Thinking about this scene again, because do y'all understand??
This scene is one-of-a-kind.
This scene will never happen again.
And we could never, I mean never, get a scene like this in the games.
Because what do you mean Sonic and Shadow sat quietly together and genuinely talked about their trauma?
There was none of the banter that the game versions typically share. None of the pettiness or trying to outdo one another. None of the preconceived notions of each other's personalities that barred their potential friendship.
This scene, and those that followed, was what made the movie dynamic between these two my favorite, tied only with Sonic Prime.
This scene is quiet, tranquil, surprisingly so; considering only moments before this they were fighting to the death and Sonic nearly beat Shadow to death with his bare hands, and Shadow had wanted him to do it.
This scene is haunted with grief. But it's also brimming with raw, honest emotion. Seeing that kind of mood in a scene with just these two is absolutely amazing.
However talkative our little Sonic Wachowski can be, it was Shadow who broke the silence here. Sonic was understandably shaken by his own behavior, but still. He told Shadow the one simple thing, the reason he hadn't killed him when he easily could've: "There are no winners with revenge." And then he fell silent.
The way they sat silently, each lost in their own memories and grief, either staring at the ground or the stars.
Shadow broke the silence. It had provided the opportunity for open, honest communication. He was already his own mess, having seen what Sonic was going through. He'd initially used it to justify his own behavior, saying that Sonic had no right to fault him for dealing with his pain the way he was, since Sonic was making the same choices. Except in the end, when it really mattered, Sonic did make the right choice. He set the example on accident.
Completely isolated from anything that could possibly interrupt them, in literal space, Shadow finally had the freedom to share his trauma with someone who understood. Someone who'd lost his own loved one, and was in the position of possibly losing another. Shadow didn't ask for answers at first. He simply shared the memory of sitting with Maria under the stars, like they were in the present. He expressed his side in a way that no longer tried to justify it. He just said it as it was.
"I've felt this pain for so long... it's all I know."
Sonic didn't immediately try to correct him. He didn't even say that there was a better way, in that moment. Instead, he empathized with him. He understood. He validated him, without justifying all the violent things Shadow had done.
"When I lost Longclaw, I felt the same way."
And with that, Shadow had it in stone that Sonic had been through the same thing. So he asked a simple, quiet, invisibly desperate question.
"Did your pain eventually go away?"
They still weren't looking at each other. They were sharing some of the deepest, most painful parts of themselves with one another. The words were vulnerable enough, to the point eye contact would've been too much. But the words were the most important part.
Sonic barely hesitated when he replied, "No." He wasn't going to pretend or lie. There was no reason to, no point, and all the walls he'd previously had up were torn down by the day's events. But he did have something to share. It had been likely around 12-13 years since Longclaw died, and even though Sonic had been so young when it happened, he had taken something away from it all. To the present day, he had continued to honor her memory by trying to make her proud in how he lived.
He expressed that in the beginning of the second movie. He timidly asked Tom if she'd be proud early in this same movie. It had never stopped being important to him.
Because he'd loved her. And that was the lesson he shared with Shadow, pulled straight from his own painful experiences. It wasn't even a "live the way she would've wanted" type of encouragement. It was "you loved her and she loved you. So focus on that. Hold onto that memory." He didn't give false reassurances by saying the pain would eventually fade, because he knew firsthand that it wouldn't. He simply gave him a different focus.
And Shadow listened. He took it silently, and just as he was processing the new perspective with a kind of wonder in his eyes, the sun rose.
This kind of honest, deep-seated conversation could've only happened in this universe, simply because Game!Sonic doesn't have a confirmed backstory and isn't really allowed to open up like that. This is where the lack of mandates on the SCU makes for beautiful opportunities like this.
This wasn't an exchange between rivals. This was a heart-to-heart between two young boys with similar trauma. Something that connected them and became the foundation for their friendship.
The idea of rivalry is barely addressed in this movie, and I love it. Whatever banter they share as they fight alongside each other later is all friendly and lighthearted, paired with smiles and excitement.
Shadow confessed that he'd felt like he had no choice in the things he'd done, but he phrased it in a way that made it clear that he knew now he'd been wrong.
Even so, Sonic— in classic fashion— extended an open hand to him and told him the simple, profound truth: "You always have a choice."
Better yet, even though they still had a mess to clean, neither of them would be facing it alone. And with their friendship finally established, they were able to move forward.
Again. This scene was perfect. The honesty, raw emotion, open communication, and shared past between these two, as opposed to their strained dynamic in other universes, will always stand out to me, and among many reasons will always be a reason I love these movies so deeply.
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