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He's following a hedgehog through the woods.
It's a stupid plan, really. There's every chance that this hedgehog will be just like every other person he's ever met- disgusted by his mere appearance, taunts rising to their lips as easily and predictably as the sun rising in the morning. And that's before they pick up on his personality.
But, all the same, he's following a hedgehog through the woods, because he has nothing left to lose and everything left to change.
The hedgehog leads him to a plane (well, 'lead' implies it was intentional. the more accurate wording would be that he stumbled upon a plane while stalking the hedgehog). The plane is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, but he knows it could be even better.
He can't resist the call to improve, to create, and the very second the hedgehog leaves he takes his chance, burying his hands in the gears until the sky goes dark and he can no longer tell wires from wheels.
He gets back to work as soon as the sun rises, hardly remembering and not at all caring that this isn't his machine and that the owner will be wanting it back. Whatever the repercussions, he'll have been through far worse for far less.
The hedgehog does return, hours later, and she's so quiet he doesn't notice her until she speaks.
She asks what he's doing and she doesn't look mad, but he apologizes anyway because what's not mad now will likely be mad later and it's better to build sympathy right off the bat.
But the anger never comes. The hedgehog happily inspects the modified plane with him, and when she calls him out for following her, she doesn't seem concerned.
There's something about the hedgehog that he can't explain, that he will never be able to explain- even years later, after robots and monsters and death and dying and losing each other more times than either of them can stand to count- but there's something about the hedgehog that makes him bolder than his lifetime of rejection, and on blind faith, he asks her if she wants to be friends.
She tilts her head. "What's your name, pal?"
"Miles Prower. But my friends call me Tails." Or, they would, if he had any, but that's besides the point. Everyone calls him Tails, whether he asks them to or not, and sometimes it's easier just to own the things they use to hurt you, so you can pretend you're used to it. Pretend you're proud of it.
There's a scar at the base of his right tail. He'd caught himself before he'd gone too deep, woken up from whatever haze it was he'd fallen into. It wasn't going to work, of course it wasn't. He knew that then, as well as he does now. But it had been so, so tempting, that idea of normalcy.
"Nice job, Tails," the hedgehog tells him. "Ya know, I could use a mechanic- and a friend."
"Y-you mean that?" He can't manage more than a whisper, like if he speaks too loudly, the shelves will break and the other shoe will drop.
The hedgehog grins at him, holding out one hand in a thumbs-up. "You bet!"
He doesn't know what to say, but he knows he's supposed to say something, and words start to tumble off his tongue faster than he can process them. "Thank you, miss! I promise you won't regret it!"
The hedgehog's cheery bravado falters for the first time, something else clawing its way to the surface that she tries desperately to hide. "I'm not a girl."
They say it like they expect to be berated, like they expect to be ignored. Tails knows that feeling. Not for the same reasons, and he doesn't quite understand what theirs may be, but he knows.
It's odd, being in this position. Usually it's him on the verge of fleeing, waiting for the other person to decide whether they'll rip out his throat or show mercy. But now that he's here, showing compassion doesn't even feel like a question, and for the first time he starts to wonder if he wasn't the one in the wrong all those years, and maybe it was never his fault.
But he's too young to ponder whether his very existence was a crime that warranted punishment. Besides, his new friend is far more interesting, and right now he wants nothing else but to be kind. "Okay. What are you then?"
The hedgehog blinks, then speeds over to him in a flurry of blue quills and the overjoyed expression of someone allowed to be themself for the first time. "I'm Sonic, Sonic the Hedgehog. Just a guy that loves adventure!"
It has the practiced quality of something said over and over in front of a mirror in the hope that it will one day have a use. He does a thumbs-up again, too, the movement identical in every way to the first. Tails doesn't know him well yet, can't interpret his expressions yet, but he can tell that Sonic is thrilled to finally put this script into play.
Tails smiles. He's going to get along with this guy. He can feel it.
-----
There's something weird about the blue hedgehog.
He doesn't mind, to be clear. Weird is a good look, on everyone except himself.
The blue one- Sonic, or so the fox calls them- shifts and moves not only on their feet, but in appearance. In certain lights, they're the prettiest, most daring girl he's ever met, clad in a gown of fire and rebellion instead of plain fabric; in others, they're a spitfire of a boy with a smile to light up cities; and in others still, they're a dashing rapscallion who defies categorization as easily as robots.
...he's rambling again.
He's drawn to them, and he tells himself that it's because Sonic is beautiful and talented no matter whether they're a boy or a girl or something else entirely, but deep down, he knows. It's jealousy, tainted and bitter, hastily smothered with sunshine smiles.
He swoons and sighs and shoots them dreamy glances to no effect, but that's okay because it's mostly just an excuse to watch them. They way they move and fight is so confident, self-assured. Like they couldn't lose if they tried and everyone else should just deal with it.
They disregard the people who call them names and mock their appearance, either making sarcastic retorts or simply walking away. It must bother them, it must, but they don't let it show, continuing to fight for freedom like nothing is wrong.
Why is it that they are strong enough to be anything they want, when he-
When he-
Huh.
It's not a conscious choice when the 'he's start to shift into 'she's, but once he notices it happening he can't bring himself to stop, because, really, what's the harm? It's just a happy little secret locked up inside hi- inside her head and no one has to know that she fantasies about dresses and beauty and belonging.
She changes her hair from something wild into something coiffed and refined, befitting of the lady she wants to become. She trades her slacks for skirts and finds sweaters lined with fluff, scavenging the clotheslines of people who probably didn't need that many designer coats, anyway.
The townspeople make fun of her and more than once she finds herself running when someone gets too aggressive. She starts to avoid towns, opting instead to trail behind the two heroes wherever they go.
She follows them from battle to battle, never mustering the courage to talk to them. It feels pointless, but she doesn't have anything to turn back to, so. She persists.
The fox- Tails, or so Sonic calls him- tells her she looks nice the first time they speak to each other.
He swooped out of the sky to save her, lifting her up and out of the fight to let Sonic safely deal the real damage.
She smiles and thanks him, then asks for his name. She knows it already, but they've never formally introduced themselves and it would be impolite (not to mention creepy) to assume she can use it.
He does, telling her to call him Tails because that's what his friends call him, and she inwardly cheers. She doesn't have many of those, and this is by far the easiest friendship she's ever forged.
Tails asks for her name, and she hesitates. She doesn't look right, she knows that. She knows that her clothes don't fit how they should and that her hair is an amateur's work at best, and she doesn't have that otherworldly quality that every girl but herself seems to effortly express.
She doesn't possess the shiny confidence of Sonic or the soft determination of Tails that would make people take her at her word without question. But she's starting to think that maybe strength is a choice, and it's a choice that Sonic made years ago and it's a choice that she wants to make, too. She is going to become the person she was always meant to be or die trying.
So, fully expecting to be ridiculed, she replies, "I'm Amy Rose."
"It's nice to meet you, Amy!" Tails says without a second thought. He doesn't stare or sneer or ask if that's her real name, instead turning back to watch the fight.
She feels warm, welcome for the first time in her life. "And who's that?" She asks, nodding at Sonic.
"That's Sonic!" Tails says happily, watching the blue hedgehog bore a hole through the robot's chest. "He's the coolest!"
Amy looks over. Sonic waves at the two of them, triumphantly placing a foot on top of the freshly-disassembled pile of bolts.
She doesn't know how she was ever uncertain. Of course he was always a boy, just like she was always a girl. "Yeah," she agrees, smiling at Sonic and meaning it for the first time. "He really is."