Work Text:
Fit
Turf is swimming. Swimming and changing forms. Changing forms and shooting. Shooting and running. Running and swimming and form changes and swimming and running and when he finishes his third turf war Billy collapses on the spot, half-in enemy ink, gasping.
"Hey, Squidipus," yells one of his teammates, "did someone tell you that's what you do at the end of a turf war? Lie down and die like it was the great one?"
Billy runs a hand down his face and shifts into swim form for the superjump. Every muscle in his body aches as he lands, and he groans when he sees Judd's official ruling. His team lost by ten percent. It's all he can do to collapse on a bench and wait for the next round.
"Could've won if we didn't have Octopussy with us," mutters the last of Billy's teammates, glancing at Rustler.
Billy balls his hands into fists. "You wanna say that louder?"
"Billy, no," Rustler hisses.
"Billy, no," mocks the one who called Rustler an Octopussy. "I'm not sure which of them is more pathetic."
"Squidipus, definitely," says the first. "Let's go find a new lobby, come on. One that isn't contaminated."
The two split. Billy's fists are clenched so hard he's shaking, but he's still all tired and wobbly and doesn't think he can stand up.
Rustler scowls at the door as they leave. "Those two are... what be the Inkling word?"
"Assholes," Billy mutters, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.
"In Octarian, we call them rock munchers."
That makes Billy laugh.
"You come?" Rustler asks. "We be done the day."
Billy opens his eyes to squint at his watch. "Rotation's not over," he says. Rotation's barely started. Four games, and he already can't catch his breath. Is this how he's supposed to make a living?
"I am over," Rustler says. He reaches a tentacle towards Billy, and Billy lets Rustler help him up. "And you are over too, I beleft." He marches out of the room.
Billy puffs along behind him. They don't go in the changing rooms, since they all got driven over as a group already in turf clothes, and Rustler leads him right to their bus driver/chaperone and starts speaking Octarian faster than Billy can make out.
Billy leans against the wall, which soon turns to sitting on the floor. He hurts. He hurts everywhere.
Turfing sucks. If this is the easiest way to earn money in Inkopolis, he's better off splatted.
Someone sits next to him, and Billy opens his eyes to see their bus driver. "Nice work," he says.
Billy must have heard wrong. "What?"
"Specism sucks, and keeping quiet or doing nothing's easy," he says. "Leaving with Rustler really helped him feel supported. He went to join another lobby, hopefully one with some more open-minded cephlings. As for you..." He eyes the way Billy's breathing is still ragged, and Billy shakes some light-green sweat out of his eyes. "Have you started seeing that nutritionist yet?"
"Don't need to," he says. "I just need to eat less." And he has.
"You're going tomorrow," he says. "We can ask about what you can eat to bulk up, so you get stronger and fitter. That's more important than what you weigh."
Easy for him to say. But Billy knows better than to say that out loud.