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Weapons hot, we dodge and dash - a teammate’s call, an inky splash.
Eight’s idle thoughts fell into verse as the match came to a close. She lowered her Octoshot replica, exhaling through her nose to release the tension from her body, then caught sight of a member of the enemy team who had just come up over the next ridge as the whistle blew.
Locking eyes with the boy, she gave him a smile and a cheerful wave. The Inkling paused, seeming surprised, then returned the wave, a smile of his own spreading across his face.
“The results are in - Team Green is the winner!” the announcer’s voice called out, booming across the stage. Distantly, Eight could hear the opposing team’s cheers, and she received a parting look from the boy who she’d waved to before he ran off to join the others.
Oh well. Can’t win them all. Eight shrugged, making her own way back towards the spawn zone and filing away a mental note to write that poem down later.
Upon returning to the Deca Tower lobby, Eight’s octophone buzzed in her pocket. The Octoling fished out the device, finding a new notification waiting for her that congratulated her for reaching level 14.
The agent gave a thoughtful hum, then tucked the phone back into her pocket. As expected, the message meant nothing to her.
That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t enjoying herself, of course! Turf War was a wonderful pasttime, and every moment spent on the field was an incredibly fun experience. The veritable rainbow of colors which covered the turf were beautiful, and rushing across the ink with weapons blazing and her hearts pounding in her chest couldn’t be anything other than wonderful. She just didn’t care much for rankings or scores.
No, the competitive side of Turf Wars did not appeal to Eight. She wasn’t here to be ‘the best’ at Turf War, nor did she care much about increasing her reputation or topping the leaderboards. The Inklings and Octolings who sought to improve themselves, working tirelessly to increase those numbers, to gain a numerical proof of their efforts, had her heartfelt blessings, but Eight had no interest in following their example. What the agent really valued in Turf War was -
“Hey, wait up!”
Eight glanced back over her shoulder. The boy who she’d waved at was running up to her, weapon case bouncing on his shoulder. He pulled his own phone out of his pocket as he came to a stop near her, grinning wide.
“Nice moves out there!” he said appreciatively. “Nice sportsmanship, too! With the waving, and all.”
“Thank you, and congratulations.” Eight returned. “Your team was doing well.”
“Thanks.” The boy seemed pleased. “I’m always looking for more cool people to turf with, mind if we exchange contacts?”
The agent agreed, smiling, and moments later the boy was off again, racing away to rejoin his own teammates. Eight looked down at her contact book on the Turf War application, scrolling through the list of names - two favorites, those being Three and Four, followed by fifty-three additional squids and octopi who she had met on the turf.
Meeting people, making friends, being able to work as a unit and enjoy the rush of a contest with no danger… these were the things she valued in Turf War. The connections that she had made on the field - that was the only number Eight really cared about.
Returning her attention to her surroundings, Eight pondered for a moment whether or not she wanted to do one more match before breaking for the day. Her winnings so far were a bit higher than normal, but…
Well, it wouldn’t hurt anything. The Octoling rejoined the queue, shuffled after a few moments into a new group. A moment later, the travel pipes returned her to the field of battle - it looked like the same stage, although she was on the opposite side of the field this time.
Readying her weapon, Eight sprang from the spawn pad as the battlefield came alive with music. The last few matches she had focused on the fringe areas, opting for less combat and more coverage of the easily-missed edge zones. Sometimes these areas turned out to be the key to ensuring victory. However, since this was the last match of the day, she figured she would try a change of pace.
Eight sped straight for the center of the arena, towards the spot where the fighting was always thickest. The enemy team had beaten her there, and a white-hooded Inkling was dashing across the turf in the company of a taller girl who wore a similar-looking hoodie colored dark blue. Her own teammates behind her, Eight leaped into the fray, Octoshot firing.
The members of the enemy team broke formation, the white Inkling dashing off through the ink while her partner and the rest of the squad fell into battle. Eight grimaced, dodging under stray shots and leaping away from splat bombs - though she had wanted a more action-packed match to send her off for the day, a brawl between the entirety of the two teams was a bit much.
Remembering the white-headed girl who had escaped, Eight quickly inked a path through the chaos, speeding after her target and quickly catching up. Once she had gotten close enough, the Octoling jumped from the ink, weapon already firing.
Her opponent had noticed her approach, pulling back and spreading ink all around them to facilitate her escape. Eight pursued, ducking underneath the girl’s dualie fire, and had her finger on the trigger when she finally locked eyes with the Inkling.
Familiar cross-shaped pupils stared out at her, framed by broad white tentacles that only became visible under the girl’s hood when Eight was looking at her dead-on. Eight screeched to a halt, eyes widening in surprise, as she recognized the face of Pearl underneath the skull-patterned face mask that she wore.
“...Pearl?” she called before she could stop herself.
The musician paused, squinting at her. Eight saw a smile crease her face under the mask.
“Oh hey, Eight!” Pearl replied, waving her dualies in the air. “Fancy meeting you here!”
Eight was dumbfounded. It was like she’d completely lost any sense of where she was. To say that encountering Pearl on the field was unexpected would be a grievous understatement.
Before she could manage any sort of reply, a shadow fell over her, and she barely had enough time to recognize the similarly-disguised face of Marina before the older Octoling’s brella flared open.
“Sorry, Eight! Head in the game!” Marina shouted apologetically as twin blasts of ink shot forth from the weapon, splatting Eight with a resounding burst.
Not long after the match concluded, Eight was standing in an isolated section of Inkopolis Square, her weapon squared away in a carrying case that she hefted up higher onto her shoulder as she scanned the Inklings and Octolings milling about on the streets.
She didn’t have to wait long - two familiar figures broke through the throng, their heads bent low as they made their way towards Eight. The girl moved back further, rounding the corner to break her line of sight with the biggest sections of the crowd, and was soon joined by the musical duo that comprised Off the Hook.
Pearl was the first to speak, throwing off her hood and pulling her face mask down to reveal a wide grin. “Ayy, Eight, how’s it going!” she boomed, high-pitched voice ringing in Eight’s ears as she offered a fist. “Gimme some skin!”
Reeling as she always did from the fact that such an enormous voice could come from such a small body, Eight bumped her fist against the squid’s, giving a smile of her own as Marina grabbed Pearl’s hood and pulled it back up over her head.
“We’re still in the square, Pearl, keep it down!” the tall Octoling said in a loud whisper. “You’ll bring the whole street over here!”
The white-headed woman clicked her tongue as she raised the hood out of her eyes. “You’re paranoid, Marina, every squid in the square is being loud.” she remarked. “Dude over there with the boombox is gonna get a noise complaint.”
“No one is loud like you, Pearl.” Eight said, smiling innocently at the miffed look on her face.
Pearl huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, whatever.” she grumbled. A moment later, her grin returned, and she nudged Eight with her elbow. “Still though, you should’ve seen your face, Eight! Bet you never thought you’d see us on the turf!”
Eight nodded. “I was thinking you were too busy for play.” she replied. “With the music and the television appearances.”
“Eight, we talk about playing Turf War all the time on our news segments.”
“I do not often be watching the news segments.”
“Eight, you’re gonna make me cry.”
“We should go get something to eat, since we caught each other!” Marina interjected, stepping closer to Eight and wrapping her arms around the younger Octoling. “We don’t have to be back in the studio for a few hours. How’s about it, Eight?”
The agent nodded as she returned the embrace, a satisfying warmth spreading through her from Marina’s fingertips. Hugs were so nice. “I would love to eat with you two, if you have time for it. I will buy the food since you are taking time from Turf War for me.”
“Oh, we couldn’t ask you to pay for us.” Marina said quickly. She looked like she was about to say something else, but Pearl cut her off.
“Sure we could! And we will!” the Inkling chirped.
“Pearl!”
“C’mon, Marina, think about it! If she treats us to food now, then we get to return the favor later, when we’ve got more time to make reservations and junk.” Pearl said with a grin, standing beside Eight and putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “It’s only fair, right, Eight?”
That sounded suspiciously like Pearl was intending to ‘treat her’ to something very expensive, and Eight’s first reaction was to ask that she not do that. The short Inkling was giving her a very pleased-looking grin, however, and Eight had already offered to pay for them. Thus resigned to her fate, Eight gave another nod.
Marina still didn’t seem too happy with this turn of events, but she only gave a helpless sigh and crossed her arms. “Well, okay.” she said. “But if you’re paying for us, then it’s only fair that you pick the place, too. Somewhere close if possible, so we’re not late getting back.”
That begrudging look on her face only grew deeper when they arrived at the restaurant that Eight had chosen. The restaurant itself was fine, a very charming diner tucked away onto a side street which offered a classic array of sandwiches, burgers and fries. As it turned out, none of them had been to this particular eatery before - Pearl had seemed pretty excited, saying something about it being a while since they had sampled some ‘old-fashioned people food’ - and the members of Off the Hook had eagerly scoured the menu for their selections.
No, the frown only happened when their food arrived - Marina had ordered an admittedly tasty-looking sandwich with a side of fries and a little bowl of salad, and both Eight and Pearl had ordered gigantic sundaes.
“Ice cream is not lunch, Pearl.” the older Octoling grumbled, her frown unwavering even at the sight of the enormous beaming smile on her bandmate’s face.
“Aww c’mon, Marina!” Pearl grinned as she scooped a big spoonful into her mouth. “Eight’s never had ice cream before, have you, Eight?”
The agent shook her head.
“See? And since we’re already being treated, I figured I’d go big! I’ll eat something healthier or whatever when we get off work, okay?”
Marina tapped a finger against the table, then turned to Eight, whose own spoon was halfway to her mouth. “Never had ice cream, Eight?” she asked with a mischievous smile.
Eight paused, lowering her spoon again and nodding. “I have been hearing much about it, but never have I attempted to eat it.” she remarked. Watching as Pearl scarfed down her own sundae with a childlike glee that Eight had never seen in her life, she added, “I am told it is good.”
“Ice cream’s delicious.” Marina confirmed, calmly picking up a fry. “You just have to be careful with it. It can be pretty dangerous.”
Apprehension riding up the back of her neck, Eight glanced between her sundae and Marina’s smiling face. She set her spoon down. “...dangerous how?” the agent asked carefully.
“Watch.”
Eight frowned, puzzled, only to pull back in shock as Pearl gave a yelp. The white-headed Inkling was pressing her hands against her forehead, emitting a prolonged cry that somewhat resembled an emergency alarm from what she could remember of her days in Octaria.
“Cod, it’s behind my eyes!” the Inkling wailed.
“Brain freeze.” Marina said smugly, grinning wide as she placed a fry in her mouth.
Having been properly appraised of the dangers of brain freeze, and not wanting to experience the same pain that Pearl was struggling against, Eight dutifully obeyed Marina’s advice on taking it slow with her ice cream. Pearl’s reassurances (once she had recovered) that brain freeze was ‘part of the experience’ did little to sway her, especially when the white-headed woman was suffering again only a few minutes later.
As Pearl leaned back, grumbling and cramming her palms into her eyes, Marina and Eight talked leisurely about how Eight had been adapting to the surface.
“Anything exciting happen?” the older Octoling asked, pausing to request water from a concerned-looking waiter. “You’ve obviously been doing Turf War, have you made any new friends?”
“I have meeting nice new people.” Eight nodded. She carefully spooned more ice cream into her mouth, relishing the myriad of sweet flavors that made up the sundae, then added, “I am not using much time with them, however. Much of my time is being used with the Splatoon - I hang in with Four very much.”
“Oh yeah, I remember Four!” Pearl spoke up, seemingly recovered from her most recent bout with her meal. “The yellow-headed girl, right? She seemed like a partier.”
“She tells me of many parties.” the agent confirmed. “I am not attending, but it is good to be hearing her stories. She is a very energetic squid.”
Marina smiled. “Energetic is good.” she said, glancing towards Pearl out of the corner of her eye. “Even if there is such a thing as too much energy. Have you done anything else, though? Besides Turf War and spending time with the Splatoon.”
Had she? Eight thought to herself for a moment, then turned away from the table to unzip one of the pouches on her weapon case. “I am keeping a journal.” the Octoling said, pulling a small black book out from the folds. “If you would like to read it, it would being more detailed than me.”
“Oh, Eight, we can’t.” Marina protested.
“Shell yeah, give it.” Pearl said at the same time, extending a hand.
The taller member of the duo frowned disapprovingly, but Eight gave her a reassuring smile as she passed the book to Pearl. “I have nothing to hiding.” she said, trying to ease Marina’s obvious reluctance. “It is only what I am doing on the surface. You two have been doing so much for me - if it is not too much, you could be suggesting things that I have not done yet?”
Though she didn’t seem wholly convinced, that seemed to soothe Marina’s concerns about reading the journal somewhat. “I just want to be sure that you’re giving yourself some privacy.” the girl said gently, bending down towards Pearl as the Inkling flipped open the journal. “You don’t have to share everything with everyone if you don’t want to - you’re not in the military anymore.”
“I cannot thanking you enough for your concern.” Eight replied, giving Marina a grateful smile. “I promise I will do as you suggest. But I do not mind you examining my activities.”
“And there’s a lot to examine, jeez Eight.” Pearl murmured, eyes widening at the sheer volume of filled pages in the book.
As Marina finally turned away to look through the journal with Pearl, Eight returned her attention to the sundae, which had already melted considerably in the time that she had been speaking to Marina - the price of going slow, she supposed.
Truth be told, even with the ever-looming threat of brain freeze, it was difficult to restrain herself from devouring everything in the bowl and then possibly the bowl itself, just for good measure. Ice cream was delicious. Eight wasn’t certain what flavors were contained in the three-colored treat, but they all mixed and burst wonderfully in her mouth. Without a doubt, this was the sweetest thing she had ever eaten.
As much as she was enjoying herself, though, she hadn’t even eaten half of the sundae and could already feel a somewhat sick feeling that had begun to spread through her stomach. It was a familiar sickness, the same as what she’d felt when Four had introduced her to a heavy bag of gummy bears which she’d ordered off of SquidNet. The kind of sickness that told Eight she would regret having eaten so much of something so sweet.
Well, if she was already going to be regretting it, might as well finish the job. That sounded like something Three would say, anyway, even if she probably wouldn’t use it to refer to eating ice cream.
“Cod, you really wrote everything down, huh Eight?” Pearl asked, nose buried in the journal.
“Only what was important.” Eight answered, looking up from her sundae and meeting the Inkling’s eyes. “For keeping records of my experiences in Inkopolis, so I do not forget what it felt like.”
“Eight, that’s adorable.” Food seemingly abandoned, Marina was just as invested in the journal, if not more so than Pearl. “I never even thought about keeping a journal when I first got to the surface, but I doubt I’d have written so much! You get all of the details down!”
“It was Three’s idea.”
“Ohh, the sulky green-haired girl.” Despite herself, Eight giggled at the use of the word ‘sulky’ to describe Three as Pearl handed the journal back, brow furrowed. “How’s that whole thing going? We didn’t get to see much of Three apart from you kicking her butt.”
“There is no more butt kicking.” Eight replied. “Three and I are being good friends now.”
“Friends can kick friends’ butts.”
“It is so, maybe, but we have no need for the kicking of butts.” the Octoling smiled. “Three is inviting me to be staying in her quarters, and I am very grateful for her kindness. Even though she does not often return to the apartments, we have many enjoyable times when she does.”
“I’m glad you’re so close!” Marina said warmly. “Three seems like she’s got a good head on her shoulders, she’s a really good friend to help you get used to Inkopolis.”
“She is doing so much for me.”
The ice cream was practically melted by now, but Eight nevertheless placed another spoonful into her mouth, then blinked as a thought occurred to her. “It is reminding me - you two are not living with each other, correct?” she asked. “Are you perhaps thinking of doing so soon?”
The question seemed to catch Marina totally off-guard, and she quickly said something that didn’t sound quite like words. An amused grin crossed over Pearl’s face as she smoothly replied, “Yeah, we are.”
Eight frowned as a flush crossed over Marina’s face. “What am I saying?” she asked, confused. “I was not expecting this reaction.”
“She’s just all embarrassed about it.”
“Why it would be an embarrassing?”
“Eight,” Marina cut in quickly, putting a hand over Pearl’s mouth as she opened it to reply, “you remember how, back in the military, there’d be eight or more soldiers sharing a bunkhouse?”
The Octoling nodded attentively, though her gaze momentarily flicked down to Pearl as she slapped at the hand that Marina still held over her mouth.
“Well… that isn’t quite how things work up here.” The older Octoling spoke slowly, almost reluctantly, as she held a hand up to her cheek as if to conceal the blush that was spreading. “When two people live in close proximity with each other, it’s usually… typically when people move in together, it’s because… what I’m trying to say is - “
Finally succeeding in wrenching Marina’s hand away, Pearl exclaimed, “Usually it’s for people who are dating or married.”
The agent blinked, looking between Pearl’s self-satisfied grin and the ever-growing blue blush on Marina’s face as the taller girl stared fixedly at her plate. Slowly, realization dawned on her, and she could feel her own face growing hot at the memories of the time she had spent with Three.
“You mean…” she said falteringly, embarrassment pouring into her chest, “all this time, I have been staying in an intimate arrangement with Three?”
“Well, in your case it’s more like roommates, I think.” Pearl remarked. “You ain’t been sharing a bed, right?”
“We have, once!” Eight answered, louder than she meant to - it was hard to control her volume in her excitement. “When I was having difficulty to sleep, Three accompanied me! Is this what she was thinking I intended?”
Pearl’s mouth opened in amazement. “Oh wow, Eight.” she murmured. Marina stayed silent, her own eyes wide, as Eight shrank back in her seat, thoughts moving almost too quickly for her to register.
“Have people been thinking this way of Three and I all the time?” Eight whispered self-consciously. “I have been telling everyone that Three and I are living in together, and I told Four of when Three accompanied me. I did not realize these things were having such a meaning...”
She was too unused to surface life. The concept of hugs had been foreign to her until Marina explained the basic principles surrounding where, when and how to do it. Since Callie and the rest of the Splatoon had seemed so easy with placing her in Three’s quarters, she thought that the Inklings were more relaxed about this kind of thing. She had no measuring stick for what kind of things were considered intimate, how was she supposed to know?
“Yo, this is some of the cutest shit I’ve ever heard.” Pearl muttered to Marina, gazing in awestruck wonder at the blushing Octoling. Marina cleared her throat, then leaned forward, speaking in gentle tones.
“Eight,” she began, “what do you think of Three?”
The agent looked up to her, a response catching on the inside of her throat; all that came out was an embarrassed gasp.
“Breathe, Eight, I promise it’s okay.”
Trying furiously to calm the raging tornado of thoughts laying waste to her brain, the Octoling obeyed, breathing deeply and releasing it as a sigh. Pearl and Marina watched on as she repeated the process two more times, then finally took another mouthful of ice cream before speaking.
“I am respecting Three so much.” Eight answered, meeting Marina’s eyes. “She is calm and patient with me, and listens to the problems I am having. Despite the troubles I am giving her by living in her home, she is teaching me many things, and I am always appreciating when she is around. It feels very warm.”
“So you like her, yeah?” Pearl grinned.
“I do.” Eight replied, brows knitting together in confusion as Marina shushed the smirking Inkling.
“Would it bother you if people thought that you two were… living together, like that?” Marina asked.
Eight’s tentacles curled up in embarrassment, and she ducked her head, torn between wanting to hide her face and wanting to properly answer the question. “I would… not be minding, myself.” she answered quietly. “But I do not wanting people to have such thoughts about Three. I am worried of rumors and making trouble for her, when she is doing so much for me.”
“Well, maybe you should talk to her about it.” Marina offered, smiling affectionately. “Maybe she doesn’t mind either.”
“You are thinking so?”
“Three looks like she can handle anything.” Pearl said, nodding to herself. “Doesn’t seem like a squid who lets other people get to her. Marina’s right - sit down and have a talk with her.”
The agent nodded slowly, feeling some relief coming over her and easing her tension. Having a plan made things like this much easier to swallow.
“...I will do as you are suggesting.” she said gratefully, smiling at the two musicians. “Thank you both. You are helping me so much, too.”
“Ayy, you know we got you, Eight!” Pearl chirped, sticking out a fist which Eight happily bumped. “Anything got you worried, you come to Off the Hook. We’ll get you straightened out!”
“Thank you.” she said again.
The Octoling looked down at her now fully melted ice cream, then glanced up towards Pearl, who had picked up the bowl and was slurping down the contents with amazing glee. After a few moments where the Inkling remained free of the effects of brain freeze, Eight tentatively followed suit.
Yes, this confirmed it. Ice cream was amazing.
Setting down the bowl with a satisfied sigh, Eight accepted the napkin that Marina offered her, dabbing at her mouth, then looked back up towards the two of them.
“Oh, that is reminding me.” Eight said. “Are you two having the intimate relationship?”
“Yup!” said Pearl with a grin, nudging Marina as the Octoling’s face was once more overtaken by a bright blue flush.
Eight smiled, watching the musicians nudging and slapping lightly at each other, and felt her mind wandering back to the subject of Three.
An intimate relationship with Three… huh.
The agent hoped that Pearl and Marina were too engrossed in their spat to notice that she, too, was blushing again.
Yes, she thought to herself, I would like that very much.