Sandwich: A writing exercise disguised as a fic. Knuckles-centric; yes, I like writing about obscure characters just to be different. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.


Knuckle knows that there's a screaming lack of distinction between good and evil. That not everything's concrete and distinct, but sometimes he thinks that it would be better if it were. For one, it would make the jobs of the guys who try to make a difference a lot easier. The injury in his gut and reason for his bedrest was due to the boy across from him. He couldn't have been over twelve years old, yet the intense flare in his aura could be compared to that of a professional hunter. He looked down at the dog that had snuggled itself into the bend of his leg as he sat up in his hospital bed. Appearently, the dog was somewhat of an unofficial judge of his character. The boy whose name was something like "Gon" said so, that Knuckle must be an excellent hunter because this little white dog as white as the sheets decided so. His hand is carved in hard callouses but the dog doesn't flinch as his large hand looms over and reaches to scratch him behind the ear.

Knuckle hates it when people resort to using their fists first, but sometimes it seems to be the only way to get your point across. Some people are just so thick-headed that they'd rather have the sense beat into them than calmly prodded and pushed. But if he could, with his strength, he'd rather teach than to pulverize, do good over evil, and someday put an end to cruelty. Knuckle was like that. And really, he means so well, with the animals and all. He would sooner take in a stray dog rather than have it wander the street to be mashed into roadkill (by some inconsiderate jackass) at some later date. The animals can see that, and they really appreciate it.


HxH belongs to Togashi and all respected owners.