Chapter Text
Green Hills was the kind of town people dreamed about when they imagined a peaceful life.
Nestled between rolling emerald hills and dense forests, it was a place where everyone knew everyone else. Children rode their bicycles down quiet streets without worry, neighbors greeted one another by name, and every Saturday morning the farmers' market filled the town square with laughter, music, and the smell of freshly baked bread.
A short distance away from the nearest neighbors sat a cozy two-story house surrounded by a pristine white picket fence.
Its white brick walls gleamed beneath the warm morning sun, while its red tiled roof contrasted beautifully against the bright blue sky. Flowerbeds overflowing with roses, lilies, daisies, and sunflowers lined the stone pathway leading to the front porch. Hanging baskets swayed gently in the breeze, and a small vegetable garden flourished behind the house.
The home wasn't extravagant.
It wasn't a mansion.
But it was filled with something far more valuable.
Love.
It was a regular morning in the Rose household.
Inside, the comforting aroma of butter, maple syrup, freshly brewed coffee, and pancakes drifted through every room, pulling even the deepest sleepers from their beds. The scent was warm and inviting, wrapping itself around the house like a gentle morning embrace, promising a slow, peaceful start to the day.
The kitchen was already alive with activity. Sunlight streamed through the windows in soft golden beams, catching on polished countertops and the faint steam rising from fresh food. The soft clatter of utensils, the hiss of batter meeting a hot pan, and the occasional hum of a kettle created a cozy rhythm of domestic life.
Years of motherhood hadn't diminished her beauty in the slightest. Her waist-length pink quills were held back by her favorite red bandana, allowing a few soft strands to frame her cheerful face.
She wore a cozy off-the-shoulder red sweater dress paired with black tights and brown ankle boots, practical enough for chasing three energetic children while still effortlessly stylish.
The golden wedding ring on her finger and matching bangles at her wrist glimmered each time she flipped another pancake into the air with practiced ease.
The dress had an open-back design partially covered by her pink quills, which shifted slightly with each movement, adding a natural elegance to her silhouette as she worked.
Behind her…
The kitchen floor barely made a sound as the early morning light spilled through the windows, casting soft golden rectangles across the tiles. The air was warm and calm, completely unaware of the quiet presence that had slipped into the room.
A black shadow stalked silently through the space, moving with practiced precision, each step so controlled it seemed as if even the air itself refused to acknowledge his presence. He blended into the dim corners and shifting light, a ghost of motion with no sound to betray him.
From the darkness, a white-gloved hand—adorned with red and black cuffs, and golden bangles that caught the light in subtle glints—reached forward with unexpected gentleness. It caressed the exposed skin of her back, hidden beneath her curtain of pink quills.
Startled only for a moment, Amy turned just in time to feel the familiar warmth behind her. A black hedgehog with striking red stripes and a tan muzzle leaned in, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to her peach-colored cheek.
The sudden tenderness broke the quiet tension entirely, and Amy let out a bright, delighted giggle.
“Good morning,” she murmured happily, leaning into the unexpected embrace.
The sudden tenderness broke the quiet tension entirely, and Amy let out a bright, delighted giggle.
"I wondered when you'd wake up," she murmured happily, leaning into the unexpected embrace.
A familiar chuckle answered her.
Shadow the Hedgehog leaned down and pressed another lingering kiss against her cheek.
"Good morning."
His voice was low and still rough from sleep.
Unlike the legendary warrior he had once been, there was nothing intimidating about him at this moment.
He looked...comfortable.
His usually immaculate quills were ever so slightly messy from bed.
His white button-up shirt hung open at the collar, revealing the soft tuft of white chest fur beneath. The sleeves had been casually rolled to his forearms, and one hand still held a steaming mug of coffee while a folded newspaper remained tucked beneath the opposite arm.
Amy laughed softly.
"Good morning to you too."
Without looking away from the stove, she leaned into him just enough to steal another quick kiss.
Shadow wasn't satisfied.
He kissed her again.
Then again.
Amy couldn't help giggling.
"Shadow..."
"Hm?"
"The pancakes."
"They're fine."
"They're burning."
"They're probably fine."
She laughed harder.
"They're absolutely not fine."
Reluctantly, Shadow released her, allowing Amy to rescue the slightly overcooked pancake before it became breakfast charcoal.
"I was enjoying that."
"I noticed."
"You interrupted me."
"I interrupted you?" Amy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You moved."
"I was cooking."
"I fail to see how that's my fault."
Amy rolled her eyes affectionately before bumping his shoulder with hers.
"You know, after fifteen years of marriage, you'd think you'd stop trying to distract me every morning."
"I've considered it."
"And?"
"I decided against it."
Before Amy could respond—
"Ew."
Both parents turned toward the dining table.
Their eldest daughter, Maria, hadn't even looked up from her phone.
She continued rapidly typing with both thumbs. Her expression remained flat—unimpressed, unbothered, and faintly judgmental in a way that was almost uncanny. It was an expression so eerily similar to Shadow's that it made the comparison impossible to ignore.
Even her resting glare had weight to it. The kind that could make adults reconsider their life choices.
"Guys," she deadpanned without looking up, "can you not do that during breakfast? You're ruining my appetite."
Maria, their 14-year-old daughter, was a young pink hedgehog with striking red eyes and a soft peach muzzle. Three small quills framed her face like sharp bangs, with a red strip going through the middle one and longer quills on both sides of her face. While the rest of her quills swept back in a style reminiscent of Shadow’s own, accented with bold red streaks. A lavender bandana headband rested across her head, giving her an oddly casual yet deliberate look, as if she had carefully chosen every detail to project indifference.
She wore a white sleeveless crew-neck sweater that revealed a patch of soft white fur at her midsection, paired with lavender denim shorts. White gloves covered her hands, and gold bangles adorned her wrists—each set with a small ruby that caught the light whenever she moved.
Despite her age, there was something unnervingly composed about her presence, as she had already decided she was done being impressed by the world.
Shadow blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard. "Do what?"
"The PDA."
"We're married."
"It's gross."
Amy covered her mouth to hide another laugh, her shoulders shaking slightly as she tried—and failed—to look sympathetic.
Shadow looked genuinely offended, his posture stiffening as he leaned forward slightly. "It's called showing affection, you know. Something you should try from time to time."
"I call it emotional damage before breakfast." Maria finally looked up just long enough to deliver the line with perfect deadpan. Then, without missing a beat, she added, "I'm going to need therapy."
Shadow let out an exasperated sigh. "And what would you need therapy for?"
"For witnessing this."
"With your eyes glued to your screen," he muttered, watching as she immediately lost interest in the conversation and returned her full attention to her phone, thumbs moving rapidly as she resumed texting mid-breakfast.
Amy huffed a laugh, leaning forward slightly. "Maria, can you please eat your breakfast and stop staring at your phone so much?"
Maria paused for a moment, as if processing the request. "Okay," she said at last, though the word came out reluctant and distracted.
Neither of her parents believed it for a second.
She set her phone on the table...
...only to pick it up again less than three seconds later.
Instead, she continued texting with one hand while the other mechanically guided pieces of pancake to her mouth. She wasn't even looking at her plate anymore. Years of practice allowed her to cut, stab, and eat her breakfast almost entirely on muscle memory.
Her crimson eyes never truly left the glowing screen. Every few seconds, her thumbs flew across the keyboard with astonishing speed before another notification buzzed in response. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Someone was making her laugh.
Unfortunately, it wasn't anyone sitting at the breakfast table.
Shadow watched the entire exchange over the rim of his coffee mug.
One eye twitched.
Slowly, he leaned closer to Amy, lowering his voice until it became a conspiratorial whisper. "She's still on that stupid phone."
Amy didn't even look up from buttering another pancake. "I told you," she whispered back. "If you're that upset about the phone, then take it away."
Shadow looked horrified. "You take it away."
Amy immediately shook her head. "Mm-mm."
"No?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
She finally glanced toward their eldest daughter.
Maria's expression hadn't changed. She still wore the same perpetually unimpressed face that somehow managed to communicate disappointment in the entire Mobian race.
Amy shuddered dramatically. "I'm scared of her."
Shadow nodded with complete sincerity. "I know."
He took another sip of coffee. "It's terrifying."
Amy bit back a laugh. "Especially that look she gives."
"The one that says she's judging every life decision you've ever made?"
"Exactly."
Shadow stole another glance at Maria. She still hadn't acknowledged their existence.
Amy smiled sympathetically before resting her hand over his. "She's fourteen."
"I know."
"She's growing up."
"I don't like it."
"I know." Shadow sighed quietly. "Remember when she actually wanted to spend time with us?"
Amy pretended to think.
"Hmm..." She tapped her chin dramatically. "I don't remember that."
Shadow looked wounded. "Seriously?"
"It was a long time ago."
"I distinctly remember having a daughter who used to hold my hand."
"I remember one who thought you were the coolest person in the world."
Shadow's shoulders slumped. "What happened?"
Amy smiled knowingly. "She became a teenager."
"...Can we return her?"
Amy laughed softly. "No returns."
Shadow sighed again before absentmindedly stirring his coffee. "Maybe..."
Amy looked at him curiously. "What?"
"...Maybe I should bring back Monday movie night. We used to do them every week."
"We did."
"Popcorn."
"Mhm."
"Blanket fort."
"Mhm."
"The kids would fight over who got to pick the movie."
Amy's smile softened as memories surfaced. "Rosemary always wanted fairy tales."
"And Orion always wanted explosions."
Amy chuckled. "Maria wanted whatever movie had the coolest soundtrack."
Shadow looked toward their eldest daughter again.
She was still texting. Still smiling...
...just not at them.
"I miss that."
Amy's expression softened. "I know you do."
Shadow straightened in his chair, determination creeping into his voice.
"I've got it."
Amy immediately became suspicious. "You've got what?"
"We're bringing it back."
"The movie nights?" Amy gave him a doubtful look. "...You really think she's going to agree to that?"
"Absolutely." Shadow sounded far more confident than he actually felt. "We'll watch Chao in Space. Chao in Space II."
"The cinematic masterpiece."
"The award-winning sequel." Shadow nodded with complete seriousness. "The superior film."
Amy folded her arms. "According to whom?"
"Me."
"That's not exactly an unbiased source."
"It doesn't need to be."
Amy couldn't hold back her laughter any longer. "I admire your optimism."
Shadow looked genuinely hopeful. "You don't think it'll work?"
Amy reached over and squeezed his arm affectionately. "I think it's sweet."
"...But?"
"But our fourteen-year-old daughter would probably rather voluntarily clean the garage than spend two hours watching movies with her parents."
Shadow visibly deflated. "...That's... discouraging."
Amy smiled warmly. "Still..."
"What?"
"You should ask her."
"You think so?"
"I do."
"Even if she says no?"
Amy nodded. "Especially if she says no."
Shadow looked at Maria again.
For the briefest moment, the retired agent who had faced impossible missions without hesitation seemed uncertain.
Connecting with his teenage daughter suddenly felt like the hardest assignment he'd ever been given. Before he could gather the courage to ask—
Tiny footsteps echoed down the staircase.
Rosemary descended first, gently leading her younger brother by the hand.
At ten years old, Rosemary was the very picture of sweetness. Her pink fur was accented with vivid crimson stripes she had inherited from her father. Five neatly groomed, long, thick, and flowing extending well past her shoulders and curling outward at the ends, giving her a graceful silhouette, while her bright green eyes held a warmth that could brighten even the gloomiest morning.
She also had three spikes for bangs on her head, resembling a miniature Amy.
She had the quiet habit of looking after everyone around her.
If Orion forgot his backpack, Rosemary remembered.
If Maria stormed upstairs after an argument, Rosemary was usually the first to knock on her bedroom door.
If either of her parents looked tired, she'd quietly make them tea without being asked.
Despite being only ten years old, she possessed a maturity that often made people forget she was still a child herself.
Beside her shuffled Orion.
Unlike his sister, the six-year-old looked as though he'd lost a battle with his blanket.
His green eyes were barely open, one tiny gloved fist rubbing sleep from them while the other clung stubbornly to his sister's. His black quills, marked with crimson streaks, pointed in every direction imaginable.
Apart from the tan skin covering his hands and his green eyes, Orion looked almost exactly like a tiny version of his father.
Thankfully...that was where the similarities ended.
Where Shadow was composed, Orion was chaos.
Where Shadow calculated every move, Orion charged first and asked questions later. Fear was a concept that simply hadn't introduced itself to the little hedgehog yet.
He climbed trees too tall, jumped from furniture despite countless warnings, challenged children twice his size to fight, and possessed the unwavering confidence that only six-year-olds seemed capable of having.
He yawned so widely his entire body seemed to stretch with it. "Mornin'..."
Then his little nose twitched. He sniffed once. Twice. His sleepy eyes suddenly snapped open.
"PANCAAAAKES!"