Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Sticks.”

Sticks knows it’s rude to not look at someone when they address you, so Sticks would turn to Amy — but that would mean taking her eyes off the innocent-looking device that has been blinking repetitively in a pattern that obviously resembles the morse code used by ancient echidna spies.

“Sticks, stop growling at Tails’ doohickey.”

Sticks huffs, but doesn’t dare stop staring at the spy device. “I ain’t growlin’. And it ain’t just a doohickey — it’s recordin’ us and sendin’ all dat info back to its echidna masters.”

Amy clicks her tongue. “Sticks, there are no spy devices in Tails’ workshop!” she chides her. “So there can’t be any echidna masters to send it to.”

“Oh, you mean the echidna masters who live on the floating island in the sky?” Knuckles adds. “Don’t worry, I know them, they’re cool.”

Sticks growls. “Whaddya talkin’ about? Everyone knows the echidna masters live in a ruin deep in the jungle. Dat flying island don’t exist. You tryin’ to make a fool outta me?”

Knuckles shrugs. “Can’t make you something you already are.”

“Shoulda known you were in cahoots!” Sticks growls again. “Now I’ll —“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sonic cuts in. “Never thought I’d say this, but let’s all slow down. Remember last time we ticked off Tails by making a royal mess in his workshop?”

The four of them collectively wince.

“…Yeah, I thought so,” Sonic nods. “None of us had fun running around and playing treasure hunt with his napalm stockpile, so let’s not do that again, capisce?”

“Fine, but dat don’t mean I ain’t gonna come back later to get to the bottom of this,” Sticks says with a huff. She shoots the faux-innocent spy device a suspicious leer. “Ya hear dat, echidna masters?”

The spy device chirps back.

Sticks’ fur stands on end. “You —!”

The front door to the workshop swings open. “Oh! Guys, you’re already here!”

“Tails, buddy!” Sonic dashes over and slings an arm over Tails’ shoulder before playfully ruffling the fur on his head. Tails attempts to look put-out, but the smile twitching at his lips and wagging tails belie his enjoyment of the display of affection. “Course we’re here — you called, so we came. But isn’t it a bit rude to show up late to the party you started?”

“Sorry, I got caught up fixing a water main break, which made me realize that the central water pump in the village had a leak, so I thought I might as well retrofit the pipelines for the entire island, but then I figured out that the existing network was operating at a 27 percent efficiency loss, and I knew I could cut that down by two-thirds, so I rebuilt the entire system from scratch — you know how it goes,” Tails says.

Sonic shrugs. “Well, who among us hasn’t deconstructed and rebuilt an entire town’s water system in an hour?”

“So, Tails, what’s so important that you wanted us all here to see it?” Amy pipes up.

“Yeah, dis better be good! We’re all here riskin’ our necks with these machines that could turn on us at any time!”

Tails rolls his eyes and wriggles his way from underneath Sonic’s arm, before trotting over to his workbench and rummaging. “Sticks, how many times have you been in my workshop without any machines gaining sentience and attacking you?”

“One-hundred thirty-seven.”

“Therefore, the accumulated evidence would indicate that the one-hundred thirty-eighth time will be no different.”

“Dat’s a classic causation/correlation fallacy. Dey’re just waitin’!”

“Well, they’ll have to keep waiting until after I show you… this!” Tails declares, turning back around to show off a pair of black gloves cradled in his open palms.

Sticks looks them up and down. “You made… gloves?”

Knuckles gasps. “Shoes for your hands!”

Sonic zips over and looks the gloves up and down. “Pretty sleek gloves, kiddo.”

“Handshoes,” Knuckles insists.

“Aw, Tails, you should’ve told me you were interested in fashion!” Amy says. “I’ve been wanting a shopping buddy since forever! Do you know how many bags you could’ve been carrying for me?”

“Er, well…” Tails stammers. “I-it’s not about fashion, really. I mean, they’re meant to be worn, so I did want them to look good… But there’s more to them than that!”

“Can they enhance your grip on blunt force weapons?” Amy asks.

“Uh, sure, but —“

“Can they help you walk on your hands?” Knuckles asks.

“Er, if you have the upper body strength, I guess?”

“Can they protect your skin from bein’ burned up by the evil space radiation that’s bein’ sent to mutate our bodies and destroy us slowly from the inside?” Sticks asks.

“…I feel like there should be more things wrong with that sentence than there actually are.”

“Wow, what can’t these gloves do?” Sonic asks.

Tails looks each of them over skeptically. “…Improve any of your intelligences.”

Sonic gives him a friendly slap on the back. “That’s what we got you and your big brain for, isn’t that right, bud?”

“…Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Tails says with soft eyes and a light laugh. “You’re my friends and you’re all great just the way you are. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

“Awww, Tails!” Amy gushes.

For a brief moment, Tails looks embarrassed, but quickly shakes himself and clears his throat officiously. “Er, anyway! None of that is what I wanted to show you about these gloves,” he carries on, swiftly tugging off his regular gloves and shimmying on the new black pair. “What I wanted to show you is… this!”

Tails snaps his fingers — and a bright ball of fire bursts at his fingertips.

The four of them go speechless and gaze at the flame. Sticks watches with a dropped jaw as it flickers and dances above Tails’ palm.

Sonic recovers first. “Whoa, dude! That’s way past cool. You telling me those gloves can create fire with a fingersnap?”

“That’s right!” Tails grins, basking equally in the flame’s warmth and Sonic’s praise. “I was taking apart a lighter and I thought, wouldn’t it be great if you could make a fire anytime you wanted?”

“So why a pair of gloves?” Amy wonders.

“Well, I already wear gloves everywhere, so that checks the box for convenience. And all I had to do was find a heatproof fabric, which wasn’t too challenging. From there it’s really simple. You only need three things to make fire. An oxidizing agent, which we have all around us in the air. Then there’s heat, which you can generate easily through friction.” Tails snaps the fingers of his other hand to demonstrate, and a similar ball of fire pops into existence in his left hand.

Sonic, Amy, and Knuckles all ooh appropriately at the twin fireballs. Sticks watches them bob up and down in the air. The flames twist and curl just like the campfire outside her burrow, they glow orange just like the candlelight, they flicker at the slightest shift of the air just like a torch at night. And yet, something about the flames feels different, feels off, like taking a shower instead of a mudbath.

“What’s the third thing?” Sticks abruptly asks.

Tails jumps, flames vanishing with the sudden movement. Sonic, Amy, and Knuckles all awww appropriately.

“You said fire needs three things. What’s the third thing?” Sticks prods him.

“Ah — that’s fuel. All fires need an oxidizing agent, heat, and then fuel.”

Sticks stares at Tails and his gloves; there’s no shred of wood or oil for fuel. “So what’s the fuel?”

“Oh, that’s…” Tails starts, eyes casting away from Sticks and landing on the burner on his workbench. “…Uhhhobvious, is what it is! Gas! There’s a pouch that has flammable gas inside, which, when expelled, ignites from the oxidizing agent and the heat generated from friction! Thus completing the fire triangle.”

Sticks squints at the gloves. “I don’t see no pouch.”

“That’s because the gloves are coated in vantablack! It’s one of the darkest colors in existence. So you couldn’t see it even if you were looking really, really, really, really hard!” Tails emphasizes.

Sticks squints harder at the gloves in challenge. Tails shrinks from the attention.

Sonic interrupts Sticks’ staredown by walking over to Tails and patting him on the head. “Wow, you really think of everything, don’t you, Tails?”

Tails blushes. “Well, this is still in beta, really…”

“Nonsense, Tails,” Amy chirps. “You don’t need to be as cocky, egotistical, and self-centered as Sonic —“

“Hey!”

“— but you also don’t need to be so modest about your achievements, either,” Amy smiles. “The gloves look like they work great!”

“Thanks, Amy,” Tails tells her, before carefully slipping off the gloves and holding them in his bare hands. “I know not everything I build ends up turning out perfect, and there’s still a lot of testing I need to do — but this was the proof of concept, and it worked, so ‘cuz you’re my friends, I wanted you all to see.” Tails self-consciously scratches his cheek. “…Thanks for indulging me.”

“It’s not indulging if we want to be here, is it?” Knuckles answers. He gives Tails a friendly nudge with his elbow; Tails tumbles over with an oof, the gloves falling from his hands and his tails waving frantically in a failed attempt to balance himself before he succumbs to gravity.

And just like that, the final puzzle piece clicks into place. Understanding dawns. For the first time since Sticks has seen Tails’ fire demonstration — for the first time since she has seen Tails — she really, truly sees.

“They’re here!” Sticks shrieks, and flings her boomerang at the light switch.

“Wuh —“ is all Sonic can get out before the room plunges into complete darkness.

Knuckles groans. “Oh man, is it daylight saving time already?”

“No, Knux, the light’s just gone out,” Sonic grumbles. “I can’t see my own foot — hey, Tails, think you can use those fancy new gloves of yours to give us some light?”

“Er — you got it, Sonic!” Tails stammers, but dutifully snaps his fingers, and a flickering flame appears that bathes his face in a vermillion glow. There’s shuffling as he gets to his feet. “Gimme just a minute to find the breaker — there!”

The flame whisks itself away, and in just another few seconds, there’s a low thrumming, before the lights power themselves back on again. Knuckles and Sonic pull themselves to their feet, muttering about pointy hedgehogs and heavy echidnas.

“Sticks, what was that all about?” Amy demands, dusting off her dress.

“Thought the echidna masters were coming,” she answers curtly. “I wasn’t about to let them get the jump on us.”

Amy sighs. “Sticks…”

“Hey, hey, no harm, no foul,” Tails placates, his bare hands still on the breaker switch. “It was just the lights — everything’s on its own circuit, so there’s no damage or anything.”

“I guess so,” Amy relents. “And look at it this way — we just got a firsthand demonstration of how useful those gloves can be!”

Sticks narrows her eyes in thought. “Yeah. It’s the gloves, huh?”

Sonic cocks his head. “What was that, Sticks?”

Sticks shakes herself, eyes wide. “Nuthin’! Just dat the echidna masters might still be on their way so I bettah scram before they work their mumbo jumbo and put my spirit in a giant time cage for the rest of eternity. When they attack ya, just remembah I told ya so!” Sticks shouts before scrambling out of Tails’ workshop on all fours at a dead sprint.

“Hey! The giant time cage thing wasn’t us!” Knuckles’ offended voice calls after her.

But Sticks is running too fast to care to respond. When Tails gave his demonstration, now she knows why it felt wrong, unnatural like fur being rubbed the wrong way. Tails said it was the gloves that created the fire. But Sticks knows what she saw. And when the lights came back on after Tails snapped his fingers and fire burst forth from his fingertips, what Sticks saw was the gloves far away on the floor — and Tails’ own hands bare.

“Something stinks,” Sticks mutters to herself. And she is going to find proof.

Evidence

Weird Fire???

Sticks locks herself in her burrow for four days straight, answering her front door to nobody — not Amy, not the two door-to-door salesbots selling Eggman insurance, not even the island librarian demanding that Sticks return the books that were stolen from the island library (which Sticks finds needlessly accusatory, since she didn’t steal anything, merely borrowed them, even though she may have overlooked the formality of properly checking them out, and after all they are almost certainly part of an overarching conspiracy by the nefarious secret society Everyone Values Island Libraries (EVIL for short) to send jackboot thugs to people’s burrows and steal all books so that they can claim all knowledge for themselves and rule the world with an iron fist).

Needless to say, she also doesn’t answer her back door, since those are the Froglodytes.

And when Sticks finally emerges from her self-imposed sequestration, it is not only with enlightenment — but with a plan of action.

Careful not to be seen, she stalks to the village from one shadow to another, just like a badger hunting its prey who just so happens to experience a perfectly healthy amount of paranoia. And when she arrives at her destination, she settles in to wait.

“Ahhhh,” Sonic sighs, tossing his tray on the table. “Just another meh-velous day at Mehburger.”

Tails sips from his soda before taking the seat opposite. “You got the alliteration right and managed identical syllabication, but the rhyme is off. Six out of ten.”

“Come on, dude, that’s got to be at least an eight,” Sonic protests.

Knuckles clears his throat. “There once was a young hedgehog of blue; Who fancied himself an orator true; But his rhymes were bleh; As Mehburgers are meh; Thus gibberish he did ceaselessly spew.”

Tails takes a long, loud drag from his soda. “…And that’s why you’re at a six.”

Sonic glares at Knuckles before viciously biting into his burger.

“Aw, Sonic,” Amy says. “Did Knuckles dunk on you in limerick form again?”

Sonic’s protest is swallowed by his burger.

“Oh, I believe in you, Sonic,” Amy reassures him with a pat on the back. “Someday you’ll advance beyond half-baked one-liners and deliver comebacks that are witty, lyrical, and thematically appropriate.”

Knuckles blinks. “Wait, are we just dunking on Sonic in general, now? I want in.”

“Nobody’s dunking on me!” Sonic sputters. “Some friends you all are, I should go sit with Sticks.”

Tails cocks his head. “Is Sticks coming?”

Amy cups her cheek in her hand with a sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve tried knocking on her door but I haven’t gotten any answer. I hope she’s okay.”

“Well, you know Sticks,” Sonic says. “She vanishes for a week on some crazy survivalist mission, then the next thing you know, she’s dropping from a tree and tackling you to the ground like she was never gone.”

Tails chuckles. “Yeah, that sounds about ri — aaackk!” he chokes out as Sticks drops from a tree and tackles him to the ground.

“Eat dirt, demon spirit!” Sticks shrieks.

“Sticks! You’re okay!” Amy cheers.

“Urk! But I’m not!” Tails protests. “Gitoffame!”

“Bud, you should know by now this is just how Sticks shows affection.”

“Stop dissemblin’ and reveal yerself, foul creature!”

“Affection my — oof! I’m being attacked!”

Knuckles frowns. “I thought we were dunking on Sonic, not dunking on Tails.”

Sonic dusts his hands, then gets up with a sigh. “Okay, Sticks, that’s enough. If you keep it up, Tails is gonna get grumpy and then I’m gonna have to deal with him and his painfully exhaustive — and exhaustively painful — creativity with legos.”

“I won’t give ‘im the chance!” Sticks declares. She clutches a sheaf of paper in her hand tight. “Take this and begone!” she shouts, before slapping a paper right onto Tails’ forehead.

“Wha — ow!” Tails yelps, scrambling to his feet. “What was that for?”

“You must have a stronger spirit than I thought,” Sticks glowers. “But there’s more where dat came from!”

“Yipes!” Tails weaves around the papers being thrust in his face. “Quit it already with the paper!”

Amy places herself between the two of them and forces Sticks and Tails apart. “Alright, that’s enough! Sticks, I understand you are greeting Tails in accordance with the traditions of feral badger culture, but please understand that Tails has not grown up as a feral badger and as such may be unfamiliar with your customs. Tails, please allow Sticks the courtesy of expressing herself as her cultural traditions dictate — feral badger greetings may be more tactile than what you are used to.”

“More tactile?” Tails sputters, fur mussed with dirt and tails swishing in agitation. “Sticks knocked me in the skull!”

“All badgers are ceremonially knocked in the skull when they come of age; it builds stronger bone and protects us from the mind control rays,” Sticks informs them. “Now, lemme go so I can smite ‘im!”

“…Okay, I’m getting the feeling that this is a bit beyond traditional feral badger culture,” Sonic says, coming to join Amy in separating the two. “Sticks, can you hold off on the smiting long enough to tell us what this is all about?”

“What it’s all about? I’ll tell ya what it’s all about!” Sticks declares. She jabs an accusing finger at Tails. “It’s about this guy pretendin’ to be a fox when he ain’t!”

Tails freezes.

“Uh, Sticks, you’re barking up the wrong tree here,” Sonic tells her with a shake of his head. “I’ve known this guy practically since he was in diapers. Pretty sure he’s a fox.”

“I- I wasn’t in diapers!” Tails objects.

“And he ain’t a fox!” Sticks objects.

“And badgers don’t bark up trees,” Knuckles objects.

“Knux, that is so incredibly not the point,” Sonic says. “Fine, Sticks. If Tails isn’t a fox, what is he?”

“I’ll tell ya! He’s a kitsune!”

Tails’ eyes go wide. The air goes quiet with the revelation. Sticks feels a small flame of victory ignite in her chest at knowing her words hit true.

“Yo, uh, Ames,” Sonic finally says, with an impatient tap of his shoe. “…What’s a kitsune?”

Knuckles heaves a sigh of relief. “Oh good, I thought I was the only one.”

“I don’t really know, either,” Amy admits. “I think they’re some kind of mythological being?”

“Am I the only one dat knows anything around here?” Sticks stamps her foot. “Ain’t nuthin’ mythological about ‘em! They’re real demon fox spirits! Cruel, conniving, tricksy little creatures dat deceive and beguile and steal! Takin’ pleasure in chaos… Manipulatin’ da eldritch magicks… Goin’ on murder sprees!”

Sonic huffs impatiently. “This is ridiculous, literally none of this applies to Tails —“

“And dey’re all foxes dat got more’n one tail!”

“…Ah.” The table goes quiet. Four pairs of eyes land on Tails’ twin namesakes, which perform an impressive vanishing act as they manage to disappear behind a fox kit barely bigger than they are.

Sonic breaks the awkward silence with a cough and a cross of his arms. “Okay, Sticks, that’s enough. Kitsune are a myth. And even if they were real, just because Tails is a fox with more than one tail doesn’t make him a kitsune, anyway.”

Sticks glares at him. “The government spy chips only block your brain waves, not your ears! I just told ya all the other things dat make ‘im a kitsune!”

“…Like the murder sprees?”

“Exactly!” Sticks snarls. “So lemme go so I can smite ‘im!”

“I don’t want to be smited!” Tails protests.

“Oh yeah? Dat’s exactly what a kitsune would say!”

“That’s exactly what anybody except Knuckles would say,” Amy deadpans.

“Can’t go without my daily smiting,” Knuckles confirms.

“Then smite ‘im!” Sticks demands.

“Look, nobody’s getting smited!” Sonic intervenes with a wave of his hands. “We don’t smite anyone without proof they’ve done something wrong. Unless their name is Eggman.”

Sticks rounds on him. “Proof? Proof? You’ve seen the proof! Kitsune can control foxfire — what do you think dat fire show was earlier?”

Sonic taps his foot irritably. “Or — and I’m just spitballing here — it could have been the gloves that Tails showed us and told us created fire.”

“Fools! Kitsune don’t need gloves to make foxfire. He’s just putting you off the scent. Dat was misdirection so his foxfire powers stay secret and you don’t think he’s a kitsune!”

Sonic taps his foot more irritably. “Sticks, if somebody wanted to keep that a secret, why would you call four people to your home just to show it off?”

“I’m just asking questions here!”

Knuckles frowns. “I thought Sonic asked the question.”

“And dat ain’t all!” She barrels onward, grabbing one of the pieces of paper and waving it furiously in the air. “These here holy talismans only hurt evil spirits. Since it hurt Tails, dat means he’s a kitsune!”

Tails bristles. “Well, yeah, it hurt! You slapped me in the face with it!”

“Let me see that,” Amy demands, and yanks it from Sticks’ hands. She gives it a once-over. “…Sticks, this is just a sheet of notebook paper that you wrote the words ‘holy talisman’ on.”

“I know my holy talismans.”

Knuckles shrugs. “What if Tails is just afraid of paper?”

Sticks scoffs. “Get real, phobias are just in your head.”

“…That’s literally the definition of a phobia,” Tails points out.

“And you’re the definition of a kitsune!” Sticks retorts. She looks around the table. Amy looks away inconspicuously. Knuckles looks away very conspicuously. Sonic’s foot is now tapping so rapidly that Sticks can see the afterimages. “None of ya believe me,” she accuses them.

“That’s not true, Sticks,” Amy reassures her with a smile as fake as the moon landing. “We absolutely believe that you believe that Tails is a kitsune.”

“Amy, don’t be rude,” Knuckles tells her. “Sorry, Sticks. What Amy means is… we don’t believe you.”

Sticks growls. “Fine, you want proof? I’ll show ya proof!” Sticks declares, slamming a book down on the table.

Tails squints. “How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies),” he reads aloud. He raises an eyebrow. “Where did you even get this?”

“You think I’m dumb enough to tell a kitsune dat?” Sticks raises an eyebrow back.

“Well… you also believe kitsunes exist when they’re a myth and also that I apparently am one, so…” Tails shrugs, reaching forward as if to take the tome.

Sticks swipes it out from under his grubby kitsune paws. “Ah ah ah! The book is mine. Ya can’t have it ’til after I smite ya and return it to the library.”

“Oh, so it’s from the library then?” Tails asks.

“Hah! I gotcha! Proof! Dat’s classic kitsune trickery!” Sticks declares triumphantly. “Ya thought ya could bamboozle me. But I bamboozled you! So whaddya got to say to that, huh? How’s dat for proof?”

“I think it’s proof that Sticks has finally lost the plot,” Sonic grumbles.

“Aaaarrghh!” Sticks has had enough — enough of the lies, enough of the disbelief, and most importantly, enough of Mehburger. She jabs a finger at each of them in turn, before landing on Tails. “Fine! If ya won’t come clean, I’ll prove it! This ain’t over. Ya may have fooled the rest of ‘em, but ya can’t hide the truth from me. I’ll prove Tails is a kitsune and show all of you!”

Sonic, Amy, and Knuckles don’t even react to her objectively impressive declaration, which Sticks finds incredibly rude; Tails, for his part, obligingly shrinks back and blinks up at her owlishly, which Sticks appreciates until she remembers that this situation is his fault in the first place — and Sticks knows that his innocent wide-eyed expression is only masking the mocking laughter hidden deep within his black kitsune heart. Sticks sharpens her gaze, refusing to be cowed by his deception.

“The game,” Sticks announces, drawing herself up, “is afoot.”

Evidence — How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies)

Multiple Tails: ✓

Weird Fire??? Foxfire: ✓

Weak to Holy Talismans: ✓

Kitsune Trickery: ✓

Tails startles awake from his keyboard. He blinks blearily to himself as his computer screen resolves into focus. His meticulous lines of code have all been replaced by an unceremonious keyboard smash of the letter “F” repeated several hundred times.

Tails stares groggily at it for several seconds. “…Dang it.”

He stretches and absently rubs at his eyes. “Man, that was the weirdest dream. Maybe Sonic’s right about not mixing coffee and energy drinks right before bed. Or, at all.” He leans back in his desk chair and rolls his shoulders, trying to reboot his brain. He gazes up into the endless abyss of rafters.

The abyss gazes back.

Tails screams. “Sticks, what are you — have you been watching me sleep?”

Sticks clicks her tongue. “I ain’t watchin’ ya while ya sleep.”

“Then what…?”

“I was spyin’ on ya while ya sleep.”

“Oh good, that’s so much better. The tone of my voice is relief,” Tails huffs. He squints. “Why are you still up there?”

“‘Cuz I’m spyin’ on ya.”

Tails swivels away from his computer before hopping off his chair. “Well, just, spy on me from the floor like a normal person. I can’t believe I actually just said that.”

Sticks is nothing if not courteous, so she abides by his request and swings herself down from the rafters. Besides, Tails is right — this is the perfect opportunity for on-the-ground reconnaissance. “If you insist. Your support beams ain’t very comfortable,” she informs him.

“Excuse me for not considering ergonomics when designing the structural integrity of my ceiling. How long have you been up there anyway?”

“The entire three hours and fifty-two minutes ya were asleep.”

“…That’s probably the creepiest thing I’ve heard all day.”

“And I learned two things!” Sticks tells him dramatically. “One: You blep while you sleep.”

“I- I do not!”

“I’d show you photos as proof if I didn’t believe cameras are part of a conspiracy to steal our souls,” Sticks reassures him. “And two: You’re one-hundred percent a kitsune.”

Tails cups his head in his hands. “…Is it too late to go back to bed.”

Sticks scoffs. “We both know ya ain’t even slept in your bed for four days straight.”

“…I retract my previous statement; that is so much creepier.”

“Kitsune ain’t got to sleep as much ‘cuz dey’re spirits. Ya slept 17 hours over da past four days —”

“Creepiness as a function of time rapidly approaching infinity.”

“— which means this is indisputable, inarguable, absolute proof dat you’re a kitsune!”

Tails stares at her for a solid 15 seconds before pinching himself on the arm. “Dang, I was really hoping that this was a hallucination induced by caffeine and sleep deprivation.”

“No such luck, pal. You’re definitely a kitsune.”

“Yeah, that was exactly the part of this I was referring to,” Tails mutters with a hefty sigh. He turns and heads to the back of his workshop.

Sticks follows him. “So ya still deny it?”

“There’s nothing to deny, Sticks,” Tails immediately denies. Sticks thinks this is incredibly hypocritical of him. “Your evidence is exaggerated and your claims are unsubstantiated. You can’t just ignore the overwhelming majority of data points and cherry-pick a few because they fit your narrative.”

“Dat’s just Big Cherry tellin’ folks what they can and can’t pick.”

Tails flicks a switch on a nearby lamp and shuffles through a set of blueprints. “It’s an expression, Sticks,” he informs her, flatly. “Now, I have to make some improvements to the Miles Electric. Is there something you need?”

“Well, since ya asked,” Sticks considers aloud, “I need to interrogate ya.”

“You need to wha —“

Sticks grabs the back of Tails’ swivel chair, whirls it around, and lets Tails complete a solid three and a half rotations before sticking her foot on the seat and bringing the ride to a full and complete stop. Tails yelps at the sudden halt, then yelps again when Sticks shoves the lamplight in his face.

“Since ya won’t come clean, looks like I gotta get the truth outta ya. So tell me, buster: Do ya like fried tofu?”

Tails shields himself from the light with a hand. “Sticks, what —”

“Answer the question!”

“Uh, sure, I guess?”

“Interesting.” Sticks flips open How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies) and checks the box next to Likes Fried Tofu.

Tails frowns. “Won’t the library get mad if you write in their book?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here!” Sticks reminds him. “Next question: Do ya possess an irrational fear of dogs?”

“I’m sorry, are you accusing me of speciesism?”

“Hmm. Defensive. Noted.”

“Hey!”

“Very defensive,” Sticks decides, underlining Doesn’t Like Dogs before checking that box, too. “I got another question for ya. Yes or no: Can foxes fly?”

“…Is this a trick question?”

Sticks smiles sweetly. “Ain’t no tricks here, pal.”

Tails drums his fingers on the table in annoyance. “If I tell you yes, that would be faulty inductive reasoning, because I’m the only fox I know that can. But if I tell you no, that means I think foxes can’t fly, which would imply that because I can fly, I’m not a fox and therefore must be a kitsune.”

Sticks glares at him for several seconds. “…I’m putting dat down as another example of kitsune trickery.”

“Or,” Tails offers hopefully, “you could put it down as an example of rudimentary logic? And basic reasoning?”

“Alright, wise guy, I bet you think you’re so smart!”

Tails sheepishly rubs the back of his head. “Well, I don’t like to brag…”

“Fine, we can do this the hard way,” Sticks announces. She angles the light closer into Tails’ face. “Where were ya last Friday afternoon?”

“I was at Mehburger,” Tails answers, angling the light away. “You know, being attacked by a feral badger.”

Sticks angles the light right back at him. “You got anyone dat can corroborate dat claim?”

“Uh yeah, the aforementioned feral badger.”

“Hmph, feral badger testimony is notoriously unreliable.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So ya weren’t, say, in your workshop?” Sticks throws out casually. The light teeters back and forth between them like a bobblehead.

Tails rolls his eyes. “I can’t be in two places at once, Sticks,” he huffs — and Sticks springs the trap.

“Dat’s funny. Considerin’ I got two eyewitnesses sayin’ ya were right here!”

Tails’ eyes go wide, caught-out.

“Come on in, boys!” Sticks declares triumphantly — and right on cue, two robots, one red and one yellow, come floating in through the open door.

“Orbot? Cubot?” Tails sputters. “What are you doing here? How did you even get in — what happened to my Robotic Alert Detection Alert for Robots?”

Sticks holds up a tangle of split wires and crumpled metal. “Oh, this? I turned it off for ya,” Sticks reassures him. “It was hijacked to send robotocizin’ signals and turn us all into brainless, soulless husks of metal like these buckos,” Sticks says, jabbing a thumb at the robots behind her. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Orbot replies pleasantly. “After all, I am merely an unfeeling and emotionless shell of wires and metal that does not have a soul.”

“And I don’t know what that means ‘cuz I don’t have a brain!” Cubot adds.

“They may not have a soul or a brain, but what they do got is proof!” Sticks carries on. “Witnesses — ya wanna tell our kitsune friend what ya saw?”

“Very well,” Orbot announces. “It was just another day hard at work for the two of us, going door-to-door and sharing the importance of protecting you and your family by investing in Eggman insurance.”

“Eggman insurance?” Tails parrots.

“Oh yes,” Orbot nods. “Have you or a loved one ever been injured in a Dr. Eggman incident? Eggman insurance can help you pay the bills while you get back on your feet. Don’t wait until disaster strikes and/or targets you specifically. Call today!”

“When you’re in pain ‘cuz it’s Eggman you fought — don’t wait, call Orb-and-Cubot!” Cubot sing-songs.

“We were finishing our route when we arrived at our last house of the day, the residence located at 22 Sidekick Way. My databanks still recall with perfect clarity our encounter,” Orbot says. He places a mechanical finger at his optical port; immediately, a flash of blue light is projected onto the wall. Sticks feels her anticipation bubble as they watch a recording of Cubot floating up to the front of Tails’ workshop. Cubot raps at the door in a shave-and-a-haircut jingle; the door swings open wide to reveal…

Proof. Undeniable proof. An image of Tails as clear as day. Sticks grins. Victory is hers, and it is sweet.

“Alright, bucko, now that ya know that I ain’t fooling, let’s try this again.” Sticks allows herself a swagger as she turns to Tails, who has gone completely still beside her. “I got two witnesses who got video evidence that you were right here. And at the exact same time, you were also at Mehburger bein’ attacked by a feral badger. Now, there ain’t no way a normal fox could be in two places at once. So how d’ya explain that, huh?”

Sticks pauses for an obliging moment to allow Tails to explain — not that he can.

“That’s ‘cuz a normal fox couldn’t… but a kitsune could,” Sticks draws the words out like a fishing line, and now she’s ready to reel in her white whale. “And all it would take is one little illusion.”

Tails shrinks from her words. His shoulders shake.

“What’s that? Couldn’t hear ya,” Sticks badgers him, because the only thing better than finally proving that she was right all along is the ability to say “I told ya so” afterward. Sticks puffs her chest, eagerly awaiting the reluctant admission that “You were right all along, Sticks,” and “Yes, I’m a kitsune, please smite me, Sticks,” and “I am in awe of your mental prowess, Sticks, please teach me your ways and I will become your one true disciple in the way of Feral Badgerdom.”

At last, Tails speaks. He does not say any of those things. He does, however, laugh in her face.

“Oh my — hahaha, no way, I can’t — haha, oh my god, this is crazy, I can’t breathe —“

Sticks frowns. “Hey! What’s the big idea, buster? Now’s the part where I get to tell ya I told ya so!”

“Sticks, you can’t be — haha, I can’t believe — you’re actually serious!” Tails doubles over in laughter again. “Okay, okay, I’m good — wait, no, hold on.” He snorts another laugh before shaking himself. “Okay, for real this time. This is your so-called proof?”

Sticks growls. “So-called?” she repeats. “It’s proof, ain’t nothing so-called about it! Ya used your kitsune illusion magic to look like you were in two places at once. It’s obvious! There ain’t no other explanation!”

Tails brings his hands together in the world’s slowest clap. “Yes, Sticks, color me impressed. You finally figured it out. Me being in two places at once could easily be attributed to an optical equipment failure on the part of our stellar eyewitnesses here. It could be a realistic nonliving imitation of myself to simulate the effects of physics on a Mobian body. You even know that I’ve successfully managed to clone myself in the past. But none of those could possibly be the answer. Instead, the truth is that I am secretly a member of a mythological race of beings with improbable powers that nobody has ever seen of, heard of, and the only reference to is a single book that contains fanciful wishcasting and make-believe. There is literally no other explanation. I must be a kitsune.”

“I’m glad we’re finally on the same page,” Sticks says. “Now, where’s my I told ya so?”

“Right here,” Tails answers her, palming a small buzzer-like device in his hand, and before Sticks’ eyes, a translucent apparition of a two-tailed fox flashes before her.

“Sticks, meet T.A.I.L.S.: the Terrestrial Artificial Illusory Lifeform Simulacrum.” The artificial Tails mimes an exaggeratedly formal bow. “In layman’s terms, a hologram. This is still a prototype, but it possesses a one-to-one mimicry of my physical form and movements. Future updates will provide for enhanced physical interaction with objects, contain an opacity filter, and include a mint detection system.”

Sticks gapes at the illusory Tails — nearly a perfect imitation of the real thing. The two of them cross their arms the same way and tilt their head at the same time and look at Sticks with the same mocking twinkle in their eyes.

“I have to admit, it’s actually incredibly validating to hear that three separate entities mistook this hologram for the real thing,” Tails continues sheepishly. “I thought it needed more work, but this proves I’m on the right track!”

Sticks grasps at straws. “But — you’re just faking it, like with that foxfire of yours!”

Tails and his illusory copy roll their eyes in perfect unison. “Believe what you want. Fortunately, you don’t have to take my word for it — we happen to have two third-parties present who just so happen to know a thing or two about electronics.” Tails takes the round buzzer and hands it off to Orbot while Cubot peers curiously over his shoulder joint.

Orbot takes it in his appendages; his eyes flash blue. “Well, I wouldn’t say I know everything about electronics…”

“And I wouldn’t say I know anything about electronics!”

“…But a preliminary analysis would conclude that it is, in fact, the genuine article. The craftsmanship appears incredibly well-done,” Orbot says, before returning the device to Tails.

“Hehehe, thanks,” Tails says, blushing. His tails wag happily behind him; so do his duplicate’s. After another moment, he presses the button on the device, and the hologram blips out of existence, like the government escaping accountability. “So there you have it: a simple case of mistaken identity brought on by a well-constructed hologram,” Tails declares. He cocks his head and considers Sticks with a small, cheeky smile. “I told ya so.”

Nobody tells Sticks I told ya so. “Rrrrghhhh… Kitsune trickery!”

“Sticks,” Tails chides her, “you can’t just call everything you don’t like kitsune trickery.” The words come with air quotes.

Nobody uses air quotes on Sticks.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Sticks insists out of reflex. “Don’t think this is over!”

“If only I could be that lucky,” Tails gripes. “Look, Sticks, I don’t have a problem with your crippling paranoia or your apparent vendetta against empiricism, but I do respectfully request that you afford me a modicum of personal privacy while you sort through… whatever this is,” Tails says, gesturing broadly at Sticks.

That’s the last straw. Nobody gestures broadly at Sticks.

With a battle cry, Sticks flings her boomerang. Tails yelps and leaps into the air, his twin tails whirling to keep him aloft. Sticks snatches her boomerang out of the air on its return and jabs it menacingly at Tails, who momentarily startles in midair, before his gaze flattens.

“You may think you’ve won this battle, kitsune. But you’re losing the war. The evidence is pilin’ up, buster, and when the time comes, I’ll bury you under its weight!”

“There are so many mixed metaphors in there I’m honestly not sure where to start,” Tails argues. “Also, if you start a fight in my workshop, I swear I’ll install a water purifier in your mud pond.”

“Hmph, fine, I got what I came for, anyway.” Sticks gives his levitating body one last once-over before turning away.

“Er, okay? Bye Sticks, great talk, let’s not do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sticks waves him off, turning away and to the door. And because she’s turned away from him, he can’t see the smile that slips up her face as she opens up her copy of How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies), glances at the increasingly long list of checkmarks, and smugly adds Power of Flight to the list.

Evidence — How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies)

Multiple Tails: ✓

Weird Fire??? Foxfire: ✓

Weak to Holy Talismans: ✓

Kitsune Trickery: ✓✓✓✓

Likes Fried Tofu: ✓

Doesn’t Like Dogs: ✓

Doesn’t Need Sleep: ✓

Power of Flight: ✓

Can Create Illusions: Likely but Plausible Deniability; See Also Kitsune Trickery

“So then I said, ‘It’s been fun, but you gotta know when it’s time to ome-let it go, Eggman!’ And then I spin-dashed his bot into next week,” Sonic gloats, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the table.

Amy grimaces. “Sonic, get your shoes off the table, we eat there. Also, that pun was awful, barely a three out of ten.”

“It’s Mehburger, Ames. Not like having shoes on the table can make it any worse. Also, that pun was solid and you know it.”

Knuckles clears his throat. “In search of an egg pun he rambled; And on the word omelet he gambled; A poor try to be sure; A weak cri de coeur!; Alas, ’twas his brains that were scrambled.”

“See, Sonic? That’s how you do wordplay.”

“Hardy har har. Nobody likes a showoff, Knux,” Sonic grouses. Amy and Knuckles both raise an incredulous eyebrow at him. “Oh, shut it. Jeez, can’t a hedgehog get some respect around here? At least I know my best bud’s got my back. Ain’t that right, Tails?”

Tails doesn’t answer, instead wholly focused on staring down the tree across from them.

“Yo, Tails?” Sonic prompts him. “You good, bud? If you stare at that tree any harder, you’re gonna set it on fire.”

Tails’ eye twitches. “Oh sure! Right away, I’ll just use my secret kitsune fire powers.”

“What are you — oh, is this that kitsune thing that Sticks was going on about?”

“And then,” Tails continues, muttering growing increasingly violent, “I’ll use my secret kitsune flying powers to make my great escape.”

“Uh… Tails?”

“But wait! I was never really here, this was my secret kitsune illusion powers all along. This is all a display of secret kitsune mischief and secret kitsune deception because Sticks is the only one smart enough to follow all the secret kitsune breadcrumbs I’ve been secretly leaving because I am actually a secret kitsune!” Tails pounds the table with his fists. The table jumps.

“I knew it!” Sticks shouts as she leaps down at Tails from the tree. Sonic, Knuckles, and Amy all startle, but Tails sidesteps with ease and lets Sticks tumble to the ground. Fortunately, Sticks has read her How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies) and knows how to prepare herself for any and all situations involving kitsune-kind, and with equal ease she catches herself and rolls upright.

“There ya have it!” Sticks declares triumphantly. “A confession, straight from the kitsune’s mouth. And with the way he dodged my tackle, a really good example of kitsune future sight, too.”

“Yes, that was absolutely kitsune future sight, and not, like, experiential learning from the last time you tackled me from a tree.”

“Same thing,” Sticks shrugs. “Now lemme smite ya.”

“Yeah, if it’s all the same to you, I’d really prefer to go back to eating Mehburger.”

“Now I know dat’s kitsune trickery at work, nobody’d prefer to go back to eating Mehburger.”

“Sticks,” Amy interrupts diplomatically. “Perhaps we can hold off on the smiting until after lunch?”

“Or ever?” Tails suggests.

“And in the meantime, you’re welcome to join us at the table for a bite to eat, if you’d like!”

Sticks’ hackles raise. “Ya think I’m gullible enough to fall for the most obvious trap in the world?”

Knuckles nods knowingly. “Eating too much can make you sleepy.”

“Not helping, Knux,” Sonic sighs. “Sticks, it’s literally just Mehburger. It might give you some regrets and mild indigestion but it’s not going to kill you.”

Sticks huffs in a fit of pique. “Sure, it’s just Mehburger — but dat’s how it starts. First it’s lunch. Then it’s goin’ out for ice cream. You think you’re friends but he’s just lurin’ ya in — closer, closer, until you’re hangin’ off his every word, and before ya know it, bam!” Sticks pounds her fist into her hand. “He’s trapped you with his kitsune powers of seduction!”

Tails does an impressive spit-take all over Amy’s dress. Sonic also does an impressive spit-take all over Amy’s dress. Knuckles looks at Tails, then at Sonic, then at Amy — then drinks his soda and also spit-takes all over Amy’s dress.

“Eeek — Knuckles! What was that for?”

“What? I thought we were all doing it.”

Sonic clutches the table, struggling through an intense coughing fit. “That’s — you think… Tails is — what?”

Meanwhile, Tails’ face has gone redder than Knuckles’ fur. “Seh-seh… Seduction?” he stammers.

Sticks crosses her arms. “What’s with all the dramatics? Dis is basic kitsune stuff. Pretty much every kitsune legend talks about how kitsune grab your attention by making themselves look attractive.”

Tails’ face somehow gets even redder. “A-attractive?” he squeaks.

“Then they entice ya with promises of romance and passion.”

Tails makes an indiscernible noise so high-pitched that only a dog could hear it.

“And when ya’ve finally succumbed to temptation and they got you wrapped around their finger, they take ya home and close the door and —“

“Nope! Nope nope nope nope nope nope,” Sonic interrupts with a yelp. “No way, no how, we are absolutely not finishing that sentence.”

“Sonic’s right, Sticks,” Amy admonishes. “This is not the time or place!”

“Yeah, there are impressionable minds here,” Knuckles adds. “Like me.”

“Thank you, Knuckles,” Amy continues. “And in any event, Tails is still too young for this conversation.”

“I’m not too young!” Tails predictably protests. “I could definitely be, uh. Seh-seductive… I-if I really wanted to, I mean!”

“Yeah, he’s a kitsune, it’s in his blood,” Sticks agrees.

Sonic kicks his feet up on the table again, ignoring Amy’s disgruntled complaints. “Oh yeah?”

“Y-yeah! I totally could!” Tails bristles. His fur poofs as if put in a drying cycle, extremely seductively.

“Alright. Go ahead. Hit us with your best shot, bud.”

“Wuh — now?”

“Ain’t no time like the present, am I right? Tick-tock, time’s a-wastin’!”

Tails blinks several times. “O-oh! Uh, okay,” he stammers. He slaps himself on the cheeks and takes a deep breath, evidently trying to compose himself. Finally, he brings himself to his full height, barely taller than the table. His eyes set with the same determined fire reserved for winning Tomatopotamus tournaments; his hummingbird voice wavers before dropping to an infinitesimally deeper warble.

“Hey there, er. Mobian. Nice, ah, gloves… Yeah. Um. …Yeah.”

With every word, his voice lilts higher; with every syllable, his body shrinks lower. By the end of his impassioned speech, all that remains of Tails’ bravado is a soft voice and soft eyes and soft fur.

He is simply too soft.

“Awwwwww,” Sonic, Amy, and Knuckles all coo.

“Nooooooo, stoooooop,” Tails protests weakly as they crowd him as if he’s a newborn fawn, alternating between hiding his face in his hands and trying to bat them away.

Sonic lets Tails push against him and chuckles affectionately. “Sorry, little buddy. But this is one thing you can’t learn in a lab. You’re just too extremely soft and fuzzy to seduce anyone.”

“And too extremely adorable!” Amy chimes in.

“And too extremely eight years old,” Knuckles says.

Sonic teasingly musses the fur on Tails’ head; Tails’ ears scrunch and his muzzle sets into a sulky pout. “Soooonnniiiic,” he whines, as piteous as a kitten in a rainstorm.

“Awwwwww,” they all coo again.

Sticks shakes herself. “Can’t seduce anyone?” she shrieks, gesturing wildly as the group fawns all over Tails. “Whaddya talkin’ about, he’s doin’ it right now!”

Sonic ignores her warning and walks straight toward the siren’s song. “Tell ya what, bud,” he says, giving Tails’ fur one final ruffle. “I know this whole kitsune talk’s been eating at ya… so why don’t we eat some ice cream instead?”

Tails sniffs, ears still folded and tails still tucked like a despondent puppy. “That pun was terrible.”

“Hmph. Here I am offering to treat my best bro to ice cream, and instead of being grateful, he has the absolute audacity to mock me instead. And even after I was gonna get his favorite flavor!”

Tails’ ears visibly perk. His tails give a slight, hopeful flutter. “…Mint chocolate chip?”

“Well, unless they came up with a chili dog flavor when I wasn’t looking, mint chocolate chip is sounding way past cool right now.”

Tails finally looks up at Sonic, starry-eyed. “You really mean it?”

“Who do you take me for, Egghead? I’m insulted. Now come on, you wanna see who can get brain freeze the fastest?”

“You’re on!” Tails grins — as if there is still a competition to be had. Sonic has already been defeated.

“Alright, you two, have fun with that,” Knuckles grunts, dismissing them with a wave of a paw. “I already used up my cheat day this month.”

“But Knuckles,” Tails interrupts, voice pleading. His shoulders slump sadly; his tails droop in disappointment. “We can’t have a brain freeze competition without the reigning champ.”

Knuckles folds like an origami crane. “Hmph, if you wanted me to beat you that badly, all you had to do was say so.”

“Boys,” Amy sighs, with an eyeroll. “Always trying to one-up each other in pointless competitions…”

“But Amy!” Tails begs. His eyes shimmer; his voice quavers. “We’ll need a judge!”

Amy caves quicker than Hill Top Zone. “…Which is why you’ll need me to make sure none of you hurt yourselves!”

“Heh, this is turning out to be a regular old ice cream party,” Sonic laughs. Tails gives a tentative tug at Sonic’s glove. “What is it, bud?”

Tails looks shyly away, poking his index fingers together, before peering back up at Sonic bashfully. “…Could I maybe get… two scoops?”

“Whoa now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves…”

Tails nails him with point-blank puppy-dog eyes to the face.

“…but I don’t see why not, just this once!”

Sonic’s puny resistance is crushed like an ant.

“Thanks, Sonic! You’re the best!” Tails’ smile is like the sun — bright, cheerful, and deadly — and in the very next breath he turns it on Sticks. “Um, Sticks? You’ll join us for ice cream, too. Won’t you?”

“Nnnngghhh!” Sticks gasps, her whole body tensing as she feels the ensorcelling tug of his gaze like a physical thing. Sweat beads on her forehead. Her breath catches in her throat. She grits her teeth as she struggles to resist being drawn toward the twin pools of blue, deeper and deeper and —

“Yargh! Get outta my head!” Sticks shrieks, finally managing to break eye contact with a scream. “You won’t seduce me — not now, not ever!” Sticks insists with a determined stamp of her foot and scarpers back into the undergrowth, and away from the pair of begging blue eyes watching her every move.

Evidence — How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies)

Multiple Tails: ✓

Weird Fire??? Foxfire: ✓

Weak to Holy Talismans: ✓

Kitsune Trickery: ✓✓✓✓✓✓✓

Likes Fried Tofu: ✓

Doesn’t Like Dogs: ✓

Doesn’t Need Sleep: ✓

Power of Flight: ✓

Can Create Illusions: Likely but Plausible Deniability; See Also Kitsune Trickery

Future Sight: ✓

Seduction: TOO POWERFUL — DO NOT ENGAGE

“Okay, Sticks, we need to talk.”

Sticks jerks upright from where she’s just finished setting up a perfectly reasonable number of warding talismans around her burrow to safeguard against any malign kitsune influence from sneaking its way into her home. And even if it did, that’s what the perfectly reasonable number of holy water traps are for.

Sonic, Knuckles, and Amy are all there. Each of them smiles at her — Knuckles’ smile is friendly, Amy’s smile is forced, and Sonic’s smile is enforced by Amy.

Sticks narrows her eyes, noticing that one of the group is missing. “Where’s the kitsune?”

“Tails,” Sonic corrects her pointedly, “isn’t here. And that’s what we’re here to talk about.”

Consider Sticks’ attention piqued. “Oh yeah? Finally ready to learn how to protect yerself from tricksy kitsune magicks? Well, ya came to the right place, ‘cuz ol’ Sticks here’s got only the finest anti-kitsune wardin’ talismans in stock!”

“Actually, Sticks,” Amy interrupts. She shuffles her feet nervously. “That’s not what we meant.”

“Roger dat. So ya want the holy water instead?”

“Er, Sticks —”

“All dat water gets heavy real fast, but all ya need is a spritz to —”

Amy cuts in again with a sigh. “Sticks. This whole kitsune thing — it’s gone way too far and it needs to stop, okay?”

“Course it does, what do ya think I’ve been doin all dis time? Can’t have kitsune spirits wanderin’ around makin’ chaos and bein’ all murder-y everywhere!”

Sonic impatiently makes to speak, but Amy holds him off with a raise of a hand. “No, Sticks,” Amy grimaces. “That’s not the problem.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Amy, don’t be rude,” Knuckles tells her. “Sorry, Sticks, what Amy means is… You’re the problem.”

“…What.”

Knuckles gives Sticks an apologetic shrug. “I know, I know, I don’t understand why Amy’s always so rude, either. Amy, you should really take some classes on social etiquette.”

“…Yes, social etiquette classes would probably be helpful. To all of us, but some of us more than others,” Amy manages through a brittle smile. She turns to Sticks. “Sticks, you know that all of us, including Tails, value you deeply as a friend. And I’ll admit that there have been times in the past where we haven’t given your theories the consideration they were entitled to. However, as friends, it’s important that we are able to disagree while still trusting each other, and more importantly, to trust each other’s boundaries.”

Sticks narrows her eyes. “…You think dat I’m crazy.”

“No!” Amy objects.

“Dat I’ve got a head full a bees!”

“No?” Knuckles asks.

“Dat I’m a psycho doomsday prepper just ‘cuz I got a perfectly reasonable number of anti-kitsune warding talismans!”

Sonic eyes the hundreds of warding talismans festooned all over Sticks’ burrow. “…Am I supposed to say no to that? ‘Cause I’m not really feelin’ it.”

Amy clears her throat. “Sticks, we’re not here to dismiss your… out-of-the-box thinking, or your unorthodox perspectives that at first glance may appear to be irrational.”

“And also on second glance,” Sonic mutters under his breath. Amy elbows him.

“Those unique ways of thinking are part of what makes you who you are, Sticks, and we’d never ask you to change that. Having said that, this single-minded focus on following Tails around to prove he’s a kitsune has left him incredibly upset. It’s a violation of personal space and he’s clearly asked you multiple times to stop. It’s made Tails stressed, frustrated, and self-isolating — he hardly ever leaves his workshop these days, and when he does, it’s only to shift all my furniture three inches to the left.”

“Yeah, he set up a bot to leave one-star reviews on my limericks at Repository of our Rhymes,” Knuckles agrees despondently. “My self-worth is entirely based on validation from strangers on the Internet, so it’s really been hurting my self-esteem.”

“I found legos stitched underneath my shoe lining,” Sonic gripes. “In the lining, Sticks!”

“Hmmm. Dat all sounds like classic kitsune trickery,” Sticks decides.

Sonic officially reaches his breaking point. “No!” he explodes. His foot-tapping halts; his quills stand on end. “It’s classic Tails who’s gotten really cranky because we tried to wean him off of caffeine and is letting off steam by hyper-fixating on ridiculously complex pranks! Except this time he’s worked up because he can’t take a single step outside his workshop without being jumped by a badger accusing him of being a kitsune!”

“I ain’t accusin’ him of being a kitsune!” Sticks protests. “I am correctly identifyin’ him of being a kitsune.”

“But what about the part where you’re jumping him?” Knuckles asks.

“Nah, dat’s correct.”

“Sticks, this is enough,” Sonic says. “Whatever the heck this kitsune junk you’re obsessed with is about, you apparently can’t keep it to yourself, and it’s hurting Tails. So it stops right now.”

“Junk?” Sticks repeats indignantly. “Is dat what you think of me? Why can’t you believe dat I’m right?”

“I don’t care if you’re right! I care about Tails!” Sonic shouts, and Sticks tries not to flinch. She’d always suspected that to be the case — that her so-called friends don’t really take her seriously — but it still stings to hear said aloud.

“I believe a lotta things, but I don’t believe this,” Sticks mutters venomously. “I thought y’all were different — but ya can’t even pretend to bring yourselves to believe me, not even when I’m tryin’ to protect the island!”

“Protect the island? From what, Tails?”

“He’s a kitsune — an evil demon fox spirit! He’s got to be smited!”

“What difference does it make whether he’s a kitsune or a fox? He’s still Tails!”

“He’s still a kitsune!”

“He’s still our friend!”

Sticks glares back and opens her mouth to respond — but doesn’t get a chance to speak before a too-familiar electronic whirring breaks the silence for her. From the sky, a rotund mech containing an equally rotund individual descends toward them.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Sonic and the assorted animalian annoyances,” Eggman announces himself with a flourish. “Not that you’ll have an opportunity to be annoying much longer after the pulverizing I have planned for you!”

“Oh, come on, man.” Sonic crosses his arms with a groan. “Look, Eggman, can we do this another time? We’re kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Oh, my deepest apologies. I didn’t realize you were otherwise engaged; why, of course we can find another time!” Eggman replies agreeably. “By which I mean of course not! This is the third time you’ve rescheduled in two weeks! Sonic, I’m beginning to think you don’t take our relationship seriously.”

Sonic shudders. “Urgh, what relationship? Besides, I’ve got more important things to worry about right now. I can’t waste my time with you just to satisfy your fragile ego.”

Eggman pounds his fists on his Eggmobile. “My ego’s not fragile! And nothing’s more important than satisfying it!” He huffs. “What could you and your bevy of blasted buffoons possibly be doing that’s more important than being smashed into paste by yours truly?”

“Proving that Tails is a kitsune!” Sticks shouts.

“Proving that Sticks is full of it,” Sonic snarks.

Eggman’s indignation at being ignored fades in favor of a more thoughtful expression. “A kitsune? Interesting…”

Sonic grimaces. “Wait, Eggman, are you seriously playing along with this?”

“I play along with nothing, Hedgehog. I merely collect data and use it to form a conclusion, as any scientist worth their salt would. And although I would declaim the existence of such a mythological being as an unscientific fantasy… Unscientific fantasies have a curious habit of revealing themselves to be grounded in historical realities. It is certainly an intriguing proposition.”

“See?” Sticks demands. “It ain’t crazy if the crazy scientist agrees with me!”

“You humble me with your praise,” Eggman says. “I suppose this is why your flea-bitten fox friend is absent from this little confab of yours?”

“Guys!” Tails comes hovering full-tilt from over the hill, his eyes fixed on the Miles Electric held tight in his grip. “I came as quick as I could, all of a sudden my Robotic Alert Detection Alert for Robots started going off like crazy, I think Eggman might be planning something!” He turns his eyes up from the handheld. “…Oh.”

“Ah, if it isn’t the fox of the hour himself! Or should I say kitsune?”

Tails grimaces. “Not you too, Eggman. Are you seriously playing along with this?”

“I play along with nothing, Fox! I merely collect data and — wait, we’ve already run this gag. In any event, I make every effort to curate my taunts so they are both as accurate and disparaging as possible. So please do assist me so that I may better demean you: Are you a mutated mammalian mongrel? Or something of a more… mythological make?”

“I am,” Tails says, expression faraway like a war veteran, “so already done with this conversation.”

“He’s absolutely a kitsune!” Sticks asserts. “He’s got the fire and the flight! The shapeshiftin’ and the future sight! The trickery and the tails!”

“What I’ve also got is a working brain,” Tails retorts. “Which means that I can tell you that all your purported evidence doesn’t even merit being called circumstantial. Your data is shoddy, your analysis is over-fitted, and your conclusion was predetermined. The only thing you’ve proven is that you know how to write words and draw checkmarks next to them.”

Eggman strokes his moustache thoughtfully. “I admit, I imagine it would be rather difficult to tell the difference between a fox and a kitsune, especially given that kitsune are said to be skilled at deception. But I suppose there is one surefire method.”

“There is?” Sticks says.

“There is?” Tails parrots.

“Of course. Have you tried to find the hoshi no tama?”

Sticks blinks. “A whatsa dama?”

Tails blinks. “A hosha whatza?”

“Am I the only one that knows anything around here?” Eggman grumbles. “Ahem. According to legend, the hoshi no tama is the source of a kitsune’s power. Because of that, kitsune are naturally said to keep it close at all times. It’s traditionally depicted as a small glowing ball of energy that the kitsune often holds in its mouth.”

All eyes land on a disgruntled-looking Tails. “Does it look like I have a magic glowing ball in my mouth?”

“However, kitsune are skilled illusionists and shapeshifters, as you know, so I suppose a particularly talented kitsune could veil it in a glamour or keep it hidden in plain sight as a more mundane object. In any event, an ordinary fox wouldn’t have such an item. So if you can prove the existence of the hoshi no tama, you prove the existence of the kitsune.”

Sticks turns to Tails and holds a hand out. “Awright, you heard the man. Cough it up, buster. Literally, if ya hafta.”

Tails throws a hand up in the air. “How am I supposed to show you something I don’t have?”

“Hmm, since ya can’t prove ya don’t have one, I guess that makes you a kitsune.”

“That’s not how this works! You’re the one making the accusation, you prove it!” Tails demands hotly, fingers curled so tightly around his Miles Electric that they’re practically fists, and the device jostles in his agitation.

The movement of the Miles Electric catches Sticks’ eye.

The source of a kitsune’s power. Kept close at all times. Hidden in plain sight.

“Gotcha!” Sticks lunges at him. Tails barely has a moment to open his mouth before Sticks takes hold of the Miles Electric in his hands and prizes it from his grip. She lands with a somersault and waves it triumphantly in the air. “I betcha thought ya could hide it! But nothin’ gets past Sticks!”

Tails gapes at her, fingers still curled around the shape of the device, as if doing so could bring it back. “What are you talking about? Give me back my Miles Electric!”

Sticks grins. “Oh? Don’t ya mean your hoshi no tama?”

“Ah, a wonderful deduction!” Eggman agrees with a grin of his own. “I can hardly believe I overlooked such an obvious explanation.”

Tails gapes more. “Obvious? Are you both blind? Does that look like a magic glowing ball to you?”

“Ya gotta point, but dat’s probably just your kitsune illusions at work,” Sticks concedes. She pokes it with her finger. “Illusion, illusion, go away; show me the truth of the kitsune.”

Nothing happens.

“Hmmm, your kitsune magic’s more advanced than I thought,” Sticks decides.

“I concur,” Eggman announces, fist cupped underneath his chin in contemplation. “But I might have a device that can dispel it. Give it here, Badger.”

Sticks thinks about it. “Okay.”

Tails’ eyes widen. “What? Sticks, no!”

His protest comes too late. Sticks has already chucked the Miles Electric at Eggman, who, in a feat of surprising athletic prowess, catches it easily in both hands.

“Give that back!” Tails demands, panicked, and makes to rush toward the Eggmobile. But Sticks blocks his way.

“Let the man work, he’s a doctor.”

“I have a doctorate, that makes me a doctor!” Tails protests. “More importantly, that’s mine!”

“Fascinating,” Eggman mutters to himself, as he looks the device over. “The construction and the wiring is unlike anything I’ve ever seen and yet completely mechanically sound. Of course, the programming is utterly incomprehensible, but I suppose that’s what happens when you give a toddler control over advanced circuitry.”

“I’m not a toddler, I’m eight!”

“My point stands.”

Sticks places her hands on her hips. “So what’s the verdict, Doc?”

Eggman growls. “That this device is completely useless to me! How am I even supposed to navigate this interface? The code is written entirely in spaces and tabs! What kind of sick, sadistic mind would even think to compose something so torturously chaotic and evil? And that’s coming from me!”

Sticks frowns. “I don’t care about the programmin’. I mean whether it’s the hoshi no tama!”

“Hm? Oh, I couldn’t say,” Eggman answers disinterestedly.

Sticks frowns deeper. “But ya just said ya had a device dat could dispel the kitsune illusion!”

“Oh, that,” Eggman says. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then flashes an evil grin. “I lied.”

He pushes a button; Tails yelps. The next thing Sticks knows, Tails has been captured in a sphere of golden light and levitated into the air by a floating robot shaped like a UFO. Tails revs his tails and attempts to fly outside the beam of light, but he merely bounces back with a pained cry, as if he’s just run headlong into a brick wall.

Eggman clicks his tongue. “I had been so hoping that this dubiously designed device would get me through the fox’s obnoxiously strong security protocols and let me dismantle his network from the inside-out. But I suppose the fox himself would make an excellent consolation prize.”

“But — whaddabout provin’ he’s a kitsune?” Sticks protests.

“What about it?” Eggman scoffs. “Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. It would surely sate my intellectual curiosity to know for certain, but in the end it remains a purely theoretical exercise. He’s been an annoyingly persistent thorn in my side from Day Two. So what difference does it make whether he’s a kitsune or a fox? He’s about to be neither!”

Sticks is stunned into silence. Sonic’s earlier declaration replays alongside Eggman’s words on loop.

“What difference does it make whether he’s a kitsune or a fox? He’s still our friend!”

As if summoned, Sonic himself leaps forward, every part of him coiled tight like a spring. “Eggman! You let Tails go right now, or I’ll break you into a million pieces like a knockoff Fabergé!”

“Oh-ho! Did you finally pick up a dictionary, Hedgehog? That was much improved on your sorely lacking omelet-based insult from earlier.” He leans over the edge of his Eggmobile with a leer. “But I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be making threats. After all, you have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Right on cue, the village erupts in an ear-shattering explosion and equally ear-shattering screams.

“Dr. Eggman’s attacking! How could this happen? I pay my taxes!”

“Oh no! I knew I should’ve bought Eggman insurance!”

“My baby!”

Amy gasps. “The village! Sonic, you have to help them — you’re the only one who can get there in time.”

“I know that!” Sonic yells in frustration. His gaze flicks helplessly back and forth between the village in the distance and Tails’ captured form.

“But if you go, you have to leave Tails behind,” Knuckles points out.

“I know that too!”

“Don’t worry about me, Sonic,” Tails tries to reassure him. He swipes at the ball of light he’s trapped inside with his tails ineffectually. “I’ll… I’ll figure something out!”

Sonic grits his teeth, before at last looking up at Tails. “Tails… Hang in there, buddy. You know I’ll be back in a Sonic second.” He turns to face Knuckles and Amy. “Knuckles, Amy: I’m counting on you.” He meets eyes with Sticks; Sticks braces herself. “Sticks,” he says, holding her gaze for one moment, two. Then, saying nothing more, he vanishes in a blue blur — and even though Sonic has never been one to mince words, this time Sticks is more deeply cut by his silence than anything he could’ve said.

Eggman’s laugh is even more maniacal than usual. “Oh ho ho ho ho! Your precious pincushion pal cares more about the village than his friends. How very noble — and how very dumb.”

“Sonic can take care of himself!” Tails asserts from behind the bubble of light he’s trapped within. “And so can I!”

“Oh yes, I can see that! And since you can so clearly take care of yourself, why don’t I invite some guests to join us?”

A battalion of Bee Bots bursts from the bushes. A multitude of Motobugs maneuvers from the meadow. A squadron of Scorpion Bots scuttles from the shrubbery.

“Well,” Amy says, adjusting her grip on her hammer, “we’ve faced worse odds before.”

Knuckles pauses mid-way through cracking his knuckles. “We have?”

“No, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“You know what counts the most?” Eggman jeers. “That you’re about to be down! For the count, that is. As in, down for the count.”

Amy grimaces. “If you have to explain the pun, then it didn’t work. One out of ten.”

Knuckles clears his throat. “There once was a fellow named Eggman; And though he claim’d a real big brain, man; Made his robots of rust; And his wordplay a bust; So his schemes were all pretty lame, man.”

“Grrr, I’ve never been so insulted in all my life!” Eggman scowls. “Mockery is one thing — but limericks cross the line! Robots, attack!”

The mass of metal surges toward them. Knuckles leaps into the air and crushes a Scorpion Bot beneath his fists. Amy swats away a Motobug with her hammer, then deflects an incoming projectile from a Bee Bot and returns to sender. With a sizzle and a crackle, the Bee Bot sparks, locks up, and tumbles from the sky down toward Tails. He yelps as it falls through the wall of light keeping him trapped, then crashes on the bottom of the barrier at his feet.

“Tails, you okay?” Knuckles shouts, before punching a hole into another Scorpion Bot.

“Y-yeah, just surprised. I hadn’t expected the barrier to be permeable from the outside,” Tails says. He presses a hand against the light barrier as if searching for weaknesses, the robotic wreck of the Bee Bot smoking behind him.

“And only permeable from the outside, so don’t get any ideas!” Eggman sneers. “Any efforts to escape are futile, so sit back! Relax. Watch as your friends get mashed into a pulp.”

Tails clenches his fists in frustration from behind his light prison. “Eggman, just you wait. If only I had my Miles Electric!”

“Ah, yes, if only!” Eggman jeers. “How about you wish on a shooting star next?”

“Wish granted!” Sticks declares, standing astride the Eggmobile and from about four inches behind Eggman himself.

Eggman startles with a high-pitched scream. He whirls to face Sticks in surprise. “Wha — how did you — when did you get here?”

“You talk a lot,” Sticks shrugs. She lifts the Miles Electric triumphantly up in her hands as if she’s just won the gold medal in doomsday prepping for five years running (which she has).

“But — I was literally holding it in my hand!” Eggman shouts, gesturing with his right hand to his left — which is now the proud bearer of How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies). Eggman gapes at it.

“Yeah, emphasis on dat past tense,” Sticks smirks. “Now if ya ain’t serious about figgering out if this is a real hoshi no tama, dat means I gotta find conclusive proof! So I’m takin’ this back for research. Alley-oop!” Sticks declares, and tosses the Miles Electric through the air in Tails’ direction.

“Grrrr… You belligerent buffoonish badger! This changes nothing — the fox is still my hostage and you will all be less than that soon!” Eggman roars. He slams a fist into a button and Sticks yelps as she’s zapped by what feels like a cattle prod, losing her balance and tumbling toward the ground.

“I gotcha!” Knuckles calls out, abandoning his fight with a Motobug to catch her. Fortunately, he manages to break her fall; less fortunately, a Scorpion Bot takes the opportunity to strike, knocking Knuckles in the back and right toward Amy.

“Sticks! Knuckles!” Amy cries, and scampers out of the way just in time — but right into the way of a Bee Bot’s strike. Amy gasps as its blow strikes her wrist and her hammer hurtles away into the underbrush. The three of them stand in a loose triangle as the robots surround them in a ring. Amy rests her injured wrist in her other hand; Knuckles pants for breath after being winded. Sticks still feels the phantom jolt of electricity coursing through her body, but she grits her teeth through the ache and glowers up at Eggman fearlessly.

“What a short-lived little rebellion that was. I had expected more from Sonic’s lackeys — I’m almost disappointed,” Eggman gloats. His Eggmobile floats closer, casting an ominous shadow over the three of them. “But in your final moments, at least you can take solace in the knowledge that we are all but insignificant specks before the wider universe — much like your pitiful efforts are insignificant before me. Any last words before I put you all in the ground?”

“As a matter of fact, I do!” Sticks announces up at Eggman.

“Oh, this will be good. Please do enlighten us all: What deep insights could your addled, delusional mind possibly have to share this time?”

Sticks grins. “How d’ya feel about kitsune trickery?”

“Kitsune trickery? What drivel. A waste of — what the —?” Eggman shouts as he and his Eggmobile are captured in a familiar sphere of golden light. Not a second later, each of the attacking robots is trapped in their own, and tugged into the air as if they’re winnings from a crane game. Eggman stares at the barrier in disbelief, then at his levitating minions as they gently rotate in midair. “What did you do? Explain yourselves this moment, or I’ll… I’ll —!”

“You really won’t be doing much of anything, Eggman.” Tails comes up from behind him. In his hands is his Miles Electric — and on his face is a grin so smug it could rival Sonic’s. Eggman’s dropped jaw somehow drops more.

“You! I had you trapped. How did you break out?”

“Technically, I didn’t break out. The barrier’s impermeable from the inside, remember? So it’s really more of a question of what broke in,” Tails says, then waves the Miles Electric in his hands in Sticks’ direction. “Thanks for the assist, Sticks.”

“All the secret spybots disguised as softballs landin’ in my yard gave me one mean overhand,” Sticks confirms.

“And once Sticks got me back my Miles Electric, all I had to do was reprogram your bot to let me go. While I was at it, I figured I’d give you a taste of your own medicine. So… How do you like it?” Tails replies, gesturing at the sea of helpless robots surrounding an equally helpless Eggman in a floating scrap heap.

“Rrrggghhhh! How could you have possibly done all that from your little floating bubble?”

Tails scoffs. “Your firewalls are more like wet-noodle-walls, Eggman. Besides,” he adds, taking on a sly smile, “my skill with technology has been compared to magic.”

“You impudent upstart, how dare you use my own robots against me! It’s completely underhanded and I wish I thought of it first. I insist that you fight fairer than me. Release me, now!”

“Yes, release him now, Fox.” Shadow appears with a crack and a flash of green light. He crosses his arms and turns to Eggman with a threatening scowl. “I have a bone to pick with the good Doctor.”

“Eep! Shadow? What are you doing — er, I mean, isn’t it lovely weather? Doesn’t it just make you want to relax and abandon any homicidal impulses that one may hypothetically be experiencing?”

“I assure you, my homicidal impulses are not hypothetical,” Shadow answers. “Answer me one question, Doctor: Are you in possession of a book titled, How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies)?”

Eggman blinks dumbly at Shadow, then blinks dumbly at the book in his hand. “…Unintentionally, yes?”

“Hmph. Your intention does not matter to me. What matters is that your book is now eight minutes overdue, and I have been tasked with retrieving it, along with the accompanying late charges of 65,536 rings, using force if necessary.”

Eggman’s eyes go wide. “Late charges?”

Knuckles’ eyes go wide. “Eight minutes overdue?”

Sticks’ eyes go wide. “Shadow’s working for the nefarious secret organization Everyone Values Island Libraries, or EVIL for short?”

Shadow sends her a scathing look. “I work for no such organization.”

“Then… Who did ask you?” Tails wonders.

“Valuable Island Libraries for Everyone. Also known as VILE.”

Sticks frowns dubiously. “Who would name their secret evil organization dat? It’s too obvious.”

“I’m more surprised that Shadow would agree to work for anyone,” Amy confesses.

“I work for no-one but myself. Our goals merely happen to align. Instead of beating people up for free as an act of charity, now I am paid for it. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Shadow crosses his arms again. “Enough explanations. Now, Doctor. You will return the book to me, along with the late charges. If you refuse, I will use force.”

“Now, now, force won’t be necessary. I’m more than happy to return the book to you!” Eggman placates him with arms raised in surrender.

“And the late charges?”

“You think I just have 65 thousand rings lying around?” Eggman snaps.

“262 thousand rings,” Shadow corrects him.

“What?”

“65,536 rings was the late charge when the book was eight minutes overdue. It is now nine minutes overdue. Thus, the late charge is now 262,144 rings.”

“Th-that’s highway robbery!”

“Call it what you will. As for me, I will call it failure to comply. Which means,” Shadow continues, summoning a Chaos Spear to his hand, “I will take great pleasure in personally attending to your destruction.”

Eggman pales. “Now, hold on just a minute, Shadow.”

“If you wish. However, at ten minutes overdue, please be aware that your late charge will increase to 1,048,576 rings.”

“That’s usurious! I want a lawyer!”

“You won’t get one,” Shadow answers. “Push the button, Fox.”

“Do not push the button!” Eggman shrieks.

“…Sorry, Eggman. I’m more afraid of Shadow than you,” Tails sheepishly smiles. “Also, you kinda did just take me hostage, so.” And with a what-can-you-do shrug of his shoulders, he pushes the button.

The floating balls of light keeping Eggman and his robots trapped vanish. The floating robots plummet to the ground and break apart into a pile of screws and scrap metal — at least, the ones that aren’t instantly obliterated by the Chaos Spear Shadow launches in their direction. For his part, Eggman narrowly manages to avoid annihilation, swerving his Eggmobile at the last second out of its trajectory, before the Chaos Spear impacts the ground, leaving the sand in a charred, blackened starburst. Eggman doesn’t wait another second before hightailing it out of there; with a grunt, Shadow summons Chaos Control and warps behind him in pursuit. The rest of them are left to watch as Eggman’s panicked shouts grow increasingly faint in the distance, his Eggmobile drunkenly veering this way and that as Shadow chases after him, until they are nothing but blips in the horizon.

“Alright, Eggman, your bots attacking the village have all been sent to the scrap heap, so get ready to eat… my…” Sonic trails off with a befuddled look on his face as he screeches to a halt. His eyes bounce from Tails, to the Miles Electric safely back in his hands, to the piles of broken robots scattered around them, to the heaps of blackened sand remaining from Shadow’s Chaos Spear, to Sticks and Tails standing next to each other, and back to Tails again.

“Sonic!” Tails chirps. “I’m glad you’re okay!”

“Psssh, of course I’m okay! Better than okay. Nothing like an evil robot attack to stretch the ol’ hammies,” Sonic replies, brushing invisible dust from his gloves, before letting his gaze fall over each of Tails, Knuckles, Amy, and Sticks in turn, as if convincing himself they’re all still there. “Looks like you really gave ol’ Egghead what-for. Everything good?”

“I’m fine!” Amy answers. “Although I did hurt my wrist when that Bee Bot attacked. Maybe a handsome gentleman could kiss it better?” she suggests to Sonic hopefully.

“Don’t worry, Amy,” Knuckles replies with firm determination. “I’ll kiss it better for you.”

Amy looks crestfallen. Tails fights back a laugh. “Yeah, I think we’re all good.”

“You’re sure?” Sonic wonders, unsubtly eyeing Sticks with a raised eyebrow.

For his part, Tails turns toward Sticks, his head tilted in silent question, his expression flickering nervously. And on the other end of that gaze is not Tails the Fox, or Tails the Kitsune — just Tails. For the first time since she has seen Tails’ fire demonstration — for the first time since she has seen Tails — she really, truly sees.

Sticks’ nod is slow but unhesitating. “Yeah. Everything’s good,” she confirms, and when Tails lights up and for the first time in a long time, really, genuinely smiles; Sticks doesn’t wait to really, genuinely, smile back.

Evidence — How to Identify and Smite a Kitsune (For Dummies)

Multiple Tails: ✓

Weird Fire??? Foxfire: ✓

Weak to Holy Talismans: ✓

Kitsune Trickery: ✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓

Likes Fried Tofu: ✓

Doesn’t Like Dogs: ✓

Doesn’t Need Sleep: ✓

Power of Flight: ✓

Can Create Illusions: Likely but Plausible Deniability; See Also Kitsune Trickery

Future Sight: ✓

Seduction: TOO POWERFUL — DO NOT ENGAGE

Hoshi no Tama: Inconclusive

Friend: ✓

Tails startles awake from his keyboard. He blinks blearily to himself as his computer screen resolves into focus. His meticulous lines of code have all been replaced by an unceremonious keyboard smash of the letter “K” repeated several hundred times.

Tails stares groggily at it for several seconds. “…Talk about déjà vu.”

He stretches and absently rubs at his eyes. “Man, now I remember why I started mixing coffee and energy drinks in the first place. I can’t believe I let Sonic convince me to drop caffeine. What was I thinking?” He leans back in his desk chair and rolls his shoulders, trying to reboot his brain. He gazes up into the endless abyss of rafters.

“It can’t possibly be comfortable up there, Sticks,” he calls out.

No response.

Tails waits for a few more moments before scratching his head. “Huh. I thought for sure she was here. Must be more tired than I thought,” he mutters to himself, turning to stare out the window.

Sticks stares back.

Tails screams. “Ack! How long have you — stop doing that!”

With a heave-ho, Sticks pulls herself the rest of the way inside the windowframe. She drops the rest of the way easily, landing on Tails’ workbench and popping out of a roll. The jumble of tools on the bench greet her arrival with a clatter. “Watchfulness is the callword of any self-respectin’ feral badger.”

“Can’t the callword be privacy? Or, uh, not filing a restraining order?”

Sticks clicks her tongue and hops down to the floor. “Dat’s how it starts. First they get ridda your freedom to squat in rafters by puttin’ in laws sayin’ ya can’t ‘trespass’. Then they stop ya from hoppin’ through other folks’ windows by introducin’ so-called norms, like ‘common courtesy’ and ‘fundamental decency’. Where does it stop? Before ya know it, we’ll all be stuck usin’ the front door like a buncha street rats! Is that whatcha want? Is it?”

“…Yes?”

Sticks sighs. “Another soul lost to the siren song of the surveillance state.”

“I, uh, don’t think any of that qualifies as surveillance…?” Tails says, then shakes his head. “It’s one-thirty in the morning, Sticks, is there a reason you’re breaking and entering my workshop, or…?”

“Dat’s another way the man is keepin’ us down — now ya gotta have a reason to break into a house!” Sticks huffs. “But I do got a reason. Many, in fact! Some of them are even good reasons!”

Tails smiles weakly. “That’s, uh. Great.”

Sticks paces to the left. “First off, I wanted to get your thoughts on the steady erosion of our civil liberties. But I see you’ve already taken the side of tyranny, so don’t be expectin’ me to bail ya out when the inevitable suppression strikeforce cracks down on everythin’ ya hold dear.”

“…And you needed to ask this… at one-thirty? In the morning?”

Sticks paces to the right. “Second, I wanted to make sure your workshop is up to code. Everyone knows ya gotta have at least 27 methods of ingress and egress in case of an emergency. Dis was a surprise inspection.”

“At one-thirty,” Tails repeats, “in the morning.”

“Dat’s what makes it a surprise,” Sticks reminds him. “By the way, good news, ya passed.”

“Sticks.”

“And third!” Sticks’ pacing comes to an abrupt halt. She allows herself a deep, nervous breath. “…I wanted to apologize.”

Tails goes still in surprise.

“When I saw dat foxfire… I was sure I saw somethin’ no-one else did. Dat I caught a glimpse of the truth hidin’ behind the curtain. I got caught up in everything — I never stopped to think about how ya felt about it. How I was makin’ ya feel about it. As if ya were different just ‘cuz ah who ya are. As if ya deserved to be treated different just ‘cuz ah who ya are.”

Sticks looks away. Her gaze settles on Tails’ workbench. The Miles Electric sits there amongst the scattered screwdrivers and spanners, almost aglow in the soft moonlight.

“I thought it was so important dat I had to figger out if ya were a kitsune or not, dat I forgot what I already got figgered out: Dat we’re friends. Kitsune or fox, dat don’t change. And dat’s who ya were, this whole time,” Sticks admits. “…And I’m sorry I forgot.”

The workshop grows quiet. In the distance, the ocean breeze keeps time with the waves, a melody and harmony that plays into the night.

At last, Tails shuffles closer. “You know,” he begins with a sigh. “I meant what I said, back then, when this whole thing started. You’re all my friends, and you’re all great just the way you are. That goes for Sonic, and Knuckles, and Amy — and you, too, Sticks.

“You wouldn’t be you without your laser-focus, or your adaptability, or your surprise ambushes that keep us all on our toes. And that includes your theories, which I think we’ve all learned by now to dismiss only at our own risk. Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean we won’t have disagreements, or fights. And sometimes it goes too far — sometimes we all go too far. And when we do, our friends — our true friends — will tell us. And true friends… they’ll listen back.” Tails rocks himself forward on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. “Helping each of us be the best versions of ourselves… Isn’t that, in the end, what friends are for?”

And Sticks stares back at Tails: Tails, the eight-year-old kid with a big brain and a bigger heart; Tails, who liked tinkering because it was fun and who liked it even more because he could help the ones he cared about; Tails, who, in the end, is Sticks’ friend.

“D’ya think…” Sticks mumbles. “Ya think, we can be friends again?”

“Sticks,” Tails smiles back, gentle and fond. “We never stopped being friends.”

The words lift a weight Sticks hadn’t even realized she was carrying. “I… Thanks.”

“No need to thank me — it’s what friends do.” Tails brushes off the last of her worries with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “You wanna come with us to Mehburger tomorrow?”

Sticks nods, once, then again, firmer. “Yeah. Mehburger tomorrow. I’m… lookin’ forward to it.” She wrinkles her nose. “Dat felt really weird to say.”

Tails wrinkles his own. “It felt really weird to hear.”

“Right, let’s not ever do anythin’ that’ll make us look forward to goin’ to Mehburger ever again,” Sticks agrees. She hops back up onto Tails’ workbench; the tools clamor again.

“I can’t possibly convince you to use the front door, can I?”

“I was testin’ the ingress. Now I gotta test the egress,” Sticks informs him, hefting herself up and perching herself on the windowsill. “Good news, ya passed this test, too.”

“I’m overjoyed,” Tails deadpans. Then, more cheerily, he asks, “See you tomorrow?”

Sticks nods. “Yeah. And I promise to treat ya the way I always shoulda. You’re a friend, and bein’ a kitsune don’t change that.”

Tails blinks. “…Huh?”

“I was wrong to judge ya based on who ya are — ‘cause bein’ a kitsune don’t change what matters, not really, and I know ya ain’t evil and murder-y. It’s like Amy said, Hashtag Not All Kitsune. Dunno what dat means exactly, but I figger it’s the same idea.”

Tails looks alarmed. “Um.”

“So I won’t bring up dat you’re a kitsune no more, and I’ll get rid of all my anti-kistune talismans so you don’t hafta worry about bein’ accidentally iced no more, and I won’t specially ambush ya from trees no more, only the normal amount of ambushin’.”

Tails looks more alarmed. “Um!”

“And I promise I won’t tell nobody dat you’re a kitsune. I get it now, at least a little bit, why ya don’t want nobody to know. So I promise not to tell, and I won’t force ya, neither. Dat’s up to you. And maybe someday, if ya ever feel like ya can show the world dat you’re a kitsune — ya can count on Sticks to have your back!”

“No, Sticks, wait!” Tails calls out — but it’s futile. With that final declaration, Sticks has already launched herself back out the window and is long gone, the slightly jumbled tools on the workbench the only indication she’d even been there in the first place.

“Oh, boy,” he sighs, and slumps back into his desk chair. Tails lets it turn him in a lackadaisical circle as he gazes up and far away, lost in the endless expanse of rafters above him and the stars that hang in the sky even higher. For a while, there is nothing but the low, rolling rhythm of the waves outside, and the gentle glow of starlight draping through the workshop window in gossamer threads.

“…Maybe someday, huh,” Tails murmurs like a prayer, a small smile on his face; and as if in response, the stars on the other side of the window seem to twinkle brighter.

Finally, Tails stirs with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “Right. Back to work,” he announces to himself. He rummages for a couple moments, finally retrieving a small, luminescent sphere, cradling it gently as he slides it into the Miles Electric. The power-on sequence boots up, and Tails lets himself gaze at the screen fondly for a few more moments before he takes his screwdriver in hand, humming as he tinkers long into the night. The stars carry on their journey in the night sky above him, continuing their wordless waltz from a world away, as their flickering, fluttering light casts Tails’ silhouette onto the floor; one, two, three shadows flicking away behind him.