The gentle hum of Green Hill surrounded you both, the soft rustling of leaves blending with the faint chirping of distant birds. Shadow sat beneath a tall oak tree, its branches spreading wide to cast a cool shade over the two of you. The afternoon sun peeked through the foliage, dappling the ground with patches of light that danced with the breeze.

Your head rested against his chest, rising and falling in rhythm with his steady breathing. His arms were relaxed at his sides, though his crimson eyes flicked downward for a brief moment to glance at you. A rare, almost imperceptible softness touched his usual stoic expression, his gaze lingering before he let his head rest back against the bark of the tree.

He exhaled quietly, shifting slightly. "I don't get it," he began, his tone as calm and introspective as ever. "When Rouge and the others suggested this, they were insistent—said this spot would be perfect." His crimson eyes glinted as they focused on the sky beyond the leaves. "They said it was because of me." A pause. "Something about my chest fur."

His words hung in the air for a moment before he sighed again, one hand resting idly on the grass beside him. "It's just fur," he muttered, his voice dipping lower as though he were speaking more to himself than to anyone else. His gaze fell back to you briefly, the barest flicker of curiosity or perhaps acceptance in his expression.