Chapter Text
It's gentle.
The touch that is.
Strange.
Sonic doesn't know gentleness. He is sharper than razor wires, the edge of a kunai that cuts both master and enemy, the taste of iron in blood.
Faster, his grandfather says, and Sonic is not fast enough, not as fast as everyone wants him to be so there's a fresh cut on his torso but he gets up, because weakness is not allowed.
"You're going to be alright," the gentle touch seems to say, or maybe that's someone speaking - he sounds... He sounds kind. Sonic tries to speak, but he cannot feel anything, his thoughts syrupy slow in his head. Panic suffuses him - his body is his only weapon, his only asset, and it's betraying him-
"Hey, you're gonna be alright."
The touch lingers on his brow, stroking his hair back and it's-
It's gentle.