A Shooting Star ~Kirby and Sonic crossover~

Chapter 37: A Tight Grasp

Hi all! I'm aware that this chapter is pretty short (an estimate of 1,500 words, a stark contrast to my 2,000 - 4,000), but I do hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

-Much love, Yokai

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Nightmare knew he was close.

He was so close to achieving his goal. To gain a body far stronger than those ever before, to gain a power that would be able to conquer multiple galaxies at once, and if not, all. He clenched and unclenched his fists, enjoying the power that pulsed within them.

It was only a matter of time before Kirby gave in to his horrors and handed himself over to his creator.

Nightmare chuckled, fondling with his starry cloak. He stared out at the open space around him- a still, black void. There wasn't much to look at, and Nightmare found himself almost wishing for his first prison, back when he was a weaker spirit trapped in a fountain famously dubbed "The Fountain of Dreams".

The most there ever was in Kirby's blank mindscape were the flashes of colour that changed depending on his mood. If Kirby was happy, there would be a burst of pink and yellow, with the air around him pulsing slowly like a gentle heart. If he was scared, a hue of pink, purple, black, and yellow would appear, shimmering like the scales of a reptile. But even with the spectacular waves of beauty, the shining stars of colour did nothing to quench Nightmare's thirst for entertainment.

Fortunately for him, Nightmare was a patient fellow. He didn't care how long he was in Kirby's mind: a month, a year, two years, three hundred years... Because in the end he would get what he wanted, and Meta Knight nor the silly little girl would be able to stop him.

They would be no match for him once his plans succeeded.

He licked his lips, which felt cracked and dry over his tongue. He could taste the puffball's fear and doubt, even without looking at the void above him, which had managed to splatter itself with dark tinted shades. That was good. In time, Kirby's spirit would begin to wither, and soon he would become unrecognizable to those he loved most. It was a sign of hopelessness: that no matter how pure the hero, they could be moulded into something twisted and wicked, given enough time.

"But you know I won't let you do that," a child-like voice countered his thoughts calmly, freezing Nightmare in his tracks and causing his spine to ripple with apprehension.

He turned around in alarm, feeling his once satisfied grin forming into a defensive snarl. He tightened his cloak and drew himself close, not wanting to reveal any vunerable weak spots to the warrior in front of him. After all, he had died to him once. He did not want the same to happen again, especially not when he was so close to resurrecting himself.

"My, my. It's a pleasure to see you again," Nightmare sneered, his panic-filled eyes hidden behind his shaded glasses. Even if he had his whole army of monsters with him, he knew that he stood no chance against the small soul he faced now. "How long has it been, would you say, since we last fought?"

"Maybe... a couple million years." The reply was slow and hesitant, as if the warrior had trouble thinking. He didn't sound very confident with his answer.

Nightmare gasped with feigned surprise. "Really? Then it's been far too long, old friend. Come here and give me a kiss."

The warrior edged away from him, looking at him with pure disgust. "No, thanks," he politely declined. He covered his mouth with his paws, as if to not give Nightmare the chance to smooch him.