Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When I first wake up, I have no idea where I am. This is definitely not a subway bench, and I definitely cannot hear the hushed chatter of the denizens of the deep or feel the train rumbling beneath me.

My eyes snap open, but when the fog of sleep clears from my mind I remember with a flood of relief that I'm in a safe place now. It's almost hard to believe, after all that’s happened. I’m finally free.

I have to shove piles of blankets and plushies off before I am able to sit up. Light leaks into the room around the closed curtains, illuminating the pale pink walls. I get out of bed and throw open the curtains, the morning sun momentarily blinding me. I can feel its warmth through the window. With all that had been going on before, I hadn't had the chance to revel in the fact that I was finally standing under the real sun, with real birds chirping outside. It was a feeling of possibility, a feeling of freedom, that to everyone else might be an everyday thing but to me feels like heaven.

I open my bedroom door, deciding to go look for food to satisfy my growling stomach. I go in the direction I thought would take me to the kitchen, but somehow I end up in an insanely oversized bathroom. I rack my brain to remember the way to the kitchen, worrying that I might have to call Pearl for help navigating her needlessly enormous house. Not that I know where she is. I really am in over my head.

After at least ten minutes of wandering the endless halls, I finally found the staircase that would take me to the ground floor. If I remember right, the kitchen is down there. Breathing a sigh of relief, I make my way down the stairs.

"Mornin' Eight." Pearl says without looking up, as I reach the kitchen at last. The Inkling is cooking something over the stove, and whatever it is, it smells absolutely amazing.

"Good morning," I say, leaning against the kitchen island. "What are you making?"

"Pancakes," She says matter-of-factly, looking over her shoulder at me. "You ever tried these bad boys?"

"I can't say that I have." I say, trying to recall the last breakfast I had. From my time in the Octarian Army, I vaguely remember some kind of greenish goop that was supposedly very healthy but tasted terrible. I remember that I'd hated it, but like a good soldier I never complained.

"Well this is 'bout to blow your mind, yo," Pearl says, grinning, "Pancakes are basically the greatest breakfast food ever invented."

"Ooh," I say with a small smile.

"You can go find a place on the couch over there, I'm almost done." She says, gesturing in the direction of the living room.

"We are not eating in the dining room?" I ask, confused. There's a perfectly good table right there. I'd never heard of anyone eating in their living room.

"Nah, eating in front of the TV is where it's at. I haven't used the dining room in what... six months? It’s only for when the fam comes over."

"Um, ok." I say, shrugging. I find my way to the living room and find a spot on the end of the huge, puffy couch while I wait for my breakfast. Pearl's living room is large, with the couch in the center. There's a table in front of the couch, and the biggest television screen I'd ever seen is mounted on the far wall. There's even a fireplace.

It isn't long before Pearl enters the room with a large plate covered by a pink towel, two paper plates with some forks, and a bottle of maple syrup, all balanced precariously on top of each other.

"Why are you staring at a blank TV? You can turn it on, ya know." She says accusingly. Setting down the covered plate on the table, she grabs the remote and turns on the TV. She scrolls through the live television channels until she finds some show where an Inkling kid is playing pranks on random passersby.

"Here we go," Pearl says, "This show is hilarious." She sits down on the couch next to me, putting her feet up on the table.

"Are those the pancakes?" I ask, looking at the plate with the towel over it. The smell coming from that plate is unbearably good, and I'm starving.

"Oh, they're not just any pancakes." She answers. She stands up and walks to the other side of the table so she can look me in the eyes, though she is now obscuring my view of the TV.

"Any moron can make some basic pancakes out of a bag of mix, but only true masters of the art can make..." She pauses as she dramatically whips the towel off of the plate. "Heart-shaped pancakes!"

"Pearl!" I say, genuinely touched. This may be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

"Real friends make heart-shaped pancakes for their besties, got it?" She says seriously. I nod, feeling proud that she would consider me her "bestie."

"Now dig in, they're better hot." She says as she moves back around the table to sit next to me.

I take a few pancake hearts off of the heaping stack, and Pearl takes such a big stack and dumps on so much syrup that I doubt she will be able to finish them all.

My first bite of pancakes is so good that I feel like I'm melting with pleasure. It's better than anything I remember eating before. The taste is otherwise indescribable.

"Your mind's blown, isn't it?" Pearl asks, her grin revealing that she already knows the answer. I nod anyway, my mouth too full of pancake to speak.

"Best thing you've ever tasted?" She asks. I nod again.

"Yeah, I'm pretty much the goddess of pancakes." She says not-so-humbly as she leans back into the couch, crossing her legs and propping them up on the table again. I nod once again, because surely only a goddess could cook something this delicious.

I'm too occupied with my pancakes to talk much during our meal, but Pearl occasionally laughs or makes a comment about something on the TV show. I personally don't see how she thinks grown Inklings screaming at fake cockroaches is so funny, because I just feel bad for them. But I suppose we all have our opinions. Either way, I laugh when she does because it seems like the right thing to do.

Sometime during my third helping of heart-shaped pancakes, Pearl's doorbell rings, chiming a little tune. Pearl's face lights up, and she quickly sets down her pancake plate and stands up.

"It's Marina!" She says at my questioning look. "She was supposed to come for breakfast, but..." Pearl trails off as our eyes drift to the pancake plate, which only has two pancake hearts left. I tried to remember how many pancakes I'd already eaten, but all I knew for sure was a lot.

"Eh, she never eats much anyways. She's more of a waffle girl." Pearl says, shrugging, though I still feel bad. I didn't know Marina was coming, or I would've saved more pancakes for her. The doorbell rings again.

"I'M COMING, GEEZ!!" Pearl shouts, stomping off toward the front door.

I finish my last bites of pancake, then set the paper plate on the table. A few moments later, Pearl returns with Marina close behind her.

"Hey, Eight!" Marina says, waving.

"Good morning." I reply, giving a smile I hope doesn't look as awkward as it feels.

"You can have those last pancakes if you want, Rina." Pearl says, gesturing to the last two pancakes as she flops back down onto the couch.

"Aw, they're little hearts!" Marina says, sitting down next to Pearl. If she cares about the sad amount of pancakes we saved for her, she doesn't say anything about it.

"Well, yeah, duh." Pearl says. "Like I told Eight, real friends make heart-shaped pancakes for their besties."

"You've never made heart-shaped pancakes for me." Marina says, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

"I just learned how to make them, okay?" Pearl retorts, blushing. "I'll make heart-shaped pancakes for you some other time."

Marina and I both burst out laughing, and Pearl sighs loudly.

"I have to say though, these might be your best pancakes yet." Marina says after swallowing a bite, pointing her fork at her plate. "You should really try making waffles sometime."

"No, nuh-uh," Pearl says, folding her arms, "I don't care if it's the law, waffles will never be superior to pancakes."

"Excuse me?" I say, raising my hand, "The law?"

"Oh yeah, it was a whole thing," Pearl says, rolling her eyes, "Waffles are legally better than pancakes now because SOMEBODY decided that she wanted everyone's breakfasts to take needlessly long to cook." She looks pointedly at Marina.

"And I still stand by my decision," The taller Octoling says, "It's not my fault you don't have a refined taste."

That did not answer my question in the slightest. I knew Inkling society wasn't going to be the same as the Octarian Army, but I wasn't expecting things as farfetched as waffles being better than pancakes by law. I clearly have a lot to learn.

"Agree to disagree?" Marina says. While I had been lost in thought, they'd continued their argument. Neither of them seemed to have given up.

"Sure," Pearl says, "Even though you're wrong."

"Right..." Marina says, smiling.

There's a moment of silence while Marina finishes off her pancakes, then she sets down her plate and turns toward me.

"So Eight, this is your first day in Inkopolis!" She says. "Are you excited?"

"Very." I say. I am also very, very nervous. Last night, Pearl and Marina had promised me that everyone would love me. But even if they didn't know I was an Octoling, it felt impossible that Inklings and Octolings could live together peacefully. We were too different. Though obviously if that was true, Marina wouldn't be here right now.

"I know how... Different Inkopolis must feel, but that's why we're here, right Pearl?" She nudges Pearl with her elbow.

"Yep! We gotchu, Eight!" Pearl says, striking a pose.

I smile. This might be hard, but so was completing hundreds of tests, collecting four thangs, and defeating a massive superweapon, saving the world as I knew it. Compared to that, this would be nothing.

Probably.

Chapter Text

"So, first things first," Marina says, "You're going to need some trendy new clothes."

I look down at my all-black outfit, then up at Pearl and Marina. They're wearing vibrant colors with cuts that look completely impractical (albeit flattering). Nothing like my clothes.

"It's not that you look bad!" Marina says quickly, holding up her hands, "You just don't want to stand out too much."

I never knew the day would come when wearing a plain black outfit would make me stand out. Everyone in the Octarian Army wore black. But I'm not in the Army anymore, I have to remind myself. I'm free now.

"Not that standing out is a bad thing either!" Pearl continues, "You just wanna stand out in the right way, ya know?"

I do not know, but I nod slowly anyway. I'd figure it out later.

"The Galleria is the best place to net some fresh gear," Marina says, looking thoughtful, "Unless you want to order off the SplatNet, which is pretty good too."

"I got some bangin’ new gear from The Reef." Pearl puts in.

"Where do you want to go?" Marina asks. "It's your choice, Eight."

"Uh," I hum, trying to look like I'm thinking about it even though I have no idea what any of those places are. "The Reef, I guess?" It sounds interesting.

"Oh yeah! We should totally take the heli!" Pearl exclaims, throwing her hands into the air. "Give Eight a birds-eye-view tour of Inkopolis!"

"Pearl, there's no helicopter parking in the Square." Marina says, laughing.

"Ok, we'll take the monorail..." Pearl says with a dramatic sigh. "It's still a birds-eye-view tour, I guess."

"Sounds good," Marina says, "But there is the problem of the paparazzi."

"The consequences of fame..." Pearl says, rolling her eyes.

"Paparazzi?" I say, frowning. I don't know what that word means, but they seem upset about it, so it's probably something bad. Maybe a disease?

"Our fans," Marina explains, "They can get a little out of hand sometimes."

"We're Off the Hook." Pearl says, patting my shoulder. "We stand out everywhere we go. Don't be surprised if we're mobbed or anything."

"Oh, uh, ok." I say, caught off guard. Of course I know that my friends are famous (which is awesome), but I hadn't thought about what that would entail.

"We'll just try to blend in a bit more." Marina says sympathetically.

"You're a freaking head and shoulders taller than every Inkling in the city, ‘Rina," Pearl says, rolling her eyes, "And last time you said you would try to 'blend in,' you ended up signing people's babies in the middle of the Square."

"I don't remember signing anybody's babies!" Marina sputters. "Maybe an autograph or two..."

"But you did sign that dude's face that one time." Pearl says, narrowing her eyes.

"That was a different time," Marina retorts, "And he begged me to! How am I supposed to say no to such a devoted fan?"

"You're hopeless, Marina." Pearl says.

"Is there any way to avoid doing that?" I put in. I don't think I'm ready to be mobbed by crowds of my friends' screaming fans just yet; it sounds like a bit much. Not to mention that it would make it really difficult to shop.

"We can wear disguises." Pearl says, rubbing her hands together. "Every celeb has done it at least once."

"Let's do that. And I promise I won't sign any autographs this time." Marina says, crossing her heart.

"Or faces." Pearl says.

"Or faces." Marina promises.

"Thanks." I say.

Pearl and Marina go to separate rooms in order to change into their disguises. I sit on the couch waiting for a few minutes while they change, watching ads on the TV.

When they return, they look completely different, as far as their outfits. Pearl is wearing a pink hoodie with the hood up, as well as some dark sunglasses and a bright yellow mask. Marina is wearing a blue hoodie, matching dark sunglasses, a baseball cap, and a black mask, and she also has her hair up in a ponytail. I also notice that Marina isn't wearing her headphones and Pearl doesn't have her crown, and realize that this is the first time I've seen them without their trademark items.

"So..? How do we look?" Marina asks, her voice muffled slightly by her mask.

"You look good. Fresh." I say, nodding, and hoping I used the slang right. They're much less recognizable now.

"I miss my crown," Pearl says, "I'm only doing this for you, Eight."

"Don't be dramatic." Marina says, though I smile.

With their disguises in place, we begin making our way to the monorail station. It's within walking distance from her mansion, according to Pearl, so walk we do. Not that I'm complaining, because it gives me plenty of time to enjoy the outdoors. The morning breeze makes me shiver, but I can only smile because there's a breeze at all. I can hear the beautiful songs of living, breathing birds. The sun is bright and it hurts to look at, but it's worth it to know that it's real. The–

"Yo, Eight!" Pearl exclaims suddenly, making me jump, "Stop staring at the sun, you'll go blind, girl!"

"Oh!" I say, blinking. The afterimage is burned into my eyelids. "Sorry!"

"You don't need to apologize." Marina says.

"Yeah, just don't stare at the sun." Pearl says, laughing.

"I won't." I say, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. Who knew that the sun here was so dangerous?

"We're here." Pearl announces. I look up to see a large, raised cement platform, heavily graffitied and shaded by a metal roof. We have to go up some stairs to reach the top of the platform, where a crowd of Inklings and other surface-dwelling species are waiting. The monorail station looks eerily like a subway station. I don't like it.

"I don't think anyone knows it's us." Marina half-whispers to me. Some people glance over at the three of us, but they don't pay us any mind. I find it very strange that they're all okay with an Octoling in their midst, but then I remember that none of them know what I am. And that none of them should ever know.

"Hey, Marina? What is a monorail anyway?" I ask, because this looks a bit too much like the train platforms that were in Deepsea Metro. I hope it's not like a train.

"It's kind of like a train, but it usually travels high above the ground on a single rail." Marina says.

"Oh… Like a train?" I say, my face falling. At that moment, I hear a screech of metal against metal as the monorail pulls into the station. It looks exactly like a train, not kind of. It even has the same graffitied sides. It’s the Metro all over again…

The train comes to a halt in the station, its doors sliding open. The crowd begins to file into it, like it's an everyday thing for them. It probably is. And it was for me too, not long ago, but in a far different way.

"Is it too late to— to not go on the train?" I say, feeling my face go pale, hating the way my chest constricts.

"Ohhh… Cod," Marina says. The realization must've just hit her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think about it..."

"About what? Huh?" Pearl asks. How does she not remember? Just two days ago, I had been trapped on a subway train eerily similar to this monorail, with no idea how or when I would get out. I had been forced to complete countless tests against my will, fight the living corpses of my own kind, and in the end, I had nearly been murdered by a psychotic telephone.

And she wonders why I don't want to ride a train.

Marina whispers something into Pearl's ear, and I can see her eyes widen through her sunglasses.

"Oh, clam.” She murmurs.

"I bought tickets on the way here, so..." Marina says, holding up her phone. "I can't really do much… Cod, I’m so sorry, Eight. That was a really stupid mistake…"

"It's fine. It’s fine," I say, though I'm still buzzing with nervous electricity. I can practically feel the sweat beading on my forehead. "I can handle one train. It's um, not like this one is going to trap me forever, right…?"

"Don't worry, we'll be with you this time." Marina says, grabbing me in a tight side hug.

"We got your back, Eight!" Pearl agrees, punching me in the shoulder. I'm not really sure why she punched me, but it seemed like a friendly gesture.

"I know." I say, forcing a smile though I still feel anxious.

"You gonna be good, bro?" Pearl asks, looking at me with genuine worry.

"Yes. Yes, I think so." I say. We're beginning to get weird looks from the others in the crowd, so I take a deep breath and step towards the monorail. Pearl and Marina both board the train like it's nothing. But I pause in front of the monorail's door, swallowing hard. Why is it so hard to get on one dumb train? I'm better than this. I've come too far to be stopped by my stupid, irrational fears.

"Are you getting on or not?" Grumbles the urchin standing behind me, who's practically breathing down my neck. I know I'm blocking the door, but I can hardly get my feet to move.

"Eight." Marina says from inside the train. She holds out her hand to me.

"I don't have all day!!" Someone shouts angrily, somewhere in the line forming behind me.

I take another deep breath and look up at Marina. She's still holding out her hand, and she nods to me encouragingly. Finally, I reach out and grab her outstretched hand. She pulls me into the monorail, and still holding my hand, brings me over to where Pearl is sitting. Well, Pearl is laying more than sitting, sprawled out over the entire bench, preventing anyone from sitting on it. The other passengers don't seem at all pleased with her.

"Yo!" Pearl says as she sees us coming over. "I saved us seats!"

She sits up, making room for Marina and I. I sit between the two. Now that I'm actually on the monorail, it doesn't seem as scary. For one, it's much brighter on the inside. Not only are there bright lights inside of the car, but the windows let in large amounts of natural sunlight. In Deepsea Metro, it was always dark. Sunlight couldn't reach that far under the sea.

Having my friends here with me makes me feel much safer, too. Marina is still holding my hand, and though it makes me feel like a child, it's comforting at the same time. So I don't tell her to stop.

The monorail's doors slide closed as the last passenger boards. The train begins to move, slowly at first but gradually speeding up. The car is pretty crowded and noisy at this point, but somehow I find this comforting as well. It feels natural, in a way that's probably not right. It takes me back to the overcrowded barracks and the stuffy bedrooms. We'd never had a lot of room to begin with in our domes, so us Octarians always made the most of what we had. And if that meant shoving eight ten-year-old Octolings into a four-person sleeping quarters, then so be it. We would roll dice to see who would sleep on the floor.

I look out of the monorail window at the buildings speeding by. Mostly houses and apartment buildings, with the occasional fast food joint. Nothing very interesting, though better scenery than the black void of the deep sea.

"It'll take about half an hour to reach the Square," Marina says, looking at her phone with her free hand, "Will you be okay until then?"

"Yeah," I reply, "This is not too bad, actually."

"As long as you're okay." Marina says, giving my hand a squeeze.

Pearl stays quiet for once, occupied with some game on her phone. Marina is also on her phone, but she regularly looks over at me to check if I'm okay. And I keep looking out the window, feeling... Relaxed, maybe for the first time in my life.

Chapter Text

"Eight. Eight?"

Marina's voice rouses me from my state of half-sleep. I had been only seconds away from a dream, but the sensation quickly fades as my mind sharpens back into laser focus.

"Hm?" I say, sitting up straight.

"We're here," She says, nodding her head to the crowd of other passengers, many of whom were making their way out of the monorail. I hadn't noticed that we stopped moving. Glancing out the window, I see skyscrapers rising as far as the eye could see, the sun glinting off of glass windows.

"Pearl," Marina says, leaning forward so she can see Pearl past me.

"Yeah?" Pearl says, without looking up from her phone. Her fingers are a blur as she taps away on the screen.

"We're here," Marina repeats.

"Just gimme one sec... BAM! New record!" Pearl exclaims, holding her phone out in front of her like it's a trophy she's admiring.

"What'd you get?" Marina asks.

"57 seconds, yo! I am the QUEEN of Squid Rush!" Pearl says proudly, pocketing her phone as she gets to her feet.

"Really? My best is 52," Marina says, a smile in her voice. She and I stand up as well, and only then I notice that she's still holding my hand. She'd been holding it for so long that I couldn't even feel it anymore. It was really thoughtful of her, I think, smiling, even if I don't need it anymore.

Gently, I let my fingers slip out of Marina's hand, and she shoots me a questioning look through her sunglasses. I smile and nod reassuringly. I'm okay now. She smiles and nods in return, understanding.

Pearl, Marina, and I join the procession exiting the car.

Stepping out of the monorail car feels like stepping into a new world. The air is buzzing with sounds, people talking and cars honking, and someone is playing music nearby. Inkopolis is full of more color than I had expected; where neon signs and colorful storefronts don't hide the bleak metal walls, messy works of art and names painted in bright bubble-lettering do. It's breathtaking.

"Come on, it's this way to The Reef," Pearl says, waving me over, "Hey, you good?" She adds, seeing my awestruck expression.

"It's beautiful," I sigh.

"That's one way to put it," Pearl says, smirking.

"It's beautiful in its own way," Marina says.

"Yeah…" I agree.

"This isn't even CLOSE to the best part," Pearl says, "If you think this is cool, you'll probably die on the spot from the pure awesomeness of the Square."

"Oh, ok," I say, taken aback. I don’t think Pearl doesn't mean I'll literally die on the spot. I'm still brushing up on my Inkling, and it's still hard for me to distinguish their metaphors and hyperboles from their literal language. And boy, do Inklings love their metaphors and hyperboles.

It's best to assume it's a joke and move on.

Pearl and Marina, having obviously traveled this path at least a hundred times before, lead me through the city in the direction of the Reef. I gladly soak up the noisy, bustling energy of Inkopolis. Even before I'd seen the city, I had known I would love it. And I do.

We have to take a detour around a large construction site. The huge excavators and concrete grinders add to the musical city sound, and they remind me again of the Domes. Though I hadn't worked as an engineer, I had always been surrounded by machines. They were a staple of Octarian society, and one of our greatest strengths. Of course, most of our machines were far more deadly than simple excavators.

I notice Marina's eyes lingering over the construction machines as we pass by, and I wonder if she's also reminiscing over her Army days. I remember that she used to be an engineer, however many years ago. One of the best, too, at least before she escaped. I remember, vaguely, hearing the news of her escape. One of my bunkmates had heard it from her engineer friend, who had worked with the escapee at one point. I remember feeling happy for her. At least she would have a chance at freedom, one I'd probably never get. At the time, freedom was like a fun story to me. Nice to think about, but not even close to being real. I would never get out. At the time, there was no hope.

Well look at me now. I think. I have hope, I'm out, and I'm freer than I'd ever thought possible.

Turning away from the machines, I'm thrust back into the present. I'm just in time to see a huge metal spire covered in electronic screens appear from behind a building, my first glance of the Square I'd heard so much about.

"What's that?" I ask in awe.

"You mean Deca Tower?" Pearl says, "Oh yeah, that's where you sign up for Turf War matches or Ranked Battles. Y'know, if you're ever thinking of playing..."

"Cool..!" I hum, my eyes following the tower upward, just to see how far it goes. To my surprise, I see a huge, black fish wrapped around the top of the spire, occasionally letting little sparks off its whiskers. The Great Zapfish? I'd never seen it in person, but everyone in the Army always talked about it, and that thing fit the description. For about a year I'd worked as a Zapfish guard (probably my least favorite assignment), but I'd only ever been tasked with the small, yellow ones. You would have to be a very trusted individual to receive the honor of guarding the Great Zapfish. Anyway, last I'd heard, the Octarians were in possession of the Zapfish; so who brought it back? And when?

"Oh, that's the Great Zapfish," Pearl says, following my gaze. Of course I already knew about it, but I let her explain anyway. "It pretty much powers the whole city. Neat, huh?"

"And it adds a solid level of cute to the Square. Just look at its precious little face!" Marina says adoringly, though I wouldn't go so far as to describe any part of the Zapfish as little.

"Very cool," I say, nodding. I keep staring at the Deca Tower and the Great Zapfish until we turn a corner and it disappears behind another building.

"Is the Reef in the Square?" I ask while we wait for our turn to walk across a street.

"No, but it's pretty close," Marina says. "We could always stop and check out the square after we're done shopping, if you want."

"I would like that," I reply with a smile.

The light on the other side of the crosswalk changes into a white Jellyfish, which is supposedly the symbol for ‘You can walk now.’ I follow Pearl and Marina across the street, looking at the array of cars lined up at the stoplight.

We had cars, but we rarely used them for their true purpose. We had Kettles instead, which were a heck of a lot faster. But in a disorganized, chaotic city like Inkopolis, I'm not sure Kettles would be as effective, if Inklings could figure out our technology in the first place. So I guess they're stuck with cars and monorails. I wonder how Marina feels about it.

"We're almost there!" Pearl announces a few minutes later, "You're gonna love it. They have seriously the freshest clothes on the block."

"Ooh," I reply, looking around to see if I can spot the Reef from here (though I have no idea what I'm looking for).

"They're not hosting a battle today, right?" Marina asks, "Did we check?"

"I don't think they'll have one 'til later," Pearl says, "And if there is a battle going on, we can just sit in on it. Eight's never watched a battle before."

Pearl and Marina both look over their shoulders at me, like they're asking me a question.

"Um, no, I haven't," I say, ducking my head, "I would like to see one though."

"Too bad, doesn't look like there's a battle." Pearl says, sounding genuinely sorry. "Oh yeah, and we're here."

I look up to see some sort of outdoor mall, with trees and grass growing between the shops and walkways. Inklings loiter in groups around the shops and sit on the edge of the stone bridge over the center of the Reef. Pigeons flock around the restaurants and cafes, probably waiting for a meal. The entire area would be beautiful on its own, but the neon graffiti artworks decorating the walls and the bridge make it just that much better.

"Wow," I say, my eyes darting this way and that to take in as much of the scene as I can.

"I knew you would love it," Pearl says smugly, while Marina laughs at my reaction. This might be a normal, everyday place with normal, everyday things for them, but I hope they know how special, how meaningful all of this is for me. Not only is this the first time I've been in Inkopolis, or the first time I've been to the Reef, it's the first time I've ever gone shopping.

"Where do we go?" I ask, looking around. There appear to be several clothes shops, but I don't know which one is the best.

"I get most of my stuff from Modern Seadog," Pearl says, though I don't know which one of the stores she's referring to. There's probably a big flashy sign with the shop's name on it, but I can't read Inkling very well, so I wouldn't know.

"Which one is that?" I ask, embarrassed. It's probably really obvious.

"That one, over there," She replies, without a hint of annoyance or anything at my not being able to find it on my own. She points to a modern, white painted storefront with large windows displaying mannequins in various outfits. The sign has a picture of a shark on it.

We head over to the Modern Seadog store while Pearl tells me about a really “dope” hoodie she got there one time.

I don't realize how hot it got outside until the building's automatic glass doors slide open and I'm blasted with refreshingly cool air.

"Aaah." Marina, Pearl, and I sigh in unison. Pearl and Marina burst out laughing, and I can't help but smile.

"Ey." Half-heartedly greets the shark manning the checkout counter. He's no less than twice my size, and dressed in a black jacket, headphones and sunglasses; naturally I'm intimidated.

"Yo." Pearl says back. "That's Rex. He runs the store. He's pretty cool." She whispers to me. I steal another glance at him, finding him bobbing his massive head to whatever music he's listening to. He seems much less scary now.

"Hi." I say, waving. Rex holds up one fin in a bored sort of wave.

"So, anything catch your eye?" Marina says, reminding me why I'm here. I look around, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of options.

"I don't know," I say, "What do you think I would look good in?"

"I have some ideas!" Pearl says excitedly. Immediately Pearl and Marina start grabbing shirts, hats, and shoes from shelves and hangers all around the store at a breakneck speed. It's like watching piranhas go after food, I think, both amused and mildly scared. Soon they return, arms piled high with at least five whole outfits.

"We got loads of options," Pearl says, "Whichever one you like best."

"Can we use the dressing room?" Marina asks Rex. The shark waves his flipper in a slow circular motion, which I assume means "yes."

"You don't have to try on all of these," Marina says on our way to the dressing room in the back of the building, "Just the ones you like. Don't feel like you need to try them all."

"Ok." I say with a nod. If she hadn't told me, I probably would've tried. We would have been here for hours.

There's a clothes hanger outside of the dressing room, which Pearl and Marina use to display the different outfits.

"Ya like any of ‘em?" Pearl asks. I look over each outfit carefully, but I'm feeling uneasy about my options. Bright, flashy colors aren't something I'd ever imagined myself in. Hoodies and jackets seem heavy and restricting, and not having freedom of movement makes me uncomfortable. The glasses and goggles remind me too much of the ones I used to wear in the Army, and I don't want to be that soldier anymore. And some of those shoes just look hard to run in.

If I'm being honest, none of the outfits look all that appealing to me; but the way Marina and Pearl are looking at me, so expectantly, makes me hesitant to tell them.

"Um, I'll try this one," I say, unhooking a yellow sleeveless shirt from the hangar and grabbing the sunglasses and sneakers that go with it.

"Show us when you're done!" Marina says as I slip inside the dressing room. I do like the way the top feels, but I don't know if neon yellow is my color. And as I expected, I can't stand the way the glasses feel on my face. It feels like I'm right back in the Garrison. I try to move the sunglasses up on my forehead, as I'd seen some Inklings do in a magazine, but they just slide back down over my eyes. But however much I dislike the fit, Marina still requested that I would show her, and I must honor that.

I step out of the dressing room and do a 360 for Pearl and Marina.

"Do you like it?" Marina asks first.

"Uh, I do not have any strong feelings about it..." I lie, "Do you like it?"

"I don't know. I don't think yellow is your thing." Marina says, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"Those sunglasses are a no for me," Pearl adds, shaking her head.

"Ok," I say, relieved that they don't like it either. I'm not sure what I would've done if they did end up liking it. I might just have to suffer through sunglasses.

"Which outfit do you think would look best on me?" I ask, looking at the other options. Still, none of them look good to me, but my friends must know better than me. They're older and have lived here much longer than one day.

"I like this one," Pearl says, picking out a thick black jacket with a pink and a blue stripe across it, along with pink sneakers and a blue mask. "I mean, if you don't like it, I'll get it for myself."

"I'll try it," I say, picking up the clothes. The jacket is heavier than it looks, and based on the texture I guess it's a raincoat. Do people here normally wear rain coats as part of their daily outfit? It hasn't even rained since I got here. I wonder what rain is like…

"Yo, space cadet," Pearl says, bringing back to reality again, "You gonna just stand there, or are you trying it on?"

"Trying it on." I say quickly, retreating back into the dressing room.

And... Uhk.

I despise the jacket. It's so hot and heavy that walking feels like trudging through enemy ink, at least compared to what I'm used to. Not to mention that the mask makes it hard to breathe and adds to the heat factor. Either way, I have to admit that I do look good, and I dislike the outfit all the more for it.

"You gonna show us?" Pearl says from the other side of the door.

"Yes. Coming," I say, reluctantly opening the door and stepping out.

"Ayo!" Pearl exclaims, whistling.

"That looks fresh as it can get!" Marina says, clasping her hands together in admiration.

"You think so?" I say, hopefully hiding my disappointment. I could probably get used to this. I'll just have to wear it for a little bit, and the heat and weight won't bother me anymore. That's what I tell myself at least.

"Do you like it?" Marina asks.

"I like the way it looks," I say, which isn't really a lie.

"Do you like the way it feels?" She asks. She's onto me.

"Yes," I reply. I had been trying to avoid lying outright, but if Marina and Pearl both love it, then it must be a very good outfit. I could force myself to love it. I'd forced myself to think a lot of things before.

"Great! Let's get it!" Pearl says, pumping a fist. But Marina still doesn't seem convinced.

"You're 100% sure you like it?" She asks. I nod, plastering on a fake smile.

"You know you don't have to get it if you don't like it..."

"Marina, she says she likes it," Pearl says, annoyed.

"I do like it," I say, nodding again.

"Can I talk to you?" Marina says. She places a hand on my shoulder and gently steers me away from Pearl. Pearl sighs loudly as we leave her, but she doesn't complain or try to follow us, instead getting distracted by some more flamboyant outfits like she was prone to do.

"Eight, you obviously don't like the outfit," Marina says once we find a quiet corner of the shop.

"I do like it," I protest. I was starting to get used to the suffocatingly claustrophobic jacket already!

"Why are you lying about it? You know you don't have to get it."

"I like it," I repeat.

"You're allowed to have your own opinions. Just because Pearl and I think it looks good on you doesn't mean you have to like it too," Marina says. She sounds sincere.

"You two know better than me," I say, looking away, "If you say it looks good, then I believe you."

"It's not that, Eight," Marina says, "You don't like it. This is about what you think, not us."

"If you like it, I can like it..." I mumble.

"Eight," Marina sighs, but not impatiently, "You're not in the Army anymore. You're allowed to have your own opinion."

I look up, but I'm not sure how to reply.

"Why don't you go change out of those clothes, and then you can pick out your own," Marina says, "I'm sorry if you felt like Pearl and I were forcing our opinions on you. We should've been more considerate."

"I don't think that, I just..." I'm not sure how to put it into words.

"I know. Inkopolis is a big change from the Octarian Army. We don't expect you to get comfy so fast," Marina says with a smile that I return.

"I... do not like this jacket," I finally admit, "It feels like it weighs several tons."

"You can tell us next time, okay?" Marina says, "We're not going to judge you if you don't happen to like the same things we do."

I nod. "Ok.

I head back into the changing room while Marina talks to Pearl, probably about what happened. After shedding the jacket, I'm almost floating, I feel so much lighter.

I change back into my original clothes, my black crop top and boots, which feel much more comfortable.

Pearl takes the folded jacket from my hands as soon as I step out of the dressing room, and lets gravity unfold it for her so she can examine it.

"Yo, this really does weigh a hundred pounds!" She exclaims, "I'll need a smaller size."

"Pearl..." Marina groans.

"It's fine. You can have it," I say honestly, putting the sneakers and mask into her arms as well. Marina chuckles as Pearl runs off, her stack of assorted articles of clothing nearly as large as she is.

"So what should I try?" I ask, turning to Marina.

"Whatever you want," She says with a shrug.

"Oh." There sure are a lot of options. I don't know where to start.

I know I should have my own opinions, but honestly it was easier when they were choosing for me.

"Just look around. You can pick up anything that catches your eye," Marina says.

I wander cautiously into the labyrinth of shelves and displays, looking over every shirt, hat, and shoe. Too colorful. Isn't there anything just a nice, simple black or white?

After several minutes of hopeless searching, my eyes fall upon a shelf stocked with bandanas in every color. They all look just like the bandana Marina was wearing when I first saw her, but in a much greater variety of colors.

I pick up a black one. I can't think of any reason not to like a simple bandana, so I might as well try it on. Maybe Marina will think it's fresh.

Soon I find a top I like as well. I think it's supposed to be a sports jersey of some kind. It's dark gray-blue with big gold letters in the middle (I can't read them, but I hope they don't say anything stupid or obscene), as well as gray and gold stripes along the bottom and the edges of the three-quarter length sleeves. I wanted something with more muted colors, but not black. This shirt is perfect.

I end up deciding that maybe I should have at least a small pop of color, so I find some brightly colored sneakers. They're red with bright turquoise stripes on the sides, and they look comfortable and easy to run in.

After at least a half hour of searching, I return at last to the dressing room with my completed outfit. Pearl is modeling a smaller size of the pink-and-blue striped jacket for Marina, and it does look good on her. Pearl seems to like it much more than I did.

"Did you find some stuff you like?" Marina asks, seeing me approach.

"Yes. It took a while though," I say, looking at the pile of clothes in my hands.

"That's fine," Marina says, "Go try it on!"

"And you gotta show us," Pearl reminds me.

"I will," I say, "You look good, by the way." I catch a glimpse of Pearl's smug smile before I shut the dressing room door.

My new outfit is perfect. It feels light and cool, just like I wanted. I tie the bandana around my head like a headband, and it keeps the tentacles out of my eyes as an added bonus. Looking at my reflection in the dressing room's mirror, I think I look pretty good.

"Here it is," I say as I step out of the dressing room.

"Oooo!" Pearl and Marina say in unison.

"Dude, that is a look!" Pearl says.

"Yeah, it looks great, Eight!" Marina says.

"You think so?" I ask, looking at my shoes, "I'm not really good with fashion..."

"No, it's super fresh!" Marina says excitedly, making me blush.

"Shell yeah!" Pearl says, "You have to get it!"

"Do you like it? Is it comfortable?" Marina asks, making sure.

"Yes, I like it a lot," I reply, this time truthfully.

"You should go try to find some more of those shirts, then. You can't live off of one outfit." Marina says.

"Ok." I say.

After changing out of the outfit, I find my way back to the shelf with the sports jerseys and pick out a few more in white, dark red, and green. While I'm over there, I grab another bandana, a white one, as well. I don't think I need more than one pair of shoes.

After showing Marina and Pearl my other shirts, we head towards the checkout counter. I put my stack of folded tops, bandanas, and shoes on the counter, and Pearl throws her jacket on top.

"That'll be... 37,880 G," Rex says in a deadpan, scanning the tags on our clothes. I hope that isn't too expensive, though Pearl doesn't seem to care about the price.

She swipes a card through some sort of computer machine, which must be the way people pay here. It reminds me of the CQ Card I'd used in Deepsea Metro to pay for entry into the tests. I kept my CQ Card along with my CQ-80, though right now they're safely stored in my room at Pearl's mansion. I'm not sure why I'm keeping them or what I'm going to do with them, but for whatever reason I can't bring myself to throw them away. Maybe it's the same reason why now, I'm afraid to give up my old clothes for my new ones. I'd fought, and killed, and was killed in this outfit. It holds a lot of bad memories, but somehow I can't bear to let those memories go.

I hate the thought of forgetting everything again. I still haven't gotten back all of those memories I lost before Deepsea Metro, and however bad they are, I can't help but cherish the memories I have left. The memories of that nameless soldier of the Octarian Army.

I can't lie and say that there is nothing I miss from the Army. Even if the laws were strict, they made life predictable, and there was some level of comfort in that. Everything was in order, and the only thing I had to do was follow orders. It was easy, but it didn't feel like living. It couldn't be called living. I might as well have been dead before I heard the Inkantation.

But I had friends there. I left them. I still can't find it in me to forgive myself for it.

Even so, I know that if given the decision again, I would still choose freedom. Maybe it's selfish, but after hearing the song, I couldn't stand being dead anymore.

Maybe freedom isn't easy, maybe I do miss the order of the Army, and maybe I'll relive Deepsea Metro in my nightmares for the rest of my life, but at least now I'm alive. That's all I wanted.

Chapter Text

Visit Inkopolis!

Experience the sights and sounds of Inkadia's capital city! Play or watch Turf Wars, Inkopolis' most popular sport! Visit the historic Arowana Castle! Discover ancient relics at the Shellendorf Institute! If you like having fun (who doesn't?), check out Wahoo World, the most famous theme park in the nation! See Inkopolis Square, the home of famous celebrities and loads of up-and-coming Turf Warriors too!

It's no wonder this city has become the most populous city in Inkadia; there's so much to do and see, you're sure to find the perfect place for you in Inkopolis!

I had found the magazine under a subway bench. I had just gotten through the Fake Plastic Station, and I was feeling exhausted physically and emotionally. There was so much going on, I needed time to think.

Captain Cuttlefish had suggested that I rest, maybe try to sleep. Sleep did sound nice, but I knew I wouldn't be able to close my eyes after what I saw. I shudder even now to think about it.

I had found an empty spot on a bench towards the back of the car. The corner was dark; the light that was supposed to be above it had burned out.

I laid down after brushing dust off the seat, and curled into a ball. I was scared and confused. I had never cried before in my life, at least as far as I knew, but right then I felt pretty close to tears, my chest painfully tight. I didn't know where I was, or who I was, or what I was supposed to do. I couldn't remember anything. The train was crowded with passengers, but I felt so alone.

Then my eyes fell upon the magazine under the bench. It must have been read over and over, its paper cover crumpled in the corners where the reader would have grabbed the pages. There was a picture of a smiling Inkling on the cover, and bold red letters above that I couldn't read. Below the letters was scrawled in messy black handwriting, "Inkopolis Illustrated." And below that, "Don't lose hope." It was in Octarian. And it was obvious that the words hadn't originally been on the magazine cover. Someone had written them with a marker, though I didn't know who. There were no other Octarians on the train, and I knew of no other species who knew our language.

Sitting up, I had picked up the book to examine it more closely. I opened to the first page, which is where I first read about the paradise city of Inkopolis. The Inkling letters had been scribbled over by the black Octarian ones, allowing me to read the page. I was enthralled by this place I had never seen before, the Promised Land.

That was all it took to give me the hope and determination to fight through test after test, failing, getting back to my feet, and trying again.

Inkopolis was like the sun, or like heaven, and one small glimpse of its light is all I needed to keep me from giving up long before I ever reached the surface.

• • • • • • • •

"You ready for this, Eight?" Pearl says excitedly.

"Yes," I say, my voice hard with determination.

"You'll love it!" Marina says.

"Yes," I agree with a sharp nod.

"Un-clench your fists, girl! You're gonna make your hands bleed." Pearl says.

I hadn't even noticed my hands were balled into fists. I flex my fingers, noticing visible marks where my claws dug into my skin.

Every muscle in my body is tense with anticipation. As promised, Marina and Pearl are taking me to Inkopolis Square. If being in Inkopolis is a dream in itself, setting foot into the Square will be... What's better than a dream? A reverie, maybe? It will be a reverie.

"I'm nervous," I admit, catching myself before my hands form fists again.

I can't help but feel anxious knowing I will soon see with my own eyes the Square I had longed to see ever since I found that magazine. What if it disappoints me? I mean, I doubt it will. Honestly, my bar is pretty low at this point.

"About what? It's just like any other part of the city," Pearl says as we turn a corner into an alleyway. "I mean, yeah, it's pretty sick, but you don't need to make a honkin’ big deal about it."

"Pearl," Marina sighs.

"What? I didn't do anything this time!" Pearl says, glaring at the other Octoling.

"You'll do fine, Eight," Marina tells me, ignoring Pearl, who huffs in annoyance, "We'll show you around, and maybe we can check out some of the shops too. If you want to, that is."

"We have to get Crust Bucket for lunch!" Pearl exclaims, immediately forgetting the thing from before. "I gotta butt-ton of tickets I've been saving."

"Yeah!" Marina agrees, "That sounds great!"

"What is a 'Crust Bucket?'" I ask, "Food?"

"Crusty Sean's food truck," Pearl says, like I'm supposed to know who that is. Or what a food truck is. A truck made out of food? A truck that delivers food? It definitely wouldn't be the strangest thing these Inklings make up.

"We're here!" Marina announces, running ahead to the end of the alley.

"Oh?" I say, beginning to run after her. I'm forced to stop in my tracks when Pearl basically tackles me from behind. She slaps her hands over my eyes, completely taking me by surprise when I tip backwards. Due to both her short stature and my fairly tall one, she’s practically hanging off my head.

"No peeking! It has to be one of those awesome, grand reveals!" She shouts, as I grab her wrists out of instinct.

"Oh, ok," I say, but I don't let go. It feels better to have something to do with my hands. I do soften my grip a bit though; I don't want to hurt Pearl.

"Don't run her into anything, Pearl," Marina says, only half joking, as the Inkling guides me forward, somewhat clumsily. I realize that I'm not very worried at all about my lack of sight, however. I must trust Pearl a lot. Hm.

"I'm not gonna," Pearl says, "See, we made it to the Square, no problemo!"

"I am in the Square? Right now?" I say, the anxiety and adrenaline welling up in my chest again no matter how hard I try to force it down.

"Yeah, you ready?" Pearl asks, "I'll let you see if you let go of my hands."

"Sorry," I say, releasing her wrists and clasping my hands together instead, "I'm ready."

"Ok... Wait for it... Da, da, da, daaaa! Here it is!"

All I can see at first is blinding light. It's just as I pictured it, full of glorious light and music, a paradise indescribable by ordinary words, a haven of freedom and life. I need to remind myself to write that down next time I have the chance.

But then my eyes adjust, and the colors and shapes I see are even better than the light. I'd seen many pictures of Inkopolis Square in the Inkopolis Illustrated magazine, but it looks different now that I'm seeing it for myself. To be clearer, it looks exactly the same as the Square I'd seen in the pictures, but seeing it in person makes it feel brighter, better, more real in a way.

Shops and various other buildings form the edges of the Square, each with its own colorful storefront to make it stand out from the rest. There's also a bright yellow truck parked in the middle of the Square (is it legal to park there? Who knows...), emanating a mouth watering smell. That must be the "food truck."

But the real eye catcher of the Square is the screen-covered Deca Tower, towering high over the other buildings, with the Great Zapfish coiled around the top.

Many Inklings sit on the benches outside of the Deca Tower, loiter around shops, and wander the Square. I watch an Inkling performing a wild dance on a glowing platform in front of a large, boxy computer thing, wondering what in the name of Cod they're doing. I think it's a game?

"I think she might’ve actually died of shock, ‘Rina," Pearl says in a comically flat voice, probably because I haven't said a word since I saw the Square.

"Oh no!" Marina exclaims, struggling not to laugh.

"I'm alive," I say without looking at them. I'm too occupied trying to take in as much of the Square as my mind can contain. "It's just... Even better than I imagined."

"I'm glad you like it," Marina says, "It really is beautiful, isn't it..."

"I’ve got zero clue what the heck you guys are talking about, but I won't judge. Different strokes for different folks, I guess," Pearl says with a shrug, "Is it an Octo thing?"

"You could say that," Marina says.

"Cool," Pearl replies. I doubt she understands, but she doesn't say anything else. I wouldn't describe Pearl as the most respectful of all people, but she does know when she needs to be. So we stand there in silence, basking in the noisy atmosphere of the Square. I could've stood there for hours.

"So, yeah. This is the Square," Marina several minutes later, at last breaking the trance.

"I like it," I say.

"Yo, Eight, we gotta show you around the ol’ place!" Pearl says, happy that we were finally done standing around. "Give you the grand tour!"

"Ooh," I hum, "That would be nice."

"Ooh yes, a tour!" Marina says, clapping her hands together, "We can show you our studio!"

"Is it where you play music?" I ask. I would love to hear their music again.

"It's where we broadcast the news," Pearl says.

"You make the news here?" I ask. Shouldn't they be working on that then?

"We took a day off today, but we usually broadcast the news every day," Marina says, answering my question, "We had to pre-record today's news, but we didn't want to leave you alone all day."

"Oh. Thank you," I say, surprised, "So you'll have to work tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately," Marina sighs, "But we'll be back by 5:00, and we have something super special planned for tomorrow evening."

"What is it?" I ask.

"A surprise," Pearl says with a wink, "A really, really, really good one."

"I'm excited," I say, which is the truth, even if I don't express it so much.

"So, are we touring or what?" Marina says.

"Oh yeah, let's go!" Pearl says, gesturing for me to follow her.

She leads us around the truck, towards the center of the Square, where she stops me.

"Ok, here's the tour," Pearl says. She begins by pointing at a white storefront with a sign in fancy gold letters, and then points at each shop as she goes. "That's Ye Olde Cloth Shop. Yeah, everyone thinks the name is wack, but they do have some pretty fresh stuff. That's Shella Fresh. You can get some sweet kicks there. That's Headspace. The lady who runs it is kinda weird, but Craymond's cool. I played Squid Jump with him one time, we’re totally boys now. Then that's Ammo Knights, where you can get some nice weapons. But Sheldon will talk your ear off if you let him. It's best to run in there and grab a weapon before he starts going off about the pros and cons of autobombs versus torpedoes and their best weapon pairings and whatever..." She shudders as if she's reliving a bad memory, but honestly I would like to know the pros and cons of autobombs versus torpedoes and their best weapon pairings. I don't say it though.

"Yup, all four of those shops are the Galleria. And over there..." She spins me around to face the other direction. "Is the Shoal and our studio. And over there..." She spins me to face the tower, before I even have a chance to get a look at the building. "Is the Deca Tower, we already told you about that, and Grizzco. Grizzco's always hiring if you ever need some quick cash, but the boss-man will work you to death. Semi-literally."

I was about to ask what "semi-literally" meant when Pearl turned me around again, this time to face the yellow truck.

"And that's the Crust Bucket. The food is awesome, and I'm starving. Tour over. Can we eat now?”

"That was... some tour," I say. My brain is still catching up with her words.

"I'll say," Marina laughs, "You're the one who suggested the tour, Pearl. Maybe give a real one next time?"

"I suggested that before I realized how hungry I am," She retorts, "If I don't get some food in me really soon, hungry Pearl is gonna turn into hangry Pearl, and no one wants that."

"Oh, no," Marina says, grimacing, "You okay to go eat now, Eight?"

"Yes." I say. I hadn't brought it up, but I'm really hungry too. Though starving would be an overstatement.

A hyperbole. I tell myself. I can say I'm starving and not really be starving.

"I'm starving," I say out loud. It feels weird to say, but Pearl and Marina don't pay any mind to my wording.

"That makes three," Marina says, smiling, "Let's go eat."

I follow the two over to the yellow truck, the Crust Bucket. It's like a restaurant inside of a truck. Actually, it's a very inventive and interesting idea. The owner of the food truck could drive their restaurant wherever they wanted, like a mobile food factory. But by the looks of it, this truck hasn't moved out of the Square for a while.

"What's kraken?" Greets the prawn manning the truck, doing a sort of mock salute. I assume this is Crusty Sean.

"Yo," Pearl says, saluting back. They're saluting all wrong, but I don't say. It probably doesn't matter as much here, though if they were in the Army, they would get a punishment or at least a stern talking to for their disrespect. They were never in the Army though, and I'm not there anymore either. Why am I making such a big deal out of a friendly gesture? Why can't my stupid brain stay quiet for one minute?

"What do you want, Eight?" Marina asks, snapping me back to reality once more. She points to the chalkboard menu that is, of course, written entirely in Inkling. I bite my lip, studying the menu to see if I can decipher any of it, which I find I cannot. I don't want to admit that I can't read any of the Inkling on the board, especially not to Marina or Pearl, even though I'm sure they would help with no judgment. I don't want them to think that I don't know enough to make it on my own, a worry that has plagued me since before I made it to the surface.

"Um..." I say, trying to decide what to do. Finally I create a plan. "Oh, I don't know what I want yet. You guys can order before me."

"Alright. In that case, I'll have a Super Seanwich with water, please," Marina says.

"I want a Triple-Fried Galactic Schwaffle with extra chocolate sauce and whipped cream, plus an extra large Main-Saver Lemon, and make it fast, buddy. Please and thank you," Pearl says, rushing through her words.

"Have you decided yet, Eight?" Marina asks. I act like I was studying the menu carefully, then nod.

"I'll have a..." What was it called again? "A Super Seanwich, too, please," I say, "And water."

"Coming right up," Crusty Sean says, getting to work on our meals.

There are round metal tables and chairs arranged outside of the Crust Bucket for customers to eat at. We find a table in the shade of the Galleria building, where we wait for our food.

"I'm gonna eat my sunglasses if I don't get some grub ASAP," Pearl says, practically vibrating as we sit down.

"Hey Eight, we ordered exactly the same!" Marina says, ignoring Pearl. She's probably used to Pearl's random outbursts. "We're lunch twinsies!"

"Oh yeah!" I say, pretending that I didn't order the same as her on purpose. At least she's not suspicious this time.

"Wooooow, you should get matching shirts or something," Pearl says, unimpressed, "Just one Super Seanwich and a water? You guys are starving yourselves."

"At least we're not eating ten pounds of straight sugar," Marina returns.

"You wish you were eating ten pounds of straight sugar," Pearl says, "You just have a weak stomach."

"Pearl, you wonder why you have your digestive issues," Marina says. Pearl's face turns completely pink.

"Clammit, Marina," She mutters under her breath, but says nothing more than that as she folds her arms and sinks into her seat, probably pouting.

Despite their conversation, when our food is ready, Pearl devours her enormous mountain of whipped cream and chocolate like a wild animal before Marina and I are even halfway done with our Seanwiches.

And the Seanwiches…

It would be close, but they might just be better than Pearl's pancakes. Crunchy and savory, and absolutely delicious. My second meal on the surface, and I'm beginning to doubt they have any bad food here.

"You look like you're enjoying that," Marina remarks before taking another bite.

"It is very good," I say. I'm disappointed as I finish my final bite and find that there's no more Seanwich left. I'm almost tempted to ask for another one, but I know I wouldn't be able to finish it.

"You should totally get a Schwaffle next time. Those things are peak Crust Bucket," Pearl says, taking a sip of her lemon drink.

"I will," I say. Schwaffles must be delicious too.

"So, is there anything else you want to see while we're here?" Marina asks.

"You said there was a weapons store?" I say hopefully.

"Yeah, Ammo Knights? We can go if you want," Marina says.

"Yes." I say. I've always had an interest in weaponry. I want to see what weapons surface dwellers use, see how they differ from Octarian weapons. I know that Inklings use a lot more sub weapons than Octarians, so it would be interesting to see what subs they have…

"Not Ammo Knights..." Pearl groans.

"You can do it for Eight," Marina says, patting Pearl on the back, "Just don't make eye contact with Sheldon and you'll be fine."

I frown. I feel bad for having them come with me. Neither one of them seems very excited about going to the weapons store, though Marina is hiding it much better than Pearl. But Marina also told me to have my own opinion, and my opinion is that I want to go to Ammo Knights. But I don't want to be selfish…

After a split second decision, I say, "I can go by myself."

Marina and Pearl pause, looking up at me with wide eyes like they heard me wrong.

"Why would you want to go by yourself?" Marina asks. I hope she doesn't think it's because I don't like her.

"You two don't want to go to the weapons store, so you shouldn't have to," I say, "I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Marina says, looking worried, "We'll come if you think you'll need us, no hard feelings."

"Yes, I'll be fine," I say, "This is the only thing I want to do."

"As long as you're good," Pearl says.

"We're just going to head over to our studio then, okay? The code for the back door is 9968, whenever you're done," Marina says, " Stay safe."

"If anyone tries anything, you have our expert permission to absolutely molly rock them, ok?" Pearl adds sternly.

"Ok," I say with a nod, not really understanding what Pearl was talking about but pretending I do.

With one last worried glance over her shoulder, Marina follows Pearl to their studio. I commit its location to memory, just in case. The building with big windows in the corner of the Square. And the code is 9968.

Now alone, I head toward the building Pearl told me was Ammo Knights. It has a plain concrete front with golden accents, the golden flag outside of the door and the logo on the window displaying the symbol of a horseshoe crab. The open doorway lets out streams of cool air.

I look in through the door, wondering if I'm just supposed to come in. I don't see anyone else in the store…

"A customer!" Says a voice inside the building. A horseshoe crab peeks around a doorway in the back of the shop and waves. "Hello hello! Please give me a moment to finish sorting these boxes, and I'll be right with you."

"Oh, ok," I say, walking into the shop. I take the moment to look around in awe at the shelves of shooters and blasters, and the rollers, chargers and brushes hanging on the walls. It's a weapon enthusiast’s dream.

"Sorry about that. Anywho, welcome to Ammo Knights! What kind of weapon are you in the market for?" The horseshoe crab says, returning from the room in the back. He's wearing an apron decorated with badges and patches, and he seems to be using a pair of binoculars as glasses. He may be odd looking, but at least he's polite, and I can't help but admire his militaristic manners.

"I'm just looking today," I say, admiring a sleek black and white shooter in a glass display case, "What is this?"

"I'm glad you asked!" The shopkeeper says, his eyes sparkling with joy. It seems like he rarely gets asked questions like this. "That, my friend, is a Kensa Splattershot Pro, a limited-edition, custom Splattershot created in collaboration with Toni Kensa! It comes with the sub weapon of Splat Bombs to check your opponents before finishing them off with the main! And with the Booyah Bomb special, you can sail a victory on a wave of booyahs from your buddies! This set is perfect for those hero-types who love to be star of the show."

"Wow," I say, genuinely impressed, "And you made these?"

"Yes, although this one was sponsored by Toni Kensa. I make all of my weapons by hand, so I can assure you that they are of the utmost quality!" He replies, obviously proud of himself.

"I can see," I say, running my hand along the handle of a roller on the wall. "Wait, do you mind if I touch them?"

"No, I can see you are a fellow appreciator of the fine art of weaponry; handle all you like, just be gentle with my babies." He says.

"What's this?" I ask, picking up a shockingly heavy, enormous gun. It has a large metal tank attached to the back, with a red metal body and three gold tipped barrels. It looks a bit like the weapons Octocommanders are equipped with, but I've never seen one usable by Octolings.

"That is a Hydra Splatling!" The shopkeeper says, enjoying himself, "It's a splatling designed to really pressure your opponents turf with extreme firepower! However, a very long charge time and heavy ink consumption make it a liability in close quarters. Its Autobomb sub helps keep opponents at bay, so you can pick them off from a safe distance! Opponents about to pounce when you've finished shooting? Let 'em get close, and then spring the trap with your Splashdown special! Perfect for those who like to keep their distance in battle."

"Is a splatling one that charges up, then releases much ink at a time?" I ask, picturing Octocommanders.

"Um, yes..?" He says, now sounding confused, "You don't know what a splatling is?"

"I'm not from here," I say simply. Suddenly, I see a flash of mistrust in the horseshoe crab's eyes, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Still, it was enough to make my heart leap into my throat. I don't know what I'm worried about, but suddenly I feel like I have to get out of this shop.

"Where are you from?" The shopkeeper asks. It sounds like a friendly question, but now that I'm listening for it, I can hear the underlying suspicion in his voice.

"Um, the country," I reply, setting down the Hydra Splatling, "I have to be going now, thank you for your time."

"Yes. Have a good day," He says, sounding less welcoming then he did when I first came in, "An accent too… Should’ve realized sooner… I’ll have to let someone know about this…" He mutters, probably thinking I was out of earshot, as I walk briskly out of the store.

Does he know? I think, beelining toward the Inkopolis News Studio. He can't know what I am– They don't know about Octarians. Marina said so.

I was unsettled and anxious to find my friends again. I didn't feel safe being alone here anymore. I was wrong to think that I could handle being on my own after only a couple of days on the surface.

I don't see Marina or Pearl through the studio's glass wall, but I know they're in there, probably just in another room. They wouldn't leave without me.

I head around the building to the back door. I type the code, 9968, into the number pad next to the door, having to count the buttons in order to figure out the numbers, since I can't read them. Apparently Inklings have different symbols for their numbers, too.

There's a whir and a click as the door unlocks. I pull it open and slip into the building, making sure to lock the door behind me. The back room of the studio is brightly lit, with large mirrors hanging on the walls. There's a couch and a few chairs, as well as a table with a tray of snacks on it. Pearl and Marina, however, are nowhere to be seen.

"Marina? Pearl?" I call, "I'm here."

I don't hear anyone answer back. They must be in a different room, and didn't hear me. I knock on the doors of the dressing rooms, and swing them open when there is no answer. Not there. I double check that they're not in the front room, and don't find them.

"Friends?" I say, "I can't find you, are you here?"

Still no answer. But they said they would be here! They didn't lie, did they? They wouldn't. They wouldn't…

"I'm here!" I shout, louder, "Where are you?"

I return to the room in the back, as if they would appear there after I checked just a few minutes ago. Of course, no one is there. I'm still alone.

I don't think I've ever been truly alone, not like this. In the Army, there was no such thing as privacy, and no such thing as being alone. I was always with at least one other soldier, never by myself. When I escaped the Army, I had hope to keep me company, and the knowledge that I wouldn't be alone for long. And when I fell into the Metro, I had Captain Cuttlefish and Iso Padre, as well as Pearl and Marina, even if they weren't actually there in the flesh.

But now I feel so completely and utterly alone. I've been abandoned, deserted. I don't know where to go or what to do, I have no money and no home and no idea how Inkopolis works. I have no chance of making it here without help. Why did they leave me? I don't understand! I thought…

I thought I had real friends…

I don't know how I ended up in a ball on the floor, but here I am. I feel hot tears streaming down my face, but I don't know where they're coming from. I've never cried before. I don't even feel sad, just... Numb. Empty. And scared. The cold feeling of loneliness is one thing, but abandonment is worse. It hurts to know that I'm not important to them. They didn't care enough to help me. They left me. I'm not strong enough to help myself. I'm terrified. My head hurts. I can't breathe.

• • • • • • • •

"Eight! EIGHT!"

I can barely hear it through my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. But I think it was my name. I can’t tell through the endless noise in my screaming mind. How long have I been here?

Something touches my arm, and I immediately recoil, shrinking away from the touch. I curl up tighter, a protective ball. Scared.

"Eight! Eight, what's going on? Talk to me!"

"Eight!"

It sounded like their voices. Marina and Pearl. Did they come back for me?

I open my eyes, just slightly, my vision blurry from tears. They're kneeling next to me. They look scared, too.

"Eight?" Marina says, panicked, "Eight, you have to tell us what's going on!"

"I... You..." I try to speak, but I can't get enough air. I gasp for breath, but my throat feels like it's closing up–

"Calm down. Breathe," Marina says, grabbing my hand. This time I don't flinch away. I squeeze her hand as I try to take deep breaths, interrupted by choking sobs. I've never cried before. I don't like it.

"Was it a… a panic attack?" Pearl says, looking more worried than I'd ever seen her. Pearl is never worried, though…

"I don't know. I think so," Marina says, rubbing her thumb along the palm of my hand in a comforting way, "Are you okay?"

"I... Don't know," I manage to choke out before another fit of racking sobs overtakes me.

"What happened?" Pearl asks, fidgeting with her hands in a nervous way.

"You... You... Left me..." I say, taking more deep breaths, "I thought... You said you would be here but... You..."

"Here, why don't you sit up," Marina says, helping me into a sitting position, "I'm sorry we left, we didn't know you would be back so soon, and–"

"We thought Sheldon was gonna keep you forever, talking about... Um..." Pearl trails off as she sees that her quip isn't making me feel any better. "Sorry." She finishes quietly, looking away.

"I thought you... Abandoned me," I say, "I came back and... You weren't here... I was so scared..." With that, I turn back into a sobbing, shaking mess, angry at myself for crying like a weakling.

"We would never abandon you!" Marina exclaims, grabbing my other hand.

"Not for the world," Pearl agrees.

"We saw that there was a sale on stuffed plushies at a store nearby, and Pearl remembered how much you liked the ones she gave you last night, so we thought we would run over and surprise you when you got back..." Marina explains, "We really thought you would be gone a lot longer. I'm sorry that we didn't tell you beforehand."

"I wrote a note," Pearl says, picking up a slip of bright yellow paper from the table. I'd noticed the note while searching the studio, but I hadn't paid it any mind since it was written in Inkling.

"I wrote your name really big on top so you would know it's for you," She adds, pointing to the large letters on the top of the paper. Her tone is questioning, but not accusatory. They didn't know that I couldn't read the note.

"I... can't read," I admit, looking down. I didn't want to see their disappointment. "Not... Not Inkling."

"Ohh..." Marina says. She sounds surprised. I don't blame her, it is strange in the modern world for one to be able to speak a language but not to write it. Most learn the writing first and the words later, but I taught myself to speak Inkling by listening to the words, and never learned to write them.

"I... Did not know that," Pearl says, rubbing the back of her neck, "Marina could've written it in your language if we'd known."

"I didn't want you to think I'm stupid... Or helpless... I don't want to be a burden," I say, sniffling.

"Not knowing something does not make you stupid or helpless. And you're never a burden, Eight." Marina assures me, squeezing my hands.

"Yeah. Honestly, it's really impressive that you learned to speak Inkling on your own," Pearl says, putting a hand on my shoulder. I look up.

"Th-thanks…" I say, rubbing my eyes. The tears have finally stopped. I'm still trembling, and my head still hurts, but the remnant traces of terror and hopelessness are fading, and I feel like I can breathe again.

"Are you going to be okay?" Marina asks.

"Yes. Yes, I think so," I answer. Marina stands up, helping me to my feet. My legs are shaky, but I think I'll make it.

"I'm going to have to be on my own eventually, right?" I say, voicing the fear that had been on my mind. I knew it had to happen, but I didn't know if I was ready to be alone.

"Well, yes..." Marina says. "You'll have to live and work independently at some point, but that doesn't mean you'll be alone. We'll always be here for you."

"You won't abandon me?" I ask, swallowing hard to keep myself from bursting into tears again. Marina and Pearl wrap their arms around me, quieting my fears and anxieties for at least one precious moment. I've never been hugged before.

It's... Nice.

“Never,” They say, and I can tell they mean it.

Chapter Text

It wasn't until after my escape from Octo Valley that I even began to realize that the Inklings had a whole language of their own, one that I knew not a word of. It may seem stupid that I just assumed that the Inklings and the other surface species would speak Octarian, but to be fair, I knew next to nothing about the world outside of the domes. Us soldiers weren't taught anything about Inkling society and culture; knowing how the enemy lived and worked would do little to help us defeat them in the eyes of our higher-ups. The only thing we were taught was that Inklings were extremely fierce, dangerous, and almost animalistic in the sense of their low intelligence. And I believed those lies. I remember being terrified by stories of Inkling attacks, though protocol called for me not to show it. And I remember the power outages every time a Zapfish disappeared, when there were moments of crushing blackness before the emergency lights came on.

In my eyes, the Inklings as a whole had been a single faceless entity, thinking and moving as one, with the sole purpose of bringing Octarian civilization to ruin. We didn't know that the Inklings had lives of their own, jobs, homes, friends and families.

But then, I suppose we knew nothing of families either.

• • • • • • • •

It's been a little over an hour since my 'panic attack,' as Pearl and Marina have been calling it. We decided that we'd had enough excitement for the day, so we were headed back to Pearl's mansion to take a break. Marina held my hand again as we boarded the monorail, which I was grateful for. My freakout had left me feeling a bit emotionally unsound. I needed more time to fully regain my composure and get my emotions in check.

"Did you have fun at Ammo Knights, Eight?" Pearl asks on the ride home. We're all sitting together again, with me in the middle. I'm hugging the new plushie they bought me, a squishy pink squid with black dots for eyes.

"Yes, and no." I say, which is the best answer I can think of.

"Explain?" Marina says.

"I did enjoy learning about the weapons very much," I say, "But then the shopkeeper got... Weird, I guess. That is why I left early."

"Weird... How?" Pearl says, narrowing her eyes. I get the sense that she's prepared to go beat someone up if I give her the go ahead.

"He just seemed very suspicious. Of me, I mean." I say, remembering the unsettling way he was eyeing me. Like I was an outsider, not to be trusted. Which I guess I am, in all honesty.

"Huh," Marina says, "That's not like Sheldon at all."

"I think he..." I begin, but then remember that we're in a public area. There's a couple of Inklings sitting within earshot, but I don't think they're paying attention to our conversation. Still, better safe than sorry.

"I think he disliked my... Hairstyle." I say, hoping they get the hint.

"What? But Sheldon doesn't know about... Um, our hairstyles." Marina says.

"Oh. Yeah!" Pearl says, apparently having just figured out what we were talking about. "Sheldon hasn't seemed worried about Marina's hairstyle though, so why would he get suspicious of you ? Maybe it's cause you're still wearing your weird clothes?"

I'm slightly offended that Pearl would call my black outfit 'weird.' It's the customary uniform of the younger Octarian soldiers, and I haven't worn anything else since my escape from the Army. But I suppose that, although I never said it out loud like Pearl, there were many, many times when I found myself thinking about how strange Inkling fashion is. Our cultures are just different, not weird.

"He said something about my accent as I was leaving," I say, deciding not to mention what Pearl said. "I think that gave it away. Is my accent really that bad?"

"I love your accent," Pearl says, almost harshly, "I wouldn’t call it ‘bad,’ but yeah, you definitely got one."

"It's okay, though," Marina says, "I had the worst accent when I first moved here. Pearl could barely understand me, it was awful!"

"Oh yeah, I remember that!" Pearl says, "It was that one time you said, 'mic, turn down,' cause you wanted me to turn my mic down, and I thought you meant 'your mic is turned down,' so I turned it up and ended up totally wrecking all our equipment!"

They laugh at the memory, making me smile along with them. I can hardly believe Marina was worse than me, she sounds almost exactly like a native Inkling now. I wonder if I will get to that point someday.

"Still, I'm pretty sure Sheldon doesn't know about us," Marina says, getting back on topic, "You should be fine, I think."

"Okay," I say, feeling better about it already.

"On a diiiiiferent note, what'd you name that guy?" Pearl asks, pointing to my stuffed squid. I can't help but smile when I look down at him; my friends made a good choice in choosing him for me. To me, the squid is an embodiment of our friendship.

"Hachi." I say matter-of-factly.

"That's so cute!" Marina says, "I'm glad you like him. If only we didn’t have to go through so much trouble to get him..."

"It is fine," I say, giving Hachi a squeeze, "All is good that ends good."

I don't think I correctly worded that Inkling phrase, but Marina and Pearl don't seem to mind.

"I guess," Marina says, but she still seems unsure.

"It's not your fault," I say for the fourth time in the last hour. Marina has been feeling bad about the whole panic attack situation. "You said yourself, you did not know that I would come back from the weapons store so quickly. And you had no idea that I couldn't read the note Pearl left for me."

"We shouldn't have left the studio in the first place. We promised we'd be there," She says, "And you had no idea where we went... It's- it's fine. We'll do better next time."

I don't really know what to say to that, so I stay quiet. But I can still feel the guilt practically radiating off of Marina. And I think even Pearl feels bad, judging by the way she went strangely silent while Marina and I were talking, instead becoming occupied with a game on her phone.

"Just throwing out an idea, we could always get Eight a phone so she can stay in touch," Pearl says a minute or two later, making sure we were done with our conversation, "Y'know, cause then she'll be able to ask where we are. And stuff."

She definitely feels bad.

"Actually, that's a great idea!" Marina says, clapping her hands together, "That way nothing like... That... will ever happen again!"

"Yeah, duh . All my ideas are great ideas." Pearl says without looking up from her screen.

"We'll have to teach you how to read Inkling first, but we were going to do that anyway," Marina says, "It shouldn't be hard, especially since you already know the spoken language, and you're really smart."

"Thank you." I say, ducking my head at the praise.

"I can make flashcards!" She continues excitedly, "And that way you can practice when we're not around."

"Oh great, Marina always goes balls to the walls when she has a new project." Pearl says.

"I do not go ' balls to the walls, '" Marina retorts, "I'm just happy to help a friend."

Pearl just rolls her eyes and continues with her phone game.

"I think flashcards will be very helpful." I say, mostly to make Marina feel better, because I don't know what 'flashcards' means.

"I hope," Marina says, "The sooner we get you reading, the better."

I nod in agreement.

"So, that's a yes to the phone idea?" Pearl asks, finally pocketing her own device.

"Yeah, and having a phone is going to be pretty important in the long run anyways," Marina says, "Maybe we can look for one online after–"

"I have a phone she can use," Pearl interrupts.

"Is it the phone you dropped on the sidewalk last week?" Marina asks, raising an eyebrow.

"What, no! You think I would let my bestie use a piece of junk like that?" Pearl says, putting an arm over my shoulders, "Nah, it's one of my spares. I have, like, ten of 'em, just lyin’ around. They're all in mint condition."

"You never fail to amaze me," Marina says with a shake of her head.

The monorail rumbles beneath us as it comes to a stop at our station. Marina snatches my bags, which are heavy with all of the clothes I bought at the Reef, just before I can get ahold of them.

"I can carry those," I say as we stand up, preparing to exit the monorail.

"No, it’s fine. I got it." Marina insists. I can't tell if she's doing it to try and make up for leaving the studio earlier, or if it's just Marina being Marina. I hope it's the latter. But either way, I let her carry my stuff, mostly because I strongly doubt she'll relent to letting me carry it on my own.

I offer to take Pearl's bags, but she turns me down as well. I know it's probably a friendly thing to refuse to let your friends do any work, but I don't like the feeling that I'm not pulling my own weight.

Empty-handed aside from Hachi, I follow Marina and Pearl as we exit the car. It feels like forever since we were last here, though it was only this morning that we had been on this very monorail platform. A lot has happened since then!

It's much hotter than it was this morning, the sun now directly over our heads as we begin the walk to Pearl's house. It seems all of the birds of the morning have disappeared, perhaps to seek refuge from the heat.

As we make our way to the mansion, I make up my mind that I like the city better than this suburban area. It's not that this isn't nice too, but it's just so quiet . There's not as much color or life in the buildings, and there's barely anyone around. I can understand why some people would enjoy the relative calm of the suburbs, but I can't help but feel at home in the noisy, bustling city. After growing up and spending nearly all of my life in overcrowded spaces, that's what feels normal.

It isn't long before we're back at the front door of the mansion. Pearl unlocks the doors and waves us in, where the blast of air conditioning makes us all sigh in relief.

"What a day," Marina says, beelining for the couch, "And it's only 3:00."

"Man," Pearl says, throwing herself onto the couch next to Marina. I wait for her to continue, but apparently that's all she had to say.

Seeing me standing awkwardly off to the side, Pearl pats the spot next to her on the couch. Sitting down next to her, I feel a wave of exhaustion hit me, even though I hadn't felt tired before. I guess all of the day's activities were finally catching up to me.

"I'm 'bout to fall asleep. Let's do something," Pearl says, sitting up straight.

"Pearl, why don't you get the phone for Eight and I'll make the reading flashcards," Marina says, standing up.

I've been on the couch for less than a minute, and we're already getting up? Nonetheless, I begin to stand up as well, but Pearl places her hands on my shoulders and pushes me back down.

"Stay. A metric butt-ton of crap has happened in just the last 2 hours. You need a break, girlfriend!" She says.

"Let us serve you for a bit," Marina says.

"A lot has happened for you two as well," I say, shaking my head, "I do not want to take a break while you work."

"If you don't wanna take a break, then that means it takes work to make yourself take a break, so then you're not actually taking a break at all, cause you're actually working," Pearl says, "Now stay. "

I stay on the couch after the two leave the room, but only because I'm still trying to work out what Pearl said. Finally I decide that her point is invalid, because I was speaking in the sense of physical work, and it takes no physical work to take a break. So I get off the couch and go off to look for one of my friends.

It takes quite a bit of searching to find one of them, Pearl's house is so needlessly big. But soon I hear some noise from down a hallway and find Pearl digging through a closet.

"It's in here somewhere..." She mutters to herself as I approach. She's searching through a small plastic bin full of various electronics.

"Do you need help?" I ask. Pearl jumps so hard that she drops the bin, but I manage to catch it before it hits the ground. I have to give my Army training credit for my unnaturally quick reflexes; it might not have been the best childhood, but I'd never go so far as to say that my training never did me any good.

"Clammit, Eight, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Pearl exclaims as I gently set the bin on the floor. "What're you doing here, you're supposed to be relaxing! That means not putting innocent pop stars into cardiac arrest!" She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe innocent isn’t the most accurate word…”

"I wanted to help with something," I say, "Are you looking for the phones?"

"Eight, you'd better go sit your workaholic butt down on that couch right now, or I swear to cod!" She says, pushing me away.

"Sorry. I think they're up there," I say, pointing to the top shelf of the closet. There's a stack of small, black cardboard boxes, and though I can't read the label, the image on the side looks a lot like the phones Pearl and Marina use.

"EIGHT! Stop helping! You are not allowed to help!" Pearl says, pushing me all the way to the end of the hall, "Now go take a break before I have to force you!"

"But–" I start.

"No! Check it, Eight!" Pearl interrupts, "This is for your own good. Marina and I both can tell you're brain-tired, even if you don't feel body-tired. And that's fine. Happens to everyone, straight up."

"But it feels wrong," I say, "I can't rest while you're working hard for me. It isn't–"

"You gotta know when you need a break, Eight," Pearl says, "And there's nothing wrong with letting your friends help you. We want to help, you're not making us or anything."

"But I–"

"Shushushu! I'm not done imparting my totally rad life lesson!" Pearl says, putting a finger to my lips, "This is a part of friendship. When a buddy needs help, you help. That's what we're doing for you, and I know you would do it for me or Marina if we ever need it."

"It does make more sense when you say it like that," I mumble, now feeling bad about trying to help. They were trying to do something nice, and it was not a friendly thing to do to refuse to let them help me. "I'm sorry."

"Nuh-uh, Don't be," Pearl says. She returns to the closet, leaving me standing awkwardly at the end of the hall. "It's not wrong to want to help, but you also gotta be good with people helping you ."

"Ok," I say, "But are you sure you do not need help getting those? They are pretty high up there..."

"And what, you think I can't reach 'em?" Pearl says, glaring at me. I want to tell her that no, I do not think it is physically possible at her small size for her to reach up there, but I can tell by her daring look that that would be the wrong answer.

"Um..." Is all I manage to get out.

"Go chill on the couch, Eight. Refresh your batteries and all that," She says, waving me away, "Take a nap or something. Watch some TV if you want. Remote should be on the second shelf to the left unless I forgot to put it back this morning, which happens a lot. If I had a G for every remote I’d lost, I’d have, like, fifty more remotes by now."

"Ok," I say, finally giving in, ignoring Pearl's remote tangent. As much as I don't want to admit it, I know I'm tired.

As I'm walking away, I hear a huff of indignation and the noisy scrape of a chair being dragged across the floor. I can't help but smile to myself.

After finding my way back to the living room, I sit down on the couch and try to force myself to relax. I think about watching TV like Pearl so passionately suggested, but I don't actually know how to work the TV, and even if I did, It seems Pearl misplaced the remote after all. So for a while I just sit there, listening to the constant tick of the clock on the wall and the hum of the air coming through the vents. It actually is relaxing, to my surprise. I never imagined that sitting alone in silence would ever feel nice.

It takes some time before I allow myself to lie down and close my eyes. Soon I drift off to sleep, comforted by the occasional creak of floorboards that assures me that my friends are still here, and I'm safe now.

• • • • • • • •

I don't know for sure how long I was out for. It's not until some time later that I'm roused from my sleep by a nightmare, one of the recurring ones I've had since the Metro. I doubt I'll ever stop having them.

I half-open my eyes, just to prove to myself that I’m still in Pearl’s house. It's darker than it was when I first nodded off; I must have been sleeping for several hours. It feels strange to sleep during the day. This is the first time I’ve ever taken a nap, unless you count sleeping in the Metro. I never could tell the day from night in that place.

There's a warm blanket on top of me that wasn't there before. I can hear voices drifting over from the direction of the kitchen, laughing and talking cheerfully, as well as the sound of pots and dishes being moved around. They're probably making dinner. I smile, closing my eyes, the sound of their voices making me feel safe again. The monsters of my past can't touch me as long as they're here, protecting me.

What did I do to deserve such good friends?

Chapter Text

        I was there, that fateful night.

I wasn't supposed to be. None of us low-ranking Octoling soldiers were. Only elite Octarians were to be sent in as reinforcements, or even allowed to watch the battle.

It was an emergency, and I was the only one nearby when they called the order. I was sent into the dome to retrieve any Zapfish that may be stored there before the attacking Inkling could steal them. I cursed my luck, wishing that someone, anyone else could be sent in my place; I may have been well-trained, but I had never seen a real battle, and it was pure terror to be so close to such a major one.

I had no idea that being sent in that night would be the single greatest thing to ever happen to me. Now, when I think back to that day, I can't help but smile.

• • • • • • • •

        "Good morning," I say as Pearl flips on the kitchen lights. It's easy to see that she just woke up, both from the dark circles under her eyes and the way it takes her several moments to register my presence.

"Eight..? What're you doing up so early, b?" She mutters, glancing at the clock above the kitchen stove, "It's four in the morning, yo! The sun ain't even up yet! You’re insane!"

"Four is very early?" I say. I wasn't used to getting much sleep; the nine hours I got the night before was probably the longest I'd ever slept in my life. That, and the pretty long nap I'd taken yesterday, made for an early wake-up today.

"I mean, you do you, boo. But you're allowed to sleep in, y'know. You don't have, like,  anything to do today." Pearl answers.

"If it is early to wake up at four in the morning, why are you awake?" I ask.

"Mama’s gotta make that mula somehow, dawg. Need to be at the studio by six," She says. She doesn’t look very happy about it.

"Oh, yes," I say, only just remembering that Pearl and Marina work on the news for Inkopolis.

"When did you wake up, Eight? How long have you just been standing in the kitchen?" Pearl asks as she begins rummaging through the cupboards for food.

"I did not wake up long ago. I did not want to sleep in late like I did yesterday," I say.

"You woke up at eight yesterday, I wouldn't call that 'late.'" Pearl says, pulling out a box of some sort of dry food. "So what, you were just gonna stand in the kitchen 'til I woke up? If that was your plan, that's not much better than sleeping in."

"I was going to make breakfast, but I realize I do not know how to cook…" I say, glancing away.

"Well it was a very sweet thought," Pearl says, "Uhh... Yeah, I got some time. Come on, I'll show you how to make eggs." She puts the food box back into the cupboard and throws open the refrigerator instead, pulling out a carton of white eggs. I'm relieved to find that she wasn't talking about power eggs as I had initially thought; though I've never actually tried any, I'm pretty sure they're inedible.

"Where do these eggs come from?" I ask, because I've never seen eggs from anything other than Salmons. These are obviously not salmon eggs, they're much too solid and white, and they’re slightly elongated.

"Well you see, when a mommy chicken and a daddy chicken love each other very much..." Pearl says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she sets a pan on top of the stove, "Ugh, ask Marina if you really wanna know. I didn't sign up for these kinds of discussions."

"That... That is not what I meant," I say, my face flushing bright pink, "What is a chicken?"

"A chicken is a bird that lays eggs for us to eat," Pearl says, "This is how you crack an egg. Eight, you watching?"

"Yes." I answer quickly, as she cracks an egg into the skillet. Then she holds out one to me.

"You wanna try?" She asks.

"Sure." I say, taking the egg. I tap it on the side of the pan like Pearl did, and then pull the shell apart.

"Ah, I got a shell in it." I notice, disappointed in myself.

"That's fine," Pearl says, plucking the shell out of the pan, "It's your first time, don't be so hard on yourself."

It doesn't take long for us to finish the eggs. Pearl lets me flip mine, and I manage to impress her by executing it perfectly. We eat our breakfast in front of the TV again, this time watching a recording of a Turf War game that happened yesterday at some place called Sturgeon Shipyard. I'm not sure when Pearl found the remote, but she has it now. While the show plays, Pearl explains the (few) rules of Turf War, and provides a general commentary. It's hard to tell which team she's rooting for, because she cheers anytime anyone from either team scores a splat. Green team wins in the end.

"This has been fun, but I really gotta start getting ready," Pearl says, shutting off the TV after the results are announced, "I spent a bit too much time with breakfast, now I only have, uhh..." She squints as she pauses to check her phone. "Oh, carp! Only twenty minutes! Gotta go!"

Before I can say anything, she rushes away. I can hear her footsteps storming up the stairs on her way to her room. I don't know what she's doing up there, but she sure is making a clatter.

She flies back down the stairs just as I finish my eggs. She's now dressed in a short white dress with an oddly large, golden zipper. She's also wearing a crown, but this one is white instead of the golden one I'd seen her in before.

"There's instant noodles for lunch, 'kay Eight? They're on the table. Marina wrote the cooking instructions in Octo language for ya, and they shouldn't be too hard to make," She says, rushing through her words.

"Ok," I say.

"If you get bored, you can watch TV, there's also video games–" She points to a black box next to the TV. "'Rina wants you to practice Inkling with your flashcards, but I don't care in the slightest, do whatever you want, girl. I also don't care if you trash the place, just don't trash it too much, got it? I still gotta live here."

"Very well," I say with a nod.

"You can always reach me or Marina with your phone, but we might not respond right away if we're in the middle of recording. And it would be nice if you could text, not call, right?"

"Mhm."

"And don't leave the house. For safety reasons. And if anyone knocks, don't let them in, even if they say they're my family or my best friend or something. Chances are they're not."

"Alright."

"And if you want to see us on the news, we'll be on at eight."

"I will make sure to watch it."

"Ok, stay safe, have fun, yadda yadda... Gotta go, check ya later, Eight!" Pearl finally finishes, waving goodbye as she snatches up her keys and bag before she leaves, and slamming the door behind her, leaving me alone in the dark house.

"Bye," I say, even though she can't hear me.

The rest of the day drags on slowly, but it isn't terrible. After Pearl leaves, I spend at least an hour and a half exploring the maze that is Pearl's mansion, until I can finally remember my way around the place. I may have cleaned up a bit too, and might have done the dishes, but I was bored and I thought I would do a good thing for a friend. It wasn't because the horrible, disorderly mess in every room nagged at my brain until I had to do something about it. For telling me not to trash the house, Pearl seemed to be doing an adequate job of it herself.

I make sure to turn on the TV before eight o' clock so I can watch the news. It's cool to see my friends on the TV. They announce today's battle stages, but spend most of the time chatting and poking fun at each other. However grumpy Pearl was about going to work this morning, she sure does look like she's enjoying herself now.

During the later hours of the morning, I practice with my Inkling flashcards until I'm fairly confident in my ability to recognize the letters. Marina had written one Inkling letter on every card, and on the back of the card she wrote roughly the sound the Inkling letter would make in Octarian letters. The cards were honestly very helpful, making it much easier to commit the letters to memory.

It doesn't get much more eventful than that. I make myself lunch, following the instructions that Marina wrote. I suppose this would be the first time I'd ever cooked on my own. The noodles turn out better than expected, though I think I boiled them for a minute or two too long. It was around one o' clock by the time I was finished.

Finally having time, I write down several poems I'd kept in mind onto a piece of lined paper I found. I don't know exactly when I had developed my affinity for poetry, but it had become a way for me to let go of bad feelings and embrace good ones during my time as a test subject for Kamabo Co., and I still enjoy doing it.

The leftover daylight is spent in front of the TV. I try to figure out what the "video games" are and how they work, but the black box doesn't seem to contain any videos or games, just a bunch of circuits and wires. So instead I watch more of the Turf War recordings, and I'm soon transfixed by the colorful games. I can't help but flinch anytime I see someone get splatted, though the Inkling participants don't seem to mind; some even appear to be having fun, though I don't know how getting splatted over and over could ever be fun.

Before I know it, it's four in the afternoon. I'm laying on the couch, watching my eighth game, and starting to doze off. My phone buzzes, jolting me awake. The sound wasn't all that loud, but against the silence of everything else, it sure felt like it. I had the TV turned down so low that it might as well have been muted.

I pick up my phone, finding a notification on the top. It takes me a minute to decipher the letters, but I'm proud that I'm able to read it at all.

New message from DJ_Hyperfresh: Hey!♪ We're just getting ready to leave the studio, and I thought I'd check in. You haven't messaged all day, you doing alright?

Next is the even harder struggle, trying to send a message of my own.

Eight: I hav bin doin good. Wachin tv.

I cringe, knowing my spelling must be horrible, but hopefully it's at least decipherable. It's a couple minutes before Marina responds.

DJ_Hyperfresh: As long as you're OK!♪

DJ_Hyperfresh: We're gonna get back in about an hour. Make sure you're dressed decently, and be ready to go!

Eight: We ar goin somware?

DJ_Hyperfresh: Excuse me?

Eight: Sory not good at spelin

Eight: Spellin.

DJ_Hyperfresh: That's OK! Were you trying to ask where we're going?

Eight: Yes.

DJ_Hyperfresh: Uhh, Pearl says it's a surprise so I can't tell you. Sorry! You'll love it though, I promise!

Eight: That is ok. I wil be redy to go.

DJ_Hyperfresh: See you then!♪ ♥♥♥

Wondering what my friends have in store for me, I set my phone down and head up to my room to get ready. I put on the new outfit I got from the Reef, finding that it's just as comfortable as it was yesterday, and it still looks good too. It takes much quicker than I was planning, so I'm left with a lot of spare time before Marina and Pearl arrive.

I head back downstairs to the living room, and checking my phone, I see I have another new message.

DJ_Hyperfresh: You haven't eaten dinner yet, have you?

After taking a minute to read it, I type a message back.

Eight: No. Shud I ?

DJ_Hyperfresh: No, but if you're hungry you can get a snack. I would say a granola bar or something, but Pearl apparently doesn't have any.

DJ_Hyperfresh: Ok, Pearl said she has a bag of chips in the cupboard you can break into. But don't fill up on chips, ok?

Eight: Ok

It's nice of them to offer, but I'm honestly not that hungry. I also don't know what chips are.

I'm still sitting quietly on the couch when I hear the doorbell ring about a half hour later. My heart leaping with excitement, I jump off the couch and run to the door. I throw it open, smiling wide when I see my friends.

"Hi!!" Marina says, returning my smile, "You look nice!"

"Eight, did you even check if it was us before you opened the door?" Pearl says, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, um... No..." I say, my smile faltering.

"Cod, what did I just tell you this morning?!"

"To text, not call?" I try, feeling like I'm forgetting something important.

"Not to open the door, clammit!" She says.

"But then, how would I let you in?" I say, frowning.

"You check if it's us first!" Pearl exclaims. "There's a camera above the door that's connected to a screen inside, you just look at that!"

"Calm down, Pearl. Nothing bad happened," Marina says.

"I'm sorry. I will remember next time," I promise.

"You better hope so." Pearl huffs. "Clam, just listen to me. I'm turning into my dad."

"Poor Pearl," Marina says jokingly, patting the Inkling on the head (much to Pearl's frustration), "Anyway, you ready to go, Eight?"

"Mhm," I say, nodding, "Am I allowed to know where we are going now?"

"Nope," Pearl says, swatting Marina's hand off of her head.

"Sorry if she's in a mood, we had to do extra work today to make up for our days off," Marina says.

"I am not in a mood," Pearl snaps, Marina simply raises an eyebrow.

"Ok, fine, maybe I am. I'll try to get out of it. I don't want to ruin our totally sick surprise," Pearl sighs, "Sorry, Eight."

"You're not apologizing to me? I'm the one who had to sit next to you the whole ride home," Marina says, pretending to be offended.

"Can it, 'Rina. Cod knows you deserved whatever you got," Pearl says, though it sounds more like sarcasm than irritation this time.

"Yeah, yeah." Marina grins. "Well, we're going to be late if we stand here arguing any longer. Actually, we should probably go now."

"Ok," I say, stepping out of the doorway and shutting the door behind me.

"We're driving this time," Marina says, nodding her head to a bright red car in the driveway, "You okay with that?"

"Yes," I say. Actually, I'm a bit excited. I've never ridden in a functional car before.

"Then let's go! For real this time," Marina says, clapping her hands together.

Marina takes the driver's seat even though I assumed it was Pearl's car, though Pearl doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She takes the passenger's seat instead, so I sit in the back. Marina makes a big deal about how Pearl should let me sit in the front, but I honestly don't care where I sit. I don't see what the difference between the back seat and front seat is. I explain this to Marina, who gives up with a sigh. So at long last, we begin making our way to our mystery destination.

Riding in the car doesn't feel much different from the monorail. Well, the seats are most definitely comfier, and there's better air conditioning. And it doesn't smell like smoke and cleaning solution. And of course, there's no constant dread that I'll be trapped on the train for an unknown amount of time, forced to complete innumerable tests and face death at the hands of my sanitized kin at every turn. That's definitely a bonus. Actually, the car is much better than the monorail.

"Now can you tell me where we're going?" I ask a little bit later, hoping I'll get a legitimate answer this time.

"To the city," Pearl answers.

"But where exactly are we going in the city?" I ask.

"To a place," Pearl says.

"What place?"

"A place in the city."

"That is not very helpful."

"She's not going to tell you," Marina says, sounding exasperated.

"May you tell me?" I say, ready to beg on my knees if that's what it takes to get them to tell me where on Cod's green earth we're going.

"It's a surprise," Marina says, to my dismay.

"I do not think I like surprises," I say.

"You'll like it once you know what it is," Marina says.

"But I do not know what it is, and it's driving me to crazy!" I say, hoping that I used that Inkling idiom right.

"Hmm... Alright. Could we tell her now, Pearl?" Marina says.

"I'm cool with it, if you wanna," Pearl says with a shrug.

"Please," I beg.

"Ok, ok, ok," Marina says, "Who have you always wanted to meet?"

"Uh... DJ Octavio?"

"What— DJ Octavio?" Marina says, taken aback.

"Um, never mind," I say quickly, as that is obviously the wrong answer, "Uh... You two..?"

"You already met us, dummy," Pearl says.

"But before I met you, I wanted to meet you." I say. "When I was still in the Metro… Sorry, I cannot think of many ideas."

"That's really sweet, but can you think of anyone else?" Marina says. “Anyone at all?”

"Um... The Squid Sisters?" I say, my last try.

"Ding ding ding!" Marina says, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

"What does 'ding ding ding' mean?" I ask.

"Means ya got it right, sis," Pearl says.

"I am right that I have always wanted to meet the Squid Sisters?" I say, confused.

"C'mon, put two and two together!" Pearl says, "You're going to meet the Squid Sisters!"

"I— I what?" I say, definitely surprised.

"We knew you liked them ever since you heard the Inkantation, so we planned a meet up!" Marina says.

"You what?!" I exclaim, still shocked.

"We had to rent out a whole sandwich shop for tonight so no one would bother us. You're welcome," Pearl says, sounding proud of herself.

"I'm going to meet... The Squid Sisters?" I say, the excitement finally hitting me like a shot to the gut. Of course, that excitement quickly turns into anxiety. What will they think of me, an Octoling? What if I do something wrong and they decide they don't like me or trust me, just like what happened in the weapons store yesterday? What if they see that I'm an Octoling and try to splat my face off?

"This is the best thing that ever happened to you, isn't it?" Pearl says smugly.

"Well… I am nervous." I admit.

"That's fair," Marina says with a nod. "So just a heads up, the Squid Sisters will know you're an Octoling, but they probably won't make a big deal about it. They didn't even bring up my being an Octoling when I first met them. Actually, they probably think Pearl doesn't know about Octolings, so they'll try to keep quiet about it. They should be able to tell you're free though."

"Wait, hold up," Pearl says, raising her hand, "The Squid Sisters knew about you being an Octoling before I did? That's so messed up."

"It's complicated," Marina says, "It involves a lot of secrets that aren't mine to tell. Why don't you ask them over dinner?"

"I can just go out and ask something like that?" Pearl says, "Well, I guess if they already know, I don't have to keep you Octos secret... But seriously, how the heck do the Squid Sisters, of all squids, know about the Octolings?"

"Again, not my secrets to tell," Marina says, "Just hold in those types of questions 'til we get there."

"Well, tonight'll sure be interesting," Pearl says, leaning back into her seat.

"What if they don't trust me, because I'm an Octoling?" I ask.

"Well, I'm 99% sure they know I'm an Octoling, and if they don't trust me then they're sure as heck doing a good job hiding it," Marina says, "It'll be nice to see them in person again."

"I can't believe that they know you're an Octoling and they never thought to tell me!" Pearl says, apparently unable to think about anything else.

"It's for the same reasons we agreed not to tell anyone that Eight's an Octoling," Marina says, "They didn't know how you would react, and they might've been worried that you would react badly."

"Like I care whether you're an Inkling, Octoling, or sea sponge for Cod's sake!" Pearl says, "What difference does it make?!"

"It makes a big difference to some people," Marina says, "Even if it might not to you."

"Well those people suck," Pearl grumbles, "I swear, if anyone ever says anything bad or tries to hurt either one of you guys, they've got another thing coming."

"That's nice of you, Pearl," Marina says, "But I'm afraid I'll have to end the conversation there. We're here!"

As Marina pulls into the parking lot, I get a look at the restaurant we'll be eating at. The neon sign reads "Jelly Eats" with a shape similar to a Super Seanwich next to it. The lights are on inside, but the restaurant appears to be empty aside from a few jellyfish wiping off tables and performing other duties. There's only a few other cars in the parking lot, which I assume are the employees' vehicles.

"Looks like they're not here yet," Marina says, parking the car near the diner's entrance. "Phew, I was worried we were late! Come on, we can go get a table."

Hopping out of the car, we head into the diner. A bell above the door jingles when we open it, and the jellyfish behind the counter waves to us in greeting. I give a small wave back.

"We'll have to order first, then we can find a place to sit," Marina says, "The menu's up there."

There's a large chalkboard on the wall behind the counter, listing off the different foods the diner provides and how much they cost. I may know how to read now, at least for the most part, but I still have no idea what the words on the menu mean. What is pickles, or burger?

The others start ordering before I even begin to decide what I want.

"I'll have the Double Burger meal," Pearl says to the jellyfish behind the counter. The cashier writes it down on a notepad, and then nods to Marina.

"Could I have the garden salad, please?" Marina says, "And what do you want, Eight?"

"I do not know," I say, "I do not know what most of those foods are."

"Oh, sorry! I should've realized..." Marina says, "Um... Do you want to try something new?"

"Yes," I say. I mean, I haven't been disappointed so far.

"If you don't know what you want, definitely totally get a burger and fries," Pearl says, "It's incredibly important that you try it."

"Ok, may I have that?" I ask, even though I haven't the slightest clue what a burger and fries is. The jellyfish writes down my order, then looks back at us expectantly.

"That's all, thanks." Marina says, holding up her hand. The jellyfish nods again, rips the paper out of the notepad, and hands it to another jellyfish who disappears through a door in the back. What hard workers they are.

"So, where do ya wanna sit?" Pearl asks, looking at the assortment of tables and booths around the diner.

"Why don't you pick somewhere, Eight?" Marina says, "Just remember that Callie and Marie will be sitting with us too, once they get here."

"Ok," I say.

After looking around, I spot the perfect one. I lead us to a rectangular table with three chairs on either side, deciding it was the best shape for five people to make conversation. Leave it to me to somehow find the most efficient table. I sit in the middle seat again, with Pearl and Marina on either side of me, a formation that was quickly becoming natural to us.

Not long after we sit down, the bell above the door rings again. Marina, Pearl, and I lift our heads in unison to see two Inklings enter the diner. Although I had never seen them in person, I recognize them immediately as the Squid Sisters.

The one with longer, black and pink tentacles looks around the diner until she spots us, then waves both hands at us. If I remember right, that one is Callie.

"Yo!" Pearl shouts, which I have come to realize must be her family's customary greeting (or something along those lines).

"Hi!!! Sorry we're late!" Callie calls from across the diner.

"Phone was dead, so I didn't get my reminder," Says the other one, who has shorter white and green tentacles. She must be Marie.

"No, that's okay!" Marina insists. "We haven't been here long."

"Give us a sec to order and we'll be right over there!" Callie says. Her smile looks friendly, but I can't help but feel anxiety welling up in my chest again. This is such an important moment in my life; I'm finally meeting the ones I've idolized since two years ago, not to mention the very squids who freed my soul in the first place. What if I screw this up?

"You look nervous," Marina whispers in my ear, "Don't worry, they're really nice!"

"What do I say to them?" I whisper back.

"Whatever you want," Marina says, "If you don't want to say anything at all, you don't have to. But seriously, they're really nice! I think you should at least try, okay?"

"Okay."

"Sorry about that!" Callie says, coming over to our table. She sure ordered fast. "I told Marie to charge her phone, but she never listens to me."

"No worries, really!" Marina says as Callie pulls out a chair across from us.

"Literally, we got here five minutes before you showed up," Pearl adds.

Marie takes a seat next to her sister (I assume they're sisters, being that they're named the Squid Sisters and all) and leans back in her chair in a carefree manner.

"So, I hear you're a big fan of mine," She says, looking directly at me. I quickly glance away to avoid eye contact.

"A fan of ours," Callie corrects, though Marie either doesn't hear or doesn't care.

"Uh, yes..." I say, feeling like my accent is thicker than it was before. I can't tell if it's my imagination or not, but I'm painfully aware of a feeling like sweat dripping down my face. Am I sweating? Can they see it? I don't want to look nervous in front of them.

"Well, any friend of Off the Hook is a friend of ours!" Callie says. She pauses to dig through her purse, then pulls something out. "Here's a signed copy of our latest album, courtesy of yours truly."

She holds the thing out to me, a flat plastic box with interesting art on the front. Both Callie and Marie's names are signed on the bottom in permanent ink.

"Oh. Thank you," I say, taking the box. Having nowhere better to put it, I set on the table in front of me. I have no idea what the thing is, but I can figure that out later.

"So, how'd you get into the Squid Sisters?" Callie asks, resting her chin on her hands.

"I, uh… I heard your song two years ago, and it changed my life." I say, which is a serious understatement, "There has not been a moment since then that it has not been on my mind."

"That's nice!" Callie says, casting a conspicuous glance at Pearl. That reminds me that they know exactly what I am, which makes me feel ten times more uncomfortable in their presence.

"So, what's new with you guys?" Marie asks, though to my relief the question is directed toward my friends rather than me.

"Oh, we saved the world the other day," Pearl says, "That was pretty sick."

"Really, you too?" Marie says with mock surprise, taking Pearl's true statement as a joke. Though honestly, I can't tell whether or not Marie is joking either.

“Um, yeah…” Marina says, trailing off awkwardly.

The table then falls into uncomfortable silence, no one quite sure what to say to the others. I don't like the strained secret-keeping going on here, but I'm too nervous to try to break the tension. I just have to hope someone brings up Octolings, and then we can all be honest with each other.

Whenever I've just about worked up the courage to speak up, a jellyfish with a tray of food comes over to our table and begins handing out our meals.

"Oooh, food's here!" Callie says, though her conversation sounds forced. I can at least admire her efforts for trying to break the awkwardness.

The jellyfish waiter sets a plate heaping with crispy golden-yellow sticks and a round meat sandwich in front of me. It smells delicious. I wait for the others to receive their food, but afterwards I waste no time digging in.

Though the food is absolutely incredible, the heavy silence as we eat takes away from the experience. Either way, I think I have found a new favorite food; the golden crispy sticks may be the best thing I have ever tasted.

"These burger are very good," I say, finally deciding to say something. However, I instantly regret it as I find myself the target of confused looks from everyone at the table.

"Those are the fries, yo," Pearl says, holding up one of her own, "That's the burger."

"Oh," I say, my face feeling hot.

I don't want to finish the rest of my fries, so instead I start on the actual burger. It's hard to enjoy though, as the awkward silence is now twenty times more awkward. The burger just tastes like cardboard.

"Man, the vibe at this table sucks," Pearl says out of nowhere several minutes later, making everyone look up.

"I agree. Can we please talk about something?" Marie says, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"Oh yeah! I have a question for y'all," Pearl says. I nearly spit out my food. This does not seem like the right time to ask—

"Could you tell me how the shell you knew Marina was an Octoling, and why the shell you didn't tell me?"

Marie looks shocked, but Callie nearly starts choking.

"She's not an Octoling. What's an Octoling?" Callie tries, her voice hoarse from coughing. Pearl is unamused.

"Shut it, I know about the whole Octoling deal. Just answer my question!" She says. Marina looks understandably uncomfortable; being talked about like you're not present is never fun.

"How do you know about the Octolings?" Marie asks, pointing a finger at Pearl.

"Some old guy told me," Pearl says, "I think his name was Captain... Captain..."

"Captain Cuttlefish," Marina finishes.

"Gramps?!" Callie exclaims, slamming her hands on the table.

"Wait, he's your grampa?" Pearl says, looking nearly as shocked, "How did we not know about this?! Eight, how did you not know about this?!"

"He never told me," I mumble, though I don't think anyone hears.

"Where'd you see him?" Marie asks. "Is he okay?"

"He was— Ay, wait! Answer my question first!" Pearl says.

"Can we all calm down a bit?" Marina says, and I nod my head in agreement.

"Listen," she continues, "Everyone here is either knows about Octolings or is one, so can we just be open with each other? We're not enemies."

"Sorry, we're not used to talking about this stuff in the open," Callie says, rubbing the back of her neck.

"That's completely understandable," Marina says.

"So if we're all bein' honest with each other now, can you tell me how you knew Marina was an Octoling?" Pearl asks.

Callie and Marie look at each other and nod like they just read each other's minds.

"I suppose it's only fair to tell you since the other two already know," Marie says.

"We're actually agents of a secret organization called the New Squidbeak Splatoon," Callie explains, "Our purpose is to protect the world from the Octarian menace. No offense."

"None taken," Marina says.

"We fight Octolings and other Octarians pretty much on a daily basis, so of course we know what they look like," Marie says. "Suckers on the top of the tentacles are the most obvious difference. It was pretty easy to tell Marina was an Octoling."

"You fight Octolings?" Pearl says, narrowing her eyes. She scoots her chair closer to mine protectively.

"We only fight the evil Octarians," Callie says quickly, "Most of ‘em have been brainwashed by DJ Octavio's music. But we discovered that the Calamari Inkantation is as deeply etched into their souls as it is into ours, so our song can set them free."

"The Octolings who heard the Inkantation could no longer bear to live under the oppression of Octarian society, so we left," Marina says. I nod in affirmation. "That's what brought us to Inkopolis."

"Well that's a lot," Pearl says, "So hold up, you guys are secret agents?"

"Yep," Marie says, leaning her head against her hand.

"Is Captain What's-his-face a secret agent too?"

"Yep. He's actually the Captain of the NSS."

"And here I thought he was just some crusty old guy," Pearl says.

"You don't seem very surprised," Callie says.

"I recently learned that my girlfriend, whom I have been working and practically living with for almost two years, is actually an ex elite soldier from a species I thought was extinct. I don't think anything can surprise me anymore."

"Um, I was an engineer, not just a soldier," Marina says.

"Eh. Tomayto, tomahto." Marina opens her mouth to reply, but Pearl keeps talking. "Yeah, plus we fought a crazy telephone bent on world destruction, rescuing Eight here from a deep sea subway system that was actually a test facility whose goal was to wipe out all life on earth to make room for the 'perfect species.' The past few weeks have been pretty eventful."

"So you weren't joking when you said you saved the world?" Marie says.

"Nope, that was the truth," Pearl answers, leaning back in her chair, "It was pretty sick. You just had to be there."

"Unfortunately, I was busy saving Callie from DJ Octavio's brainwashing shades and recovering the Great Zapfish so Inkopolis wouldn't face a mass power outage," Marie says nonchalantly.

"Yeah, and I was busy being brainwashed," Callie says, "Our past few weeks have also been pretty darn eventful."

"So you weren't joking either when you said you saved the world?" Pearl says, "Actually, stopping a power outage isn't saving the world. Y'know what is saving the world? Stopping a giant weaponized statue from blowing Inkopolis sky-high!"

"Well good for you, have a gold medal," Marie says, "You wouldn't be so happy if there was no electricity to turn your lights on. I guess you wouldn't mind if your fridge stopped working and all your food rotted. And with this summer heat, it might be better to throw yourself in an oven than to have no air conditioning. Oh wait, ovens don't work either! You'd have to cook your food over a fire, which wouldn't help with the heat problem..."

"Okay, I get it. Electricity is important too," Pearl groans, "But you wouldn't have any electricity if there was no more world!"

"We all did important things, okay?" Marina says, "Can we have a nice conversation, please?"

"Could you tell us where Gramps is?" Callie asks, "We haven't seen him in over a year. Will he be back from patrol soon?"

"I don't know about that," Marina says, "We dropped him off near Inkopolis a couple days ago, and that was the last I've seen him. He didn't say anything about being on patrol."

"Oh," Both Callie and Marie are visibly disappointed. There's a moment of silence before anyone speaks again.

"On a different note, how long have you been in Inkopolis, uhh..." Callie starts, but she trails off at the end.

"Eight," I say, recognizing that the question was aimed at me.

"Eight days?" Callie says.

"No, two days. My name is Eight..." I say, studying the sauce stain on the table. Why can't I seem to talk right?

"Oh, sorry! I'm not the best with names."

"That is fine."

"Only two days, huh? What do you think of the city?" Marie asks.

"Is good. I... Like it," I say, cringing when I realize that I made another grammatical error. All this attention I'm getting is making me even more nervous. It's like they suddenly remembered that I'm the reason they came in the first place.

"Yeah, Inkopolis is pretty fresh." Marie says. "What're you planning to do now that you're here?"

"Oh. I don't know," I say. I really hadn't thought much about my life plans. After all, the sooner I move on with my life, the sooner my friendship with Marina and Pearl will have to end. And that's something I would rather not think about.

"You have a job yet?" Marie continues.

"N-no."

"It's only been two days, you can't expect her to get a job so soon," Marina says. Under the table, her hand finds mine, and she gives a comforting squeeze. While it does help me to relax, it also makes me wonder if my anxiety is really that obvious.

"We have connections. We can hook you up with a job if you need it," Marie says.

"We have plenty of connections too, ya know," Pearl adds.

"What would be your dream job?" Callie asks.

"I, uh... I like weapons," I reply, “Something in that department would be good…”

"Sheldon's been talking about hiring a stocksquid," Marie says, "I bet he'd like an employee like you. I can guarantee we can get you a job at Ammo Knights if you want one."

"Sheldon does not trust me," I say. My last trip to Ammo Knights is still fresh in my mind. "I do not think he wants to hire me."

"OH!!" Callie blurts out of nowhere, slamming her hands down on the table again, "Sheldon did say that there was a 'suspected Octarian spy' at his shop yesterday! Was that you?"

"I was at his shop yesterday, but I am not a spy, I promise," I say, holding up my free hand.

"Wait, Smelldon knows about Octolings too?!" Pearl exclaims, "Was I literally the only person who didn't know?!"

"Sheldon supplies weapons to the NSS, so yes, he's aware of the Octarians," Marie says, "He also knows about freed Octolings, so I don't know why he would be suspicious of you."

"Oh! Weren't you still wearing your Octarian gear when you went into his shop?" Marina says, nudging me in the side, "Maybe he recognized that."

"That seems likely. He was also suspicious when I didn't know what a Splatling was," I say, "And he noticed my accent."

"To be honest, if I was in his place, I might be suspicious of an Octoling still dressed in Octarian gear walking into my weapons store and asking questions about my weapons," Marie says thoughtfully, "He probably thought you were trying to collect information on Inkling weaponry."

"I was just interested in the weapons I had never seen before," I say, "I did not mean to seem suspicious."

"That's fine. We can talk to him about it, but be prepared to receive ten pages of a written apology in the mail."

I smile at that thought, wondering if he would actually do that or if it was another Inkling overstatement. Either way, I'm glad that the whole ordeal at Ammo Knights was nothing more than a misunderstanding. Hopefully I can make things right with Sheldon, because he did seem like a nice person before he started acting so strangely.

"If it is at all possible, I would like to have a job at the weapons store," I say.

"We got you!" Callie says, "We'll talk with Sheldon about it, I bet he'd love the extra help!"

"Even if it is help from an Octoling..?"

"Sheldon could care less, trust me," Marie says, "He was only suspicious at first because he thought you were still a soldier of the Army."

"Okay," I say. I don't want to get my hopes up too high, but if I actually got the job it would be a dream come true.

"Well, it's almost eight," Marie says, getting up from her chair, "I guess we have to get going now, my guest star and I need to be back at the studio in time for tonight's recording of Marie after Midnight. It was nice meeting you, Eight."

"You too," I say with a nod.

"Have a good evening, and stay fresh!" Callie says as she gets up from her own chair.

"Bye! You have a good evening too!" Marina says as the Squid Sisters head towards the door.

"Don't get cooked!" Pearl adds.

Marie leaves some cash at the front counter to pay for their meal. The bell above the door jingles as the pair exit the building, Callie waving goodbye one more time before she slips out the door.

"See, what did I tell you?" Marina says a few minutes later, elbowing me in the side. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Oh no, it was," I say with a laugh, "But yes, they were very nice."

"'Rina, did you know that the Squid Sisters were secret agents before?" Pearl asks as we begin cleaning up our table.

"Yep," Marina says.

"Did you know, Eight?"

"Yes."

"Man, I really wasn't in the loop of things until now, huh?" Pearl says, "Anybody else got any bombs to drop while I'm in the mood?"

"Agent 3 is also an agent of the NSS," Marina says.

"Wow, actually, that should've been obvious. It’s in the name," Pearl sighs, "Next you're gonna tell me Crusty Sean's an agent too."

"He is! You didn't know?" Marina says.

"Shut up, 'Rina. I may not be the smartest, but I'm sure as shell not an idiot."

After our table is cleaner than we found it, I grab the box Callie gave me and Pearl drops off some of her own cash at the counter, then we head out of the diner together. It's much darker outside than it was when we first got here, but lamps on the edges of the streets provide light while Marina drives us home.

It's not until we're further away from the big city when I begin to see little white pinpricks of light appear in the black sky around the sliver of the moon.

"Are those... stars?" I ask, staring out the window at them. I had only ever heard of stars before; it's hard to believe that something that looks so small is actually a giant raging ball of fire, many times larger than our planet.

"Yeah. You never seen stars?" Pearl says.

"Never real ones," I say, "They're beautiful."

"Yeah, I guess they are," Pearl says, leaning her head against the window.

"Hey, uh... Thank you, both of you."

"For introducing you to the Squid Sisters? No problem." Marina says.

"No, for everything," I say.

I'm going to miss them, when the times comes.

Chapter Text

        I've come to realize that everything I do in Pearl and Marina's absence follows a strict routine. As soon as Pearl leaves, I clean and do chores around the house until 8:00, always making time to see my friends on the news.

After that I practice reading with my Inkling flashcards, and I must say I'm getting much better at it. I've searched every corner of the mansion for books to practice my reading, but Pearl doesn't seem to have a single one. I suppose she doesn't like reading. I will have to ask Marina for one at some point.

Next I have lunch, write down a poem or two if I'm feeling inspired, and then I watch TV until my friends return. I normally just watch Turf Wars, not that I particularly love them, but I do enjoy them more than all the other reality and game shows on every other channel. I don't need to watch wealthy Inklings crying over lost romantic relationships and I don't know who would, but it didn't take long to learn that squids find entertainment in the strangest things.

I'm in the middle of a particularly slow game of Turf War (several of the players are quite obviously new to battle) when my phone buzzes to alert me of a new text.

This is no surprise, as Marina or Pearl usually checks in on me around this time. I pick up my phone to find my prediction correct.

MC.Princess: Hey 8, you doin good?

Eight: I am

I set my phone down after typing my reply and give my attention back to the TV. But a minute or two later, my phone buzzes again. I pick it up, expecting to see something like one of those smile-faces Marina and Pearl like to use. What I do not expect to see is a whole paragraph of text. I have to pause the show to settle in and get ready to read the whole thing.

MC.Princess: Anyway I just got a text from marie, she said she and callie talked to sheldon and he's super duper sorry. He literally sent a whole eight pages of a written apology to them to give to you, but marie says she'll spare you the pain. They also talked about getting you a job at ammo knights and sheldon's willing to interview you. He says he's available anytime (I almost feel bad for him lmao) and we're not doing anything today so wanna go? I know it's super short notice so it's ok if not but me and rina thought we'd ask.

It takes me a solid five minutes to decipher the whole message, but I'm quick to type a reply.

Eight: I wood like to go today if that is ok

MC.Princess: K, marina's texting sheldon rn. Make sure you're ready to go by the time we get back.

Eight: I will be

MC.Princess: oh yeah rina told me to ask if you have a resume

Eight: What is a resume?

MC.Princess: Oh well that answers the question

MC.Princess: hold on, marina's hopping on after she texts sheldon

Eight: Ok

I wait a couple minutes for Marina, both my excitement and nervousness steadily growing. Today could be the day I get a job, a crucial step in making a life for myself on the surface, or it could be the day my dream of working at an arms dealer is crushed, and my entire plan derailed. Luckily, Marina doesn't allow me much time to think about it.

DJ_Hyperfresh: Alright Eight, you're gonna need a resume in order to get any job. It's kind of like a list of reasons why a person should hire you, and it's very important on the surface.

Eight: How do I get one?

DJ_Hyperfresh: You're going to have to make one, but I'll walk you through the steps. It's not that hard, don't worry. First, create a new document file to type it on, then we'll go from there.

Eight: Got it

Marina leads me through the steps of creating a good resume, but it proves to be more difficult than we anticipated. It takes us a while to decide if being a test subject of Kamabo Co. should be included in my work history, but Marina suggests I leave it out; Sheldon may know I'm a former Octarian soldier, but he doesn't know everything I've been through since then. It's not something I like to think, let alone talk about. I'd rather not be asked questions about it.

When we finally finish, Marina tells me how to send the document to her so she can proofread it. In the meantime, I rush to get dressed for the interview. I don't have much time now, after taking a bit too long on the resume.

I put on the outfit I bought at the Reef, and although it's by no means formal attire, according to Marina and Pearl it's a "fresh fit" by Inkling standards. I know "freshness" is held very highly in Inkling culture, so I assume a "fresh fit" is Inkling for a good outfit. Either way, I tie my bandana in a bow around my neck in the hopes of looking a bit more formal. However, I don't get the bowtie effect I was going for, instead making my outfit look much less formal, so I tie the bandana around my head like normal instead.

I hear the doorbell ring just as I finish up. I run downstairs to answer it, making sure to check the camera beforehand just like Pearl taught me. When I confirm it's them, I unlock and open the door for my friends.

"Yo!" Pearl says, patting me on the shoulder on her way through the door.

"Yo," I reply.

"Hi Eight!" Marina says, "Pearl and I have to change first, but then we can talk about your resume."

"Oh. It is very bad?" I ask worriedly.

"No! No, it's good, especially since you only just learned how to write in Inkling. I corrected any spelling mistakes, but there's just one quick thing I need you to fix."

"Oh. Ok."

"Rendezvous in the living room in ten minutes!" Pearl announces.

"Yes sir," Marina jokes. The two of them head upstairs to change out of their flashy work outfits, so I head to the living room and find a spot on the couch to wait for them.

They join me several minutes later, dressed in disguises similar to the ones they wore to the Reef. I wonder if it's hard having to wear disguises everywhere they go. I hope I'm never that famous.

"Alright, so about your resume," Marina says, sitting down next to me and pulling up the document on her phone.

"It's not much, you just forgot your last name," She points to the blank space where it should've gone.

Pearl snorts with laughter at my rookie mistake, but is hushed by a silencing glare from Marina.

"I did not forget it," I admit, "I... Uh, I do not have one. A last name."

"You... Don't?" Marina says, confused.

"That's wack, yo," Pearl says, "What about your family? What's your mom's or dad's last name?"

"I do not know," I say, "I never knew them."

"Oh. Uh… Sorry," Pearl says, biting her lip.

"Did you have an adoptive family?" Marina asks.

"No," I say, feeling increasingly uncomfortable under their concerned stares.

"You had to have some sort of name on your birth certificate, right?" Marina says.

"Um... No."

"Ok then, explain," Pearl says, "Why the shell you don't have a last name?"

"I was never given any kind of name," I say, looking down at my hands folded across my lap, "From birth I was assigned to a new, experimental division of the Army. None of us knew our families and none of us were given names. We had no connections of any kind, and were therefore the perfect disposable soldiers. The closest thing I had to a family back then were my bunkmates, but they had no names either. I did not even have a first name until I met Mr. Cuttlefish."

"Ah," Marina says, nodding her head thoughtfully. Pearl's mouth forms an O of realization.

"I... Honestly, I thought Eight was actually your name. You never told us to call you anything different," She says.

"Eight is actually my name," I say defensively, the ends of my tentacles curling up, "It is the name you and Mr. Cuttlefish gave me, and I never want to be called anything different."

"Noted," Pearl says.

"I remember hearing about that new project the Army was working on. I thought it was cruel, even before my soul was freed," Marina says, "I didn't believe that even Octavio would do such a thing."

"It wasn't as bad as you think. I never knew that normal Octolings had names and families, so I never felt like I was worse-off than everyone else."

I was only trying to ease her mind, but after I say that Marina's frown deepens.

"It's still not right," She says, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

That part of my life was sunshine and rainbows compared to what I went through after I escaped. I think, but I don't dare say it out loud.

"Soooo...." Pearl says, "What are we gonna do about your last name?"

"Is a last name really so important?" I ask.

"Yeah," Marina says, "Long story short, you won't be able to get a job, house, or anything without a last name."

"Oh."

"I have an idea," Marina says, typing something on her phone. Afterwards she hands me the device, and I notice that she has typed in a last name for me.

"I-da," I read slowly, "Is Ida a good last name?"

"I would hope so. It's, uh, it's my last name so..."

I look up at Marina, confused. She's blushing bright turquoise, avoiding eye contact.

"Awwww! How cute!" Pearl coos in a mocking tone.

"I do not understand," I say, "Ida cannot be my last name if it is already yours, no?"

"I was thinking— we could say you're my sister or something..." Marina says, blushing harder for some reason, "I mean, we look enough alike… I don't know if it's totally legal, but no one has to know."

"Aww Mawina wants to be big sissy!" Pearls says in a strange tone of voice, clasping her hands together.

"I'm going to throw something at you," Marina threatens, glaring at the Inkling.

"So if we have the same last name, we are family?" I ask, failing to hide the hope in my voice.

"We're not enough of a family already?" Pearl says, "You hurt me, Eight."

"That is not what I meant."

"Well, everyone would think we're family, but it's not going to magically make us blood relatives," Marina says. Seeing my disappointment, she quickly adds, "But we don't have to be blood relatives to be family!"

"I do not understand." I say.

Marina presses her lips into a thin line, then lets out a sigh.

"Listen Eight, I can't say I had it harder than you. I know my life was easy compared to yours, but please just hear me out. I… I knew my parents, but we didn't have any kind of relationship. I knew who they were, but they didn't take care of me like parents are supposed to. I was raised in the Army training facilities. I can only remember one or two conversations I ever had with them. I don't even remember their names anymore. I don't miss them, and they rarely even cross my mind. They might have been blood relatives, but they weren't family."

"Oh," I say quietly, letting that sink in.

"But Pearl took me in after I escaped, and she cared for me in a way no one in the Army ever did. She gave me food and a home, she taught me about the surface, and she never asked for anything in return. She's not even the same species as me, let alone blood related. But she's more like family than my parents ever were. And now you, you remind me so much of myself, I want to be to you who Pearl was to me. I want to be someone you can look up to, someone who you can talk to, someone— someone who can help you; I want you to be my family too... Oh Cod, now I'm crying..."

Wordlessly, Pearl moves to sit next to Marina, who's covering her eyes to hide her tears. Marina leans on Pearl's shoulder, taking deep breaths to ease her crying, and Pearl wrap an arm around her.

"I think I understand," I say quietly, scooting closer to Marina as well, "Eight Ida... It has a nice ring to it."

Without warning, Marina hooks her arms around Pearl and me and pulls us into a big hug.

"I love you guys," She says, her voice still quivering.

"I— I—" I stutter, somehow unable to get the words out, "I do... too."

"Alright, alright, enough with the mushy stuff," Pearl says, though she has a smile on her face. It's not her usual smug, mocking smile, though.

What is this feeling?

Chapter Text

        "It is closed." I say, squinting at the sign taped on the front door of Ammo Knights. I may not be the best at reading Inkling, but the enormous red letters alone are enough to suggest something's up. It would be disappointing to have driven all the way to the Square for nothing.

"It's closed?" Pearl says, scowling, "'Rina, didn't you tell Smelldon we're coming?"

"Yeah! He said he'd close the shop for the interview. It's all good!" Marina says, squeezing between us to get to the door. She knocks lightly, and almost immediately the door swings open, as if the storeowner had been waiting to let us in for hours. He very well could've been, come to think of it.

"You're here!" He exclaims, waving us inside, "Come in, come in! I'm all set up for the interview, and I must say I've been looking forward to this ever since my good friends Callie and Marie told me about you! Here, take a seat."

Sheldon practically shoves me toward a metal chair he has set up in the middle of the shop. He takes a seat in another one across from mine, rubbing his hands together excitedly. It's obvious that he hasn't done something like this before, judging by the hastily prepared interviewing area.

"Yo, where we supposed to sit?" Pearl says, making a sweeping gesture across the room, which is indeed now devoid of empty seats.

"My, I am so sorry!" Sheldon says, jumping up from his seat, "I'll go get chairs for you right away, I believe I have more in the back. I am so very sorry about that! That was very inconsiderate of me." It takes about ten more apologies before Sheldon finally acts on his word. The horseshoe crab scurries off through a door in the back, which I assume leads to some sort of storage room or workshop.

"This is such a drag," Pearl groans once Sheldon is out of sight, "I mean, hooray for you, Eight, props, I'm excited for ya, but Cod knows Sheldon loves to talk. And Cod also knows Pearl doesn't like to sit still for hours and hours listening to codclam boring weapons jabber."

"It's not that bad, Pearl," Marina says, "You can always just play games on your phone until they're done."

"I'm sorry that you must wait for me," I say, "Why do you not just go somewhere else in Inkopolis Square until we are finished?"

Pearl lights up at the idea, but Marina immediately shakes her head.

"No no, it's ok! We don't mind staying here," Marina insists, placing a hand on Pearl's shoulder, "Right, Pearl?"

"Uh..."

"Right, Pearl?"

"Yep. Yeah. We're all good," Pearl says, but I don't miss the telltale slumping of her shoulders. She's disappointed.

"Why will you not go? I do not mind," I say, "You do not have to lie to me. I know you want to."

"I don't want what happened last time to happen again," Marina admits, studying the weapons on the walls instead of looking me in the eye, "And you don't have to lie to me either. I know you don't want to be left alone."

"You do too much for me. Do something for yourself. Please."

"I'll have you know, I like doing things for you. It's not like you're making me."

"Oh, um, I seemed to have walked in at an awkward time," Sheldon says, startling both Marina and I. He must've returned while we were arguing. The crab sets down two more metal chairs behind mine and then takes a few steps back. "I didn't interrupt something important, did I? I can give you a moment if you need it."

"No, you're all good," Marina says with a polite smile. She sits down in one of the chairs, a simple action that seems to finalize her decision.

"Uh, so we're staying?" Pearl says quietly, still standing.

"Yep," Marina says, meeting my eyes. We stare each other down for what feels like hours, but Marina wins in the end. I let out a sigh as Pearl plops down. Sometimes I wonder why they have to be such good friends. It makes me feel like I'm not doing enough for them.

Sheldon clears his throat. "Well I'm not sure what all that was about, but I hope it's resolved now. Are we ready to begin?"

"Yes," I reply, sitting up straighter. Sheldon takes his seat across from me and then picks up a stack of papers from the top of the display case next to him. I hear Pearl groan loudly behind me.

"Well, before we start, I would just like to apologize for everything that happened last time we met. I am sorrier than words can describe! I jumped to foolish conclusions, but I swear on my life that it won't happen again. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I will do it. But please understand that while I'm very sorry, I'm not going to hire you simply out of guilt; I'm still running a business here, and I'm not going to take unqualified workers."

"That is understandable," I say, nodding.

"Good! Also, I've basically been running the shop solo for the past several years, so please keep in mind that this is the first time I've actually interviewed anyone. Don't be surprised if I make a mistake or two here and there."

"Very well. This is my first time being interviewed, so we have equal limbs."

"...Limbs?"

"Oh! Right, that was an Octarian expression," I say, "What is the Inkling one again?"

"On even ground," Marina says.

"Yes. That."

"That's very interesting. You're always learning new things, as they say," Sheldon remarks, drumming his fingers on the top of his paper stack, "On that note, I think we're ready to begin. One moment..."

He pauses to search through the stack, pulling out a paper from the bottom and reading through whatever's printed on it.

"I'm supposed to look at your resume first, I believe," He says, squinting at his paper, "Do you have one of those?"

"Yes," I say, pulling out my resume, which Marina had printed before we left Pearl's house. I hand Sheldon the paper, beginning to feel the anxiety welling up again. He appears to be studying it thoroughly, nodding occasionally. After a minute or two, he sets the resume down on top of the display case.

"Based on what's in your resume, you sound promising," He says with a smile. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Ok, what next..." He mutters, "Questions... Ok... So, Miss Ida, tell me a bit about yourself."

At first I’m taken aback by the use of my new family name, but I push that aside. Luckily Pearl and Marina had drilled me on some common interview questions on the drive here, so I already have an answer prepared for this one.

"I only made it to Inkopolis recently, as you know," I say, "Securing a job is a very important step in making a life for myself, and I have always had an interest in weaponry of all kinds. I was raised in the Octarian Army, so I have had my fair share of experience with different kinds of weaponry. Not only am I well versed with the four main classes of Octoling armaments, but I was also briefly trained in the repair of damaged weapons. Since then I have had practice with a few kinds of Inkling weapons, mains, subs, and specials, so I feel confident saying that I am experienced in most forms of weaponry. However, I would still like to learn more about other Inkling weapons, and I believe this job would give me the perfect opportunity."

"Well, I'll be glad to teach you whatever you want about weapons, even if I don’t end up hiring you," Sheldon says. I know what comment is supposed to mean, but that doesn’t keep new worries from arising. "Next question... What are some of your strengths?"

"I am well experienced with weapons, which will surely be a good thing for this job. I enjoy work, however hard it is, and I value learning opportunities. I follow directions well, I am patient, I have been told that I have an exceptional memory, and I always try to be polite and courteous."

"And weaknesses?"

"I am not well versed with Inkling culture and I have trouble reading the written language, but I am working on it. I have a hard time discerning Inkling hyperbole and metaphor from normal conversation, so I may take joking or exaggerated things literally. I can be... What was it called... yes, I can be a 'neat freak.' I like everything to be in total, perfect order. I also tend to create routines and I get frustrated when these routines are broken."

"Most of those things are very minor," Sheldon says, "If you'll be working as my stocksquid— or stockoctopus, I should say— being a bit of a neat freak will actually be a good thing. You shouldn't have to interact with customers too too often, so the communication issues shouldn't be a problem either."

"Oh, that is good," I say, letting out another breath. The weaknesses question was the one I had been most worried about.

"Ok, moving on to the next question. Let's see... Behavioral questions... Here's a good one. Give me an example of a time when you made a mistake at work. How did you handle it?"

Pearl and Marina told me there would be questions I wouldn't expect, and this is one of them. Luckily it's not difficult to answer.

"I was training in complex dodging maneuvers, but I performed one of the rolls wrong and cracked my ink tank. I told my overseer immediately, and I was punished with five strikes and cleaning duty for two weeks, while my ink tank was taken in for repairs. But if the same situation were to happen again, I would still tell my overseer. I doubt I could have hidden it anyway."

"You were punished for rolling wrong?" Sheldon says, looking surprised.

"No. Well, yes, partially, but it was mostly for breaking my ink tank. We had limited resources at the time, so it was upsetting to have to spend them on something that could have been easily avoided."

"Still, it was a mistake, and you even owned up to it. I've heard things are tough down there, but that kind of punishment seems a bit excessive. And what do you mean by 'five strikes?'"

"I was struck five times with the discipline rod. It was standard for training," I say, wondering how the surface dwellers train their troops at all if they believe discipline is wrong. "I can say I never performed the roll incorrectly after that."

"Hm… I've never been a fan of physical punishment. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

I nod, even though I don't understand what was so wrong about the way the Army disciplined me. That phrase, "I'm sorry you had to go through that," is getting really old.

"Although learning about the Octarian military is very fascinating, and I'd love to learn more at another time, we should probably get back on topic," Sheldon says.

"Agreed. Let us continue."

"Alright, next question. How do you deal with stress?"

I nearly laugh out loud at that. It really shouldn't be funny, but I'm so well acquainted with stress that I barely even recognize it as anything but normal anymore.

"I have been trained to perform even under stress," I say, "I have become very used to the feeling over the past couple of years, so it rarely hinders me."

"I suppose that's good, but being 'used to stress' isn't normal, you know," Sheldon says, "I know it's not my place to tell you how to handle your own problems, but I recommend getting that checked out sometime."

"Oh," Is all I say, my face falling. I hope that doesn't affect whether or not he hires me.

"Moving on... Sorry this is taking so long, by the way. I didn't have much time to get all my questions prepared. Ah, here we go. I haven't put a lot of thought into what I'll pay you yet, so what are you hoping to make per year?"

"In money?" I hadn't thought about this much either, nor do I know how Inkling money works.

"How much should I make per year?" I ask, turning to Marina and Pearl.

"Probably like 2,000,000 G. That's pretty basic," Pearl says. Marina nods in agreement.

"Would that be good?" I say, turning back to the horseshoe crab.

"Of course," Sheldon says, "I think that's perfect. I'll be sure to keep that in mind if I hire you. I also haven't given much thought to what hours you'll be working, so how early are you willing to get up? I'm usually at the shop by four AM, but I can run on four hours of sleep easily. I don't expect you to be there that early."

"I usually wake up very early as well, so I do not mind," I say.

"If you wake up at four, which you usually do anyway, you could come with me on my way to work and then we could pick you up afterwards. Our studio is just across the street after all," Pearl suggests.

"That is acceptable to me. Does it work for you, sir?" I ask.

"If you're trying to sync up your hours, what time do your friends get off?" He asks, jotting something down on another paper.

"We usually work from six to four, but depending on how busy we are we may finish earlier or later," Marina says.

"Yes, that would work well for me," Sheldon says, "As long as working ten hour shifts won't be a problem for you, of course. Most find that to be too much work."

"As I said, I enjoy work," I say.

"Sounds good, then! Now that that's figured out, we can move on. So I think I'm supposed to ask some fun questions too, so, hm... Ok, if you had the opportunity to choose any superpower, what would you choose and why?"

"That is an interesting question," I say, resting my head on my hands as I think, "I believe that the ability to… I do not know if there is a word for it… You know, to make more of myself. I think that would be very useful. If I was trapped, I could have the other of myself get me out. Among other things, of course."

"Interesting choice," Sheldon says, "Hmm... What kinds of things do you do for fun?"

"I enjoy writing poetry," I say.

"Oh, really? I never knew that about you," Marina says behind me, "You'll have to show us some of them sometime."

"Hush hush, there's still an interview going on!" Sheldon says, only half joking, "Is there anything else you like to do, Miss Ida?"

"I have not had much time to explore hobbies, but I suppose I do watch a lot of television."

"Well, I hope you find more things to enjoy soon. Anyhow, we only have a couple more questions left, nearly done! So, what are you most afraid of?"

"What— what kind of question is that?" I ask, caught off guard.

"It's supposed to help me get to know you, I think," Sheldon says, squinting at one of his pieces of paper, "Well?"

"I, uh... I am scared of... Trains," I say, which is true...

"Trains?"

"Yes. Trains," I say, my face flushing as I realize how stupid that sounds.

"I don't want to be too nosy or anything, but if you’re okay telling me, is there a story behind that?"

"I, um... I almost got hit by a train once. Now I am afraid of them," I say. I don't really like lying, but the real answer will raise too many new questions.

"That's fair," Sheldon says, "Alright, this will be my last question: do you have any questions for me?"

"Oh! Uh..." I say, surprised. I take a moment to think before I respond. "How are you related to the NSS? Just out of curiosity."

"I make all their weapons," Sheldon says, puffing out his chest, "Even more than that, Grandpappy Shellendorf was a member of the original Squidbeak Splatoon, so naturally I have close ties to the New Squidbeak Splatoon. Anything else?"

"No, I think that is all, thank you," I say.

"In that case, I've been paying close attention to your answers, and... I think you're just the employee I was looking for! Usually an interviewer is supposed to take time to think about who to hire, but sadly no one has applied for a job but you, and I doubt anyone else will. They just don't appreciate the fine art of weaponry like us professionals... Ahem. Either way, you seem like such a good fit for the job that I probably would've chosen you even if I got thousands of applications. Long story short, you're hired!"

"I... Am?" I say.

"Yep! When do you think you’ll be ready to start working?"

“Oh, I— I can work anytime. I am not busy,” I reply, still trying to wrap my head around the news.

“Then I'll give you tomorrow to get ready, do whatever you need to do, but I expect you on site the day after that. Is that too soon?”

"No sir!" I say, smiling, “I am happy to work on the day after tomorrow!”

"Now just to clear this up, you'll have two days off per week, and you'll be making 540G per hour. I'll be generous and give you 7 days of paid vacation per year, but I don't expect you to slack off on the clock, got it?"

"Yes sir! Thank you, sir!"

"I don't have an employee training manual written up or anything, but I'll show you the ropes when I see you next. Welcome to the Ammo Knights team, Eight! I'm glad to have you!"

He salutes, surprising me when he does it in the correct way, and I salute him in return. I try to look dignified doing it, but I can't help but break into a smile.

"Well this concludes our interview, Eight. I enjoyed getting to know you." Sheldon stands up, setting his stack up papers on his chair, and extends his hand to me. I follow suit, standing up and shaking his hand (the height difference is apparent here, as I'm forced to bend down slightly to actually do it).

I leave the weapons shop with high spirits, Pearl and Marina following close behind. As soon as the door closes behind us, Pearl tackles me in a hug from behind, nearly making me fall over.

"YEAH!! YOU CRUSHED IT, GIRL!" Pearl shouts in my ear, wrapping her arms around my neck like she’s trying to choke me.

"Great job, Eight!" The other Octoling says, giving me a much gentler squeeze, "I'm so happy for you!"

"Thank you," I say, smiling uncontrollably.

"Smell— I mean Sheldon better treat you right, 'kay? I don't want to have to pay him a visit," Pearl says.

"I think I will be fine. But thank you for your consideration," I reply.

"Now, to our celebratory Crust Bucket dinner! You guys don't worry about nothin’, it's my treat."

The three of us head toward the food truck, the setting sun coloring the Square in shades of yellow and pink like a scene out of poetry. We may all be in seventh heaven now, but my current elatedness is the only thing keeping the ever growing anxiety at bay. I've been trying my hardest to ignore it, but following me like a shadow is the knowledge that I'm just one step closer to the realization of my true greatest fear.

Chapter Text

        The day before had gone by painfully slow. Sheldon had given me the day to prepare, but what I was supposed to prepare, I did not know. So instead I spent the day anxiously awaiting its end, so I could actually begin my first day as an employee of Ammo Knights.

Now that the interview was over, I was much more excited than anxious about returning to the weapons store. Sheldon seemed like a good person, if a bit... Energetic. Pearl and Marina kept going on about how generous he was being with my salary and vacation days, though of course I have no idea what the standard is. But if my friends are happy with what I got, it must be good.

I check the clock yet again, hoping that it's at least 3:00 AM by now. It's only 2:45. I was too excited for today to sleep much more than a few hours, but I don't want to get up too early and wake up Pearl. That happened once last week, and... Well, Pearl prefers to wake on her own.

To pass the time, I get out my poetry book and open to a blank page. I start scribbling down ideas and rhymes until they start to come together. It doesn't feel like a long time before the poem is complete, but you never can tell when writing. Almost as soon as I finish, I hear a knock at the door.

"Eight? You up?"

"Yes! One moment," I call, rushing to answer the door.

"You're up earlier than normal," Pearl says as I open the door. She's still dressed in a bathrobe, so she must've just gotten up.

"As are you. I did not wake you up, did I?"

"Nah, you're good," Pearl says, "I was already planning to get up early today. I saw that your lights were on so I wanted to make sure you were okay. You okay?"

"I am okay, I just could not sleep much," I say.

"Excited for your first day of work?"

"Yes, very."

"How long have you been up?" Pearl asks, stepping into my room.

"Since around 1:00 or 1:30, I think," I reply.

"Girl, how do you function?" Pearl says incredulously, "And you've just been in your room for two hours?"

"I did not want to wake you up," I say.

"Oh, that's nice of you. Thanks."

"And I was writing, not just sitting around."

"Oh yeah! You said you like to write poetry, yeah? Can I see?" Pearl asks, her face lighting up.

"Well, yes, but... It is written in Octarian. I can still read it if you would like. It is not long," I say, picking up my notebook.

"For sure," Pearl says.

Clearing my throat, I begin reciting my poem.

"I'll take my successes gladly,

But I know all good things must go

I just pray it won't hurt badly."

"Wow. I dunno the words or anything, but it sounded legit," Pearl says, nodding slowly.

"Thank you," I smile. "I didn't know you liked poetry, Pearl."

"Poetry is basically like a song without music, or like... Slower rapping," Pearl says, "I write a lot of the lyrics for Off the Hook's songs, so I'm a bit of a poet myself."

"Ah. I suppose poetry is very similar to song."

"Yep. Anyways, yeah, very nice poem. You should try writing some in Inkling sometime," Pearl says.

"Oh, okay," I say, my smile wavering, "Well, then... Would you like to have breakfast now?"

"Oh yeah!" She exclaims, "The whole reason I got up early was to finish the cinnamon rolls! I totally got sidetracked. You wanna help?"

"Yes, but what are cinnamon rolls?"

"They're like bread with cinnamon in 'em and frosting on top. Oh, and cinnamon is like this warm, Squidmas-y, kinda spicy spice… I dunno how to explain it any better. You'll just have to try it for yourself."

"It sounds good."

Pearl and I head down to the kitchen, Pearl flipping on the light switches along the way. Quite humorously, not even Pearl herself seems to know the way around her mansion. We take several wrong turns before we finally make it to our destination. When we make it to the kitchen at last, she grabs a pan of what I assume are cinnamon rolls off of the counter and hands it to me, then starts pressing what looks like random buttons on the oven.

"I was letting those rise overnight, but they still need to bake," she says, "I'm preheating the oven now. We still need to make the frosting, too."

"Okay." I'm glad to hear that the cinnamon rolls aren't finished yet, because as of right now the gooey yellowish blobs in the pan do not look very appetizing.

I set down the pan of cinnamon rolls and we get to work on the frosting. I enjoy working with Pearl in the kitchen; the Inkling is a surprisingly good cook, and she seems to enjoy teaching me how to cook too. She never forgets to remind me that cooking is an important skill every independent Inkling (or Octoling) must know. I know, in the future, I'll be grateful for what she's taught me. Not that I'm not grateful right now, of course!

The completed frosting is pretty thin as far as frostings go, and it smells like sweet vanilla. I almost want to eat it on its own, but I'm sure that's just the hunger talking.

"Wanna lick the spoon?" Pearl offers, holding out the frosting-coated utensil to me.

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon, you know you wanna," She says with a grin. I take the spoon, still unsure. Is this an Inkling tradition of some sort?

"I do not know if I can eat a spoon," I admit.

"Well no duh, you idiot," Pearl says, laughing. Normally that would be offensive, but something in the way she says it makes me smile too. "You eat the frosting, not the spoon."

"That makes much more sense," I say, making Pearl laugh so hard she falls to her knees, which causes me to laugh at how ridiculous she looks.

When we finally get a hold of ourselves, Pearl loads the unbaked cinnamon rolls into the hot oven while I lick the frosting off of the spoon. It feels like a very childish thing to do, but the stuff tastes so good that I do it anyway. I can't wait to see what it will taste like on the finished cinnamon rolls.

"So, first day at your new job, huh?" Pearl says while we wait for the cinnamon rolls to bake.

"Yes, that it is," I say, taking another lick of the frosting.

"Sheldon's a good dude, as much as I give him crap," Pearl says, leaning against the kitchen island, "As long as you don't mind all his endless talking, I bet you'll like working there."

"I don't mind it. I enjoy learning about the weapons."

Before Pearl can reply, the oven starts making a loud and insistent beeping noise. She immediately jumps up and runs to the oven, a smile spreading across her face as soon as the oven door opens.

"Oooh yeah! Look at these bad boys!" Pearl says, pulling out the pan of cinnamon rolls. They've browned beautifully and puffed up to nearly twice the size they were before. The smell is heavenly, like being wrapped in a sweet, warm blanket.

"Wow," I say, my eyes fixed on the steaming pan of food.

"Hold up, we still gotta put that frosting on 'em."

"Ah, yes."

Pearl shows me how to properly drizzle the frosting onto the cinnamon rolls, and the end result not only looks beautiful, but also looks mouth-wateringly delicious. I don't know how much longer I can bear to look at the rolls without eating them.

"Are they finished?" I ask.

"Patient much?" Pearl says, "Ahh, I'm just joking with ya. I get it, cinnamon rolls are like my third favorite food. Waiting is hard, especially with these guys in the picture."

"Yes," I agree, "But are they finished?"

"Hmm... I dunno..." Pearl says, tapping her chin in mock thoughtfulness. "They might need like... Another day or so? Yeah, they're done."

Pearl cuts out a roll for me and one for herself, and we head to her living room to eat them. Never have I been more excited to eat; something that took that long to make must taste very good. Pearl turns on the TV, as usual, before she finally announces: "Dig in!"

Good Cod, those cinnamon rolls might just be the best thing I've ever eaten. I know I think that about just about every surface food I eat, but these might be the actual top tier. They might even be better than pancakes. If "warm and cozy" was a food, it would be cinnamon rolls.

"You sure look like you're enjoying that," Pearl says.

"It is delicious," I say before stuffing my face with another bite.

"Yeah, I wanted to make something special for your big day. I'm glad you like it."

"I love it."

"Woah there, you're not the kinda person to use the L-word lightly."

"It applies in this case," I say, finishing off my last bite.

"You've found your new favorite food, eh?" Pearl says.

"It seems that way."

"Well I'll be happy to make cinnamon rolls with you anytime."

I can't help but smile. She might not know it, but what she said means a lot.

"Weeelp, the fun stuff's over now," Pearl sighs, leaning back into the couch, "Time to get ready for work."

I nod. Together the two of us make our way upstairs, eventually parting ways to go to our separate bedrooms. I change into my "good" outfit, and I will admit I did a few poses in the mirror before I left. The excitement of my first day of work might be getting to my head. I make sure to grab my phone, then I find my way back to the living room to wait for Pearl. It isn't long before she shows up, dressed up in her white dress and boots.

"Ready to go?" She asks, jangling the car keys. I nod, and together we head out into the chilly morning air. We climb into Pearl's car, and as we drive toward the city, Pearl tells me a few things about driving a car. It doesn't seem too hard, at least compared to some of the machinery I'd operated while I was in the Army. However, I begin to realize that maybe Pearl isn't qualified to teach me how to drive, because as she's telling me all about speed limits, I notice that we're currently driving about ten miles over ours. Not to mention she ran about seven of the eight stop lights we encountered along the way. I decide not to point these things out.

Sometime before the sky disappears into the concrete jungle, I witness my first sunrise. It had been almost pitch black when Pearl and I left the mansion, but all of a sudden the sky was turning from black to navy blue, to hundreds of shades of pink, orange, and yellow. It was breathtaking. I stared in awe at the scene for as long as I could, but I was forced to look away when the blinding sun began to emerge above the horizon.

"Do you see this every day?" I ask Pearl, still shocked.

"Pretty much, yeah," Pearl answers, "It's pretty, ain't it?"

"Yes... Yes it is."

“Hey Eight, you feeling okay?” Pearl asks, turning to me, “You sound kinda sad. Somethin' on your mind? You just feeling nervous about your first day?”

My mouth forms into a thin line, then I let out a long sigh before I speak.

“It’s nothing.”

Best not to ruin the moment.

Chapter Text

        "And this is for lunch," Pearl says, handing me a thick stack of Crust Bucket tickets, "You don't have to use them all, I just wanted to give ya a nice selection."

"Thank you," I say, pocketing the tickets.

“If anyone tries anything, you can use this,” She hands me what appears to be a small, black spray can. At my questioning look, she adds, “It’s pepper spray. Aim for the eyes. Be careful with it, don’t get it on you. It hurts like nobody's business.”

“Ah, yes.”

We had been standing outside of Ammo Knights for several minutes now. Pearl seemed reluctant to let me go. The Square was eerily quiet this early in the morning, nothing like the bright, loud Square engraved into my memory. There was not a single living creature to be seen, aside from Pearl and I.

"You have my number and 'Rina's if you need anything. Remember, we're right across the street," Pearl continues, pointing at the studio building. I nod.

"If anything happens at work, I know how to hide a body. You catch my drift?" She says, putting her hands on my shoulders and staring at me intensely.

"Yes," I say, though I neither know what the metaphor means nor why her ability to hide a body is relevant.

"Ah, clam, I'm proud of ya. Only here a couple weeks and you already got a job! You're gonna steal the show, yo! Just you wait and see."

"I am not planning to steal anything..?"

"It's an expression. It means you're gonna be awesome."

"Ah. In that case, thank you."

Pearl gives me one last pat on the shoulder before letting her hands slide off and taking a few steps back.

"Welp, better not keep you any longer. 'Rina and I will come and get you after we're done with work, kay? Don't you die or anything before then," Pearl says, swinging her arms as she backs away.

"I will try not to," I joke. Returning my smile, Pearl waves goodbye before spinning around on her heel and heading in the direction of Off the Hook's studio. With that, I turn my back on her as well and make my way to the front door of Ammo Knights. I knock lightly on the door, and it's a couple minutes before anyone answers.

"Ah, you're here! Welcome, come on inside!" Sheldon says, holding the door open for me and closing it behind me after I enter.

"Are you excited for your first day on the job, Miss Ida? I know I am," He continues, enthusiastically rubbing his hands together, "I could barely sleep last night, I couldn't stop thinking about training my very first employee today. And now here we are! I'm ready to begin when you are."

"I am ready to begin at any time," I say.

"I like the enthusiasm. In that case, follow me to the back and we'll begin your training."

Sheldon leads me to the door in the back of the shop and again holds it open for me as I go through. What good manners. I wonder if he has ever served in the surface's army.

The back room is only slightly larger than the front of the shop, and is tightly packed with rows of shelves laden with boxes of all kinds of weapons. On the left side of the room is a closet full of cleaning supplies and a workbench with parts of a dismantled shooter strewn across it.

"This is where you'll be spending most of your hours," Sheldon says with a sweeping gesture across the room, "I keep any of my weapons that aren't on display on those shelves for safekeeping. Over there is my weapon repair zone, you don't have to worry about anything in that area."

"Okay," I say, nodding along.

"If you remember, I hired you to be my stocker, so in short, your job will be to keep the display shelves in the front stocked with weapons, and to take in and sort new weapon deliveries into their proper places back here." I follow the horseshoe crab as he ambles over to a stack of boxes near yet another door in the back of the room. "The factory delivers new weapons every Tuesday and Friday, so you'll be in charge of handling that for the most part. It's Wednesday today, but I haven't yet had time to sort yesterday's shipment. Luckily that gives me a chance to show you the ropes."

Sheldon picks up a box from the top of a massive pile and walks it over to his workbench with me trailing behind. Brushing aside the parts and tools, he sets down the box and cuts it open with a knife off the workbench.

"This is a Luna Blaster," He says, pulling out an odd-looking, round weapon. The box is filled with the things. "I could tell you all about it, but I think we should keep to the task at hand for now. See this?" He pauses to point at a large white label on the front of the box. "All the boxes should have one of these stickers on them already. It'll tell you what's in the box."

The label does, in fact, say "LUNA BLASTERS" in bold capitals. I nod in understanding.

"And then I find the correct shelf to put it on, yes?" I ask.

"Precisely! You're catching on," Sheldon replies, returning the blaster to the box. "Here, why don't you take this? I'll show you where to put it."

"Very well," I say, picking up the surprisingly heavy box. It isn't hard for me to lift, but I'm surprised Sheldon was able to do it so easily at his size. He doesn't appear very strong on the outside, but I suppose you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. That's a saying, right?

"I sort my weapons based on the nine main weapon classes," Sheldon continues, leading me towards the rows of shelves, "I trust you know what those are."

"I do not know all of the Inkling weapon groups," I admit, "You have many more weapons here on the surface than we do in the domes."

"Oh, right! My apologies," Sheldon says, "Our weapon classes are shooters, blasters, chargers, rollers, sloshers, brushes, splatlings, dualies, and brellas. Sub weapons and specials have their own shelves."

"Okay," I say, making a mental note. It will be important to know these groups for more than just my job.

"Each shelf is dedicated to one weapon class. I've labeled the shelves to make it a bit easier on you." Sheldon says, pointing to one of the aforementioned labels.

"Then this box will go on... That shelf, yes?" I say, nodding towards the shelf labeled "Blasters."

"Exactly! Then all you have to do is move the blasters from that box into the Luna Blaster box, on that shelf and you're all set!"

I look over the blasters shelf until I spot the box labeled "Luna Blasters." After congratulating me profusely for completing my very first assignment, Sheldon encourages me to try to sort another box on my own.

I pick up another box from the stack by the door with Sheldon hovering behind me. The sticker on this one reads "Dapple Dualies Nouveau," yet another weapon I've never heard of. Judging by the name, the weapon is a member of the dualies class, so I find the corresponding shelf and soon after find the Dapple Dualies Nouveau box.

Sheldon is wildly impressed by my fast learning, and while the task was really a very easy one that didn't even require much learning in the first place, I do enjoy the praise. The crab then teaches me the other aspects of my job, stocking the display shelves, cleaning, and taking in the weapon deliveries.

"Oh, would you look at the time!" Sheldon says all of a sudden, checking his pocket watch, "Six AM! Time to open up shop."

He had just finished demonstrating how to hang a huge, heavy roller on the wall for display, a task which required much more physical strength than the others.

I look away from the large weapon to see that Sheldon is already at the front door. He throws it open, letting in a burst of cool morning air. He then grabs from the floor what looks to be a rubber wedge, and jams it under the open door. When he lets go, the wedge prevents the door from closing. How resourceful!

"What do we do now that the shop is open?" I ask, moving out of the horseshoe crab's way as he hurries past me to adjust the positions of some of the weapons in the display shelves.

"We may be officially open now, but I usually don't start getting customers until around eight or nine, at the earliest," Sheldon says.

"Hm," I say, stepping outside for a moment to look around the Square. Sure enough, it's just as empty as it was earlier. Before I realize it’s happening, I find my eyes locked on Marina and Pearl's studio across the street. The lights are on, but to my disappointment, I don't see them. They're probably still in their back room, getting ready. Nothing to worry about.

"You do still have the rest of yesterday's shipment to unpack," Sheldon says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh. Yes. Sorry," I say quickly, shaking my head.

"No worries," Sheldon says as I head toward the back, "Get those done by the end of the day and I'll be happy. I'm here if you have any questions, and don't worry about asking for help, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

I get to work unpacking the weapons as soon as possible. After a while, I feel comfortable with the rhythm of the chore. It's repetitive, which makes it easy. While others I've met seem to find repetition boring, I find it relaxing; it means I don’t have to worry about surprises or unexpected problems.

"No one's showed up yet," Sheldon says a while later, coming into the storage room to check up on me. I've lost track of time, so I have no idea how much later it is. "So, how's it going? Feeling good about your job so far?"

"Yes! It has been quite interesting to see all of these different kinds of weapons," I reply with a small smile, "I am nearly finished sorting the boxes, I have only three left."

"What, really?" Sheldon looks shocked. "It's only been two hours! And that was one of the larger shipments too!"

It had already been two hours? I had thought it had only been one hour at most...

"I am sorry, did I do something wrong? Should I go slower?"

"No! No, I'm just... Wow! That was fast," Sheldon says, wide-eyed, 'I was really expecting you to take all day with those, or at least a couple more hours, but I guess you really know how to lean into the rhythm, huh? I'm impressed. Very impressed! I made the right choice in hiring you, that's for sure."

"Ah, thank you," I say, ducking my head, "I am doing my best."

"Well, keep at it! You're doing an excellent job," Sheldon says with a wide smile. He gives me a friendly pat on the back before he heads back to the front, allowing me to finish unloading the last few boxes.

Chapter Text

        It doesn't take long for me to lose track of time, doing my repetitive chores in the windowless storage room of Ammo Knights. After I finish sorting the previous day's weapon shipment, Sheldon has me sweep the storage room. In his words, "You need something to do until we start getting customers. I haven't cleaned back there in ages, so you might as well. You'll be better off working in a cleaner environment in the long run, don't you think?"

That wasn't every word of it, but I'll spare the extra few pages.

After some unknown amount of time, I begin to hear talking from the front of the shop. It seems we have gotten our first customers of the day. Judging by what Sheldon had said before about the times when customers normally arrived, it had been a few hours since opening. It hadn't felt like that long.

I listen in to the conversation as I sweep. From what I gather, a group of four young Inklings are here to purchase their first real weapons. Try as he might to provide beginner tips and weapon information to the eager newbies, not one of the Inklings is paying attention to a word he says.

"I want to try out a whole bunch, see which weapon I like the most," One of the Inklings says, though they don't sound like they're speaking to anyone in particular.

"Well, if you'd describe the sort of experience you're looking for, I'm sure I can save you the cash and find you that perfect weapon," Sheldon says, "You seem like you might like a Splat Roller, they're perfect for—"

"That sounds like a great idea! If we buy every weapon available, we'll have plenty of options. Hey Sheldon, what weapons you got for us?" Another Inkling says, cutting off the horseshoe crab.

"Well, at your current, ahem, freshness... You can purchase a Splattershot, Splat Roller, Splat Charger, or Splat Dualies." There's an edge to his voice, but Sheldon keeps his composure.

"I'll take one of each of those things you just said," The first Inkling says, soon followed by murmurs of agreement from the rest of the team.

I hear the noise presumably of Sheldon fetching the Inklings' new weapons, before he politely bids them farewell. A minute or two later, just as I've finished sweeping, Sheldon enters the storage room with a long sigh.

"Squids these days..." He mutters to himself, "No respect..."

"Difficult customers?" I say, propping the broom up against the wall.

"You heard that all, didn't you? There's no insulation between those walls... Not that I mind that you listened in, no, I have no problem with it. You're all good." He pauses to let out another sigh. "To answer your question, yes. If it wasn't my job, I wouldn't give a single one of my babies to people like that. They have no respect for their weaponry. Not one of them thought to test out the weapons before buying them! I have a whole test range just over there for that exact reason! Now they're going to have a bunch of weapons they'll never even use. Oh, let me tell you, when they get into Ranked, they'll come out crying... Either way, I suppose it's still more money in my pocket if they buy more weapons than they need."

"Ah," I say, nodding.

"Sorry for rambling there. This is just my passion, you know? And it's painful to see such potential put to waste. I hope you understand. Anyway, how's your work? I can already tell it's much cleaner back here. Have you finished sweeping?"

"I have finished sweeping the storage room, yes. I await my next assignment."

"Don't say it like that, you sound like some robot!" Sheldon says with a little laugh. "As for your 'next assignment,' those customers really put a dent in the stock up front. I'll need four of each, Splattershot, Splat Roller, Splat Charger, and Splat Dualies. Can you handle that?"

"Yes, sir," I say, nodding firmly, "I will be getting right to it."

"Keep up the good work," He says, saluting me before heading back to his post up front.

I get right to work. I grab the Splat Rollers first, since they happen to be on the shelf closest to me. The weapons are so large and heavy that I'm only able to carry two at a time. That's fine, I can make two trips.

As I'm hauling the second round of Splat Rollers toward the front, I hear new voices. We must have more customers.

"Hey, Sheldon!" Says one of them, "I've got a Sloshing Machine that needs fixing and a buddy here who needs his first weapon."

"Alright, why don't you hand that weapon over first and I'll take a look at it," replies Sheldon's voice.

I push the door open with my elbow and step into the room, maneuvering the Splat Rollers through the doorway behind me. I wouldn't describe the room as small, but four Inklings, an Octoling, a horseshoe crab, and two ungainly Splat Rollers take up quite a bit of space.

"Sorry. Excuse me," I murmur, moving around the Inklings, who are now watching me curiously.

"Who's this?" The one with his tentacles tied up in a ponytail asks, hooking his thumb in my direction. I recognize his voice as the first speaker who greeted Sheldon. He appears to be the leader of the group.

"This is my new employee, Eight Ida!" Sheldon says, a hint of pride in his voice. "This is her first day on the job."

"Hello," I say, attempting to balance the Splat Roller on my shoulder so I can wave in greeting.

"Hold up. Eight Ida? As in hit pop idol duo Off the Hook's beloved DJ sensation Marina Ida?!" The Inkling with short tentacles says, her jaw dropping.

"Yes. I am her sister," I say, turning my back on them so I can hang the Rollers on the wall where they belong.

"No joke?" Ponytail Inkling says.

"Uh, no. No joke," I say. I can't see them, but I can feel them staring.

"Woah! What's it like being related to Inkopolis' most famous DJ?" Short-Tentacles says in awe.

"It is good," I say, feeling uneasy with all the attention I'm getting. I finish hanging up the Splat Rollers and turn around to leave, but the Inklings keep talking.

"It must suck to have a sister who's so rich and famous, while you're stuck working here of all places... No offense, Sheldon," says the third Inkling, one with a spiky mohawk.

"I am happy to work here," I say defensively, meeting Mohawk's eyes. He's wearing sunglasses, so I can't actually tell if he's staring back at me.

"I think that's enough," Sheldon finally cuts in. There's an edge to his voice that suggests Mohawk Inkling's comment did indeed offend him. "I won't have you pestering my employee, and Eight needs to get back to work anyway. Now, what did you say was wrong with your Sloshing Machine?"

I breathe a silent thanks to Sheldon as I slip back into the storage room. I never considered how Marina's fame might affect me. Not that I would have it any other way; I would live through mobs of Marina's fans if it meant I could be a part of her family. It was just a bit awkward.

However awkward it was, I still have restocking to do. So I steel my nerves and head back in with a box of Splat Dualies under my arm. Sheldon is lecturing the Inkling group on proper weapon maintenance, but none of them are paying attention. Instead, their eyes are locked on me, like I'm just as much of a celebrity as my false sister.

"So next time, you can prevent ink clogs like this from happening again and save yourself the money. But since you all didn't listen to a word I said, you'll be forced to spend all your hard-earned cash on weapon repairs. Let this be a lesson in listening when people are talking to you," Sheldon finishes, giving the group a blank stare. "Anyway, right, didn't you say you had someone who needed a new weapon?"

"Oh. Oh yeah," Ponytail Inkling says, finally tearing his eyes away from me. "He needs his first weapon."

Ponytail gestures to the fourth member of the group, the only one who hasn't spoken yet. I glance at him, just out of curiosity, then I do a double take.

That one's an Octoling.

I didn't look at him closely enough to notice it before. He's wearing a hoodie with the hood flipped up, hiding his tentacles, but his broken eye mask is unmistakably that of an Octoling. He's been staring at me this whole time, and now with me staring at him back, our eyes lock.

"He said he never played Turf War before but he has some mad skills, lemme tell ya. He crushed me one on one with the Splattershot Jr. I loaned him," Ponytail continues, putting his arm around the Octoling's shoulders. "I think he's worthy of a better weapon, even if he's never officially played."

"I'll take your word for it, you have enough experience that I trust you can see talent where it is," Sheldon says, before turning to the Octoling. "What weapon were you thinking?"

"You have weapon called... um… Splattershot?" The Octoling asks, pausing between each word. His voice is soft and carries an Octarian accent even thicker than mine. It brings back memories of when I was first learning the Inkling language.

"Yes, we do! They're right over there," Sheldon says, pointing to the shooters arranged on the shelf right next to me. There's only a couple left, since I haven't gotten to restocking them yet.

The Octoling slips past his friends and comes over to the shelf. He's now standing right by my side, but I know it can't be helped. He keeps glancing in my direction and then looking away, as if he's trying his best not to stare, but I suspect his reasons for an interest in me are different from those of his Inkling friends. He only stands next to me for the amount of time it takes for him to grab a Splattershot, after which he takes a large step back.

"Would you like to test it out before purchasing?" Sheldon asks.

"If I can..." The Octoling replies, studying the floor.

"Great! Eight will show you to the test range." Sheldon nods to me. Thankfully, I've just finished shelving the Splat Dualies, so I was headed back in that direction anyway.

"Right this way," I say, picking up the box of dualies and leading the way to the test range. I can feel the Octoling's eyes boring into the back of my head as he follows me, and I hear whispers and snickers from the Inklings before I close the door behind us. I can imagine what they're whispering about.

"Here we are," I say, making a grand sweeping gesture with my free arm. The test range is larger than the front of the shop, around the same size as the storage room, but instead of shelves, it's packed with those inflatable squid-shaped dummies. I've never liked those dummies. "Stay here as long as you like. You may try out different weapons too if you talk to Sheldon," I finish.

I turn around, intending to finish my previous task of restocking the weapons, but the Octoling catches my arm.

"Wait!"

I spin around, the soldier’s instincts drilled into my brain taking over. He immediately lets go and lowers his head apologetically, as if he's realized he overstepped. One more moment, and he would've had a broken arm.

"You are... Octoling," He says sheepishly, after an awkward pause.

"I am," I say, narrowing my eyes as I wait for him to elaborate.

"You are from Army?"

"Yes. Why..?"

A huge grin breaks out on the Octoling's face, not the reaction I was expecting.

"Good cod, I thought I was alone here! You have no idea how refreshing it is to see another Octoling!" He says, switching to Octarian so suddenly that it takes me a moment to process what he's saying. "You're the first other Octoling I've seen since I got here, except for that one on the big screen. Did you know that one of their celebrities is an Octoling like us? I don't remember her name, but she makes the news with that other Inkling. You seem to know this place pretty well, you probably know her, right? Anyway, I was really worried that I wouldn't be able to make it on this surface, but that Octoling became a famous DJ, and you have a job in an Inkling weapon shop, so maybe I'll be able to make a living here too! ...Sorry, that was a lot. You're still working, I shouldn't be distracting you. But I want you to know that you have inspired me, and I believe that both of us, well, all of us, we can make it."

He rushes through his words excitedly, nothing like the quiet, awkward octopus from before. But I understand. I am lucky enough have Marina, but judging by what he said, this Octoling doesn't have the luxury of someone who understands. I suddenly realize that this is the first time in a long, long time that someone has spoken to me in my native tongue. I'm punched in the gut by some sort of emotion that I can't quite name, hearing that language again. It reminds me that I'm not alone here, but also... I don't belong here. This isn't my home. Even if the Inklings accept us, they will never understand us. We will never be them.

"That was a bit much, wasn't it... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dump that all on you," The Octoling says, probably noticing my wide-eyed expression.

"You're fine. It's just been a long time since I've heard this language," I reply, barely even noticing that I've switched to Octarian too.

"It's nice to be able to speak to someone, I mean, to actually hold a conversation. My Inkling is awful, I can barely understand what they're saying at times. Their language is so strange." He laughs a bit, and I can't help but smile too.

"It takes time, but you'll get there," I say, adjusting the box of Splat Dualies under my arm. The Octoling's eyes move to the box and his smile wavers.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from your work. You won't get in trouble, will you? I don't want to get you in trouble."

"I doubt it. Inkling culture seems to hate punishment. But yes, I really should get back to work."

"In that case, it was nice meeting you. Thank you for... Just existing. You don't know how much I needed this." He holds out his hand to me.

"It was nice meeting you, too," I say, shaking his hand.

"Good luck out there, friend," He says before turning his back on me, cocking his Splattershot and heading in the direction of the training dummies.

With that, I get back to the task at hand, leaving the Octoling alone in the test range. I return the box of dualies to the storage room and begin searching for the Splattershots. It takes me a while to find them, simply because there are so many boxes of shooters to sort through.

When I finally make it back to the front of the store with the Splattershots under my arm, the Inklings, and the Octoling, are nowhere to be seen. I feel a sharp pang of regret for reasons I don't really understand.

"Sheldon?" I say, staring out through the open door.

"Yes?" Sheldon says, looking up from a weapon he was admiring.

"You told me I would not have to interact with customers."

"There's no way to improve without practice," Sheldon says matter-of-factly, "But if you'd like, I won't make you interact with the customers anymore. I'm definitely not planning to introduce you as an Ida from now on, that whole thing was my bad, and I apologize. I didn't think about how those Inklings would react to that name."

"That is fine."

"Why do you bring it up anyway? Did something happen while you and that other Octoling were in the test range together?" He narrows his eyes. "You were in there for quite a while, come to think of it. Is there someone I need to ban from these premises?"

"No, no. We were just talking," I say quickly, shaking my head. "I simply remembered that you said I would not have to interact with customers, and yet I did."

"Yeah, sorry about that, I shouldn't have pushed you into it. I'll do better next time."

"It is fine. I do not mind the interaction. You are right that I need it.”

"If that's all cleared up then, we both should get back to work. I see some customers headed this way, and you still have Splat Chargers to restock."

"Yes, sir."

Try as I might to ignore it, this heaviness in my chest doesn't subside. Not after several minutes. Not after several hours. Not even while I'm eating a delicious Schwaffle from the Crust Bucket. I continue with my work, hoping whatever this is will at the very least be gone by the end of the day. Pearl and Marina worry too much about me as it is. It’s not like I would know how to explain this anyway.

Chapter Text

        It's been three months since I first arrived here on the surface, and about two since I began working at Ammo Knights. I'm shocked when I realize; really, it didn't feel that long.

In that time, Pearl and Marina taught me better Inkling spelling, how to cook, how to work with Inkling money, and many other skills that would be important for any surface-dweller to know. And don't get me wrong, I love to learn, but I could feel the more they taught me, the closer I came to the end. I knew it was going to come eventually, but...

I tried my best to pretend it didn't exist, that it would never happen. But when Marina and Pearl started to bring up the subject of moving out, it all became far too real.

So, I found a fault in every apartment they showed me. Even the ones I had to admit were pretty nice had a terrible view, or a kitchen that was too small, or not enough living space. After the tenth apartment, admittedly a very nice one for a ridiculously good price that I claimed was too large, Pearl and Marina were beginning to catch on.

Pearl, Marina, and I are fixing dinner together after a long day's work, a "family tradition" (as they had begun calling it) that we had started about a month back, when they finally decide to bring it up.

"So, Eight, Marie texted me today," Marina says as she stirs a pan of simmering vegetables. "She said she has a good friend who's looking for a roommate to split the rent of a new apartment with, and Marie thought of you, isn't that nice? Pearl and I agree that this is the perfect opportunity for you!"

"Oh," is all I say.

"What do ya think?" Pearl asks, turning over pieces of meat in another pan. "You'll get a decent apartment and you'll only have to pay half the rent, plus you'll get a roommate. It's a crazy good deal."

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Pearl says, "This is, like, the perfect chance for you!"

"I just do not know if this is... Right."

"You've turned down every single stinkin’ apartment we've shown you, Eight. Don't get the wrong idea, but you're gonna have to move out eventually," She says, her tone turned unnaturally serious.

"Why?" I ask, noticing an edge to my voice that I had meant to hide.

"Listen, I love having you here, I really do," Pearl says, "But Marina and I can't coddle you forever. At some point, you're going to have to be on your own. You can't rely on us for everything, it's not good for you."

"Moving out isn't as bad as it sounds," Marina puts in, "You have a lot more freedom to do what you really want."

"I want to stay here," I say, "I want to stay with you."

"Eight..." Pearl says, sounding frustrated. Just that one word in that tone of voice makes me feel a pain deep in my chest.

"I think there's something more going on, isn't there?" Marina says softly. "We can talk about this more after dinner. Eight, could you check the rice cooker?"

We finish preparing the food in dead silence, my chest feeling unnaturally hollow. I have too much on my mind to really enjoy the meal, and I'm finished before I even realize I was eating. After cleaning up, I begin heading in the direction of my bedroom.

"Hey, you get your tail back here. We're having a family meeting," Pearl says, pointing to the empty spot next to her on the couch. Keeping my expression blank, I turn around and return to the couch.

"So, you want to tell us why you're so adamant about staying here?" Marina asks. Her voice is gentle, but I can tell she's really as frustrated as Pearl.

"I like it here," I say, staring down at my feet.

"There's more to it than that," Pearl says. It's not a question.

"I am happy here. I do not see why I must leave."

There's a long pause, in which Marina appears to be choosing her next words carefully. Finally, she takes a deep breath, and speaks.

"Eight, we have been taking care of you for the last three months. We took care of you because we love you, but also because you had no home, money, job, or knowledge about the surface, so you needed someone to take care of you. But now you have money, you have a job, and you know enough about the surface to make it on your own; you don't need to rely on us anymore. It's time for you to move on to the next step."

"I know you know you have to move out eventually. Might as well take this chance, and do it now," Pearl says.

I can see it. There's no changing their minds. And whether or not I want to admit it, Pearl it's right; I know this offer is the perfect opportunity. There's no sense delaying the inevitable, however horrible it will be..

"Okay," I finally say. Marina smiles at my answer, and Pearl looks relieved. I hope I made the right choice.

"Great! I'll text Marie and see if she can't send more info about the apartment before you make your final decision." Marina says, clapping her hands together.

I nod blankly. I can't believe this is all coming to an end.

• • • • • • • •

"Marina? Pearl?" I call. I'm in the front room of their studio in Inkopolis Square, searching for them. Out of the glass wall I can see an eerily empty Inkopolis, no sign of life, even though it's the middle of the day. The Square is usually packed full of Inklings at this hour.

Something doesn't feel right here. I feel like something may have happened to my friends.

"Pearl? Marina?!" I shout louder this time, as I open the door on the opposite wall. Instead of leading to their dressing rooms, it opens into an enormous, unlit room, so dark and vast that I can't see the walls in any direction. I step into the room, feeling my anxiety growing. This must be where they are, right?

I take a glance over my shoulder, only to see that the door I just entered through has vanished, leaving me alone in pitch blackness. I shudder, but I continue walking forward, despite a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach that grows with each step.

"Pearl! Marinaaa!" I shout, but the only response is my own voice echoing back. I feel like I should turn back, or at least stop walking forward blindly, but I can't stop myself. It's as if I'm not in control of my own body anymore.

I take yet another step into the dark, but this time I feel something squish under my foot. I freeze in my tracks as the thing under my foot begins to move, winding its way up my leg. It feels cold and slimy against my skin, but I find myself unable to move, unable to free myself.

Unexpectedly, the thing yanks back, pulling my leg out from under me, and sending me to the floor. I land on a writhing mass of the same cold, slimy things, which waste no time in wrapping around my arms, legs, neck, torso, any part of my body they can. They're squeezing so tightly that it's hard to breathe and beginning to hurt.

"What the—" I gasp. Only now am I able to move, but when I try to struggle, the slimy things only tighten their grip.

"If it isn't Test Subject Number 10,008..." Says a terrifyingly familiar voice, echoing through the blackness. My blood runs cold.

"No..." I say, my eyes going wide. "You’re dead. I saw it. You were destroyed!"

A greenish light appears in the darkness, illuminating the masses of writhing green and blue tentacles that used to be the floor. I look up in mounting fear at the source of the light, and to my horror, it's just what I prayed I wouldn't see: an old-school telephone dripping glowing green ooze.

"You're dead. This isn't real. You're dead! DEAD! I watched you die!" I scream.

A telephone has no way of expressing emotions, but somehow I can sense the evil grin that would be on Commander Tartar's face.

"Au contraire, compadre!" It says, its robotic voice sounding all too real. "Hate to burst your bubble, but your efforts to [SLANG_NOT_FOUND] me were a real bust job, bronana."

"No! NO! This isn't real!" I shriek, struggling to free myself from the tentacles, to no avail.

"Nata! This is realio dealio, yo!" Tartar says. "And now that you're done flubbing the dub, we can finally [ERROR] the promised land! Let us blow this joint."

"NO!" I writhe in the tentacles' grip, but am unable to free myself. They lift me off the floor until I'm being held straight up, face to face with my worst nightmare.

"PEARL! MARINA! I scream at the top of my lungs. "AGENT 3! CUTTLEFISH! ANYBODY, HEL—"

I'm cut off by a tentacle moving quickly over my mouth, filling it with the sickeningly sour taste of chemicals and death.

"Now, now, 10,008, there's no one to help you this time. You're all mine..."

I'm forced to watch, horrified, but unable to call for help, as a plethora of noisily spinning blades emerge from the darkness on all sides. They're flinging pink ink like they just finished murdering some other helpless Octoling, and I can feel the cold droplets hitting on my skin. The blades move closer at a painfully slow pace, forcing me to wait, and, and wait for my inevitable, gruesome death.

"The promised land awaits..."

I prayed that some hero would appear at the last minute to rescue me, like last time.

But this time, no one comes, not even when the blades are screaming in my ears.

This time, I'm not so lucky.

• • • • • • • •

I wake up screaming.

It takes me a moment to realize that it was a nightmare. A horribly vivid nightmare. I can still hear the screech of the metal blades and Tartar's screaming, mechanical laughter.

I sit bolt upright and look around my room. I'm alone, and the only real sounds I can hear are the low hum of the air conditioning and my own blood pounding in my ears. I'm safe now. I'm safe. Then why don't I feel safe?

My hearts still racing, I pull Hachi closer and remove my Octo Shot from under my pillow. Pearl and Marina don't know that I kept it. I didn't even know why I kept it at first, but holding it now, I feel safer. I can defend myself, if needed. The weight of the weapon in my hands is comfortingly familiar.

I whip around, aiming my gun at my bedroom door, and pull the trigger, even before the rest of my mind has time to register the sound of the door creaking open. There's a loud click from the weapon and an even louder shriek of surprise from the intruder.

"Hey! Woah, woah, woah, it's me! Pearl! Your buddy!"

I blink, taken aback. I slowly lower the Octo Shot, my arms shaking. Pearl is lucky that the shooter wasn't connected to an ink source, or she would've been splatted on the spot.

"What was that, dawg? You tryna off me?" My eyes have adjusted enough that I can see Pearl's unmistakable silhouette standing in the doorway.

"S-sorry," I say, my voice as shaky as the rest of my body.

"Oh... Hey, what happened?" Pearl says, her voice instantly taking on a much gentler tone.

"Nightmare," I say, my grip on my weapon tightening.

"I'm sorry. Was it real bad?" Pearl says, stepping into my bedroom and taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

I nod, then, realizing it might be hard to see in the dark, I say, "Yes."

"Oh. Yeah, you were screaming in your sleep. I heard you shouting my name, so I ran over to check up on you."

"Thank you..."

"Anytime, b," Pearl says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Did you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really..."

"That's a-ok." Pearl pauses for a moment before adding, "You know Marina and I are here if you have somethin' you wanna get off your chest."

"Mhm."

There's another moment of silence.

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, what were you doing with that weapon?" She taps the barrel of the Octoling Shot, which is still held tight in my hand. "The Octo Shot, isn't it called? I thought you got rid of it."

"I kept it," I say, examining the weapon. "It... Makes me feel safer."

"...No one's going to hurt you here. You know that, right?"

"Mhm."

"I'm not tellin' you to get rid of it, I couldn't care less if you keep the thing or not. I'm just sayin' that if you feel like you need to have a strap on hand to feel safe, well... If you're just not to the point where you feel safe here, that's fine. That might not be something you can control. But you need to make sure that you're working on getting there. Ya dig?"

"I… Dig."

"Are you sure there isn't something you wanna tell me about?" Pearl says. I can tell that she knows there's more I'm not telling her, but she won't make me if I don't want to. And however much I don't want to, the logical part of me knows I should.

"I'm scared..." I force myself to say, before I am able to stop myself.

"Scared of what?" Pearl asks.

"...Scared of being alone."

Pearl makes a small sound of realization. She moves closer to me, so her body is pressed against mine. It's... Strangely comforting.

"Is that why...?"

She doesn't elaborate, but I know what she's referring to. I nod slowly, though it's only part of the reason that I don't want to move out.

"Well, you'll have a roommate, so you won't be living alone," Pearl says, "So why are you still so worried about moving out?"

I can't bring myself to say it. I've already forced myself to be vulnerable once tonight, I don't know if my emotional state can handle doing it again. And this thought, this fear, is even worse than the idea of being alone.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me, but you'll probably feel better if you do," Pearl says. I know she's right, but...

"It is nothing," I say at last, shaking my head. "I will try this apartment with the roommate. I will feel better once I am actually moved out, I know."

"That's probably true," Pearl says, "But 'Rina and I will always be here if ya have something else you wanna talk about."

"Mhm."

We sit together in silence for a while longer, until I finally feel my heartbeats begin to slow. Even so, I could sit here forever. I need to spend as much time with my friends— my family— as I can, before the inevitable end.

Chapter Text

        "Earth to Miss Ida! Are you with me?"

I blink and look up, the sound of Sheldon's voice snapping me out of my stupor. I was meant to be restocking the Inkbrush displays, one of my last few tasks to complete before getting off work, but my mind was in other places. I had been having trouble focusing all day.

"I am fine," I say, staring at the Inkbrush in my hands for several seconds before finally hanging it up on the wall.

"You've been pretty spacey all day, is something on your mind?" Sheldon asks, eyeing me worriedly from his spot behind the front desk.

"I am supposed to see an apartment in a couple of hours, and I will meet the person who might be my roommate. I guess I am a bit nervous," I admit. "I am sorry that I keep losing focus. I will do better tomorrow."

"You're all good, it's understandable that you would be nervous. I, however, know you'll do wonderfully," Sheldon says, flashing an encouraging smile. I smile back, but I can feel how half-hearted it must look.

"Hey, your potential roommate wouldn't happen to be named Four, would she?" Sheldon says several minutes later, as we begin closing up shop.

"What?" I say, taken aback. "How did you know?" Marie had texted Marina about the Inkling named Four. She seemed nice enough from Marie's description, though we hadn't yet met in person.

"Ah, so it is!" Sheldon says with a self-satisfied grin. "Four just so happens to be a good friend of mine. I'd heard her talking about trying to get a new apartment and find someone with which to split the rent. I bet you two will get along swimmingly!"

"Is she nice?"

"Well, that's debatable," Sheldon says, "She has a habit of saying whatever comes to mind. And oftentimes those things are… blunt, to put it nicely.” Something tells me he's speaking from experience.

"Oh," I say, frowning.

"But like I said, I bet you two will get along swimmingly! You seem like someone Four would like. I'd love to hear how it goes when you come back tomorrow, if that's not too much to ask."

I nod, just as there comes a knock on the store room door leading to the side alley.

"It must be Pearl and Marina," I say, picking up the bag that contains my wallet and phone.

"Run along, then. Thank you for your work today, and good luck!"

I nod again, waving goodbye before I open the door and step out into the din of the Square, where my friends are waiting for me.

"Eight!" Pearl greets me, patting me on the back as I come to stand next to them.

"Hello," I say in return, unable to hold back a small smile despite the growing feeling of anxiety squeezing my chest.

"We're going to head back to Pearl's place to get something to eat before we move on to the apartment building," Marina says as we begin walking in the direction of Pearl's car. "Plus, Pearl and I need to change before we go. We won't take long."

"Okay," I say. I'm really not hungry. I'm feeling slightly sick to my stomach, in fact. But the longer we stay away from that apartment building, the better. I know there's no point in putting it off, but the thought of going there makes me want to vomit.

The drive to Pearl's mansion is uneventful. Pearl and Marina, as usual, ask me how my day was, and afterwards tell me about theirs. The two of them have been extra busy lately, preparing for a huge concert they're putting on next month. Pearl makes plenty sure to express her displeasure at the amount of work she had to do.

This morning, Pearl and I had made sandwiches so we would have food ready and waiting when we all returned from work. While Marina and Pearl get changed into their disguises, I take small bites out of mine, finding it hard to enjoy. I wish I could say that I don't know what I'm so nervous about, but I do. I want to tell myself it's not something I should be so nervous about, but I know all too well that my anxiety is very rational.

"Ready to go?" Marina asks me, she and Pearl coming down the stairs in full disguise.

"But you have not eaten your sandwiches," I say.

"Pearl and I will eat while you're checking out your apartment," Marina says. Pearl nods in agreement.

"Wait, you are not coming in with me?!" I say, feeling my anxiety spike so sharply that it takes all my willpower not to throw up the entire sandwich I just ate.

"Well, no..." Marina says, her voice slow and hesitant. My outburst seemed to have caught her off guard.

"This is sorta your thing, Eight, not ours," Pearl says.

"But— But I—" I feel like my throat is closing up. It's bad enough that I have to go into that building at all, and now I'm going in without support?!

"We'll be right outside, and just a phone call away," Marina says, still giving me that weird look.

"Pearl," I say, my voice strained, as I turn to look at the Inkling. Even after I told her I was afraid of being alone, she's letting me go in on my own?!

"Look, this shouldn't be so big a deal. You just gotta slide on in there and look around the apartment, maybe get to know that Four character a bit, and come right on back out. There's really no point in us coming in with you, it'd just cause a scene," Pearl explains. She holds my gaze, but something in the way she speaks suggests that she's feeling uncomfortable, and possibly even guilty.

I can't think of a reasonable explanation for why they should come in with me, because in all honesty, Pearl made a lot of sense. But that doesn't stop the sick feeling in my stomach or the painful tightness in my chest.

"You'll do amazing, Eight. There's nothing to be scared of," Marina says, reaching over Pearl to place a hand on my shoulder.

I know there isn't, but that doesn't stop me from being scared anyway.

"We have to go now, we're already late," She continues in a quiet voice.

I nod. I just have to power through this, and then—

I'll be one step away from the end. Counting down on one hand the days until the end. It will be the end.

And then they'll be gone.

—I can come back to Pearl and Marina, and all will be well.

• • • • • • • •

The drive from Pearl's mansion to the apartment building is a rather long one, in which Pearl and Marina try and fail to make conversation with me. I'm in the opposite of a talking mood, but on the bright-er side, the scenery is nice. The building is near a part of the ocean that Pearl and Marina keep referring to as "Inkopolis Bay." The water seems to stretch on infinitely, broken only by the outlines of sailing vessels in the distance. Looking out at the endless water helps to ease my anxiety, if only just a bit.

"This is a good price for an apartment in a nice part of town so close to the ocean," Marina says as she pulls into a parking spot outside of the apartment building, about a half-hour later. "Still pretty expensive, but if you're splitting the rent, you'll be fine."

Without replying, I open the car door and step out. I'm immediately hit by the smell of the ocean, momentarily taking me back to the first time I stepped out into the surface after being trapped in Deepsea Metro. Despite how much I've changed since then, the ocean is still the same.

I'm brought out of the memory by the sound of the driver's side door opening. Confused, I watch Marina exit the car.

"You said you were not coming," I say. It's the first time I've spoken since we left Pearl's mansion.

"I'm not," She says, to my disappointment. Without saying another word, she takes a step closer and wraps her arms around me in a hug. I stand there awkwardly for a moment, surprised by the sudden display of affection, before hugging her back. Another moment later, I'm resting my chin on her shoulder, my eyes closed. I don't understand why hugs are so comforting. You are voluntarily giving someone a ridiculously easy chance to hurt you, even kill you, and that should be the opposite of comforting. That should definitely not make me feel so safe.

"You're going to be okay," Marina says. This is the first time I've ever heard her speak Octarian. I was honestly beginning to think she'd forgotten her mother tongue. For whatever reason, hearing it makes me want to cry.

"Why am I so scared?" I say in a shaky voice, squeezing her tighter.

"I wish that was a question I could answer," She says. Her voice is barely more than a whisper, only for me to hear. "It's okay to be scared, but I know you'll do great despite that, because that's the Eight I know and love."

We stand there for what feels like an eternity before I speak again.

"I'm late, aren't I?"

"You're pretty late, but you matter more than the schedule."

"I think I'm ready now. And... Thanks. This helped."

"Anything for my family."

I drop my arms to my sides and open my eyes. Marina releases me and gives me an encouraging smile, which I try my best to return. When I finally begin in the direction of the apartment building, I hear the car door close behind me. I'm still quite a bit anxious, but I know I can push through just like Marina said.

A jellyfish is waiting for me at the front door. They open it for me and gesture inside. Jellyfish are hard to read, but this one seems to be annoyed, probably by how long they were forced to wait for me. What a wonderful start.

"I am here to see an apartment," I say, before realizing that the jellyfish probably already knows that. Nodding and waving one tentacle, the jellyfish turns their back on me and begins down the hallway. It takes me a moment to realize that they want me to follow.

The jellyfish leads me up several flights of stairs. The east wall of the stairwell is entirely glass, giving me an excellent view of the city the higher we go. We finally stop at the fifth floor, where the jellyfish opens a door leading into another hallway, stark white walls decorated with abstract art. I count four doors, not including the one we just came in through. The jellyfish leads me to the one marked "404" before turning back to me and pointing at the door.

I step forward and turn the doorknob, and the door opens. I suppose it had already been unlocked for Four. When I turn around, the jellyfish is already leaving.

"Okay," I whisper to myself, "That was not so bad. No. Now we go in."

I step into the apartment and take a look around. This appears to be the living room, with a kitchen attached. The room is large and open, with the same white walls as the hallway. The far wall is almost completely taken up by a large ocean-view window and a sliding glass door that leads onto a balcony, and on the left wall there's an open door that seems to lead into a bedroom. The only furniture in the room is a gray sofa, a dining table, and some chairs, but I assume that's normal for a new apartment.

Before I have time to go look around the rest of the apartment, an Inkling with short, yellow tentacles appears in the bedroom doorway, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

"You're here! Took you long enough," She says, coming over to stand in front of me. She folds her arms, looks me up and down, then arches her eyebrows and nods as if she's impressed.

"Uh, hello. I am Eight. You are Four, yes?" I say, holding out my hand.

"That's me," She says, giving a quick shake of my hand. She gives me another once over before saying, "You're taller than I expected."

"Thank you..?" I say. Four isn't short; I believe she is around the average height for an Inkling, but I am still several inches taller than her.

"So, you're my potential new roomie, huh? You seem nice enough," Four says, still scrutinizing me like I'm an interesting piece of art.

"I am nice, I think," I say. So far, I have no idea what to make of this Inkling.

"I'm sure you do. So, Eight, right? Y'know, I've never personally gotten to know an Octoling. You seem a bit boring so far. I thought an Octoling would be pretty cool, but you're just quiet and awkward."

"Oh, uh..." I murmur, unsure how to respond to that. I'm not surprised that she knows I'm an Octoling, as Marie had already informed me that Four was an agent of the NSS. That's just not how I expected her to react to my being an Octoling.

"You got any hobbies or anything?" Four asks before I have a chance to say anything else.

"I write poems," I say, "And I have been learning how to build weapons."

"Oh good, I like making things. Art and stuff. We'll get along." She announces it like it's the answer to a long debated question. "You should come see the bedroom they got, it's real nice."

Four turns on her heel and heads in the direction of the bedroom, leaving me to follow behind her. I still can't get a read on the Inkling. She seems to have decided that she likes me, though, so I guess I have that going for me.

The bedroom isn't as nice as the one I have at Pearl's mansion, but I remind myself that my standards may have been set too high. Pearl is wealthy beyond imagining, after all. The room is about half the size of the living room, with another large window on the far wall, though this one comes with blinds. There's a door to my left that leads into a bathroom, and another door that I believe opens into a closet. The room is devoid of furniture, save a single bed in the corner of the room.

"This one'll be your bed. I'm gonna bring most of my furniture in from my last apartment, including my own bed," Four says, answering my question before I have the chance to ask it. She throws herself onto "my" bed and starfishes on top of the comforter, letting out a dramatic sigh.

"It can be mine, if I move in. I might not." I say stubbornly.

Four looks up, a distraught expression on her face.

"You have to move in with me!" She pleads, "You haven't seen my current apartment, but it's a literal trash heap on the really sketchy side of town. I need to move out of there, but I can't afford this apartment without a roommate!"

I can't say yes. I can't. But I know it will have to happen eventually, so I might as well take this deal. It might be the best I'll get. I can't... But I have to.

"It is... It is a nice apartment," I force myself to say. It hurts to say it, almost physically. It feels like I'm giving up.

"Is that a, 'yes, I'll move in with you?' Please tell me it is," Four says, sitting up.

"Yes. I— I will move in with you."

Something inside me breaks. My world is falling away. This is it.

"Oh my cod, thank you. Thank you! You won't regret this. I'll be the best darned roommate I can, promise," Four says, jumping off the bed and running over to me with open arms, like she's about to hug me. But she pauses after seeing my distant expression, slowly lowering her hands.

"You good, mate? You look a little pale," She says.

"I am fine," I lie, my voice unnaturally flat. "I have seen the apartment. I will go now."

"Oh, um, okay then," Four says, obviously not buying it. "I'll get the rest of the apartment stuff set up. We can plan a date to move in. Hey, can I have your number before you go?"

"Mhm," I say, pulling it up on my phone and showing her.

"Alright, got it. Nice meetin' ya, Eight."

"You too."

...Why did I say yes? Why did I just agree to give it all up? Why did I choose to bring about the end? In only a few days, it'll all be over.

I don't cry. I'm beyond that. I feel numb, hollow, empty of all feelings. All that's left now is to wait for the end. After that... I don't know what I'll do.

Chapter Text

For the entirety of the following week, I could not seem to reconnect to reality. Everything felt strangely distant, muted, like I was watching my life through a television screen. I wasn't even scared anymore, just blank. Empty.

Everyone kept asking if I was alright, as if the answer wasn't obvious. Pearl and Marina tried their best to help, I'll give them that, but they couldn't. I could tell how much it was hurting them to see me this way, but I couldn't bring myself to tell them what was wrong.

The nightmares got worse every night. There were several nights I woke up screaming, and Pearl had to come comfort me, but she never complained. Instead, she practically begged me to tell her what was going on, but I couldn't. I couldn't.

I realized at some point that this must be my mind's way of protecting me. If I was disconnected from the real world, I couldn't be hurt by its harsh realities. If I distanced myself from Pearl and Marina, I couldn't be hurt when I no longer had them. If I never thought about the root of the problem, I would be spared the painful truth.

I spent the time waiting for, though I was beyond dreading, the text from Four. At the end of the week, it finally came.

Everything's set up, got my furniture in there, the apartment's all ready whenever you're ready to move in.

So this was it, then. I had already given up my mindset of putting it off for as long as possible, instead I would get it done sooner rather than later. It would hurt, but theres no point in putting off the inevitable. The longer I stalled, the worse the pain would be when the end finally came.

"Four says the apartment is ready to move into," I tell Marina and Pearl during dinner that night. "I would like to move in as soon as possible, so maybe in three or four days."

Both Pearl and Marina looked up at that, their expressions showing concern. Really, their expressions hadn't shown much else for a while.

"What happened to the 'terrified of moving out' Eight?" Pearl asks, tapping her fork on the table.

"There is no point in putting it off. It will have to happen eventually, right? I would just like to do it sooner rather than later."

"Wow, are we really that bad company?" Pearl says, smiling and nudging Marina with her elbow. Neither me nor Marina laughs at her attempt at humor. In fact, I feel punched in the gut by her words, rendered speechless. Do they really think that I hate them? Is that what they have assumed this is?

"Eight, something is wrong that you're not telling us," Marina says. "Pearl and I are really worried for you. You know, whatever it is, we won't judge you. We want to help."

"I am just anxious to be moving out," I lie.

"Like we're falling for that," Pearl says.

"This is more than just nerves. You've been acting strangely all week and you won't tell us why. Pearl told me about all the nightmares you're having, too. Please, Eight, this isn't healthy." Marina says, her voice catching.

I don't answer. It hurts me more than they could know, but I can't bring myself to tell them. If I did, all of my defenses I've worked so hard to build would come crashing down, and there'd be nothing else to protect me from the harsh truth.

"I am going to begin packing tomorrow," I finally say, "I will be moving out whenever I finish the packing."

"You're not gonna tell us what's up?" Pearl asks, but Marina places a hand on her shoulder and shakes her head. She seems to have realized that I won't be telling them anything. Seeing them give up on me like that would have made my heart ache, if I was able to feel anything at all.

• • • • • • • •

"Take these dishes, you'll need them," Pearl says, handing me a stack of ceramic plates and bowls.

"Mhm," I reply, fitting the dishes into one of the several cardboard boxes arranged across my bedroom floor. Very few of them are filled with things that are actually mine. Pearl and Marina both have been giving me many more things than I know what to do with, claiming it's to help me when I move out.

"And silverware, you'll definitely need that." Pearl hands me a box of brand-new forks, spoons, and knives, which I set on top of the plates. I wonder if she bought those specifically for me, they're in mint condition.

"Will you need any furniture?" Marina asks as she enters my bedroom with a box full of fake plants and picture frames.

"No, Four brought her's. What is that for?"

"This stuff?" Marina says, carefully setting her box on the floor. "Just some decorations to spruce up your place."

"Hm." Decorations are nice I suppose, but they are surely not a necessity.

"Oh wait, I gotta go get one of my extra laptops. You'll need one of those, too," Pearl says, jumping to her feet.

"For what?" I ask, but she's already gone.

"Just let her do her thing," Marina says a moment later. "Pearl's doing all of this because she's going to miss you. She might not say it out loud, but I've been with her long enough to tell."

"Hm." I wonder if Pearl and Marina will really miss me as much as I will miss them. It seems impossible.

Marina helps me tape the boxes of tableware and decoratations closed, and I pull another empty box over in preparation for Pearl's return. She comes back soon enough, lugging a whole suitcase behind her.

"A laptop, huh?" Marina says, laughing, as Pearl lays the suitcase on the floor.

"Okay, I may have gotten more than a laptop, but it's all super important stuff!" Pearl says, "Like this suitcase. You'll need it if you want to travel."

Before either of us has time to reply, Pearl opens up the suitcase, revealing a large number of various, random items. She pulls out a whole radio, and practically throws it at me.

"So you can listen to the CDs the Squid Sisters gave you," She says. She continues removing things from the suitcase and handing them to me faster than I can pack them.

"A griddle, so you can make pancakes whenever you want. My whole collection of Sharktooth Comix, in case you want to read something that isn't boring. I already read 'em all anyway. A toaster, because, toast. This set of knives I forgot I had. Three power strips, because they're power strips. Towels, you need those for lots of things. I have a microwave you can take too, but I couldn't fit it in the suitcase."

"Thank you," I say as I finish packing the towels into a box. "I do not need a microwave though, Four probably has one."

"You can have two microwaves," Pearl says, wrinkling her nose.

"Pearl, she'll be fine," Marina says. "I think we've given her enough."

Something about that phrase stings a little bit, even through all of my defenses, but I recover quickly.

"Guess you're right," Pearl says after a moment's consideration. "Is this it, then? You're all packed?"

"Yes," I say, looking over the rows of boxes. "I will be moving out tomorrow."

"My lil' Eight, all grown up," Pearl teases, though I can hear an underlying sadness in her tone. I guess she really will miss me. I never truly considered that it might hurt them just as much as it will me. But it's not my fault they let me go.

• • • • • • • •

The atmosphere is heavy as we pack my boxes into Pearl's car. Even with everything Pearl gave me, I have very few belongings. This is the day of the end, and my last hours with Marina and Pearl are counting down quickly. I wish I could just get it over with, in all honesty. The longer I stay with them, the more I feel that I can't bear to let them go.

If loading the car was bad, the drive to the apartment was worse. The silence weighed on us like an Octostomp bearing down on its target. Pearl and Marina seem just as solemn as me.

Four is waiting for me outside of the apartment building, shifting her weight from foot to foot impatiently. She looks excited, but her smile falls as soon as I exit the car.

"Nerves?" She asks, coming to stand next to me. The hollow feeling inside must be showing outwardly as well.

I nod silently, not so much as looking in Four's direction. She nods in return, staying by my side as Pearl and Marina step out of the car after me.

"You must be Four, right? It's nice to meet you, I'm Marina. You probably know me..." Marina steps forward to shake Four's hand, then nods in Pearl's direction. The inkling has already opened the trunk and is beginning to unload my boxes, completely ignoring Four's presence. "That's Pearl. She's not in the best mood today, sorry if she comes off as rude."

"Eh, that's fine," Four says, waving it off. "I get it."

"I think you'll be a good roommate for Eight," Marina says with a plastered-on smile, before going to join Pearl at the trunk of the car. Four and I stand quietly together for a while, watching them unload my boxes. I wonder if I should be helping them.

"It's pretty cool that you're such good friends with Off the Hook. It's taking everything in me not to ask them for an autograph right now." Four finally breaks the silence, trying on another smile. "I mean, I don't watch a ton of TV, but I've been to loads of their Splatfests. Their music's pretty good."

I nod again. I'm trying to pay attention to what she's saying, but I'm feeling even more detached than before, and I'm struggling to focus.

"Hey, do you need anything? You aren't looking great," Four says, nudging me with her elbow. For whatever reason, the touch startles me so badly that I jerk away, and find my fist frozen mere inches from her throat. She stares at my shaking hand for a moment before letting out a sigh, seemingly unfazed by my reaction. She puts her hand on my fist and pushes it away from her.

"Hey, can you guys handle the boxes? I wanna show Eight around the apartment now that it's furnished," She says, turning to Pearl and Marina.

"Yeah, go ahead!" Marina says, though I hear Pearl muttering something under her breath, probably nothing nice.

"Come on. I finished moving all my furniture there last week, it's way nicer now. You'll love it," Four says, motioning for me to follow as she heads into the apartment building. I follow her through the white halls and up the flights of stairs, still stuck in a dreamlike state of dissociation. When we reach apartment 403, Four pulls out a ring of keys and uses one to unlock the door.

"Oh yeah, I have a copy of the key for you. I think I left it in here somewhere," She says, pushing the door open and waving me inside.

The living room is much less empty now. The sofa that had been there before has been replaced by a larger one on top of a greyscale rug. I can see that Four has brought a television, despite claiming that she doesn't watch it. The kitchen is now fully stocked as well, with a refrigerator, oven, dishwasher, and as I had predicted, a microwave. A shelf near the dining table is overflowing with potted plants, and I can see even more out on the balcony, so I suppose I won't need any of my fake ones.

"Eh? Eh? You like it?" Four says, spreading her arms and turning to see my reaction. She looks disappointed when my face remains completely blank.

"Okay, wanna tell me what's up?" She asks, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. "You're like... Even more boring than last time. Are you sick?"

"No," I say my voice shaky. "Just— just nerves. Like you said before."

"Right, that's why you nearly killed me earlier," Four says sarcastically. "Well I'm not gonna prod if you're not gonna tell me. So... Want to see the bedroom?"

Without waiting to hear my response (though it's not like I would have one), Four heads into the bedroom. I follow her, since I have nothing better to do anyway.

The bedroom is now fully furnished as well. The bed Four brought almost looks like a bunk bed, but with a desk on the bottom instead of a second bunk. She has tacked up several posters for bands and sports on her wall, even one for Off the Hook. She has another desk in front of the window, covered with many more potted plants. There are even a few hanging from the ceiling. I hadn't expected Four to be the plant-loving type, but here we are. Compared to her side of the room, my colorless bed and barren white walls look rather sad.

"I hope you don't mind the plants. I know it looks like a jungle in here," Four says, clambering up the ladder to get to her bed. "You can decorate your side of the room however you want, I could care less. Have fun with it."

I nod, running my hand along my bed frame. This is where I will be sleeping from now on, I guess. I hadn't really thought about it, but now I realize that I will never again sleep in my bed at Pearl's mansion. I will never go back to Pearl's mansion at all...

"Okay, I know you don't want to talk about it, but you're acting really weird and it's creepin' me out. Lighten up a bit! This is an exciting new adventure!" Four says, hooking her legs around the edge of her bed and hanging upside down from it.

I wish I could have her positive outlook on this. She might see it as a new beginning, but right now I can only see it as an end. The end to my friendship, the end to my family, the end to the few months of perfect happiness I had. I know I'll probably find new reasons to be happy eventually, but now is too soon.

There's a knock on the door of the apartment. Four lifts herself back onto her bed and then jumps down, running to answer the door. I follow her without really thinking about it. Four opens the door for Marina and Pearl, both of whom have arms full of boxes.

"We're going to have to make a couple more trips, but here's the first round," Marina says, stepping into the apartment and setting the boxes against the wall. Pearl silently follows suit.

"This is a nice place you got here!" Marina adds, placing her hands on her hips as her eyes travel the room.

"Yeah," Pearl says, but her heart isn't in it.

"Why, thank you," Four says, a note of pride in her voice. "Will you guys need a hand moving Eight's stuff up here?"

"If you're done showing her around, we would love that," Marina says with a grateful smile. Pearl nods in agreement.

Four and I follow Marina and Pearl down the stairs and to the parking lot, where they have laid out stacks of boxes outside of the trunk of Pearl's car. We each take as many as we can carry and begin making our way back up to the apartment. With everyone's help, it only takes two trips to retrieve all of my possessions.

"Well, Eight, you're all set," Marina says. It might have been my imagination, but there seemed to be a hint of sadness in her voice. I was busy studying the floor, so I was caught off guard when Marina suddenly pulls me into a tight hug.

"You're going to do just fine, remember that," She whispers in my ear. "Be good. Don't get yourself into too much trouble. But most importantly, go live your life. Have fun. Follow your dreams. I know you can do anything you put your mind to."

I nod. I know I will regret not hugging Marina back, but I feel too hollow. This hug is not comforting. It's the seal to my fate.

Marina releases me and steps back so Pearl can have a turn. Pearl doesn't smile as she hugs me goodbye. I think she has the same idea.

"Don't let anybody give you crap, got it?" She says quietly. "...I'm gonna miss our breakfasts together. And driving to work. I wish I could always be there for you when you have nightmares, or when you need someone beat up for you. But I know you're strong, and you can handle yourself." Her voice catches, and she pushes away from me.

"You've come so far," She finishes, barely audible. I don't even know if that was meant for my ears.

"This is goodbye, then," Marina says, giving me one last, quick hug. "We're so proud of you, Eight."

I nod blankly, so distant that I can barely register her words. I want this to be over already. Marina's smile falters when I don't say goodbye in return, and she looks to Pearl.

"It's time for us to go," She says quietly, placing her hand on the doorknob. "Goodbye, Eight."

The door has already shut behind them before I whisper, "Goodbye."

So that's it. The end has come. I don't cry. I don't know if I can cry anymore. They have left me forever. My first family, gone. I stand unmoving, facing the door, for a several minutes that feel like an eternity. Four watches me, as if waiting for me to move. When I don't, she steps forward and places a hand on my shoulder, making me look up.

"Go. It's not too late," She says, pushing me in the direction of the door.

"...What?" I murmur, turning to look at her. She looks sympathetic, but her eyes show an iron resolve.

"I said go, clammit! Go get them!"

"They're already gone."

"Not yet, but they will be if you keep dilly-dallying around here! Run!"

Four kicks open the door and practically throws me out of it, and before I know it, I'm running down the stairs as fast as my legs can carry me. I feel myself crashing back into reality, everything coming into sharp focus. All of the previous week's emotions hit me all at once, but they're overpowered by one: hope. Hope and a whole lot of fear.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I burst through the doors of the building and into the parking lot. I look around frantically for Pearl's car, and find it just as they're beginning to back out of the parking spot.

"No! Wait!" I shout as I make a mad dash in the direction of the car. I skid to a stop just behind the moving vehicle, holding out my arms as if that would stop it. I hear Pearl curse loudly as the car's brakes screech. The vehicle comes to an abrupt stop just inches away from hitting me. Pearl violently throws the car door open and storms in my direction.

"What the shell, Eight?! What the shell was that?!" She shouts, her jaw clenched angrily. "Marina just about ran you over! You can't jump behind a moving car! You're clam lucky that you didn't get seriously hurt! What the shell were you thinking?!"

"You're not hurt, are you?" Marina says. She must have stepped out sometime during Pearl's rant, and thankfully she's looking more worried than angry.

"Please, do not leave," I say, breathing heavily from exertion.

"Um, what?" Pearl says, her face softening a little bit.

"Do not leave. I want to stay your family. Please. I want you to stay with me."

"What are you saying, Eight?" Marina says.

"I— I still need you. Do not leave me. Please..."

"I don't understand. You mean you want us to stay at your apartment?" Marina says, looking puzzled.

"I know I do not need your money or your home anymore, but I still need you. I want us to stay family," I say. I'm not sure when the tears started, but now they're flowing freely down my face.

"Did you think we were leaving forever?" Pearl says, just as confused as Marina.

"You're... not?" I say, my eyes widening.

"What? Of course not! What gave you that idea?" Pearl says, laughing. "You're family! Why would we leave you?"

"Oh..." Marina says, "Is that why you've been acting so strange? You really thought we'd be gone forever after you moved out?"

"Well, I— I thought that since I did not need your help anymore, there would be no purpose—"

"You codclam idiot, we didn't decide to be your friends just because you needed help! Ever think that we might actually like you?" Pearl says. She's grinning from ear to ear, but her eyes look wet.

"Eight, we're not leaving you anytime soon," Marina says.

"I... You..." I'm at a loss for words. This whole time, I had it all wrong?

Pearl and Marina both wrap their arms around me. I'm reduced to a sobbing mess, all of the emotions I'd suppressed coming through all at once.

"Real family never leaves you, okay?" Marina says, "And we're a real family if there ever was one."

"Clam straight!" Pearl says, her voice cracking between the words.

"Are you... Crying?" I say, smiling despite the tears.

"What, no!" Pearl says, sniffing loudly. "I'm not crying. You're crying! You're gettin' your clam tears all over me!"

All three of us laugh, all three of us crying at the same time.

"I love you. I love you two. I love you two so much," I say. I'm not sure if I will be able to stop smiling anymore.

"Come on, Eight! I'm already a mess," Marina says with a little laugh. Pearl is sobbing too hard to reply.

Chapter Text

The air is chilly this morning, heralding the coming of the cold season. I can't help but shiver as I sit on a bench by the side of the road, waiting for a taxi to arrive. Pearl and Marina had shown me how to use the monorail, but I didn't feel up to doing it today. I would rather wait in the dark and cold for a much more comfortable ride.

Four was still asleep when I had gotten out of bed, but I knew it had to be very early for her. We had stayed up late last night unpacking my belongings, and afterwards Four had refused to go to sleep. The Inkling wouldn't stop talking, asking me question after question about myself. I understood that she was excited about her new roommate, but it took a bit too much convincing before she finally shut off the lights and her incessant jabber. In the end, I had gotten only a couple hours of sleep, and I was feeling the effects.

I had made pancakes for my breakfast, leaving the leftovers for Four. They tasted exactly like the ones I made with Pearl, they were Pearl's recipe after all, but I didn't enjoy them as much without her there. I hadn't realized until then that I might never again make an early morning breakfast with Pearl, and that hit me like a shot to the heart. Still, it was enough that they remained a part of my life at all.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a bright yellow shape moving down the street. I jump up from my seat and wave my hand, as Marina had taught me.

"Taxi! Taxi!" I shout, my voice sounding abnormally loud against the muffled noise of the ocean and passing cars. I know that the driver probably cannot hear me, but I had seen others shout that before while flagging down a taxi, so maybe it's just tradition. The yellow cab pulls to the side of the road for me, and I nod in thanks to the Inkling driver before opening the door and stepping into the car.

"Inkopolis Square, please," I say.

"Okey doke," The driver replies, and we head back into the flow of traffic. We don't talk much during the drive, but I don't think we could have if we wanted to. The music in the car is turned up quite loud, playing cheesy pop songs from bands I don't know the names of. Thankfully, the drive isn't long. There are always cars about the streets of Inkopolis, but there are considerably less at this hour of the morning, so the traffic isn't bad. Upon arriving at the Square, I pay my driver, making sure to include a decent tip, before watching him drive away. I didn't particularly enjoy riding alone with a stranger, but it was better than riding on a train.

• • • • • • • •

"Just a Super Seanwich, please," I say, setting down the Crust Bucket ticket in front of the prawn.

"Comin' right up!" Crusty Sean says, doing his awkward salute that used to bug me, that I now find endearing.

I find an empty table and take a seat facing Pearl and Marina's studio. I can see them through the window, chatting and laughing with each other. While simply seeing them fills me with joy, the more bitter part of me wishes I was there with them. I can't have everything, though.

Business at Ammo Knights is beginning to slow down as the summer comes to an end. College and high school Inklings, who make up a good part of the ink battling community, have their classes to return to, and most of the serious tournaments have ended until next year, so naturally there isn't as high a demand for Sheldon's services. Sheldon had told me that during this slower season is when he begins work on new types of weapons, and he might even let me try my hand at weapon design.

"Hey squiddo, your order's ready!" Crusty Sean is leaning out of his truck, looking right at me.

"Yes, coming," I say, quickly getting to my feet to retrieve my lunch.

As I'm returning to my table to eat, I see someone I don't immediately recognize making an intense beeline straight for me. I stiffen, narrowing my eyes at the Inkling, until she speaks.

"Eight! I thought it was you," She says, smiling.

"Four?" I say, taken aback. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh yeah, oops. This is my work fit," Four laughs, looking down at her outfit and tugging a strap on her rubber overalls with one of her rubber-gloved hands, her other one holding a brown paper sack. As she arrives at my table, I'm hit by a disgusting stench, like she just came from rolling in a dumpster full of rotten fish.

"What do you do?" I ask, failing to keep from wrinkling my nose at the smell. I can see smears of dark green on Four's suit, not like any Inkling or Octarian ink. Salmonids, perhaps?

"I work for Grizzco," She says, grmiacing. She sets down her paper sack on my table and then takes a seat across from me, digging through her bag until she pulls out a pancake, one of the ones I'd made this morning. She takes a big bite out of her lunch and stares at me, as if waiting for me to say something.

"You know, Salmon Runs? Big Boss Mr. Grizz? We fight the Salmonids?" She says, mouth still full, after I don't.

"Ah," I say, nodding. That would explain the stench. I'd heard mentions of a company battling Salmonids, but I never learned the name.

"If you ever get bored of Sheldon, Grizzco's always hiring..." She says it in a low voice  like one would use to tell a scary story, an evil grin spreading across her face.

"I will pass, but thank you."

"Probably smart. Anyways, I came to tell you I'll be working late tonight, so I won't get to the... uhhh..." Four trails off, staring off into space.

"Won't get to the what?" I narrow my eyes at her, suspicious of the way she suddenly goes rigid.

“…Get to the apartment," Four finishes, blinking. '"I'm still getting used to calling it home, I guess."

"That is fair, and I understand." I have a feeling that that wasn't what she was originally going to say, but I don't want to press the matter. I guess I'll have to find out tonight.

"These pancakes are delicious, by the way. You're the one that made 'em, right? You'll have to show me how sometime" Four says, finishing the last bite of her pancake.

"Thank you. It is Pearl's recipe," I reply.

"Welp, lunch breaks almost over. Time to head back to the boat." Four stands up, not looking all too happy about it. I'm lucky to have a job that I enjoy. "Thanks for dealing with me for a bit."

"You are fun to deal with. Good luck with your work endeavors," I say. My lunch break is almost over as well. I finish the last few bites of my Super Seanwich as I watch Four run off towards the Grizzco building. Judging by the the company's shady appearance, the even shadier figures loitering outside, and the general business they run there, I doubt that Four's work is very safe. I hope she's alright.

The rest of my own hours at Ammo Knights are uneventful. We only receive about three more customers, so Sheldon makes up for my lack of work by having me clean the test range. It's slow work, but I don't mind. I'd rather be cleaning than sitting around doing nothing.

When I head back to the apartment that evening, Four isn't there, just as she had told me she wouldn't be. The place feels far too empty for my comfort, so I find myself doing chores simply so I don't have time to dwell on the silence.

I've never lived alone before; In the Army, I had many bunkmates. I had Pearl while I lived at her mansion, and even when she wasn't there, it never really felt empty. It was so large that I felt that there must be someone somewhere in the mansion, I just couldn't find them. But in this small set of rooms, I can plainly feel the lack of other presences, and I hate it.

I put my Squid Sisters CD in the radio Pearl had given me, and let the music drown out the silence. That made it a bit better. I made instant noodles for dinner, cooking two cups even when I knew there wasn't anyone to eat the second. I knew Four was only going to be gone until later tonight, but I felt I couldn't bare to wait that long. Eventually I would have to get used to being alone, but tonight was not that night. So I decided to text Marina and Pearl, just to have someone to talk to.

Eight: Hello. How was your day?

I wait, staring at my phone, for someone to respond. Neither of them did.

Eight: I am alone at the apartment and in need of someone to talk to.

Several more minutes, and still no response.

Eight: Are you there?

Eight: Why are you not responding?

Eight: I know you are home from work now, it is almost 8:00.

After another fruitless period of waiting for a response, I let out a long sigh and set down my phone. I will just have to endure the loneliness for now. I've endured much worse, haven't I?

There's nothing else to clean, no more chores to do, so instead I turn on the television. The last Turf War of the day has only just ended, and I'm not sure what else to watch. None of the cartoons and game shows appeal to me, but eventually I find a documentary on mammal fossils. It's not too interesting, but I prefer the nonfiction over the other options.

When I hear my phone buzz at last, you can't understand my relief. I was beginning to feel like I was the only living thing in the universe. I rush to pick up my phone, excited to find a text from Marina.

DJ_Hyperfresh: Sorry, Eight! I was on the road. Come out onto your balcony!

I'm a bit confused by the last part, but I do as she says and step out onto the balcony. The sun is just dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in many beautiful colors. The sunsets will never not be stunning. Maybe that's what Marina wanted me to see?

No sooner had I wondered that when my phone buzzes again. Another text.

DJ_Hyperfresh: Look down!

Still confused, I lean over the railing of the balcony and scan the parking lot below. That's when I spot someone waving their arms at me, standing in a parking spot beside their sleek, blue motorcycle. They're wearing a helmet, so I am unable to identify them.

When the figure notices me staring, they stop waving in order to remove the helmet and hang it on the handle of their bike. Long, dark tentacles fall down around her shoulders, and she wears an excited smile on her face.

"Marina?" I exclaim. What is she doing here?

She doesn't seem to be able to hear me from this distance. She gestures for me to come down to her, to which I eagerly nod. I waste no time sprinting down the stairs and out into the parking lot, where she greets me with a big hug.

"Hi, Eight! How are you?" Marina says after I pull away from her.

"Good, now that you are here," I say, smiling uncontrollably. "Why are you here?"

"Can't your big sister come visit?"

"I know that is not the reason."

"How's the new apartment? Is it nice?" Marina asks. Dodging the question.

"It is okay," I say, deciding to play along. If she won't tell me, I'll assume it's supposed to be a surprise. I may hate surprises, but I'll do it for Marina.

"How about Four? Is she a good roommate?"

"Yes. She talks a lot, but she means well." I pause, my gaze moving toward the bike behind Marina. "So... Is that your motorcycle? I did not know you had one."

"Yeah, actually, it is!" Marina looks happy that I asked. "I don't take it out enough. You want a ride? I brought an extra helmet."

"Definitely." I've never ridden on a motorcycle before, and it's plain on Marina's face that she would love to take me. Her smile grows, and she hands me a helmet before grabbing her own.

"You'll have to sit on the back, if that's okay," Marina says. She pulls on her helmet and mounts the bike, patting the spot behind her. I put on my own helmet and take a seat behind her. This seems very unsafe, but I trust Marina.

"Ready?" She says, her voice muffled through her helmet and mine. I nod, wrapping my arms around her for support.

And we're off. The motorcycle is loud and rumbling beneath me, but the feeling of freedom is indescribable. We're not going any faster than I've gone before in a car, but being able to feel the wind buffet my body and see the ground move by in a blur under my feet makes it feel like we are moving so much faster. I love it.

After a while, I can tell that this isn't just a fun little joyride. Marina is taking me somewhere specific, though I have no clue where that could be and have no way of asking her. We're on the highway now, heading in the direction of the suburbs. I'm beginning to get an idea of our destination. By the time Pearl's mansion begins to rise above the horizon, confirming my suspicions, the sun has fully set.

As we pull into the driveway, I can see Pearl waiting on the front porch. She perks up when she sees us and waves both of her arms in greeting. The motorcycle comes to a stop behind one of Pearl's many cars, but Marina hops off even before it can fully do so. I dismount a moment later, and both of us remove our helmets.

"Why did you bring me here?" I ask as soon as I can.

"Surprise! It's a party!" Marina, grabbing me in another hug. "It's to celebrate your moving out! Wow, that sounds all sorts of wrong, doesn't it. Honestly, I think Pearl just wanted an excuse to throw a party for you. We've been planning this for the past month or so."

"Hm. Okay."

"That's all you have to say? You're not excited?"

"This is very sudden and unexpected. You did not have to throw a party for me..."

"Nonsense. You deserve one," Marina says. "Plus, there's no point in being modest when the deed is already done. We've already invited all the guests and made all the snacks, so you might as well enjoy them."

"Okay," I say, resigned. "Wait, guests?"

"Yeah! The Squid Sisters are already here, and Four is going to head over when she gets off work. I think Callie also invited Three, but she said there's a fifty-fifty chance they'll actually show up."

"Three?" I exclaim. As if the pressure wasn't great enough.

"Like I said, there's only a fifty-fifty chance. Don't get your hopes up," Marina says. My hopes are already up, but not in the way Marina thinks. I don't know how to act around Three. Frankly, they're a terrifying individual, and at the same time probably the coolest Inkling I've ever met. Three is on another level. I don't know what I would say or do if they came to the party.

"Are you guys comin' or what?!" Pearl shouts at us, fidgeting impatiently. "Get in here! Don't keep the guests waiting!"

"We're coming!" Marina shouts back. Pearl huffs loudly before turning around and heading inside.

"Better head in there," Marina says, turning back to me. I nod, and together the two of us enter the party.

Chapter Text

        "It's Eight!" Callie exclaims as soon as Marina and I step into the living room. She and Marie are sitting on the couch, apparently waiting for us to arrive. I hope it hasn't been too long...

"Late to your own party, huh?" Marie says, though the playful smirk on her face tells me it's really no big deal, to my relief.

"Sorry," I say, either way.

"Sheesh, they're only like five minutes late," Pearl says. "So, yeah, here's the party. We got snacks and drinks at that table over there, and we'll be having cake later. And ice cream, per Marina's request. I got out some board games we could play, and there's also video games on the TV. Or you could just, y'know, hang out. Knock yourselves out."

With that, Pearl throws herself onto the far end of the couch with a dramatic sigh. She seems pretty tired. I wonder how hard she was working to set up all of this for me?

Marina heads over to the couch a moment later, and I, not sure what else to do, follow her. I sit down next to Pearl, and Marina takes the spot on my other side.

"Thanks, Pearl," I say, nudging the Inkling with my elbow. "This is very... Um, fresh."

"Yeah, no prob," Pearl says, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "Anything for you, bestie. But clam, I shoulda started setting up earlier. I had to rush to get this all up in a couple hours. I'm incredibly awesome at many things, but time management isn't one of 'em."

"Ah," I say. I nod as if I understand, though I've always been pretty good at time management.

"So, Eight, how's it going with Sheldon? He can't stop talking about how happy he is to have you. He says you're a really hard worker," Callie says, leaning forward so she can better see me.

"Oh, thank you," I say, a bit surprised. It's easy to forget how close my boss is with the Squid Sisters. Do they talk about me often?

"Don't thank me, I'm not the one that said all that. Not that I doubt you're a hard worker, I bet you are. You seem like a hard-working Octoling."

"...Thank you?"

"Four can't stop talking about you either," Marie says. "It's getting pretty annoying, to be honest. Eight this, Eight that. Good cod, she loves you."

"Really?" I say. I mean I had hoped, but I was never completely sure. Four is still a mystery to me.

"Oh yeah," Marie laughs. "If you could get her to stop texting me about how awesome you are, I'd be grateful. I woke up this morning with no less than twenty messages, all Four going on about how you made the best pancakes for her."

"Oh. I will try," I say, feeling my face heat up. Everyone laughs.

The five of us continue chatting idly for several more minutes, mostly about work. The others seem to only have complaints about their jobs, and I can't seem to find something negative I could say about my own. I love my job at Ammo Knights.

After a while, Pearl, who was beginning to fidget out of boredom, suggests that we have a Squinja Smash tournament. Marina, Callie, and Marie all agree, and while I have not the faintest idea what in the world a Squinja Smash tournament is, I agree as well. It turns out to be a kind of "video game" where you control a character on the TV to attack the other player's character. Pearl takes a moment to show me the controls, then proceeds to destroy me in one-on-one virtual combat.

The others all seem to be well-practiced in the art of Squinja Smash tournament, so it's probably for the best that I was eliminated early on. I don't mind simply watching them play and not playing myself. It's much less stressful this way. Marina wins the tournament in the end, much to Pearl's frustration.

While the others are congratulating the new Squinja champion, the doorbell rings, then rings again less than a second later, like whoever is waiting outside the door expects us to already be there.

"Must be Four," Callie says. "I'll get it!"

The idol returns a minute or two later with Four in tow, who's looking around with the same expression of awe I can assume I wore when I first arrived on the surface. When her eyes land on me, she breaks into a broad smile.

"Hi, Four! Glad you could make it!" Marina says.

Four weaves around the other party guests to get to me, paying no mind to Marina's greeting or Marie's scoff of disapproval at being ignored. She looks up at me, eyes glowing with excitement.

"This place is massive, dawg!" She says. "I can't believe someone actually lives here! Like, girl, this is nuts!"

"Uh, yes," I say, giving Marina an apologetic smile. Satisfied with my response, only then does Four turn around to acknowledge the presence of the others.

"Rejoice, for the life of the party has arrived!" She announces in a sing-song voice. "Where's the snacks?"

"Over there, go crazy," Pearl says, gesturing to the table on the other side of the room. "Cake and ice cream'll come out later."

"Sweet. Wanna come with me, Eight?" Four says, like the table isn't just a short walk across the room.

"Oh. Yes, sure," I say. Pearl snickers, and Marina elbows her and whispers something about friendship.

There's more snacks on the table than I know the names of. A bowl full of chocolate candy, another bowl of some bright red liquid, at least ten differently flavored bags of potato chips, a container of french fries, little cupcakes and cookies, but of course, no vegetables. The only snack available that might be considered healthy is a tray of various fruits with a dip I can assume is packed with sugar. Inklings do like their junk food, I've come to realize. Before I even grab a plate, Four is shoveling every available flavor of chip onto her's.

"You know you can come back for more snacks," I say, watching her in horrified fascination.

"Eh," Is all she says in reply, as she starts stacking cookies on top of the already towering pile of chips. I shake my head in disbelief, but I've already come to terms with the fact that Four is a force of nature, not to be controlled.

"So, guess Three's not coming," Pearl says, a while after Four and I return to the couch. They'd turned on some sort of show featuring lots of Inklings with swords and metal armor, but no one was paying much attention to it.

"They still might, you never know with Three," Callie says, waving her hand in some meaningless gesture.

"Pearl may have a bad sense of time, but Three’s is nonexistent." Marie adds. However, being that it has already been nearly two hours since the party began with no confirmation from Three in the first place, it seems unlikely that they'll show up.

"Three as in Agent 3?" Four interjects through a mouth full of cookies. She's been working on eating her mountain of snacks for the past twenty or so minutes, but she's only about halfway done.

"Yeah, that one," Marie says, grimacing.

"Based on your description of them, they sound like someone I would love to punch in the face. Can't wait to meet 'em."

I laugh a bit, simply because I can't imagine anyone having the guts to punch someone like Agent 3 in the face. Then again, if anyone would do it, it would be Four. Whether she would succeed in doing it is questionable.

"Really? How bad is this squid?" Pearl says. "When I met them, they just seemed pretty quiet."

"They are," Callie says, "But they're kind of... Rude... Sometimes."

"And they smell like Judd's litter box 24/7," Marie says, rolling her eyes. "Showers are a concept they simply do not understand."

"Blech," Pearl says, and Marina raises an eyebrow. I hadn't said anything, but I can remember how bad Agent 3 smelled for the brief time I was with them, back then. I had attributed it to the fact that there probably weren't many showers wherever Three was in Kamabo Co.

"I thought it was rude to talk about people behind their backs."

All six of our heads turn in unison to look at Agent 3, who has somehow materialized outside of the living room. There's a long period of silence while we all look at each other to make sure we're all seeing the same thing, then try to figure out how the shell Three got in here without anyone noticing. Callie is the first one to speak up.

"Three!!!" She exclaims, jumping to her feet and running over to them. Three lets her give them a hug, but doesn't look all too happy about it. They awkwardly pat her on the back while they wait for her to let them go. She pushes away a minute or two later, but continues holding Three's shoulders.

"Oh my cod, what happened to your face?!" She says worriedly. The entire right side of Three's face is, in fact, completely obscured by a wrapping of white bandages. The same side where that green slime was, I can't help but notice... But it's been months, it has to have healed.

Three flinches when Callie reaches toward it, then takes a step away from her.

"It's not as bad as it looks," They say, running a finger along the edge of the bandages. "It's mostly to keep the medicine in."

"Medicine? Is it that bad?" Callie exclaims.

"It's just a bad ink burn..." Three says, sounding like they'd rather be talking about anything else. "Please, Callie, I've survived worse."

"How'd they get in? No one let them in, did they?" Pearl says to Marina in a harsh whisper, while Callie continues fretting over Three. Marina shrugs, her face an exaggerated expression of confusion.

While they're talking, Three's visible eye somehow finds mine. They narrow their eye at me, just slightly, but it's enough to make me wonder if I did something wrong. I haven't even said anything to them yet, why are they looking at me like that?

"That's the incredible Agent 3?" Four says, just loud enough for me to hear. "They're shorter than I expected. And a lot less muscular. They're pretty scrawny looking, actually. I bet I could beat them in a fight."

"Oh, no," I say, before I realize how rude that sounds on its own. "I mean, you are probably very strong, but Three is... Very strong. Very much strong." I quickly add.

"Hm, don't see it." Four says matter-of-factly. "They kinda look like that one kid who hit me in the head with a basketball when I was seven. I never forgave that guy. I'm going to introduce myself, wanna come?"

"Three already knows me," I say. I really was hoping Three wouldn't be coming tonight, but I guess I'll settle for simply avoiding them at all costs.

"They do? When did you meet?" Four says, scrunching her face up in confusion.

"It is a long story."

"Well, if you two are already chummy, you can introduce me!" Four says, and begins pushing me toward where Three is talking with Callie and Marie. "Make sure to tell them that I'm your fabulous roommate and best friend. I am your best friend, right? Or at least one of them. I'm sure you have a lot."

"Four, I do not think Three likes me very much," I say in a harsh whisper, trying to avoid being heard by the Inkling in question.

"Pssh, everyone likes you. And they're idiots if they don't," Four says. She gives me one final shove, so I'm standing in front of Callie, Marie, and Three.

"Uh, hi, Eight!" Callie says, obviously a bit confused by my sudden interruption of their conversation. Marie raises an eyebrow, as if saying, "Really?" Three just stares at me blankly, the corners of their mouth turned slightly downward.

"S-sorry," I say, glancing back at Four, who gives me an encouraging smile. I clear my throat and turn to Three.

"Agent 3, this is Four, my room— uh, my fab— I mean, my fabulous roommate. And my best friend. Yes." I gesture to Four, who proudly steps forward.

"Yep, that's me, Agent 4 of the New Squidbeak Splatoon. Pleased to meet ya," She says, holding out her hand. Three eyes her extended hand for a moment before shaking it.

"Agent 3 of the NSS," They say. "But outside of work, I'm just Three." They look at me pointedly. I had thought I was being polite by using their title before, but I guess they hadn't taken it that way. Of course I had found a way to make a fool of myself in front of them already.

"I haven't seen you around at all. What have you even been doing? Marie and I rescued the Zapfish and Callie all without you," Four says, placing her hands on her hips. I watch Marie whisper something in Callie's ear, and the two of them begin quietly moving away. I wish I could do the same.

"I've been busy," Three says. They glance toward me again, but I avoid meeting their gaze.

"Vague. Does it have something to do with your face?" Four points to her eye, and Three's hand moves towards the bandaged half of their face without them seeming to notice. There's a moment's pause in which I see a flash of something in their eye, but they return to their normal blank expression before I'm able to get a read from them.

"No," Three says sharply, their hand jerking back down to their side. "Look, there are four, five other people here for you to bother. I think you've asked me enough questions for tonight. So please, go away."

"Wow, rude much?" Four says. "I'm sorry your majesty, I shouldn't have spoken out of turn. It's not like I was trying to be friendly and get to know you or anything. For cod's sake, why would you come to a party if you didn't want to socialize?"

Three doesn't say anything. They stare at Four with an unreadable expression, their mouth a thin line. It scares me how little I can gather from their face and body language. No one should be able to hide their thoughts and feelings this well. They are not happy, that much I can tell.

I place my hand on Four's shoulder and gently pull her towards me, away from Three. She continues glaring at Three, but doesn't resist. I can feel Three's eye on us as I steer Four back towards where Pearl and Marina are sitting.

"I don't like them," Four says.

"I can tell," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "But Three is not someone you want as an enemy. Trust me..."

"Did Three hurt you?" Four suddenly says, yanking her shoulders from my hands so she can turn to face me. The pure, unfiltered fury in her eyes startles me.

"...What?" I say. She guessed that quickly...

"Has Three ever hurt you or attacked you or anything? You seem like you're pretty scared of them. And with you being an Octoling..."

"They... They did attack me, before. But we are on good terms now." I hope. "Neither time was really their fault, either..."

"Neither? They attacked you twice, then? Or more?" Four leans over to look past me at Three. I don't like where this is going.

"I just said neither time was really their fault, and we are on good terms now. We..." We're not really friends, are we? Three doesn't seem to like me very much. "...We are allies. Please do not attack them, Four."

"You're a good guesser," Four says, "I never told you I was going to attack them. But yeah, no, I'm still gonna. I don't like that squid. They need to be humbled."

"You cannot humble them Four, they will kill you."

"You fought them, what, twice? You're still alive."

"I am highly trained in combat. Even so, I barely made it out alive both times."

"I'm pretty good at combat too, y'know. Come on, let me fight them! Even if I lose, I just want this Three person to know how much I hate them."

"That is not smart. Please do not. I like you too much to let you do this. Also, you have only talked to them once, you should not choose to hate them when you barely know them."

"Hmm... Okay fine, I promise not to fight Three, but only if you do all of our dishes for a month."

"Okay," I say. It's a good deal. Washing dishes is really not bad, and it would keep Four soundly anchored in the realm of the living.

"Actually two months, plus laundry," Four says.

"It was a good try, but I already agreed to one month of dishes. Do not change the terms of our agreement."

"Fine, fine," Four says, rolling her eyes. "But you have no idea how hard it's going to be to keep myself from layin’ into that punk."

The next hour or so goes quite smoothly, despite everything. Four actually manages to restrain herself from challenging Three, though not without a few complaints here and there. Three seems to be avoiding Four and I, to my relief. When they're not off by themself, they're hanging close by Callie and Marie. Sometimes I'll catch them looking at me, but we don't interact more than that.

I spend my time chatting with Four, Marina, and Pearl, though I've begun to avoid the Squid Sisters for the fear that interacting with them might mean interacting with Three. Pearl turns on another movie, but still no one pays much attention to it. Finally, our hostess serves us our long-awaited cake and Marina's requested ice cream (she continuously reminds us that Marina asked for it, like she can't stand the idea of someone thinking that she got the ice cream herself). Marina had introduced me to ice cream about a month before, but this was a new flavor, strawberry. I enjoy ice cream well enough, but it can be so cold that it hurts to eat. Four, defying all laws of reason as usual, downs her ice cream within a minute, and acts surprised when I am unable to do the same.

While I continue to laugh and smile and talk with the others, I can't seem to shake the feeling of uneasiness growing in my chest. I attribute it to Three's presence; I have very few good memories related to them, after all. Still, I feel like it's ruining the fun I could be having at my party. But what can I do? I can't tell them to leave; even if I was mentally and emotionally capable of doing so in the first place, that would be extremely rude.

"I'll be right back," I hear Three say, interrupting my thoughts. I look up to see them heading for the front door, pulling something I can't quite identify out of their pocket.

"Okay, have fun," Callie says. Marie shakes her head and sighs, as if disappointed.

"Um, I will be right back too," I say a moment later, standing up from my seat next to Four.

"You're not following Three, are you?" Pearl asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You better not start a fight without me," Four says.

"I just want to talk to them. I feel like I should..."

"Alright, we'll leave you to it," Marina says, understanding. She looks pointedly at Pearl and Four, and the two nod in agreement.

"Don't let them give ya any crap," Pearl says. I nod. It feels like they're giving me some sort of special send-off, as if I was going to do something far greater than simply talking to one Inkling.

Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and march towards the front door. Callie and Marie give me odd looks as I pass, but I keep looking straight ahead, determined to talk to Three at least this one time tonight. After all, who knows when I'll see them again? However much I'm terrified of them, the thought of never seeing them again after this and possibly missing my last chance to speak to them... It doesn't feel right. I don't dislike Three, in fact I really do admire them, and they did save my life once. I never was able to thank them properly.

"...Three?" I say, stepping out onto Pearl's front porch. It's almost pitch black out here, but I can see Three's vague silhouette outlined by the moonlight. They're sitting on the edge of the porch, staring out into the dark. They turn their head slightly at my voice, but they don't really look at me.

"Oh. It's you," They say. I can't tell if they're upset or happy to see me. Their voice conveys no emotion at all.

"Uh... What are you doing out here alone?" I ask carefully.

"Smoking," They say. "What do you want?"

"Oh," I say, caught off guard by their upfront answer. Pearl and Marina had told me about 'smoking' after I saw an Inkling in the Square doing it. They told me I should avoid trying it, as it's very unhealthy and addictive. I hope Three knows that.

Three takes a drag from their cigarette and breathes out a plume of smoke.

"Well?" They say. Only then do I realize I had failed to answer their initial question.

"Oh, sorry, what do I want? You asked?" I say quickly. Three doesn't answer, so I take it as a yes. "I just wanted to thank you. For saving me, all those months back. I am sorry I did not thank you before, but I really am grateful. I would be dead if you had not been there."

"That's okay," Three says, sounding utterly uninterested.

"And I want to apologize for Four. She just... Says what she wants, all the time. I know she will not apologize to you, so I will, on her behalf."

"Okay," Three says, taking another long drag from their cigarette.

"And I am sorry for acting so badly around you. I hope I did not come off as rude. And if I did anything to offend you, I am sorry for that too."

"Offend me?" Three says.

"I did not offend you?"

"No...?"

I pause, puzzled. "You kept looking at me like you wanted something, but you were avoiding me... I thought you might have wanted me to apologize for something," I say. "I am very sorry if I misread that..."

"Stop apologizing," They say. "And I'm pretty sure you were the one avoiding me. Anyways, I guess this is as good a time as any to talk to you about the real reason I came to this clam party."

Three stands, flicks the butt of their cigarette onto Pearl's lawn, and then turns around to face me. I feel the anxiety squeezing my chest tighter as our eyes meet.

"Do you want to join the New Squidbeak Splatoon?"

"Wh-what?" I say. For some reason, I was expecting something much different. What exactly, I'm not sure, but definitely not that.

"Gramps says you got the look. And we could make good use of an Octoling on our side," Three says. "You've already proven yourself to be a more than capable fighter, and your knowledge about the inner workings of Octarian society would be incredibly valuable.”

"I... Well..."

"Don't decide now. Think hard about it," Three says. "I'll come for your answer in three days. "

I have a strange feeling that Three is hoping to get a specific answer out of me, but I have no idea which one. Me, an Octoling, join the NSS? It sounds crazy, and confusing. I'm glad to have time to think about it, but I don't know if three days will be enough. This is a huge decision.

Three sighs, then brushes past me, heading to the front door. They stop in the doorway, looking back at me.

"And, Eight," They say, lowering their voice. "Don't stress about it. You'll know what the right choice is."

They close the door before I'm able to reply. I continue standing outside in the frigid night air, bewildered, and a bit frightened. Whatever choice I make could very well alter the course of my life forever. I just have to hope Three is right, and I'll know the answer when the time comes, because I sure as shell don't now.

Chapter Text

"I'm going to be working late again tonight. I've got some agenting stuff to do," Four says, taking a sip out of the drink I'd bought her. "I'll probably be home around ten-ish. I'll pick up groceries on the way back. We're almost out of instant ramen, can't let that happen!"

"No," I say, smiling. Both of us have been so busy with our jobs that we haven't had time to cook much more than ramen or other instant foods for the past three days, with pancakes on the occasions that I wake up early. At least our schedules have aligned just enough that we are able to spend most of our lunch breaks together, as Four stays late at work more often than not.

"Don't do too many chores while I'm out, you make me feel bad," Four adds.

"I will make no promises."

"You are too helpful for your own good," She huffs. "One day I'm going to tie you to a chair and force you to watch me do the chores so you can feel what it's like for a change. Anyways, it's about time I head back. Those eggs won't collect themselves. That would make it too easy. See ya!"

"Goodbye, good luck with work," I say as Four stands up from her seat.

"Thanks, I'll need it," Four says, before turning her back on me and heading toward the alley.

Watching her go, I wonder again if I should tell Four about Three's offer, but it's too late now. The only thing keeping me from doing it is the worry that she will try to convince me to go one way or another, and I would rather make the choice myself. It's an enormous decision, after all, whether or not to join the NSS.

It's already been three days since the party, meaning that today is the day I make my choice. The time went by far too quickly. I had realized a while ago that I never gave Three any of my contact information, so I have no idea how they'll get my answer, but I trust that they will. Somehow. They have their ways, I can assume. That or they simply forgot to ask me for my number, which in all honesty is not unlikely.

By the time I clock out from work, I've grown a great deal more anxious for the upcoming decision. I think I know what my answer will be, but that doesn't help to ease my nerves. The hard part will be telling Three, and I have no idea when or where they'll show up either. For all I know, they could be waiting just around the corner, and I will be wholly unprepared to talk to them.

Luckily, this is not the case, and I manage to make it back to the apartment without seeing Three. I'm planning to go through with my normal routine, and if Three doesn't find a way to talk to me, that will be somewhat of a relief. I'm not going to go looking for them.

As usual, I do whatever chores I can find, ignoring Four's threat. I make myself a sandwich for dinner, though we're all out of peanut butter, so it's just jam. Still no word from Three. As another hour goes by and I come to the realization that they're probably not going to contact me tonight, I finally let myself relax a bit. They really did just forget to ask for my contact information, I suppose. I'm not complaining.

Around 9:30, I'm sitting on the couch, writing poetry in my notebook. The television is on, for background noise more than anything else. It's some sort of nature documentary about wild nudibranchs, though I'm barely paying any attention to it. It simply has a more relaxing sound than the game shows and cartoons that occupy nearly every other channel.

By now, I've completely abandoned the idea of Three contacting me tonight. They have no way of messaging me electronically, and they don't know where I live. At least, I don't think they do.

Just when I'm getting to the end of my poem, I hear a light tapping sound from the door to the balcony, interrupting my state of focus. I decide it must be the pigeons and continue writing. I always see the birds perched on the balcony railing. Sometimes I throw bread or chips out for them to eat, which has caused more and more pigeons to gather there over the last few days. I don't think Four knows about this, and I don't plan on telling her.

A moment later, there's another series of more insistent tapping sounds. Slightly annoyed, I look over at the door, and nearly jump out of my skin. Three is standing out on the balcony, and has apparently been tapping on the glass door trying to get my attention. I sit there for another moment, stunned. They're not wearing bandages this time, revealing that the right side of their face is a sickly, pale green. I don't know if their eye is supposed to glow like that.

For that moment, all I can see is their gun pointed at my head, eyes glowing green, Tartar's ooze dripping off their face, expression blank as a corpse. They felt no remorse for what they were going to do. They felt nothing at all.

Three taps on the door again, breaking me out of my horrified stupor. I can see their mouth moving, and they point to the door handle. I blink, trying to clear the visions from my head. They're not here to kill me.

"Sorry! Sorry," I say, jumping up from the couch and rushing to open the door for them. I try not to stare at their one green eye, but it proves to be rather difficult.

Without invitation, Three steps past me and into the apartment. They take a quick look around and say, "Nice place."

"Oh, thank you," I say, nervously shifting my weight from foot to foot. I wasn't expecting them to show up at my apartment, and it's beginning to dawn on me that I haven't sufficiently prepared for this.

There's a much-too-long moment of silence while Three continues scanning the room and I wait for them to speak with mounting anxiety. Finally, realizing that they're probably not going to be the one to speak first, I shove down my nerves and ask the question that has been circulating through my mind since I saw them.

"How did you find where I live...?"

"I have my ways," Three says vaguely. My mind is filled with odd images of the Inkling scaling the wall of the building to reach the balcony. It is something they very likely could have done...

There's another long period of silence, and I contemplate asking Three about their eye. Is it a scar from the sanitization? If so, it may be the strangest and most severe looking scar I have ever seen. I've never seen any sort of wound or disease change the color of a person's eye, let alone cause it to glow like that... But would it be rude to ask? It may be a sensitive subject for them...

"Well, it's been three days. Have you decided if you're going to join the NSS?" Three asks before I can make up my mind.

"Oh! I... Well... Yes," I say. At that moment, I had somehow forgotten the whole reason Three came here. They really got straight to the point.

"And?" Three says, staring at me expectantly.

I bite my lip, avoiding their eyes. I'm worried about how they'll react to my answer. I'm worried it's not the right answer. But I take a deep breath, and speak.

"I... I have decided... Not to join the NSS," I say, looking down at my feet to avoid seeing their reaction. Three doesn't reply, which only serves to make me even more nervous. They must be angry. They probably wanted me to join. What if... What if they can't let me live, knowing what I know? That is very improbable, but the thought is enough to make my heart skip a beat.

"I just— I do not want to fight anymore," I explain quickly. "I have fought and struggled for years to make it here. I want to live my life. I want to have the peace that I worked so long and hard for. I do not think I could bring myself to fight against my own kind, anyway."

"Okay," Three says.

"...Okay?"

I look up to see Three smiling . This, I believe, is the first time I've ever seen them smile. But this isn't a happy smile, not by any means. It's sad, and distant. They look like they're staring straight through me. Something about that smile unsettles me.

"You are not upset...?" I ask carefully.

"No. No, I think you made the right choice," Three says, and their sad smile seems to carry into their voice, too.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

As they speak, their smile falters, and finally fades back into an expressionless mask. Even Three can't convince me with such an obvious lie, but I don't want to press the matter. I can tell they don't want to talk about it.

"You know that Four won't be allowed to tell you about any of her work with the NSS," Three says, their voice now as blank as their face.

"Yes, I understand this," I say. "But even if I am not joining, I will still be helping you by working with Sheldon, yes? And if you are still wanting information about Octarian society, I will be happy to give it to you."

"That'd be great," Three says. "Maybe another night. Your roommate is coming back soon."

"Oh. I guess so," I say, glancing at the clock. I don't question how Three knows what time Four is returning.

"I better get going," They sigh as they turn around and start toward the balcony door. I hesitate, then take a few quick steps to catch up to them.

"Wait, before you go, can you give me your phone number?" I ask. "That way you can contact me when you would like to meet up." ...And I won't have to go through the day scared half to death that they'll be waiting around every corner.

"Oh. Yeah, sure," They say, looking faintly surprised. They dig through their pocket, finally pulling out a crumpled grocery store receipt. They take a look around, then wordlessly move towards the couch, where I left my poetry book and pen. Thankfully, they don't so much as spare a glance at my book, instead picking up the pen and using it to scribble their number onto the bottom of the receipt.

"Here," They say, handing it to me. "I'll contact you within a week or two. And just because you have my number doesn't mean you can text me all the time."

"Yes," I say with a firm nod.

Before Three has a chance to do or say anything else, there comes a dull clicking noise from the front door, the sound of it being unlocked. Both of us look up, tensing. Four must be home. I can't imagine what Four would do or say if she found Three in her apartment. Her less-than-positive opinion on them hasn't changed a bit since she met them at the party.

"You should go," I say quietly.

When I don't get a reply from Three, I glance over my shoulder to see that they've already vanished. The balcony door is open a crack, and there's a faint, lingering smell of sweat and smoke, but other than that, there is no sign that they'd ever been here. I blink, trying to work out how they were able to slip away so swiftly and silently.

"I'm ba-ack!" Four announces, stepping into the apartment with a flourish, arms laden with plastic grocery bags. "Wow, Eight, you okay? You look like you just woke up from a coma and have no idea what year it is."

"That is a creative metaphor," I say, giving a slight shake of my head. "I am fine. I was just waiting for you to get home."

"Aw. I missed you too! Did you have dinner yet? Oh hey, what's that?"

In one fluid movement, Four steps forward and pulls Three's receipt from my hands. I'm too surprised to put up any resistance, so I simply watch as Four's eyes move down the slip of paper. The longer Four reads, the more her face scrunches up.

"Come on, Eight, I told you I was gonna get the groceries!" She says. "Instant mac and cheese, instant ramen, pizza... wait, energy drinks? Eight, I didn't know you drank energy drinks. Cod, you got a lot of them. Is this how you always manage to wake up so early? You know, you could have..."

She trails off, squinting at the bottom of the slip of paper, where Three wrote their number. A moment later, she looks up at me with an odd expression on her face, her eyebrows arched and the corners of her mouth turned downward. It feels slightly accusatory.

"...What?" I say, after she continues to give me that look for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"Who was hitting on you?" Four says, looking back down at the receipt. "Whoever they are, they have terrible handwriting."

Chapter Text

        The following day, I explained to Four everything that had happened between Three and I. She was disappointed that I had decided not to join the NSS, as it meant that she wouldn't be allowed to tell me about her missions, though she was much more accepting of my decision than I had expected. However, she was upset that I hadn't told her about Three's offer beforehand, and even more upset that Three had "broken into" our apartment while she was gone. She later admitted that my reasons for keeping it secret were understandable ones, though she didn't understand why Three thought it was okay to climb onto people's balconies.

"Adding that to the list of their crimes," She had said. I can't imagine that the list is very long, being that Four only ever spoke to Three once before deciding that she hates them, but I kept my mouth shut.

For whatever reason, Four began ruthlessly making fun of me after I told her that Three gave me their number. It turns out that this is some sort of Inkling courtship ritual that I was unaware of, and according to Four, asking Three for their number was as good as declaring my undying love for them. I doubt it's really that drastic (it came from Four, after all), but still, I find myself silently praying that Three hadn't taken it that way. Not only would that be incredibly humiliating, but wouldn't it mean that in Three actually giving me their number, they were reciprocating the feelings I hadn't known I'd admitted? I don't think I would be able to handle that kind of pressure. I text Marina to make sure that I hadn't just made a terrible mistake, and she says it will be fine, so it will probably be fine. By cod it better be fine.

Thankfully, Three doesn't text me over the course of the next few days, and I don't text them either, per their request. Four tries and tries again to get me to give her Three's number, but I can imagine the horrible things she would do, and I would rather not have Three kill me next time we meet.

I'm at work, sorting out this week's weapon shipment, when my phone finally buzzes in my pocket. I hesitate, wondering if it could be Three. At least this time they would be giving me a heads up this time instead of appearing at the apartment with no warning and nearly scaring the soul out of my body. After giving myself a moment to steel my nerves, I remove my phone from my pocket and check the notification. I let out a sigh of relief, louder than I'd meant to. It's only a text from Four; I'll be spared for today.

Four: yo Eight, I forgot to tell you last night, but Grizzco is closed today so I'm off of work. I'll let you keep your Crust Bucket tickets, I'll just make myself some ramen for lunch.

I had noticed this morning that Grizzco had appeared to be closed up, so this makes sense. Since I've already gotten a lot of work done, I don't think it'll hurt to quickly text Four back.

Eight: Ok, have fun with your day off.

Four: I bet you can't guess what I'm doing right know

Four: *no

Four: *NOW

Eight: What?

Four: I'm doing ALL YOUR CHORES! HAHAHA! You won't have anything to do by the time you get home!

Eight: Oh no

Four: The apartment's gonna be SPARKLING, and you can't do anything about it! 😈

I smile at the screen, amused by the fact that Four thinks she's upsetting me by doing the chores. I don't dislike the work, but it has always been more of a pastime than anything else, a way to keep myself moving while I wait for Four to come home. If Four is already home by the time I finish work, then there is no need to pass the time. I would prefer hanging out with my roommate to doing chores.

"Don't be on your phone all day; we still have all these weapons to sort," Sheldon says, startling me. He must have come into the storage room while I was occupied.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," I say, quickly shoving my phone back into my pocket and picking up a box of Nozzlenoses instead.

"You're fine, just try to finish all those by the end of the day. We'll also need more Autobombs up front pretty soon, just a heads up."

"Yes sir."

"Thanks again for the hard work, Eight," Sheldon says, heading back towards the front door. "You make my life so much easier, you really do."

"Of course," I reply, with a small smile.

Sheldon nods in approval before slipping back through the door. I resume moving weapons from box to box, happy to be useful. I don't think the trainers and captains in the Army ever applauded me like Sheldon does.

I do end up finishing the sorting of the boxes, as well as restocking the autobombs and other weapons as they were bought. I leave Ammo Knights and begin making my way home with the sense of accomplishment that can only come from a day of good, hard work.

I am coming home, I text Four from the back seat of a taxi cab.

Four: Yippee! 🥳

Four: I'll have dinner ready!

Eight: I look forward to it.

While I have my phone out, I check for any messages from Three, just in case I somehow didn't receive a notification. There's still nothing. Neither one of us has sent a single text, though I am definitely not going to be the first. I hope Three actually remembers to text me before trying to meet up this time.

Upon arriving at my destination, I thank my driver before making my way into the  building, up the stairs, and to the front door of our apartment. I open the door expecting to smell dinner, but if Four has cooked anything, it is remarkably scentless.

"I am home," I say, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me.

"Oh! Hey, Eight!" Four says, her voice oddly strained. She is hunched over the stove in what can't be a comfortable position, and she looks at me over her shoulder rather than turning around to face me. I can immediately tell that something's up.

"Four, is something wrong?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. I move closer, but she only adjusts her position to keep from seeing whatever it is on the stove that she is trying to hide.

"Yeah, I mean, yes, nope, everything is normal and good," Four says too quickly. I can see beads of sweat forming on her brow.

"Did you finish dinner?" I ask, maintaining a neutral expression. I can play this game.

"So, yeah, um— funny story, really," She laughs nervously. "So... Well... Uh..."

"What happened?"

Four stares at me for a moment before slamming her head down on the stovetop, hard enough to make me flinch. That couldn't have felt good.

"I broke the codclammed stove!" She exclaims without lifting her head. "I didn't mean to! I'm sorry, okay?"

"Oh. Can I see?" I say, coming to her side.

Four lets out a loud groan before lifting her head, allowing me to see the damage. The glass stovetop is covered in a spiderweb of cracks radiating out from a spot above one of the burners. It's covered in streaks of little water droplets, as if someone hastily wiped up a sizable spill.

"I was going to cook spaghetti and I filled the pot up with water to boil and I was gonna put it on the stove but I dropped it and it broke the glass and now there's water in the stove and we'll have to get new glass and maybe even a whole new stove because of the water—" Four says, rushing through her words. She's breathing heavily, threatening to burst into tears at any given moment, despite the fact that this was clearly an accident. It's not like we're in the Army, I'm not going to punish her.

"Hey, it will be fine, calm down," I say, patting her on the shoulder. "You did not mean to break it, no?"

"No, but it's still broken..." Four says.

"If you did not mean too, then I am not upset. We can fix the stove, or find someone to fix it. But at this second, there is nothing to be done, so there is no reason to worry at this second either."

"If I had been paying better attention this wouldn't have happened. Now we have to fix the stove and that'll probably be a lot of money, and we can't even cook anything until it's fixed— I'm sorry. I'm a horrible roomie. I screw everything up."

"Four," I say sharply. "You do not screw everything up, and you are not a horrible roomie. I would not have anyone else. We will be able to buy a new stovetop, I have saved emergency money. And there are foods we can make without the stove. It will all be fine."

"I just wanted to do something nice for you, you do so many nice things for me," Four says, still avoiding my eyes. "And look what happened, I broke the clam stove. And now you're saying that you're going to pay for it. I'm the most useless person to ever exist. I'm not contributing anything, I'm just letting you clean up all my messes along with everything else."

I let out a slow sigh. Four is determined to prove that she's some sort of awful person, but I won't buy it that easily.

"Four, how many chores did you do today?" I ask.

"Mm..." Is Four's only reply, as she continues studying the floor.

"Please answer my question, Four."

"Well, I dunno... I cleaned the bathroom, and I vacuumed the floor... And I did the laundry... And the dishes, I guess. But—"

"Do not say 'but,'" I interrupt. "See, you did all of those nice things for me, yes? I would think that those count for something."

"Ugh, stop trying to make me feel better about myself, Eight," Four says, meeting my eyes at last. She is beginning to sound like herself again.

"Is it working?" I ask, smiling.

"Yeah! But why can't you just let me be upset about breaking the stove, it's not like I don't deserve it. Honestly, I have no idea why you're not mad at me."

"Everyone makes mistakes, and I think you have beaten yourself up enough."

"You're way too nice, Eight. I would hate you for it if I didn't love you," Four says, a smile finally appearing in its rightful place on her face. "Okay, but what are we gonna eat for dinner? I can't make spaghetti now."

"How about I show you how to make Pearl's pancakes?" I say. "Those do not require the stove. We can try to make them heart shaped pancakes."

"Eight's world famous pancakes? Heart shaped, no less? Yes please! I'd take those over spaghets any day!"

"They are Pearl's pancakes, and I do not think they are world famous, but I am glad you like them. Can you get a bowl out, please?"

"On it!"

Over the course of the next half hour or so, I teach Four how to make the pancakes, though neither of us are able to make them into perfect hearts like Pearl is able to. Either way, it's nice to be able to spend time with her like this, as usually I don't get to see her until she gets home late in the evening. This will be the first time we are able to share a dinner together.

"Dang, not to brag or anything, but I think these pancakes taste better than usual, even if they do look more like blobfish than hearts," Four says before shoving another bite into her mouth.

"Agreed," I say, smiling. It's nice to have someone sitting next to me on the couch as we eat, it makes me realize how truly empty the apartment feels without Four here.

"Hey Eight, I dunno if I've said this before, but thanks for everything. I don't know what I'd do without you. Y'know, even if we've only been living together for a week."

"You are welcome. And thank you for everything, too."

"For what, brea— you know what, I'm not starting that again. Well, you're welcome for doing, like, five chores today."

"It is not really your fault that you don't do many chores, it is I who always finishes them before you get home," I say. "But I am also not thanking you only for the chores, I am thanking you for being my friend."

"Bestie," Four corrects me.

"Sorry, yes. My bestie. Thank you for being my bestie."

"You are very welcome, madam," She says in a strange accent, performing a little bow, at least as well as she can do while sitting on the couch. "So... On a different note, I know you love doing chores, but could you try to save a few for me from now on? I just like to feel useful sometimes..."

"Yes, of course," I reply. "I understand."

"Thanks. You're the best, Eight."

Chapter Text

The whole stove situation turned out to be much less expensive than we'd expected. After I got Four all calmed down, I contacted Pearl and Marina to ask what we should do about our broken stove. Pearl apparently had a selection of perfectly good ovens with stoves and that she was more than willing to give one to us for free. Whether or not it was really necessary to replace our entire oven along with the broken stove, what Pearl was offering was much higher quality than what we had. The only thing we actually had to pay for was for a specialist to come install the new oven, as neither Four nor I know how to or have the time to figure it out.

All in all, we end up spending less than half of what we were planning to. Because it was so much cheaper than expected, Four insists on paying most of the cost, and I let her. I know that paying it myself will only make her unhappy.

Since I get off work much earlier than Four, I take it upon myself to do all of the oven work, or at least as much as Four will let me. Pearl and Marina drive the oven to our apartment building and help me bring it inside, where it becomes a minor inconvenience in the middle of the kitchen until the date we set for the installers to come. Four plans to clock out early on that day, claiming that her help is required, though between me and the professional installers, I think we'll have all the help we need. I'm pretty sure she just wants to feel like she's contributing, which I can understand.

A few days later, and it's time. Four and I get off of work at the same time and head home together. It's the first time we have been able to do so, and it's quite nice having someone I know to talk to on the drive home. I was never good at talking to the taxi drivers.

"Right!" Four say, clapping her hands together, as we climb the stairs to our apartment. "The installer guys are comin' in one hour. We need to do a quick clean-up of the place, cause that's what we're supposed to do, I think."

"Ok," I say, nodding along.

"We're just gonna be here to supervise. Y'know, make sure they don't steal our stuff or anything. Maybe, by watching them, we can learn how to fix the oven ourselves, in case I ever break it again."

"Why would the installers steal our stuff?" I ask. "We are already paying them to put in the new oven."

"You never know," Four says, shrugging. "I'm just not very fond of the idea of strangers being in our house without us there."

"They do not have keys to our apartment, they could not even get in if we were not there," I say as Four pulls out said keys to unlock our door.

"They could pick the lock. Lots of people know how to pick locks these days."

"I do not think they would pick the lock. Also, that is a very... Uh... Discomforting fact."

"Yeah. I actually got robbed once, back in my old apartment," Four says, opening the door for me.

"You did?" I exclaim, without going through the door. Four pushes me through and closes the door behind her before answering.

"Yeah, I did. I came back home to find the door unlocked and my laptop missing. It was a crappy old laptop anyway, and I was lucky I had most of my money on me, but needless to say I am very glad I'm not still livin' in that old garbage pit. That whole city block was sketchy as shell."

"I too am glad that you are not living there, it sounds very dangerous."

"It probably was," Four says nonchalantly. "At least this part of the city is nice, I'd be much more surprised if we got robbed over here."

"I hope so." The Inkling world still has its dangers, I have learned.

My phone buzzes, as Four continues talking.

"I know I said I was worried about the installer guys stealing from us, but if they did that to all their clients, they wouldn't have half as good reviews. This is just a nice precaution."

"Yes. I'm sorry Four, someone just texted me, let me check it very quick," I say, pulling out my phone. Four sighs dramatically, but I doubt she actually minds.

After I stay silent for a suspiciously long time, Four leans over to see who texted me. A sly grin spreads across her face as she reads the message.

"Ooooh! Look who's texting you!" She says, using a strangely high-pitched voice.

It's Three, of course. In all the excitement over the oven, I had nearly forgotten that Three would be contacting me. Of course, it had to be the one time Four was watching, the one night we had people coming over. Three truly does have awful timing.

"They want to meet up tonight..." I say hesitantly.

"Well, sucks for them, we're busy tonight. Tell 'em that," Four says.

I sigh before texting Three back, trying to word it politely.

Eight: I am busy tonight, can we meet tomorrow please?

Three: Im busy tomorrow

Eight: In two days, then?

Three: No im going to be busy for a while

Three: This is the only day im free

Eight: Oh.

"They say we have to meet tonight," I tell Four.

"Why tonight of all nights? They were literally just waiting for the most inconvenient day, weren't they," Four says, frowning.

"It is fine. I can go, you will still be here to supervise the installers."

"I guess... Clammit, this Three person really thinks the world revolves around them, don't they."

"They are very busy, Four."

"Fine, whatever. Tell Three you'll go on that date. I'll stay here, all alone." Four sighs dramatically again.

Eight: Ok, I can meet you tonight. Where will we be meeting?

Three: Your place like last time

Eight: Oh, we are having people over tonight. Also, Four is home, and Four does not want you coming to our apartment again.

Three: Can you tell those people that there has been a change of plans?

Three: This is more important than a get together

Eight: It is not a get together. The people are coming over to install our new oven, and they will be here very soon. I do not think that they will be happy if I change the plan at this time.

Three: Youre going to have to

"How's it going?" Four says, breaking my concentration away from my phone. "You look like you're about ready to throw that phone out the window."

"Three is being... Difficult," I say.

"Of course they are," Four says matter-of-factly, leaning on the kitchen counter. "Well, carry on. Don't let me distract you."

I nod, turning back to the screen.

Eight: Can we meet at a cafe, or a park maybe?

Three: This isnt a date

I pause for a moment. I consider asking Four what this date thing is that keeps being mentioned, but then I get the distinct feeling that I will most definitely regret it. I'll figure that out later.

Eight: I know it is not a date, but we cannot meet at my apartment. Can we meet in the Square or at the Reef?

Three: Too public

Three: We cant have people listening in on us

Eight: Then can we go to your home, perhaps?

Three: No

Eight: But your home is private, unless you have a roommate or have people coming over.

Three: We are not meeting at my apartment

Eight: Oh, there are people there?

Three: No

Eight: Then why can we not meet there??

Three: You are not coming to my apartment

Eight: Well you are not coming to mine, and you have said that we must meet tonight. If there is no place other than my apartment that we can meet tonight, I will not be giving you the information about the Octarian Army.

I wait, but there is no response from Three. I stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, dumbfounded. Had I really just said that? To Three, of all people? Who did I think I was?

"You okay?" Four asks, noticing my shocked expression.

"I have said something very stupid to Three," I say.

"You confessed your love already? Go Eight," Four says with a teasing smile.

"No, I... Never mind."

I quickly type an apology to Three, praying it's not too late.

Eight: I am sorry for saying that, it was very rude of me. Please forgive me.

Three: We can meet at my apartment

Eight: What?

Three: Meet me in the Square

Three: Ill take you there.

Eight: We are meeting at your apartment?

Three: I just said that

Eight: I am sorry, I will go to the Square right away.

Three: This is only because there are no other options

Three: This wont be happening again so dont get any ideas

Eight: Yes, I understand.

When Three doesn't text back, I return my phone to my pocket and let out a shaky breath.

"Sooo..." Four says, staring at me expectantly.

"We are meeting at Three's apartment. I must go now, sorry I will not be able to help clean," I say.

"Is anyone else gonna be there?" Four asks, narrowing her eyes.

"No, why?"

"Hmmm..." Four says without answering my question. "Well, have fun I guess. Don't get too crazy. If you get too crazy, make sure to use protection!”

"...I don’t think I will need protection from anything…?” My mind went back to the thought of robbers, but I shook my head. “Whatever. Goodbye, good luck with the oven."

Four waves goodbye with a grin, and I head out the door. I hadn't even had time to take off my shoes and coat after getting home, and now I'm going back out. This was not how I was expecting this day to go.

I take a taxi to Inkopolis Square, too occupied with overthinking to even attempt to hold a conversation with the driver. I had really been hoping that Three would text me a few days in advance, not a few hours, but I suppose it's better than having them show up completely unannounced. I can't let this stress me out too much. Perhaps robbers are not my main issue after all.

I look for Three upon arriving at the Square, but they're nowhere to be found. There are still a few other Inklings and jellyfish hanging around, but the Square is much less busy at this time in the evening than it is earlier in the day. If Three was here, I would be able to find them easily.

I sit down at an empty table and pull out my phone. It can't hurt to text Three, since it is related to our meeting.

Eight: I am at Inkopolis Square.

I wait a little bit, but Three doesn't text back. I sigh, setting my phone down on the table. I guess all I can do now is wait.

The wait isn't long.

"You didn't need to text me," Three says, making me jump so hard I nearly fall out of my chair. I hadn't heard them come up behind me, how can they always do that?

"Oh! Sorry," I say, sitting up straight. That was incredibly embarrassing. As I look up at Three, I notice they're wearing bandages over their eye again. Strange.

"Well, come on. It's not a long walk," Three says, unreadable as always. They turn around and begin walking away without waiting for me. I scramble to get to my feet and run to catch up with them. This is going wonderfully already.

Three leads me away from the Square without talking or so much as looking at me. I wonder if I should say something, but Three doesn't seem to be in a talking mood. Or maybe they're just waiting for me to start the conversation?

"I am sorry that I made us go to your apartment," I say after a while, finally mustering the courage to break the awful silence. "I would not have minded you coming to mine if it was not for the people coming over."

"Mhm," Three replies, still without looking at me.

"We are having a new oven put in, and I did not think it would be wise to change our minds at the very last second. They might not allow us to reschedule or to get our money back."

"Hm."

We return to uncomfortable silence after that. It's clear Three doesn't want to talk. They might be angry that we have to go to their apartment, they did seem adamant about not letting me come before. If that's the case, talking about it is probably just making them angrier. I should have realized.

A little while later, Three stops outside of an old-looking building, smaller than other apartment buildings I'd seen in Inkopolis. They throw the door open and go inside without holding it for me, but I manage to slip in behind them before it closes. After a short walk and a flight of stairs, Three comes to a stop in front of a door and finally turns to face me. The buzz and flicker of the yellow fluorescent lights above us feels very ominous, and I almost jump when Three finally begins to speak.

"Here we are," They deadpan. They look slightly irritated, but I know they must be pretty upset if it is beginning to show on their face.

Three unlocks the door and turns the doorknob, but it doesn't open. They curse under their breath, jiggling the doorknob and trying to shove the door open. I wait patiently behind them until Three finally kicks the door unstuck. They let out a slow sigh before stepping into their apartment and gesturing for me to follow them.

Three doesn't turn on the lights, so I'm left to see by whatever light is coming through the windows across the room. Even without much light, I can tell that Three's apartment is a mess. All of the trashcans in sight are overflowing, and rather than taking them out, Three seems to have resorted to throwing their trash on the floor. There's empty energy drink cans and takeout boxes strewn all across the room, and the air is heavy with the scent of sweat, smoke, and reheated leftovers. I try not to wrinkle my nose, but it's difficult.

"I didn't have time to clean," Three says, though something tells me they wouldn't have cleaned if they had all the time in the world.

"That is okay," I say, absentmindedly picking up an empty soda bottle and throwing it on top of the nearest trash can. It rolls off, right back onto the floor.

"Well, now that we're here, we can get down to business."

Three plops down on their couch. They don't invite me to sit with them, so I awkwardly continue standing.

"What position exactly did you have in the Octarian Army?" Three asks first, getting straight to the point. Now that their eyes are on me, I miss being ignored.

"I was a Zapfish guard," I answer, shifting my weight from foot to foot. It feels strange talking about my past again, especially when I hadn't properly prepared for this meeting.

"Do you know where the Octarians keep their Zapfish?"

"They do not keep all of them in one place. I only knew one of the places, but... Um... I forgot."

"You forgot?"

"I still haven't gotten all of my memories back..." I admit, studying the floor. "I am sorry."

"Oh." Three pauses. They seem like they're about to say something for a moment, but then they change their mind. "...In that case, let's move on. What does the Army tell your people about Inklings?"

"Is this important...?" I ask. I would rather not tell them to their face, especially since I believed those lies for so long.

"Every question I ask is important," Three says. "If you have to know, understanding what Octarian propaganda teaches about Inklings can help us to counter it."

"Sorry, that is understandable," I say. "They teach that Inklings are... Very, very aggressive and dangerous, and... Um... Not very smart."

"Good to know," Three says, and I have no idea if they mean it seriously or sarcastically. Their expression remains blank as ever.

The interview goes on like this for what feels like an eternity. Most of Three's questions have to do with Octarian culture or propaganda; whether or not its intentional, they don't ask me any more questions about myself or my past, which is a relief. Thinking about my years in the Army feels so strange, like the memories are those of a different person, like I am reliving a dream.

"I think that's it." Three gets to their feet after I answer the final question, letting out a sigh.

"Thank you for your time," I say, dipping my head to them, though I'm not really benefiting from this interview at all.

"No problem," Three says, absentmindedly rubbing their bandaged eye. "This information should be useful."

I nod, glancing toward the door. Should I just leave now, or would that be rude? No, I should wait until I get some form of permission from Three. It takes an uncomfortably long period of silence before I get that permission.

"...You can go now," Three says, their tone suggesting that they had expected me to realize this a while before.

"Oh yes, I am sorry. I will be going."

Embarrassed, I turn toward the front door. I just can't seem to not make a fool of myself in Three's presence. At least, after this, I probably won't be seeing them again. For some reason, I feel a bit disappointed by that realization. Maybe it's because I never managed to make a good impression on them.

As I exit the apartment and turn around to close the door behind me, I am startled to see that Three has followed me to the door. They look slightly confused as to why I would try to close it on them.

"Sorry!" I exclaim, stepping away from the door in order to let Three through. "I did not know you were coming out, I am sorry for trying to close the door."

"Just... Stop saying sorry," Three sighs. "I'm walking you back to the Square. I assume you can catch a ride from there."

"Yes, I can," I say. I guess I still have to suffer several minutes more of embarrassing myself in front of Three. But maybe, if I can keep from irritating them, I can use this time to make a good final impression.

Three nods, and then leads me back through the apartment building, and out into the city. Night has fallen now, but the cold, fresh air is a relief after Three's stuffy apartment. As we walk under the light of the street lamps, I try to think of something to say to Three that wouldn't irritate them or embarrass myself. Three remains silent, and I can assume they don't want to talk, but this is my last chance to make amends for all the times I messed up with them.

"This is a nice night," I finally say, then pray for the best.

"Yeah," Three says, still facing ahead.

"I love the city at night. It is very beautiful, all of the lights."

"Mhm."

I go quiet for a moment. They still don't seem to want to talk. Then, if nothing else, there is one thing I want to know before we part ways. If we will never meet again, I shouldn't worry so much about angering them, but I will still try to ask this carefully.

"Three, may I ask something?"

"What."

"Is your eye okay?" I ask. "Are you really taking medicine for it?"

Three tenses. For a while, they don't answer, and I fear I've made a terrible mistake. Finally, they take a deep breath and look over their shoulder at me.

"It's fine, and I am," They say, their voice carrying a warning. Don't ask again.

I nod, unsure, but I don't want to test their patience too much. That answer alone told me what I needed to know. It's not fine, but they don't want to talk about it.

Not long after, we make it back to Inkopolis Square. It's all but deserted by now. Three stops and turns to face me, the street lamps casting odd shadows across their face.

"Well, here we are," They say. "Get home safe."

"Goodbye," I say. "I am sorry for being so irritating before. I am sorry for everything."

"For cod's sake..." Three says, pinching the bridge of their nose. "You didn't do anything, stop saying sorry."

"I was irritating you with my questions."

"Yeah, but you don't have to apologize for asking questions," Three says. "It wasn't a problem with you."

"Oh."

"Are you done, then? It's getting late."

"Yes, sorry. I mean, sorry. Sorry, I mean I am not sorry—" I stop myself, mentally facepalming. Way to sound stupid, Eight. "Sorry... But before I go, would you like for me to delete your phone number from my phone? I assume we will not be meeting again."

Three tilts their head, as if mentally weighing the options.

"No. It's fine," They say a moment later. "You can keep it. Never know if I'll need to contact you again."

"Thank you," I say, before I realize that I have no idea what exactly I'm thanking them for.

"Mhm. Is that all, now?"

"Yes, that should be all. Goodbye, Three."

"See you around."

It's only after Three has disappeared and I have made it into a taxi that I realize exactly what they had said.

See you around...

I can't seem to decide whether that possibility fills me with hope or dread, but I smile anyways.