over me in experience. The level of focus put into his movements was critical, masterful, and clean. Every time he drifted around a corner, there was a clean execution that could only be described as art – a masterpiece.

Whoever my opponent is, they are in a league of their own. As we turned the final corner onto the last straightaway, I thought to myself, 'Who exactly is this guy? I've never seen someone with skills like his before. It's incredible.'

The audience thought the same because I could see many cheering the mystery racer on while giving me my fair share of encouragement. They wanted to see who was going to win, but it's obvious at this point. Regardless, I did not give up.

It was a very good race, but in the end, I lost. It didn't surprise me. After seeing what my opponent is truly capable of, I would be shocked if I actually won. I wasn't sad about it though. I've lost my fair share of races, but this one felt different from the others. It's hard to tell, but I don't think this was just an average race.

"That was a great match," I said and took off my helmet. My short black hair, now layered in sweat, felt cool in the gentle spring breeze. I adjusted my glasses and offered my hand. I've always been a good sport, but there have been times my anger from losing has slipped through. I hid it well, but when alone, I had to vent some way.

"Yes, it was," he shook my hand with a tight grip that nearly broke my fingers. I ignored the pain and continued to smile. The crowd cheered louder at the professional showmanship. "I greatly enjoyed myself, a lot more than I expected actually."

He rubbed the back of his helmet and gave a sheepish laugh until he realized something. "Oh! Sorry if that offended you. I didn't mean to," I raised my hand and chuckled back.

"Don't worry about it; I know what you mean. I had a lot of fun too, but I'd expect nothing less from someone with twenty-five years under their belt."

"Would you believe me if I said I know people better than me with even less experience?" He asked. I raised my brow in response. I'd certainly like to meet these people.

"After watching you race, I'd believe anything. You were really amazing." If I could see his face, I'm sure it would be flushed from the praise.

"You really think so? I just drove like how I always did. You actually motivated me to do better." Now it was my turn to feel flustered. I'm not used to big compliments, just a few simple claps and slaps on the shoulder, but to say I helped inspire him made my body feel light. I love to help people and see them smile in return. I feel better knowing I caused such emotions to rise.

"You're too kind. I should've been more prepared though. I really thought I could keep ahead, but you sure proved me wrong.

"I was the one unprepared. You have great potential. Please answer me this. Would you like to go even bigger?"

I shook my head. "I'm not interested in going pro. I just race for the fun of it, but thanks for the offer. I think you should though if you're not already."

"Thanks, but I'm just like you," he hopped on his bike again and gave a two finger salute. Before I could question him further, he sped off, quickly vanishing in the distance. I heard many people groan in disappointment for not getting an autograph or a chance to race him. Others came up to me and asked about him, but I was just as lost. I knew one thing for sure though, my day just got a whole lot more interesting.

I didn't stay too long. My trusty Inferno needed a good cleaning and servicing so I chose to watch the other racers while doing so, but I could not stop thinking about my loss to that green racer. I wasn't upset or mad about it but distracted, and being distracted on the raceway is a dire consequence waiting to happen. I want to know who he is. His sudden appearance and swift vanishment are compelling me to find out, wanting me to solve this conundrum. I love a good mystery. I suck at solving them, but they still interest me. I think I can crack this one though.

As I cleaned my ride, I ran the entire match in my head. There were a hundred times he could've taken the lead and finish the race. I recall how he constantly hung back, mainly sizing me up I believe, and waiting for the right moments to strike. He went easy on me, and my theory of him wanting to test me sounded the most logical, but even so, I wondered what his motives were. I'm probably making a big deal out of nothing. He's just a fellow racer wanting to have a little fun. There's nothing wrong with that, and yet, I cannot shake this feeling.

"Calm down Marquis," I told myself with a sigh. "You're just tired. It's been an eventful day."

I wish I had acted faster and spoke up before he left. Then again, he would've most likely gave me a vague answer instead of coming clean. I have a little description of him. He's pretty slim and tall. When he shook my hand, he came up to my neck. I peg him for about five foot nine. Yeah, that seemed like a good range. I am six foot four, one of the tallest people that visit the track regularly. His voice wasn't distorted, at least from what I could hear. It was melodious and linguistically beautiful. Despite being a man's voice, it was soothing to the ear. He was definitely strong, seeing as he almost broke my fingers with his handshake, but his hand was a little smaller than mine. He had gloves on, which made them look larger than they appear. He presented himself relatively well, but more of that remained to be seen.

During all that thinking, I failed to notice nightfall starting to overshadow the sky. The sun has already gone down, and the moon, a beautiful pale white of radiant light, shined from its spot above. The wind felt great, the nightly air all nice and cool while carrying a somewhat sweet scent.

"I guess my friends are right. I do think too much." I was a little closer to figuring out the green clad racer's identity. There were many questions I wanted to ask, but for now, I'm content with what I figured out today. It was time to head home and relax.

So far, the green racer is a slim and tall young to middle aged man. He stands at about five foot, nine inches, and judging by his non-southern accent, he's not from around here. That's all I know right now. I hope to uncover more as the days pass.

"What in the world?" When I arrived at my apartment complex, I started to think something was up. Sitting at my door was a small box with the suspicious "Open me" sign taped on top. I asked my neighbor, a sweet old lady named Clarissa, who dropped off the package. She said, "It was there already. I don't recall seeing anyone stop by your room."

This day just keeps getting stranger but still more interesting. I took the box inside and set it on the coffee table. My apartment isn't all that big, just a one-bedroom apartment with a nice sized kitchen, bathroom, and living area. My room is in the far back with the living area to the immediate left upon entering the room. It has two couches that could hold two people each and positioned in an L shape with an end table standing between them. A long coffee table with a glass surface sat in the middle of the area. On top were a couple photos of friends and family and some ceramics. The fifty-inch tv was placed against the wall with the T.V. stand perfectly under and parallel to the coffee table.

The kitchen and dining table lie to the immediate right. The former came equipped with a stove, fridge, dishwasher, and cabinets already filled with utensils and plates while the dining room had a table fit for four. The bathroom, which rested in the corridor and to the right, came with a large bath/shower, toilet, and sink in a nicely tiled area.

My room basically tell everyone how much I love games and anime, but the main preferences are even clearer. Legend of Zelda, Pokémon, Mario, and Fire Emblem are only a few games I love to play. The abundant posters of comic book characters lined the walls. Figurines of different anime characters were neatly organized and the shelves holding my large collections of video games and consoles outlined the room. My favorite genre is RPG, like Pokém, Dragon Quest, Final Fantasy, and the likes. Racing and fighting are my second and third favorite respectively. When I'm not racing or hanging out with friends and family, I can be found playing a good game or participating in my favorite hobby and main job, story writing and poetry. I receive royalties from my published works and live off those. Sometimes, I even write my own fan fiction, but that's more of a casual thing, not business. I earn enough royalties to earn a living and pay rent while making sure I have enough in store for any activities.

That's something for later though.

Right now, I have a mysterious package to go through. There was no sender or return address, which was more suspicious. I think I'm being scammed or something. I have a few fans, but I know they'd be more professional in their packaging. My head told me to trash it and be done with it, but something else told me to be the cat. I didn't want to die though. I still have my whole life ahead of me after all.

"No sender, no address, and a note saying open me; I have a bad feeling about this." I took a deep breath. In my head, I was listing all the possible items that may be inside. It has to be a prank. There's no way something valuable is inside.

However, my fingers froze on their own when attempting to open it. It was sudden, but my entire body felt like it was being electrocuted. My hand retracts swiftly, tingling from the shock. I was breathing hard and rapidly, grasping my tingling hand like a lifeline. The shock came unexpectedly and left me afraid to proceed.

"What," I panted. "Was that?"

I looked at my hand. It was still shaking uncontrollably. The tingling sensation lingered for a few moments before disappearing altogether, but I was still afraid to try it again. I flexed my fingers while staring cautiously at the package. It sat there idly, too innocent not to ignore. I swallowed the lump in my throat and prepared for a second encounter. My breathing wouldn't calm, but I did not let it stop me.

Gathering my courage, I touched the box again and started to remove the tape. The same shock spread over my body, but I persevered. A grunt escaped my mouth as the shock's strength increased once I started removing the tape and lifting the panels. A bright light shined in my face and grew brighter as the folds raised.

It was brilliant, powerful enough to give the sun itself a run for its money. It was the type of illumination that made corneas burn and render retinas useless. Even with the translational lens in my glasses, I needed to cover my face and turn away, else I end up making myself blind, but the short glimpse I received will be forever tucked away in my memory.

I was nervous to look, but there was a sound that, while faint, sounded highly familiar. The melody is one everyone could guess upon the first few notes, beautifully conducted and masterfully created. I've heard this melody many times in my life, humming it occasionally while doing mindless tasks, and it's because of the familiarity that my skepticism of the contents enlarged.

"Okay, this is definitely some sort of prank," I repeated for the umpteenth time. It couldn't be possible. My eyes are playing tricks on me. I wiped my glasses and then put them back on, but my eyes saw the same thing. "It has to be a trick."

I reached inside the package and lifted the star shaped object. It sparkled with a magical radiance, glistening beautifully as its yellow form generated a heat so warm and soothing, time seemed to be lost to me. My mouth was slack jawed in awe. The star had small, beady black eyes that seemed to gauge me, stare down into my soul as if judging me. It gave no movements, lying still in my hands until I set it back on the table. The warmth disappeared when I set it down.

Perfectly symmetrical, the object left me feeling confused and energized. It's five points looked sharp and deadly, contrasting with the innocent eyes continuing to monitor my every move. It was something only seen in fiction, a powerful and incredibly rare item with unfathomable properties, and now I'm holding it in my hand with no repercussion. I started to believe everything is just a dream.

I shook my head and placed the object on the table. The energizing feeling I received slowly left m a bit disoriented. My mind was spiraling out of control, filling my head with these tricks and illusions. I refused to believe it. There cannot be a logical explanation for such an item existing in this world. There just can't.

"This is crazy," I held my head. "That's it, I'm going insane. I've been playing too much Mario." Sitting on the coffee table, in all its innocence, strength, grace, and luster is actual Starman power-up from the Mario series.

Unbelievable, right?

I'm not lying. The star with the power to grant invincibility for a short while, the iconic star that Mario, his brother, and other characters use when times are desperate, is now sitting on my table with its innocent eyes gazing at me.

"No. Way." I was flabbergasted. "No, no this can't be real."

I picked up the star again, its warmth returning to my hand. I checked it for authenticity, but I had no idea how to tell. Looking with a critical eye, I notice how different it looks. It appears to be from the more modern Mario Kart series, more animated and sparkly. It had a golden aura around it, emphasizing its power. Its glow alone gave off a power that I found overwhelming. What was it doing in that box?

Speaking of which, I looked at it again and found a note at the bottom. The handwriting is very neat, lines written in cursive.

"Marquis, if you are reading this, you have seen the item left for you." I immediately stopped reading. The person who sent it knew my name. They know where I live, my name, and God knows what else. My skepticism grew, and the nerve to burn the letter and start buying firearms became more desirable. I wondered what else they knew about me. Were they stalking me? Do they know of my family and intend to blackmail me? Which is it? I struggled to figure it out, but the light from the Starman stayed my hand. The light guided me to the note in my grasp, which I subconsciously started to crumble.

Breathing a sigh, I continued to read the note while preparing for the worst. "I know what you're thinking: this has to be a prank or something. I'll tell you that you're wrong. You most likely know a lot about the item left in the box. There's a reason why it's there, but unfortunately, I cannot tell you now."

That bitch or bastard! Of course, they'd leave out the more important fucking details! Why am I not surprised?

"Please forgive me for the secrecy, but it's imperative that little information is known. You see, we have been watching you and a few others."

They are stalking me! I fucking knew it! "We're not stalkers."

Bullshit!

"We call ourselves Seekers, and our mission is to look for potential individuals, such as yourself, to join our ranks. Now, normally, anybody can join, but in the recent years, we've experienced a lack of people with the skills and courage to provide an expert challenge. Thus, we have decided to personally scout for people who fit our criteria. You can already see where I'm going with this so I'll just cut to the chase. You have been selected to join by one of our scouts. If you are interested in this opportunity, the Starman will act as your guide to the scout who chose you. If you're not, all you have to do is place the Starman in the box and seal it up. The choice is yours, but please take your time. You have one week to decide. Until then, take care, and keep those racing skills sharp."

That was the end of the letter. There was no name, but I figured it was already obvious. However, now my curiosity rose to even greater heights. Am I correct with my hypothesis? Could this really be a real thing, or am I merely dreaming after playing many hours of Mario Kart 8 Deluxe online? A part of me still refuses to believe it, but the kid in me is beyond ecstatic. I had many hopes, but at the same time, I had a lot of complicated feelings. Ever since I was a kid, I've always wanted to visit the Mushroom Kingdom and meet its inhabitants. Meeting Mario, Luigi, the princess, and especially Bowser has been a fantasy of mine. Sadly, it was only meant to be that.

"However, this could be a once in a lifetime chance," says the kid me. It's a lot to process, and I had neither the strength nor brain power to function. I read the note a couple more times, and each time, my mouth dropped. What is going on with my life right now? If anyone asked, I would quickly say it's just a funny prank or a weird dream. I mean, I am receiving an invitation to join not just any race. I'm being invited to join the racers of the Mario Kart series!

This is crazy! How in the world is this possible? Video game worlds are entirely fictional, but the star sitting on the table is definitely real; at least, it feels and seems real. However, I cannot figure out how. I don't care how powerful the items are in the series, there's scientifically no way the Starman's power can grant access to the real world. I refuse to believe it, even with evidence sitting right in front me.

'Can it really open gates to other worlds?' I pondered.

Stars in the Mario universe have proven to be incredibly powerful, like the Power and Grand Stars in the Mario Galaxy games, but I didn't think it had properties such as this. The Grand Stars had the power to allow intergalactic travel, but they possess greater power than the Starman in my hand. Many things needed to be factored in and there were a lot of possibilities to wrap my head around. It was taxing. I needed to sit down and gather my thoughts.

My average day turned into a crazy mystery with many answers given, but now there were more questions I wanted to ask.

The Starman's gaze captured my attention, and I returned it with a curious one. In the series, the Starman doesn't show any sign of animation, unless one counts the jumping animation it does when released from a box, but I wonder if there's something more to it than just being adorable looking and immensely powerful. Do items have emotions? Are Fire Flowers rowdy and energetic like their eternal flames? Are the Ice Flowers sadistic and cold as their freezing might? I entered another thinking session as I laid on my couch, awareness of the world leaving me.

I was led back to the mysterious racer I lost against. His green outfit struck me the most now. If my hypothesis is correct about a Mario character scouting me, that means I've knocked the possible candidates to two. Out of the entire cast of Mario, only two main characters are known for their greenness. Luigi and Yoshi, two beloved characters of the franchise, filled my mind. They were green, skillful in their sports, and were quite friendly. However, Yoshi can't speak in the games unless there are subtitles, and the racer could speak fluently. Also, Yoshi's head would be too big for the helmet and his tail would be protruding from his backside. I saw no logical explanation for it to be Yoshi.

That left one candidate. The Green Thunder and my personal favorite Mario brother, Luigi. He could be the mysterious green clad racer. I'm going crazy and is most likely blowing this out of proportion, but I don't care dammit! This could be huge! I must find out the truth!

I wish I could visit Phoenix Wright's world too.

But Luigi does sound like a logical answer. He's about five foot, nine inches, which is the same height I hypothesized about the green racer. Luigi is strong, stronger than his brother for that fact, and yes, I do believe he is. His voice was different though, and he didn't use any of his more iconic phrases. Maybe that was to avoid easy detection? Anyone who says "Let's-a go" will instantly think the Mario Bros., and it's a clever tactic to use now that I think about it. I didn't hear that Italian accent too. Could he have used a voice changer after all? I think he did.

"Is it Luigi?" I asked aloud. There was no response of course. It was silent except for the soft noise of my television. I want to believe this. I really do. How awesome would it be to race with the Mario cast and meet them personally? As a kid, I would instantly jump at the chance, but right now, at nineteen-years-old, it's just crazy. Man, it's amazing how much one's thinking change as they become an adult.

Ultimately, I thought I was insane and is most likely dreaming. I came home early and fell asleep on the couch, but was woken up by a knock on the door. After seeing no one, I was about to turn around, until a secret package caught my eye. That's what happened. There's no way I have a real Starman and characters from one of my favorite fictional worlds invited me to race with them. I've been playing too many video games.

"I just need some rest. My mind will be cleared in the morning." I stood and stretched. "What do I do about this though?" I rubbed my chin while eyeing the Starman. It's a fake, just made and feel to be what the actual item would be. It did give off a nice light. In fact, I decided to keep it as a nightlight. It will look even more beautiful in the dark. I could stare at it for hours, but a nice hot shower sounded better after a long day.

As the water rained down on me, I felt sadness clutch my heart for getting my hopes up. I was a fool for falling for such a prank. It's obvious the contents and letter are a ruse to lure me out into the open, where I'll be shamelessly humiliated for being a Grade-A dumbass. I wonder who else received the package and thought it was real.

Well, I certainly learned my lesson. Do not play too much video games and eat whatever I ate before going to bed. An invitation to join the Mario Kart gang – ridiculous. How gullible am I? And it would've actually been nice to befriend Luigi and Daisy, meet Bowser and the Kongs. Most of all, I would love, love, LOVE to meet Rosalina. The Galaxy Princess is by far my favorite princess with Daisy being a very close second. I don't really care much for Peach, but I will admit that it would be nice to meet her as well.

After a refreshing shower, I shut it down in the living room and locked up before shutting myself in my little man cave. I forgot to mention, my room also has some accolades and trophies of my BMX and academic achievements. My eyes landed on the star sitting on my nightstand. It continued to stare back, but its glow seemed stronger somehow. I chalked it up as the acceptance of the fake to be the reason. I'm no longer skeptical of it so I'm able to feel it better.

"It's really well made too." I caressed its surface. Slick and warm, the star truly did resemble the actual item. Whoever made it put a ton of arduous work into it. The shape is perfectly even, its eyes are the same size and shiny black sheen, and held a type of innocence only the sweetest individuals would carry. "I wonder how long it took them to make this. The craftsmanship is astounding."

Putting the star back on my nightstand, I then started to shut off the main lights. With the illumination from the Starman, I had plenty left. It's not that I'm afraid of the dark. There's just something cool about having a Starman nightlight. If only it was real though.

I yawned. "If only."