𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐢 - 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝
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𝗽𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗮𝗴

nine years before

"YOU ARE WEAK" he commented as he watched you regain your breath, your hands on your knees as you tried to keep yourself steady.

you didn't expect the echidna warrior to be nice, that had never been an option inside your mind.

even if he was young and reckless, he was still the chief son.

knuckles, a name chosen for what the future would have brought him, a name to make you remember what had caused the bruises on your sides.

you hated his guts, you hated his incredible strength, his endless stamina, you hated that he embodied the echidna warrior at its best.

he was your sparring partner, that was what they had told you the first day.

but after the firsts meetings you quickly came to the conclusion that you were simply his punching bag.

the echidnas liked to grow strong soldiers, and who was better than a ghost to train them?

apparently even if you were defined as weak they still thought of you as strong enough to keep yourself alive against his raging fists.

or maybe they kept the sparring hoping that one day you wouldn't come outside of the room.

you preferred to believe the first option.

knuckles wasn't nice, but he was still a kid, just like you.

and you expected him to be at least merciful in front of death, blood and gore — how foolish of you.

he loved the anger.

red was the color of his fur, red was the color of his emotions, and red was the color of the liquid dripping from your forehead.

red was his favorite color.

he watched you as you pushed yourself back up, your legs wobbly under the weight of your upper body, he tsked at the image in front of him.

at least you had finally stopped crying, he thought while his hand gripped your neck, your eyes widening as the air in your lungs started to lack.

you tried to grasp at his finger, you tried to make him let go of you but it didn't work, nothing could.

the young echidna didn't even know why he still bothered with you and your pathetic skills.

when his father had informed him that he had found a new way to train his son inside the walls of the ghost's prison knuckles had been ecstatic, his laugh echoing inside his tent as he prepared to fight a new deadly warrior.

finally, a worthily opponent!

instead he had been stuck with you, it felt like an insult to his family and his power.

but when he had tried to explain the situation to his father he had quickly dismissed him, instead telling him that you were exactly what he needed.

you where what he needed?!

so he was forced to fight you, over and over, until something — he was still confused about what exactly was this something — would have finally changed.

so, as he was saying, you were weak.

he didn't bother to understand why someone like you, who was different, useless, powerless — and other bad words that he could not speak — , was staying with the ghosts.

he didn't care about that.

he didn't even care about if you lived or died, why would he? you were just one of his toys.

except that he couldn't kill you.

not because he felt some sort of feelings for you, nor because you made him laugh when you tried to attack him.

it was because for some annoying reason, even when you were a step away from dying and letting your soul leave your body, you found some strange ways to get the upper hand.

just for one second, just enough to make sure you stayed alive.

just like you did now, your sharp teeth biting trough the white glove covering his hand, blood staining the cloth as he let go of your neck.

he held his hand, cursing under his breath about how you were cheating, as he stepped away.

you scrambled away, leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, your eyes widening as you watched him slowly approach.

you expected him to resume the fight, instead he crouched down to look right into your eyes.

he tilted his head slightly, taking in your appearance, the bruises all over your body vanished quickly.

you scowled back at him, growling and showing your now bloody fangs.

"you" he pointed with his finger to your face "are weak" he spat out, disgusted.

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a/n:
spoiled knuckles as it's finest!
uhhhhh?? did i say that the injuries vanished? whaaaaaattt? who? meeee? absolutely not!!!!
another short chapter...... but lets go back to the main storyyyyy
next chapter it's gonna be a little crazy, a little bloody, we will see!!
love youuuuu