The concert had been planned for weeks.
Mina Mongoose and the Forget Me Knots were Knothole's most popular band—a source of morale and entertainment for a community that desperately needed both. Their performances drew crowds from across the village, providing a few hours of normalcy in a world defined by war and struggle.
Tonight's show was meant to celebrate the recent string of victories against Eggman's forces. The mood was festive, the crowd eager, the stage set for an evening of music and joy.
Nobody expected what happened next.
Nazo stood at the back of the crowd, Violet pressed close to his side as always.
He had no interest in music—interest required emotional investment he couldn't provide—but Sally had suggested that attending public events might help him integrate into village life. The logic was sound: visibility could normalize his presence, reduce the fear that still lingered among civilians who remembered the stories of his power.
So he stood, and he observed, and he waited for the concert to end.
Mina took the stage to thunderous applause. The yellow mongoose was radiant under the lights, her purple hair flowing as she moved to the microphone. Her band assembled behind her—Ash the mongoose on guitar, Max the monkey on drums, Sharps the parakeet on keyboard.
"Good evening, Knothole!" Mina called out, and the crowd roared in response. "We've got a special show for you tonight. Some new songs we've been working on. Songs about what's been happening in our village lately."
The crowd cheered again, expecting anthems of victory, songs celebrating their heroes.
What they got was something else entirely.
The first notes of the song were ominous—minor key, building tension. And when Mina began to sing, the lyrics made the message unmistakably clear.
She sang about a stranger in their midst. A being of terrible power who felt nothing, cared for nothing, loved nothing. She sang about the danger of keeping such a creature among innocent families, among children who deserved to feel safe. She sang about the wisdom of sending the monster away before it was too late.
The song never mentioned Nazo by name.
It didn't need to.
The crowd's reaction was immediate and divided.
Some cheered, clearly sharing the sentiment. They had seen Nazo walking through their village with his empty eyes and his expressionless face. They had heard about the spar with Sonic, about the terrifying power he had displayed. They had whispered among themselves about whether it was safe to have such a being living among them.
Others stood in shocked silence, uncertain how to react to such a public attack on someone who had, technically, done nothing wrong.
And some—the Freedom Fighters scattered through the crowd—began to push toward the stage with expressions of pure fury.
"What the HELL is she doing?!" Sonic snarled, his fists clenching at his sides.
"She's signing her own death warrant," Shadow replied coldly, chaos energy beginning to flicker around his form.
"That absolute—" Sally bit off the word she wanted to use, her face flushed with anger. "She has no idea what she's talking about. Nazo has never threatened anyone in this village. He SAVED us from Eggman's attack just by being here!"
"She's scared," Rouge observed, though her own expression was far from sympathetic. "They're all scared. And fear makes people stupid."
"Fear don't give her the right to do THIS," Bunnie growled, her cybernetic arm whirring as if preparing for combat.
Amy was already moving toward the stage, her hammer materializing in her hands. "I'm going to show her exactly what I think of her stupid song—"
"Wait." Sally grabbed her arm. "We can't assault her on stage. That would just prove her point—that violence follows Nazo wherever he goes."
"So we just let her sing about kicking him out?!"
"We handle it after. Diplomatically. But we don't give her the satisfaction of a scene."
At the back of the crowd, Nazo observed the situation with his usual detachment.
"The song is about me," he noted.
Violet was trembling beside him, her entire body vibrating with barely contained rage. Her golden eyes had shifted to something darker, something that reminded uncomfortably of what she had been before her transformation.
"How DARE she," Violet hissed. "How DARE she stand up there and sing about you like you're some kind of monster. After everything you've been through. After everything you've SUFFERED—"
"I don't suffer. I don't feel anything."
"That doesn't mean they get to treat you like this!" Violet's voice rose, drawing attention from nearby crowd members who quickly edged away. "You've done nothing wrong! You've never hurt anyone in this village! You protected them from Eggman! And THIS is how they repay you?!"
"Their fear is a logical response to my capabilities. I demonstrated significant combat power in the spar with Sonic. It's reasonable for civilians to feel concern about the presence of such power in their community."
"It's NOT reasonable! It's CRUEL!"
"Cruelty requires intent to cause harm. They're simply expressing their emotions through artistic medium. The song is an outlet for collective anxiety."
Violet stared at him, her expression caught between love and frustration.
"How can you be so CALM about this?!"
"I'm not calm. Calm is an emotional state. I'm simply observing and analyzing."
"Well, I'M not calm!" Violet's form flickered, tendrils of darkness bleeding off her like smoke. "I'm FURIOUS. I want to go up there and show them what a REAL monster looks like. I want to make them understand what I could do to them if I decided to—"
"That would be counterproductive. Violence would validate their fears and justify the sentiment expressed in the song."
"I don't CARE about productive! I care about YOU!"
"I know. Your attachment to me is well-documented. But acting on your current emotional state would harm my position in this community more than the song itself."
Violet's dark aura flickered, struggled, and slowly receded. She was breathing hard, her hands clenched into fists, tears of rage streaming down her face.
"I hate this," she whispered. "I hate that they don't see you. The real you. The person I love."
"They see exactly what I am—a being of significant power without emotional regulation. Their concern is valid, even if their proposed solution is impractical."
"How is kicking you out impractical?"
"Because I serve a strategic function. My presence deters Eggman's attacks. Removing me would eliminate that deterrence and expose Knothole to renewed assault."
Violet laughed bitterly. "So you're useful. That's the argument. Not that you deserve to be here, not that you have rights, but that you're USEFUL."
"Utility is the only framework I can operate within. I cannot appeal to emotion because I have none. I can only appeal to logic."
"That's so sad."
"Sadness is an emotional response. I cannot evaluate its appropriateness."
The song ended to mixed applause—some enthusiastic, some uncomfortable, some notably absent.
Mina smiled at the crowd, seemingly pleased with the reaction. "Thank you, Knothole! We just wanted to express what a lot of people have been feeling. Sometimes the truth needs to be sung!"
She was about to launch into another song when Sally pushed her way onto the stage, her expression controlled but her eyes blazing.
"Can I have a moment?" Sally asked, and it wasn't really a question.
Mina's smile faltered. "Princess Sally? I didn't expect—"
"I'm sure you didn't." Sally turned to face the crowd, her voice carrying across the venue with practiced authority. "I want to address what we just heard."
The crowd fell silent, uncertain what was coming.
"Nazo is a member of our community," Sally said firmly. "He was captured by Eggman, imprisoned in a torture device for a year, and subjected to almost a million cycles of psychological abuse. He survived—barely. And when he emerged, he was broken. Unable to feel the emotions that once defined him."
She paused, letting the words sink in.
"He didn't ask for this. He didn't choose to become what he is. And yet he's been nothing but cooperative since his return. He submitted to psychological evaluation. He participated in combat assessment. He has made no threats, committed no violence against anyone in this village, and has actually PROTECTED us simply by being here."
Sally's gaze swept across the crowd.
"Eggman attacked us two months ago. You all remember—the sky filled with Badniks, Metal Sonic Neo descending toward our homes. And then Eggman saw Nazo, and he RAN. Fled. Called off the entire assault because he was TERRIFIED of what Nazo might do."
"That fear is what keeps us safe now. The monster that Mina is singing about? That 'monster' is the reason Eggman hasn't attacked since. The reason your children can play outside without fear of robots falling from the sky."
She turned to face Mina directly.
"I understand that people are scared. Change is frightening, and Nazo represents something none of us have encountered before. But singing songs about exile? Treating a victim of torture like a threat to be eliminated? That's not how Knothole treats its own."
Mina's expression hardened. "He's not 'our own.' He's a chaos entity who could destroy us all if he decided to. How can you ask people to just... accept that?"
"I'm not asking people to accept it blindly. I'm asking them to judge him by his ACTIONS, not their fears. And his actions have been nothing but protective."
"So far. What happens when he decides we're not worth protecting anymore?"
"Then we deal with that situation if it arises. We don't punish someone for crimes they haven't committed."
The crowd murmured, clearly divided. Some were nodding along with Sally. Others still looked fearful, unconvinced.
Through it all, Nazo watched from the back of the crowd.
"The princess is defending me," he observed.
"Of course she is," Violet said, her voice still tight with residual anger. "She loves you. They all do."
"Love I cannot reciprocate."
"That doesn't make it less real."
Nazo considered this.
"The mongoose's song expressed a legitimate concern. My presence does represent a potential threat. The princess's counter-argument focuses on current behavior rather than potential risk. Both positions have logical merit."
"You can't seriously be defending that—that—"
"I'm not defending anyone. I'm analyzing the situation. Emotional responses like yours and the Freedom Fighters' are understandable but not necessarily productive."
"Not PRODUCTIVE?! She just publicly called for your exile!"
"And the princess publicly defended my right to remain. The discourse is ongoing. Escalation through violence or intimidation would only strengthen the opposition's position."
Violet stared at him, her expression shifting from anger to something like despair.
"How do you do it? How do you just... not care that people hate you?"
"I don't 'not care.' Caring requires emotional investment. I simply don't have the capacity to feel threatened by social rejection. The song affects my social standing, not my sense of self—because I have no sense of self to affect."
"That's..." Violet trailed off, unable to find words.
"Practical. The word you're looking for is practical."
"I was going to say 'heartbreaking.'"
"Heartbreak is an emotional response. I cannot experience it."
Violet's tears had started flowing again—not from anger this time, but from something deeper. Something that looked like grief.
"I love you so much," she whispered. "And you can't even understand what that means."
"I understand the concept. I observe the behaviors. I simply cannot reciprocate the feeling."
"I know. I KNOW." She pressed herself against him, her arms wrapping around his waist. "But I'm going to keep loving you anyway. Even if it breaks me. Even if it never means anything to you."
"Your devotion is noted."
"That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
"It wasn't intended to be romantic. It was a statement of fact."
"I know." Violet laughed through her tears. "I know."
The concert ended shortly after Sally's intervention.
The crowd dispersed, conversations buzzing about what had happened, opinions forming and reforming in the wake of the controversy. Mina and her band packed up their equipment, pointedly ignoring the glares from the Freedom Fighters.
Sally found Nazo at the edge of the square, Violet still clinging to him.
"I'm sorry," Sally said. "I should have anticipated something like this. Public sentiment has been shifting, and I didn't take it seriously enough."
"There is nothing to apologize for. The song expressed genuine concerns that a portion of the population shares. Suppressing that expression would only drive it underground."
"Still, it was cruel. You didn't deserve that."
"Deserving is a moral framework. I don't operate within moral frameworks. I simply exist."
Sally studied him for a long moment.
"Does it really not bother you at all? Hearing people sing about wanting you gone?"
"It doesn't bother me. I've explained this. Nothing bothers me."
"Right. Right, I know." Sally ran a hand through her hair, frustration evident. "It's just... hard to watch. Knowing that you're being attacked and you can't even feel it."
"Perhaps that's preferable. Feeling the attacks would be painful. Not feeling them allows me to analyze the situation without emotional interference."
"Cold comfort."
"Comfort is an emotional state. I cannot evaluate its temperature."
Despite everything, Sally found herself smiling slightly. "That was almost a joke."
"It was a literal response to a metaphorical statement. Any humor was incidental."
"Still. It was almost a joke." Sally reached out and touched his arm gently. "We're going to handle this, Nazo. The sentiment Mina expressed—we're going to address it. Change minds. Make people understand."
"Or you won't, and the sentiment will grow until my exile becomes politically necessary. Both outcomes are possible."
"We won't let that happen."
"You cannot control public opinion through will alone. Social dynamics are complex and often irrational."
"Then we'll work with the complexity. We'll find a way." Sally squeezed his arm. "You're family, Nazo. Even if you can't feel it, you're family. And we don't abandon family."
Nazo observed her expression—the determination, the love, the fierce protectiveness.
"Your loyalty is noted," he said.
And somewhere in the depths of his emptiness, a thought formed:
They defend me even though I cannot reciprocate their feelings. This is inefficient behavior that provides no tangible benefit to them. And yet they persist.
This is very strange.
The thought didn't lead anywhere. It didn't spark emotion or produce insight.
But it existed. Unprompted. Independent.
And that, perhaps, was something.