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Chapter Text

Life Itself

Life’s always been a bit of a challenge for me. Being a half-breed—a mix of Inkling and Octoling—has always felt like the world’s way of messing with me. It’s like life decided to throw every possible obstacle my way, just to see if I’d break. But it wasn’t always this hard. My childhood felt like a golden era, back when Kent, my best friend, was still around. We were inseparable, causing mischief and making memories. But that changed when Kent moved to Inkopolis. He moved on, and I... well, I stayed behind.

My parents and sibling were never a problem. They were supportive, always there. But for reasons I’ve never quite figured out, I started distancing myself. It was like I woke up one day and decided the world wasn’t worth trusting anymore. From that point on, I was alone. And that’s when I developed this cold, judgmental attitude—my defense against everything and everyone.

Splatsville is always moving—bright lights, crowded streets, and the constant hum of competition. Whether it’s Turf War or the chaos of Salmon Run, this place never really slows down. I’ve lived here for years, but the energy never rubbed off on me. For me, it’s just another day, another shift. I’m half-Inkling, half-Octoling, so I’m used to feeling a little out of place. I never fit in with either side, and I don’t really try to anymore.

That’s why I stick to the shifts at Grizzco. It’s simple—go in, survive the horde of Salmonids, collect your Golden Eggs, get out. It’s dangerous, sure, but at least it’s predictable. Or it was, until she showed up.

The Cold Apartment

Morning in my apartment starts the same every day. The alarm clock buzzes, a relentless reminder that I have to face another day. I sit up slowly, my head heavy with lingering drowsiness. The gray light seeping through the window doesn’t do much to lift my mood.

I stretch, yawning loudly, then glance at the sea in the distance from my window. The waves crash, steady and indifferent. As I stand there, I can’t shake the feeling that today is no different from yesterday, or the day before. Another cold, dull day. Just... another day.

Sighing, I shuffle over to the kitchen and begin preparing breakfast. As my rice cooker hums quietly, I make myself a cup of milk coffee, hoping the bitter warmth will clear the fog in my head. It never really does, but the routine helps.

Taking a deep breath, I stare out the window again, this time lost in thought. I’ve been doing that a lot lately—just... pondering. Ever since last week, when I found out about her. The girl I’d waited for, the one I’d held onto for so long. She found someone else. They’re even talking about getting married.

Yeah, it hurt. It felt like my heart froze over when I heard. For days afterward, I walked around in a daze, feeling cold, empty. But I didn’t get angry. I wanted to—I wanted to scream, to throw things, to let the rage out. But... nothing. I felt calm, like a storm that never came. Maybe because, deep down, I knew she wasn’t the one for me.

Still, it’s strange. The burden I carried for years, all that weight, is gone. I’m free from the thoughts of her, from the hope I clung to. But why do I still feel so... alone? So hollow?

The loud click of the rice cooker snaps me back to reality. I glance at the clock. Time’s ticking, but it feels like I’m stuck in place. I take one last look out the window, a cold gust of wind brushing against the glass, and then turn back to the empty apartment.

It’s time for another day.

The Train Station

After breakfast, I got myself ready and headed to the city metro, making my way to work at Grizzco Industries. From what my friends say, the pay’s decent. All you really have to do is shoot your gun, take out a few creatures, and collect their eggs—Golden Eggs, specifically. It sounds simple, but there’s always a catch with jobs like this. I still remember my first day. The place felt shady, too shady for my taste, but the more I came back, the more I got used to it. The weird vibes didn’t bother me as much anymore. Somehow, I managed to carve out a reputation for myself. Even the boss seems to know who I am, though I've never seen him face-to-face.

Grizzco... the guy running the show? Everyone’s got theories, but no one actually knows what he looks like. Some say he’s an Inkling, others swear he’s an Octoling, or worse, an Octarian. Honestly, I couldn’t care less. As long as I get paid for working my ass off, that’s all that matters.

The train lurched to a stop, making the passengers stumble a little. The doors slid open, and the conductor’s voice crackled over the speakers. “Welcome to Splatsville Center! Passengers may now exit the train. Thank you for riding the Inkopolis Metro.”

As I stepped off the train, the familiar bustling energy of Splatsville washed over me—crowds of people, the constant hum of competition, the noise. For most, this place feels alive, electric. For me, it’s just another stop before I head into work. Another day of routine.

When I arrived at Grizzco, I found myself pausing in front of the entrance. Why? I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sight of the old, rusty logo above the door—orange letters barely clinging to their color, weathered and worn down like everything else about this place. Or maybe it was because I felt... like those letters. Broken, rusty, in need of fixing. Just like my life.

I slapped myself lightly, trying to shake off the weight of those thoughts. “Get it together, Jaycee,” I muttered under my breath. “You’ve got a job to do.”

Ignoring the usual negativity bubbling up inside, I walked through the door and headed to the locker rooms. The click of my key unlocking the metal door echoed in the dim room. There it was, my black Slop Suit gear, waiting for me. I stared at it for a moment, as if lost in some distant memory—one that hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Sighing, I muttered to myself, “This day couldn’t get any worse, could it?”

After stripping out of my civilian clothes, I put on the suit. Adjusting the orange life vest straps, securing the life buoy on my back, and finally, placing the black hazard helmet on my head. Fully geared up, I was ready for another day of hell, ready to face those creatures once again.

As I walked down the corridor toward the main desk, my mind wandered back to everything that had been bothering me. The breakup, the loneliness—it all lingered in the back of my mind like a dark cloud. I put on a sharp, cold look, the kind I wore every day just to get by. But suddenly, someone crashed into me from around the corner, sending us both sprawling onto the floor.

I blinked in confusion, my helmet rolling away from me. The impact left me dazed for a second, but then anger flared up in me. I got to my feet, marching over to whoever had run into me, fists clenched.

“Hey! Are you blind or something?! You better watch where you’re—"

I stopped mid-sentence as I finally took in who it was. My anger vanished almost as quickly as it had come. There, on the floor, sat a young Inkling girl. She had a round face, a cute round nose, and eyes that were sharp, but not sharp enough to see me coming around the corner, apparently. I would’ve been more upset, but something about her blue eyes... they caught me off guard.

She stammered, “Sir, my utmost apologies! I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t—”

Her words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. She was clearly terrified, trembling as she sat there, trying and failing to form a coherent sentence. I could see the embarrassment and fear in her wide eyes, and just like that, my frustration melted away.

I sighed, letting go of my cold exterior for a moment. Reaching out a hand, I offered to help her up. “It’s alright, no need to freak out.”

She hesitated at first, but then, cautiously, she took my hand. As soon as she was on her feet again, though, she bolted down the hallway without another word, leaving me standing there, confused and a little amused.

“Rude,” I muttered under my breath.

Glancing down at the floor, I spotted my helmet, along with something else—an ID card. I picked it up, studying the name written across it.

“Jun Lin...” I murmured, feeling the name roll around in my mind. Something about it struck a chord in me, but I couldn’t quite place it. Shaking my head, I put my helmet back on and continued toward the main desk, where I’d get my assignment for the day.

As if things weren’t strange enough already...

The Boat Ride

As I got my assignment, I found myself paired with a team of strangers—people I had no real connection with and didn’t care to either. They were just a means to an end, a way to get the job done. But there was one problem: we were still missing someone. I’m not known for my patience. I can handle a bit of waiting, sure, but when it drags on too long, it starts to get under my skin. And right now, we were one person short before the boat was set to leave.

Impatience gnawed at me. I’m not just some regular Inkling or Octoling. No, I’m an Inktoling, a half-breed—part Inkling, part Octoling. It’s a strange mix that often has me questioning my place in this world, but that’s a whole other issue. Right now, all I could think about was how long we’d been waiting. If this last person doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to talk to the driver and leave them behind.

Then, just as I was about to lose it, I heard a voice. A frantic, familiar one. "Wait! Wait! Oh, please wait!"

I snapped my head around, and there she was—the Inkling girl with the round blue eyes from earlier. Jun Lin. She was hurrying toward us, looking flustered and, if I’m honest, kind of cute in her blue-and-yellow Grizzco gear. But I had no time for distractions.

“Focus, boy,” I muttered under my breath as I straightened myself up, trying to maintain my cold, no-nonsense demeanor.

As she stumbled to a stop in front of me, her face flushed with both embarrassment and fear. “It-it’s you!” she stammered, fiddling nervously with her Grizzco cap. Her words were a jumble, just like the last time.

I took a breath, trying to calm my own frustration. “Jun Lin,” I said evenly, though it came out more serious than I intended. She blinked, clearly startled that I knew her name.

“H-How did you...?”

“You dropped your ID,” I said, holding it out to her. Her face went an even deeper shade of red as she awkwardly accepted it, her tentacles shifting in response to her embarrassment. She was trying to hide her face now, avoiding eye contact as if I was some kind of scary monster.

I sighed, softening my tone a little. “Jun Lin... are you assigned to this boat?”

She nodded, eyes wide with a mix of nerves and surprise. Before she could stumble over another apology, the boat’s engine roared to life behind us. There wasn’t time to waste.

“Get in the boat,” I said, not unkindly but with enough urgency to get her moving. She jumped at the sound of my voice, almost dropping her cap again before awkwardly boarding, nearly tripping over herself in the process. I rolled my eyes, annoyed but also—conflicted. Part of me found her clumsiness endearing, but the other part was bracing for the potential disaster of having her on the team.

I boarded the boat myself, and as we set off, I found myself staring out at Splatsville. The city was a dull grey blur, just like my life felt these days.

As I gazed at the distant city fading into the horizon, I suddenly felt a weight on my shoulder. I glanced down, and to my surprise, Jun Lin had dozed off, her head resting against me. She looked peaceful, her earlier anxiety gone as she slept. I should’ve been annoyed—another thing to add to my growing list of frustrations—but instead, I let her be. Maybe she needed the rest. And besides, it was going to be a long ride before we reached our destination.

For the first time in a while, I didn’t mind the quiet.

Spawning Grounds
Our boat soon arrived at its destination: the infamous Spawning Grounds. This place... I hate this place so much! Of all the assignments they could have given me, why this one?

Ugh. To continue. The boat cruised past the enormous, damaged dam that serves as a landmark for this accursed area. I glanced at the colossal structure, its dull grey walls plastered with graffiti, while green, slimy water trickled out from its pipelines. I don’t know where that water comes from, but trust me, it’s toxic. I’ve fallen into that green muck more times than I care to admit, and let me tell you, it’s not a pleasant experience.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you about the things that live in this area...

The moment Captain Virgil opened the boat’s door and signaled it was time to disembark, I took a deep breath, preparing for the chaos that was about to unfold. I glanced back at my teammates. Jun Lin and another Octoling girl were happily chatting, their laughter ringing in my ears. Meanwhile, the last person in the back row was adjusting his green gloves, exuding confidence as he readied himself for battle.

I have my doubts about this team, honestly.

“Oi! It’s go time, people! Those eggs aren’t going to pick themselves up! Chop! Chop!” The Old Sturgeon's cheerful voice cut through the air, nudging us into action.

I rolled my eyes, mumbling under my breath, “Sheesh, I'm going! I'm Going?”

With that, I leapt off the boat, transforming into my squid form. My teammates followed suit, splashing down onto the landing zone of Spawning Grounds and creating small puddles of blue ink.

We quickly got to work, covering our ground with ink, readying ourselves for the incoming onslaught. Soon, an urgent message crackled through our comms.

“Mr. Grizz here! The basket is ready, and we’re starting to lure in the locals. Get ready! Don’t forget about the eggs!”

A collective tension settled over us as we spotted the basket emerging from its hiding place. The distant sound of horns blared, signaling the arrival of the horde: the Salmonids.

Mutated salmon, these creatures varied in shape and size. They didn’t wield firearms, but they were fierce, armed with frying pans capable of knocking us out if we weren’t careful. And believe me, they came in various types, each with their own nasty surprises. I shuddered at the thought of the Fly Fish.

As the battle raged on, waves one and two were surprisingly manageable. I’d expected chaos, but my teammates, especially Jun Lin, were proving me wrong.

Until she wasn’t.

I was keeping an eye on the perimeter when I saw her sprint toward a group of Salmonids, her ink splattering wildly. No backup, no strategy—just pure recklessness. Before I could call out, a massive Steelhead aimed right at her. Typical.

“Get down!” I yelled, already moving to cover her. I fired a shot, taking the Steelhead out just in time. She didn’t even flinch.

Turning to me with a carefree grin, her light blue ink shone under the harsh lights. “Thanks, I guess!”

I grunted, shaking my head. “Try not to get yourself splatted next time.”

She shrugged, completely unbothered. “What’s the fun in that?”

I didn’t have a response. I just kept moving, pushing back the tide of Salmonids while trying to ignore the fact that I’d have to save her again before the night was over.

As the waves continued, Jun Lin’s clumsiness began to rear its head again. She got caught by a Salmonid Maw—a massive fish that acted like a shark—before I could even blink. Later, she found herself surrounded while trying to take on a Salmonid Stinger perched high on its cooking pot tower. It may sound silly, but that thing was a serious threat, lobbing boiling water our way.

“Jun Lin!” I shouted, rushing in to revive her. “What were you thinking?”

“Just trying to be helpful!” she replied, brushing off the danger as if it were nothing.

Despite my frustrations, I admired her tenacity. Time after time, I found myself rescuing her, picking her up from the messes she made, all to keep our main goal in sight.

Somehow, against all odds, we finished wave three with a success that caught me off guard. Jun Lin managed to snag the last golden egg just before the timer ran out, her grin wide and infectious.

She approached me, bubbling over with excitement, and proceeded to do the most ridiculous, cringe-worthy dance I’d ever seen while cheering for our victory.

I stared at her, trying to maintain my cool facade, but my teammates quickly joined in her impromptu celebration. Just when I thought our victory would last, the Old Sturgeon's voice came over the comms again.

“Alright, folks! Time to head back! Fuel ain’t cheap, ya know?”

I sighed as we transformed into our second forms and super jumped back into the boat.

Grizz Co. Docks - SPLATSVILLE - EVENING
As our boat cruised home, I gazed out at the breathtaking view of Splatsville. The city glimmered beneath the twilight, vibrant colors illuminating the streets as if a festival were in full swing, despite no announcements about one.

Turning my attention back to my team, I saw them resting, weary yet satisfied from the day’s chaos. My gaze settled on Jun Lin, who had dozed off on my shoulder once again. A strange sense of joy filled me as I watched her sleep peacefully, completely oblivious to the dangers we had just faced together.

END OF SHIFT
After the shift, I found myself back by the lockers, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clung to me like the scent of ink. The night had been long, and I’d spent way too much of it pulling Jun Lin out of danger. I had learned her name from overhearing my teammates chat in the chaos. Just as I was about to head out, I heard footsteps approaching.

I glanced up, and there she was—Jun Lin, still buzzing with the energy of the shift. I half-expected her to make some sarcastic remark about how I’d saved her yet again. Instead, she looked almost... nervous? That was new.

“Hey,” she said, standing in front of me, fidgeting with something in her hands.

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever she was about to say. With a soft, hesitant smile, she held out a small piece of paper, her face slightly flushed. I took it cautiously, glancing at the note. It was the address of a café, scribbled in messy handwriting.

“Thought you might want to grab some coffee,” she said, her voice soft but still carrying that playful edge. “Tomorrow? After the shift?”

I blinked, surprised. Out of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn’t even on the list. I stared at the note for a moment, unsure if this was some kind of joke.

“I’ll see you there,” she added quickly, before I could think of a response. Then, with her usual confidence, she turned and walked away.

I was left standing there, the note in my hand, trying to figure out what just happened. As I turned to head into the Grizz Co locker room, I noticed my teammates going their separate ways. I didn’t want to acknowledge their performance; my arrogance had blinded me that time. Instead, I focused on the strange feeling brewing inside me.

I stashed my signature black gear into my locker, feeling a sense of relief for once in my otherwise dull life. I slipped on my civilian clothing, grabbed my bag, and exited the male locker room.

What happened next surprised me. Jun Lin was standing near the exit, her casual wear accentuating her usual clumsiness, but today, it felt different. I realized it was somewhat suspicious for her to be standing so close to the male locker room. It was as if she was waiting for someone. Then it hit me: she was waiting for me, specifically!

I was shocked when she approached me again, handing me a piece of paper.

She gave me a somewhat nervous but confident smile before turning to leave. I was left speechless, staring at the piece of paper she had just given me. Written on it was her contact number. Without a second thought, I saved her number on my phone, still trying to wrap my head around the sudden turn of events.

Yet something inside me—a feeling I recognized—began to stir again. That familiar sensation I felt since the morning was already coming back to me...

The Café
The next morning, I found myself sitting in a small café downtown, staring into a cup of coffee that had long since gone lukewarm. The smell of fresh espresso filled the air, rich and inviting, mingling with the sweet scent of pastries on display behind the counter. The low hum of conversations around me made the place feel alive, a stark contrast to the chaos of our Salmon Run shifts. I couldn’t figure out why I’d come. I wasn’t the kind of person to casually grab coffee with someone—especially not someone like Jun Lin, who had turned my world upside down in such a short time.

When she walked in, her light blue ink brightened the room as if she carried a piece of the sky with her. She spotted me immediately and made her way over, her grin wide and unrestrained, as though we were old friends reuniting after years apart. It felt strange—comfortable, but strange. I couldn’t help but notice how her presence seemed to draw the eyes of others in the café, a mix of admiration and curiosity.

As she settled into the chair across from me, the initial excitement I felt quickly morphed into an awkward silence. I fumbled for something to say, but the words didn’t come easily. Jun Lin, however, seemed completely unfazed. She leaned back, sipping her coffee with a casual ease that made me both envious and confused.

The first few minutes ticked by like an eternity. I studied her face, taking in the freckles splattered across her cheeks, remnants of the sun reflecting her carefree spirit. Just as I was about to make an excuse to leave, she broke the silence.

“So, what’s your favorite part about working at Grizzco?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity.

That question opened the floodgates. We started talking about the shifts, the adrenaline rush of dodging Salmonids, and the camaraderie that formed during the chaos. I listened as she animatedly described her experiences, laughing at her recounting of some ridiculous moment when she had tripped over her own feet while trying to dodge a Steelhead. I found myself laughing too, drawn in by her infectious enthusiasm.

She told me about her dream of going to school in Inkopolis, how she wanted to leave Splatsville behind and explore the world beyond the waves. “I want to see the sights, meet new people,” she said, her voice tinged with longing. “It feels like there’s so much out there waiting for me.”

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of admiration and envy. She was so different from what I had imagined. Sure, she was reckless, but there was something deeper underneath that wild exterior. She didn’t seem scared of much, and maybe that was what threw me off the most. As she spoke, I found myself captivated, not just by her words but by the confidence she exuded.

After Work
That first coffee led to more. After every shift, we’d meet up at the café, exchanging stories and jokes as if we had known each other for years. Each cup of coffee became a ritual, a moment to unwind together after the chaotic shifts filled with frantic dodging and splattering ink. During the shifts, I found myself watching her more—not out of a sense of duty, but because I wanted to. I was drawn to her recklessness, but it wasn’t just carelessness; there was a spirited bravery that lingered in the air around her.

Jun Lin continued to be the unpredictable force of nature I had come to admire, her laughter echoing in my mind long after we parted ways. I hated to admit it, but I liked having her around. She made the shifts feel less like a mindless routine and more like something to look forward to. In her presence, Splatsville began to feel a little brighter, as if the sun had finally peeked through the persistent clouds that usually hung over the town.

Yet, deep down, I knew things couldn’t stay like this forever. Nothing in Splatsville was ever that simple. The city had its secrets, and I sensed that eventually, they would catch up with us. I worried that the easy camaraderie we’d built could shatter under the weight of reality. Each laugh shared and every moment spent together became tinged with the knowledge that it could all come crashing down at any moment.

End of Chapter 1
Looking back, I should’ve known better. The way things were going, it was too good to last. I was riding high on the newfound connection I had with Jun Lin, relishing the warmth of her friendship. But in that moment, I didn’t care. I had her by my side, and for once, it felt like maybe I didn’t have to be alone anymore. We shared stories, dreams, and laughter, forming a bond that seemed unbreakable, or so I thought.

Little did I know, everything was about to change.

Chapter Text

The shifts had become routine for us. I’d show up at Grizzco, knowing Jun Lin would be there, ready to rush headfirst into trouble. We had our rhythm now. She was still reckless, but I didn’t mind as much anymore. In fact, I’d started to count on it. I’d save her, she’d grin at me with that carefree smile, and we’d grab coffee after, talking about everything and nothing.

It was good. Maybe too good.

That’s why it hit me so hard when she didn’t show up for our shift.

At first, I thought she was just late. Jun Lin was never on time. I stood there, waiting at the docks, trying to play it cool like I wasn’t looking for her, but by the end of the shift, the unease had started to creep in. She wasn’t just late—she wasn’t coming.

It was after the shift, as I was heading out, that I got the message.

The Message

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting some casual excuse, maybe a “Sorry, overslept” or something like that. But when I opened the text, my stomach dropped.

“Jaycee, I’m sorry I didn’t come. I didn’t know how to tell you this in person, but... I’m leaving. I’ve finally saved enough to go to Inkopolis and chase my dream. I’ll be gone before you finish your shift. I didn’t want you to see me go. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, I just stared at the message, my mind racing. She was leaving? She wasn’t even going to say goodbye? I tried to wrap my head around it, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Why hadn’t she told me? Why did she think she could just disappear like that, without facing me?

Without thinking, I was already running toward the station.

The Train Station

The platform was crowded when I arrived, but I spotted her instantly—her light blue ink stood out like a beacon, even in the chaos. She was standing near the train, her bags packed, looking around nervously, as if she half-expected to see me.

And when she did, her eyes widened in shock. I pushed through the crowd, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Jaycee—”

“Why?” I cut her off, my voice sharp with frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me face-to-face? Were you just going to leave without saying anything?”

She bit her lip, looking away for a moment. “I... I didn’t know how. I thought it would be easier this way.”

“Easier for who?” I asked, my voice rising. I could feel the anger boiling over. “You think it’s easier to just disappear?”

Jun Lin looked down, her hand clutching her bag tightly. “I was scared,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the station. “I didn’t want to see how you’d react. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stood there, breathing heavily, trying to make sense of it all. She didn’t want to hurt me. But leaving like this—this was worse.

I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the frustration, but it was no use. “You made me believe things were fine. That we had more time. And now you’re just... gone?”

She looked up at me, and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jaycee. I didn’t mean to...”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Before I even realized what I was doing, I pulled her into a hug. It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate, like I was holding on to her for dear life. She stiffened at first, but then her arms wrapped around me, her face pressed against my chest.

“I’ve always been alone,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Before I met you, it was just me, doing the same thing every day. But you—you made things different. And now you’re leaving, and I’m scared that it’s going to go back to the way it was.”

Jun Lin didn’t say anything at first. I felt her tears soaking into my shirt, but she didn’t pull away. She just held me tighter, as if she could feel the weight of my words.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I have to go. This is my dream. But... I’ll come back. I promise. I’ll come back when I’m done.”

Her words were comforting, but they didn’t fix the ache in my chest. I wanted her to stay. I wanted her to choose me. But I knew that wasn’t fair. She had her own path, and I couldn’t stand in the way of that.

Still, it hurt.

The Confession

“I love you,” I blurted out, the words escaping before I could stop them. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t how I wanted to say it. But in that moment, it was all I could think about. I loved her, and I wanted her to know, even if it didn’t change anything.

Jun Lin pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. For a moment, I thought she might not say anything. But then she smiled—a soft, sad smile that made my heart ache even more.

“I love you too, Jaycee,” she said quietly. “But my dream comes first.”

I nodded, though it felt like my heart was shattering. “I’ll wait for you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll wait.”

She gave me a long, lingering look, her light blue eyes filled with a mix of sadness and affection. Then, without another word, she leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was slow, deliberate, like she was trying to say everything she couldn’t put into words.

But just like everything else, the moment didn’t last.

The Departure

The station’s announcer crackled to life, reminding us all that the train for Inkopolis was about to depart. Jun Lin pulled away from me, her eyes widening in panic.

“I have to go,” she said, grabbing her bags.

I helped her, grabbing the heavier ones as we rushed toward the platform. We barely made it to the train in time. She turned to face me one last time, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’ll return, I promise,” she said, stepping onto the train.

“I’ll wait for you... always,” I replied, my voice catching in my throat.

The doors slid shut, and I watched as the train began to move. I ran alongside it, my eyes locked on her light blue ink through the window, until I reached the edge of the platform and the train disappeared from view.

The station felt empty, even though it was still crowded. And for the first time in a long time, I felt alone again.

“Always...” I whispered to myself.

Chapter Text

At first, after Jun Lin left, everything still felt... bright. I told myself that I’d wait for her, no matter how long it took. There was hope that carried me through those first few weeks. She’d come back, just like she promised. I could handle the waiting.

But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The brightness faded. Each shift at Grizzco felt longer, harder. Without her wild energy keeping things unpredictable, everything felt... empty. I kept looking for her—expecting to see her light blue ink splash across the battlefield, reckless and bold. But it never did.

Eventually, I stopped looking. I stopped hoping. I told myself I was fine, but deep down, I wasn’t. I felt cold again, like I had before I met her. The world around me became dull—just grey ink splashed across an endless sea of nothing.

I started to revert. My old self came back. I wasn’t the Jaycee who laughed with Jun Lin at the café, the one who found excitement in each Salmon Run shift because she was there. I became colder, sharper, just like I used to be. I went back to surviving, nothing more.

Every day was the same. Every shift, just work. No emotion. No meaning. I avoided people, shut myself off. There were no more coffees, no more late-night talks. It was just me again. Just Jaycee. Alone.

The Phone Call

I didn’t even realize two years had passed. The days blurred together, one after the other, until one night, my phone buzzed. I barely glanced at it—probably some random alert—but then I saw the name. Kent. It had been forever since we talked.

Kent had been my best friend growing up, before we drifted apart. He’d moved out of Splatsville to chase his career dreams, and last I heard, he’d become some hotshot programmer for a big tech company. I hadn’t thought about him in a long time.

His message was simple:

“Yo! Long time no see, man! I’m back in Splatsville for good! Meet me at Hagglefish Market—our old spot. We need to catch up. Tonight, okay?”

I hesitated. I wasn’t in the mood for catching up, but something in his message pulled me in. Maybe it was the idea of seeing someone familiar—someone from before all this.

I grabbed my jacket and headed out.

Hagglefish Market

The market was as bustling as ever, but it felt quieter to me, almost distant. It had been years since I’d hung out there. Kent and I used to spend hours here, messing around, watching the merchants haggle, and eating way too much street food. Now, it felt like a relic from a time I barely remembered.

I spotted Kent almost immediately. He hadn’t changed much—still tall, with that goofy smile that never seemed to leave his face. He waved at me, his voice booming over the crowd.

“Jaycee! Over here!”

I walked over, forcing a smile. He grinned and clapped me on the back like no time had passed at all. “Man, it’s been too long! Look at you, still the same Jaycee, huh?”

I nodded, not sure what to say. “Yeah. Same old me.”

Kent didn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm. He started talking about his job, how he’d finally made it as a lead programmer for some big company in Inkopolis. He seemed genuinely happy, and for a moment, I envied him. He’d found his path. He’d moved forward.

And me? I was stuck. Still waiting.

The Confession

As we walked through the market, Kent must’ve noticed my silence. He stopped, glancing at me with a concerned look. “Jaycee, you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

I sighed, running a hand through my tentacles. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk about it, but something about being with Kent—being back in this familiar place—made the words come out.

“I’ve been waiting, Kent,” I said quietly, my voice raw. “I’ve been waiting for two years.”

He frowned, confused. “Waiting? For what?”

“For her. For Jun Lin.”

At that, Kent’s expression shifted from confusion to curiosity. “Jun Lin? The girl you were talking about before? I don’t think I’ve ever met her.”

I nodded, the weight of it all finally settling in. “Yeah... she left two years ago. Said she was going to Inkopolis to chase her dream. She promised she’d come back. I tried to contact her, but she never responded to my messages. I didn’t want to spam her.”

Kent raised an eyebrow. “And... she hasn’t reached out at all?”

“No,” I admitted, the frustration and sadness bubbling to the surface. “I’ve been waiting this whole time, and I haven’t heard from her. I thought... I thought she’d keep her promise.”

Kent was silent for a moment, taking it all in. “So, what was she like? Why do you care so much?”

The question caught me off guard. I thought about how to explain her vibrant spirit, the way she lit up a room, the laughter we shared. “She was... amazing. Full of energy and dreams. She made everything feel alive. I thought she was the one.”

Kent nodded, his expression softening. “Jaycee... you should’ve reached out to her more. It’s been two years, man. That’s a long time to wait without a word.”

I clenched my fists, hating how stupid I’d been. “I know. I thought... I thought if I just waited, she’d come back.”

Kent gave me a sympathetic smile. “You believed in her. But that doesn’t mean you should put your life on hold. Maybe it’s time to take a break from waiting and start moving forward.”

I looked down, feeling the weight of his words. He was right. I’d been waiting for something that might never come. And in the process, I’d been standing still, letting my life pass me by.

New Beginnings

Kent gave me a light punch on the arm, trying to cheer me up. “Hey, look, man—I’m back in Splatsville now. So at least you’ve got me around again. We can hang out, like old times. Things don’t have to be so... heavy.”

I glanced at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Kent had always been good at lightening the mood. Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t have to keep waiting in the dark.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Maybe I can start moving on.”

He grinned, satisfied with my answer. “That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s grab something to eat. My treat.”

As we walked through the market, for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a flicker of hope. Things hadn’t turned out the way I’d imagined, but that didn’t mean my life had to stay stuck in place.

Kent was back. I wasn’t alone anymore. And maybe, just maybe, I could start moving forward again.

Chapter Text

Four years had slipped by since Jun Lin left, and I’d tried to convince myself I’d moved on. The first two years were a blur of work and routine, punctuated by Kent’s efforts to distract me. He pulled me into old haunts and new adventures, dragging me into the bustling nightlife of Splatsville, but every time I met someone new, I found myself comparing them to her. No one could fill the void Jun Lin had left behind.

Every time Kent suggested a blind date or a casual hangout, I’d shake my head, a heaviness settling over me. I told myself I had forgotten about her, yet that promise to wait lingered like a ghost, haunting the corners of my heart. I couldn’t escape the memories—the way her laughter would light up a room, the warmth of her presence that made everything feel brighter. But deep down, the truth was undeniable: I was just trying to forget her, while she remained etched in my soul.

Back to Work

Another Salmon Run shift kicked off, filled with the familiar chaos of splashes and cries of battle. The salty sea breeze filled my lungs as we geared up, the bright colors of our ink contrasting sharply against the gloomy backdrop of the Salmonids rising from the depths. My crew and I were doing our best to fend off the relentless waves, but something felt different today—heavier, more intense.

“Watch out!” someone yelled, and instinct kicked in. I dove to the side just in time to avoid a volley of flying fish. But as I turned back, my heart sank. A Steelhead loomed over us, its blaring alarm echoing through the chaos. I barely had a moment to brace myself before the explosion sent me flying.

Everything went black.

The Dream

In that darkness, dreams flooded over me like a tide. I saw myself as a kid, laughing with Kent at Hagglefish Market, our spirits unburdened by the weight of time. We would sit on the pier, tossing bits of food to the seagulls, and Kent would daydream out loud about our futures. “One day, I’m going to be successful, Jaycee. I’ll have my own business, and we’ll be rich!” he declared, his eyes sparkling with ambition. I’d mirror his enthusiasm, lost in visions of adventure and endless possibilities, dreaming of our shared future.

As the dream shifted, I saw Kent and me several years later, nervously stepping into Grizz Co. It was a shady place, whispers of its reputation swirling around us, but the pay was good—better than anything else we could find. I remembered the gnawing uncertainty in my gut, but we pushed through, driven by the promise of a better life. Months passed, and despite the company’s dubious ethics, my hard work paid off. I climbed the ranks, earning promotions and respect, transforming from a nervous newcomer into a reputable worker.

Then came the day I met Jun Lin. The memory flooded back with a rush of warmth—her laughter, bright and infectious, cutting through the monotony of our work. I recalled how her passion for helping others lit up her eyes. She spoke of her dream of becoming a doctor, her determination so palpable it drew me in. We shared late-night talks, mapping out our futures like stars in a dark sky, each dream illuminating the other’s.

But then the bittersweet recollection of our heartbreaking goodbye swept over me like a storm. I could almost hear her voice echoing in my mind, “I have to go, Jaycee. I can’t stay here if I want to pursue my dreams.” The weight of those words sank deep, as if she had pulled the ground out from under me. I remembered the tears we shed, the promise to wait, and the aching void left in her absence.

“Jun Lin!” I screamed into the void, but my words echoed back in silence, swallowed by the darkness. The memories tumbled over one another, painting a vivid picture of our time together. I could almost feel her hand in mine, the warmth of her smile igniting hope within me, but then it all faded, leaving me grasping at shadows.

Waking Up

I jolted awake in an unfamiliar, sterile room. The scent of antiseptic surrounded me, sharp and overwhelming. As I blinked into focus, I saw Kent asleep in a chair beside me, his face a mask of worry. Relief washed over me, but it was fleeting as he stirred, sitting up abruptly.

“Jaycee!” Panic filled his voice as he rushed to my side. “I thought you were gone!”

“What happened?” I croaked, my throat dry and the remnants of chaos swirling in my mind.

“You were badly injured during the shift,” he explained, catching his breath. “They brought you to the Grizzco medical facility. Without the new doctor, you might not have made it.”

I raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “The doctor? Really?”

Kent shrugged, a grin breaking through. “You should’ve seen her. It was like watching a surgeon in a Salmon Run. Crazy.”

I scoffed, trying to lighten the mood, but my body protested as I attempted to sit up. Pain shot through me, reminding me of the battle I’d just fought. “I need to get back to work.”

“Jaycee, you need to rest,” Kent insisted, stopping me with a firm hand on my shoulder. “You can barely move.”

I leaned against the window, gazing out at the sea, lost in thoughts of Jun Lin and her dreams of becoming a doctor. Those moments felt distant, buried under years of longing. I remembered how passionate she had been, her eyes shining with determination as she spoke about helping others.

The Long Wait

After two years of Kent’s companionship, life had felt more bearable. But despite our fun, every laugh felt muted without Jun Lin’s laughter to color them. I missed her warmth, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her aspirations. I’d tried to fill the void she left behind, but it was never enough.

As hours passed, Kent eventually left for important assignments, his voice echoing in the hall as he assured me he’d be back soon. I said my goodbyes, feeling the emptiness settle back in. Time crawled, and I lay there, staring at the ceiling, the silence amplifying my thoughts.

I thought about Jun Lin’s departure—how abruptly she had vanished, leaving only memories behind. I’d told myself I would wait, but as days turned into weeks, and weeks into years, I wondered if waiting was worth it. The pain of longing settled in like an unwelcome guest, a reminder of everything I had lost.

An Unexpected Visitor

Suddenly, the door opened, and a familiar voice broke through the quiet. “Jaycee?”

I turned slowly, my heart racing. There she was—Jun Lin—standing in the doorway, holding a small bouquet of get-well gifts, her light blue ink glistening like a beacon.

Tears pricked at my eyes as I struggled to find my voice. “I waited for you...”

Her face lit up with a smile that I had missed so dearly, and I could see her eyes shimmering with emotion. “I have returned. As promised.” She stepped closer and leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek, and in that moment, all the years of pain and longing seemed to dissolve.

“I thought I lost you forever,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

“You almost did,” she said softly, her smile fading into concern. “But I wasn’t going to let that happen. I heard about your accident, and I rushed here as soon as I could. I had to see you, to make sure you were okay.”

As we talked, the words poured out as if we hadn’t been apart for years. She told me about her time in Inkopolis, how she’d chased her dream of becoming a doctor, the challenges she faced, and her determination to succeed.

But beneath my relief lay a tide of emotion I could no longer hold back. “I tried to forget you,” I confessed, my voice breaking. “I really did. But no matter how hard I tried, you were always there in the back of my mind, haunting me.” Tears streamed down my face, and I felt vulnerable. “I thought I had moved on, but you never left my heart.”

Jun Lin’s expression softened, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I never forgot you either, Jaycee. Not for a moment. I promised to come back, and I meant it.”

Then came the revelation that struck me like a tidal wave: Jun Lin had been the one to save me. “I was the doctor who treated you,” she confessed, a mix of pride and vulnerability in her voice. “I couldn’t let you go without fighting for you.”

In that moment, I felt the weight of her love and commitment. It was poetic how I had saved her once, and now she had saved me. “You saved my life,” I breathed, awe flooding my chest.

“I just did what I had to do,” she replied, her voice steady yet gentle. “I couldn’t let you down.”

But then, her expression shifted. “I wanted to contact you right after I graduated,” she continued, her voice softening. “I was planning to work for Grizzco and hoped to surprise you. But then I heard about your accident, and I rushed here without thinking.”

In that moment, I realized how much she had changed—how strong and capable she had become. My heart swelled with gratitude and affection. I wanted to be by her side, to support her as she pursued her dreams, just as she had supported me in ways I hadn’t even realized.

As we continued to talk, a sense of completeness enveloped me. It felt like the universe had conspired to bring us back together, mending the gaps life had created. When Kent returned, he walked in with his usual exuberance but halted at the sight of Jun Lin.

“Wait, why is the doctor here?” Kent asked, confusion washing over his face. As he pieced it together, his eyes widened. “This is the doctor who saved you, Jaycee? No way! Jun Lin—she's the girl you’ve been talking about!”

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. Jun Lin’s presence filled the void that had haunted me, bringing color back into my world. As the three of us talked, I felt a sense of hope blossom. Jun Lin had returned, and this was a new beginning—an opportunity to embrace life together.

“Jaycee,” Jun Lin said softly, her eyes searching mine. “What if we took this chance to start anew? I mean, we’ve both been through so much. I’d love to know what our relationship could be now that we’re together again.”

Her question hung in the air, and I felt my heart swell at the thought. “That sounds perfect,” I replied, my voice steady. “No more long goodbyes. Let’s embrace whatever comes next, together.”

Jun Lin smiled, her eyes sparkling with determination, a hint of blush coloring her cheeks as she glanced between us. “I like that idea. Together.”

With that simple word, I felt a wave of peace wash over me. We were no longer two souls wandering through life; we were partners, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead—together.

Chapter Text

A New Purpose

Working for Grizz Co had always been about survival. The adrenaline rush of battling wave after wave of Salmonids kept me on my toes, and the promise of a decent paycheck was enough motivation for most. But since Jun Lin returned, everything had shifted. Grizz Co wasn’t just a job anymore—it was something I loved doing, something that felt like it had a deeper purpose. Knowing she was there, watching over me, gave me strength during every battle.

The work was tough, no doubt about it. Each day was a struggle, but in the back of my mind, I knew that once my shift ended, I would see her waiting for me at the docks or in the med bay. That alone was enough to keep me going. Her presence was like a balm to my soul, soothing every ache and scar I earned from the battlefield. She wasn’t just a doctor; she was my doctor, always there with a smile that could heal even the deepest wounds.

Jun Lin

Jun Lin never fought alongside us in the field, but her role was no less important. The medical bay became a sanctuary for exhausted fighters like me. I’d watch from afar as she diligently tended to the wounded, her light blue ink standing out in the sterile environment, like a beacon of calm in the chaos.

It was hard to believe that someone as fierce as her had saved me not once, but twice. She’d healed my body after the accident and now, in her quiet, steady way, she was healing my heart. We didn’t need words for it. Just seeing her there at the end of the day, bandages in hand, a gentle touch on my shoulder—it was enough.

Sometimes I would catch her glancing at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, her expression soft and full of something I couldn’t quite name. But I knew the feeling well enough. It mirrored what I felt when I saw her—the gratitude, the awe that she had returned.

A New Beginning

Outside of Grizz Co, Jun Lin and I found moments of normalcy in a world that often felt anything but normal. We were both busy—her with her medical work, me with my shifts at Grizz Co—but we made time for each other. Those moments, however brief, felt like the most important part of my day.

We would meet after work, our tiredness evaporating the moment we locked eyes. Some days, we’d grab a coffee at a cozy café hidden in the bustling streets of Splatsville. I loved watching her relax in those moments, her guard down, her laugh light and carefree. We’d sit for hours, talking about anything and everything—catching up on lost time but also creating new memories, brick by brick.

Other nights, we’d catch a movie, something lighthearted to help us escape from the realities of our demanding lives. Sitting next to her in the dim light of the theater, I could forget about Grizz Co, the battles, and even the past. It was just us, navigating this new beginning together.

Haggle Fish Market

But if there was one place that truly became ours, it was the Haggle Fish Market during the Night Market rush. There was something magical about those nights. The air was filled with the scent of freshly grilled seafood, merchants shouting their deals, and the laughter of people enjoying the evening. It was chaotic, yet somehow peaceful when we were together.

We’d wander through the market stalls, shoulders brushing as we walked, our conversations flowing as naturally as the tide. I loved watching her eyes light up whenever we tried something new—a weird fish we couldn’t pronounce, a spicy dish that left us both reaching for water.

The Night Market was where we laughed the most, haggling for deals we didn’t even need, indulging in small joys that felt like treasures. It was where we were free from the responsibilities of our work and the heaviness of our past. These moments were what made everything worthwhile.

The Warrior and the Doctor

I couldn’t help but think about how poetic it all felt—the warrior and the doctor, two sides of the same coin. During the day, I fought the battles at Grizz Co, facing down the dangers of the Salmonids, but at night, it was Jun Lin who fought to heal the wounds left behind.

There was something deeply comforting about the way we balanced each other. She healed the physical, but more than that, she healed something deeper within me—the part that had been aching since the day she left. And though she never said it outright, I could feel that I did the same for her.

These quiet moments, these shared nights at the Haggle Fish Market, the cups of coffee after long shifts, the laughter during movie nights—they were our way of mending, of moving forward. Together, we had built something new, something strong.

I was still the warrior, and she was still the doctor, but now we were more than just those roles. We were partners, navigating a world that had once seemed so full of uncertainty. Now, with her by my side, the path ahead seemed a little clearer, and a lot more hopeful.

Chapter Text

Marooner's Bay

Grizz Co. had its fair share of rough shifts, but nothing compared to the soul-crushing grind of Marooner’s Bay. The rusting shipwrecks, the unrelenting waves of Salmonids, and the constant pressure made it one of the toughest jobs for any Inkling. On this particular shift, everything that could go wrong did. My team was disorganized, the Salmonids were smarter and faster than usual, and my body was running on fumes from the back-to-back shifts. The relentless waves felt like they were drowning me, one after another.

By the end of it, I was barely holding it together. My muscles screamed with exhaustion, and my temper was on edge. My frustration boiled over, and all I could think about was how everything was falling apart. Not just at work—but deep down, I knew it was more than that. It was a reflection of the pressure that had been building inside me for a while.

The Breaking Point

After the shift, I stormed into the locker room, tearing off my gear. My hands shook, not from the exhaustion, but from the rage bubbling just under the surface. I needed space. I needed to cool off. But as I turned the corner, there was Jun Lin, waiting for me like she always did.

She smiled softly, concern in her eyes as she stepped closer. “Jaycee, are you okay? That looked rough out there. I was worried about you…”

Her words were meant to soothe me, but in that moment, it only made me feel more suffocated. I was too caught up in my anger to think straight, too wound up from the disaster at Marooner's Bay.

“I don’t need you worrying about me!” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. Her eyes widened, the warmth in them flickering into uncertainty. I could see the hurt flash across her face, and yet, I couldn’t stop myself. “I just need to be left alone right now.”

She took a step back, her expression faltering. “Jaycee, I’m only trying to help…”

“I don’t need your help!” I shouted. The words were out before I could think. As soon as I saw her flinch, I regretted it. The look on her face—the way she tried to hide her shock, her sadness—cut deeper than any wound I’d ever received in battle. And before I could say anything else, she turned and walked away, her steps quicker than usual.

I stood there, frozen, as her light blue ink shimmered in the distance. I wanted to call after her, but the words wouldn’t come. She was gone before I could take it all back.

Alone Again

As I watched her leave, a sinking feeling clawed at my chest. It was the same emptiness I had felt when she was gone all those years ago. The silence in the hallway was suffocating, the echo of my anger hanging in the air. I had wanted space, but not like this. Not by pushing her away.

The weight of my mistake hit me like a tidal wave, and I cursed myself under my breath. “Why did I do that?” I muttered, pacing the empty room. My thoughts spiraled as the guilt ate at me. I slammed my fist against the wall, my frustration boiling over into rage at myself.

I wanted to go after her, to find her and apologize, but the shame was heavy. I knew I’d hurt her, and I had no idea how to make it right. She didn’t deserve that—she didn’t deserve me losing control like that.

The Darkness Returns

Hours passed, and I searched for her all over the docks, the market, even back at the medical bay, but she was nowhere to be found. Panic started to creep in, and the same dark feeling that haunted me during the years she was gone wrapped itself around my heart again. What if she didn’t come back this time? What if I had pushed her too far?

Memories of those lonely years came flooding back, and with them, a new wave of guilt and self-loathing. I clenched my fists as the fear of losing her overwhelmed me.

I ended up at our usual spot near the Haggle Fish Market, but it was empty—just like I feared. The familiar comfort of the market was overshadowed by the dread building in my chest. My breathing grew ragged, and before I knew it, I collapsed to my knees, the weight of my emotions pulling me down.

I punched the ground in frustration, the pain in my hand nothing compared to the ache in my heart. “Why did I push her away?” I shouted, my voice echoing in the night air. I pounded my fists into the dirt again and again, as if somehow punishing myself would make things right.

But no amount of self-punishment could erase the look of hurt in her eyes. It was my fault. I had let my anger take over, and now, I had to face the possibility that I might lose her all over again.

The Search

I stayed there on the ground for what felt like hours, my fists sore and bruised, my mind racing. The anger that had consumed me earlier was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of regret. I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. I had to find her. I had to make things right.

I stood up, wiping the dirt from my hands, and set off again, determined to find her. My mind replayed the argument over and over, each time making me feel worse. I didn’t know where she had gone, but I couldn’t give up.

I wouldn’t let the darkness take over again. I wouldn’t lose her—not like this.

Chapter Text

The Cold Distance

The next day, I saw Jun Lin again, but everything felt different. The warmth and affection that used to fill her presence were gone, replaced by a quiet, cold distance. She didn’t look at me the same way anymore, and the gap between us seemed insurmountable.

I wasn’t angry now; the fire that once burned inside me had turned to regret, but the damage had already been done. The days she waited for me, with concern and care, felt like a distant memory. Now, she found ways to avoid me, creating an unspoken wall between us.

I tried to speak to her, to close the gap, but every time I reached out, she found some excuse to slip away. Each silent rejection hurt more than any words could, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

Losing Focus

At work, my mind was a storm. The memories of Jun Lin’s hurt face and my own angry words clashed with the tasks at hand, and it was impossible to focus. I pushed myself harder, trying to drown out the intrusive thoughts, but they clung to me, weighing me down.

Our shift that day was on Marooner’s Bay—a brutal location at the best of times, but today it felt worse. My performance was slipping, and my team could sense it. It all came crashing down when we failed the shift, losing badly to the Salmonid horde. My teammates' frustrations were evident, but no one said anything. They didn’t need to—I knew I had let them down.

But more than the failure at work, it was the growing emptiness inside me that weighed on me the most. My thoughts kept circling back to Jun Lin, the hurt I’d caused, and the fear that I was losing her all over again.

The Haunting Doubts

As we sailed back to port, I sat at the stern of the ship, my gaze locked on the horizon. The sea stretched endlessly, its dark waves echoing the turmoil inside me. My mind kept replaying that awful day—the moment I lashed out, and the way Jun Lin flinched, her eyes wide with fear.

I could still hear the echoes of my own voice, twisted and distorted in my head. "You always ruin things, don’t you? Why would she ever forgive you?" The whispers clawed at me, turning regret into a darker force. "She'll never see you the same way again. You're too broken." They taunted me, fueling doubts and fears, convincing me that I had shattered everything beyond repair. It felt like a demon had lodged itself in my thoughts, feeding on my pain and relishing in my despair.

I hadn’t even realized I was crying until I brushed my hand across my cheek and felt the wetness. A few crew members glanced my way, but no one approached. I could hear their murmurs, low but not low enough to escape my hearing.

"That’s him, the half-breed, right?" one whispered.

"Yeah, the Inktoling," another replied, their tone hushed but clear enough to sting. "He’s always been a bit unstable, haven’t you noticed?"

I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore it, but their words slithered into my mind, mixing with the whispers of doubt. "They’ll never accept you. Half-breed. Outcast." It was like my heritage, something I’d always worn with pride, had become a weapon used against me.

I wanted to shout, to scream back at them, to drown out both the whispers in my head and the mutterings of the crew, but I couldn’t. I felt too drained, too hollow. The silence that followed wasn’t comforting; it was suffocating, like everyone had silently agreed that I was the storm waiting to erupt, and no one dared come near.

The Old Sturgeon

As we docked at the port, I stepped off the boat, my head still heavy with all my racing thoughts. That’s when I noticed an old Sturgeon approaching me. His skin was weathered, his face wise and rugged from years spent at sea. His movements were slow but purposeful, and his eyes gleamed with a deep, almost ancient understanding.

“You alright, lad?” he asked in a gruff but gentle voice, his accent thick and comforting in its familiarity. His scaled hands rested at his sides, but the way he carried himself showed experience, like he’d seen plenty of storms in his day.

I glanced at him, feeling the weight of everything still pressing down. "Not really," I muttered, unsure if I wanted to talk.

The Sturgeon didn’t push, just nodded and offered a kind smile. “Name’s Virgil,” he said, introducing himself. “Saw you sittin’ on the boat like a man who’s lost his way. Figured I’d come over. Maybe help.”

For a moment, I didn’t say anything, just staring at the ground. But there was something about Virgil’s presence that felt steady, like an anchor in the chaos swirling inside me.

“Jaycee,” I finally said, offering my name. “It’s… it’s complicated.”

Virgil chuckled softly. “Complicated’s life’s favorite way of testin’ us, I reckon. But I got time, lad. If you wanna talk, I’m here.”

Virgil’s Wisdom

Virgil leaned against a post, watching me with quiet patience. After a while, I opened up, speaking in halting words about Jun Lin. “She’s… special to me,” I said, my voice breaking a little. “But I messed up. Lost control of my anger, scared her away… Now, I don’t know how to fix it.”

Virgil nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Ah, love. It’s a tough current to swim against, ain’t it? But storms pass, even the roughest ones.”

His words felt like a balm, a small spark of hope in the darkness I’d been drowning in.

“Tell ya what,” Virgil said after a moment of silence. “There’s a place I know—a bit of quiet in this noisy world. Maybe it’ll help you clear your head.”

Before I could say anything, Virgil led me back to his boat. He fired up the engine, and soon we were gliding over the water, away from the bustling docks and toward the horizon.

The Cove of Solace

We sailed for a while, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting golden light over the waves. The ride was calm, almost peaceful, as the sound of the water lulled my racing thoughts. Eventually, we reached a secluded cove, hidden away from the rest of the world.

The cliffs rose high around us, their shadows long in the fading light. The water shimmered, catching the last of the sun’s rays, and everything seemed to slow down. I felt like I could finally breathe again.

I stared in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away.

Virgil smiled, his rough features softening. “City life blinds ya to sights like these. But out here? Things slow down. Gives you a chance to see what really matters.”

He anchored the boat at the perfect spot, where the cliffs framed the setting sun, casting the sky in deep shades of orange and purple. The beauty of it was overwhelming, and I felt something inside me shift.

Without warning, the weight of everything—the anger, the regret, the fear of losing Jun Lin—came crashing down. I sank to my knees, overwhelmed by the emotions I had been holding back for so long. I gripped my chest, feeling as if I could barely breathe, as tears fell freely.

Virgil didn’t say anything at first, just knelt down beside me, a comforting hand resting on my shoulder. “Let it all out, son,” he said softly. “You’ve been carryin’ this burden too long.”

I cried, the sobs wracking my body as the sunset bathed us in its warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to feel it all—the hurt, the fear, the love I still had for Jun Lin.

Heading Back

By the time the sun had fully set, and the stars had begun to dot the sky, I felt drained but lighter. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been.

Virgil helped me back to my feet, his eyes full of understanding. “Feelin’ better?”

I wiped at my face and nodded. “Yeah… It still hurts, but not as much as it did before. Thank you, Virgil. I needed this.”

Virgil gave a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling. “Sometimes, all a man needs is a little perspective. Glad I could help, Jaycee.”

We rode back in comfortable silence, the night air cool and refreshing. When we docked back at the port, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude toward the old Sturgeon who had pulled me out of my darkness.

“Thanks again,” I said as I stepped off the boat.

Virgil smiled. “No thanks needed, lad. Life’s full of storms—just gotta help each other through ‘em. I’m just glad I could give ya some peace.”

I nodded, feeling a strange sense of hope rekindle inside me.

As I walked away, Virgil called out after me, “And don’t give up on her. Hearts take time to heal, but they can.”

I smiled to myself, holding onto his words like an anchor. Whatever the future held for me and Jun Lin, I wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

Chapter Text

I had the whole day off, which was perfect. I needed it—to set things right. It had been rough between Jun Lin and me, and I couldn’t let it stay that way. I thought of the perfect plan: a surprise apology, something heartfelt. I asked Kent to help me out.

Jun Lin had been busy recently, inspecting the workers’ living quarters, making sure the tenants were in good health at the end of every shift. That gave me a window. The idea was simple: a cake with “I’m sorry” written on it, a private space in the new Grizz Co living quarters, and a few decorations like candles and streamers for a small party.

The Mess

The first problem hit as soon as I entered the living quarters—trash everywhere. I guess Grizz Co workers weren’t too concerned about hygiene. The place reeked, the smell thick in the air, and trash was stuck to the floor like it had melted into the ground. The heaviness of it all nearly sent me spiraling, but I stopped. I needed to stay calm.

"Just breathe," Kent said beside me, trying to ease my frustration. He could sense my tension rising. We tackled the mess together, though every second felt like the universe was laughing at me.

The Missing Decorations

Then came the second problem: we’d forgotten to buy the decorations. No candles, no streamers. I nearly snapped, but Kent—always the optimist—offered to go back to the city to pick them up.

“Here’s some money. Just hurry,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. While Kent went off, I had another task to handle: the cake.

The Cake

I headed to the Mongers' Cabin, knowing that if anyone could help me with this, it would be Mama Bing. She was an elderly Octoling, sharp as ever despite her age, and the matriarch of the place. Her twin grandsons, Mario and Luigi—one an Inkling and the other an Octoling—had been under her wing for years, learning the trade. They were goofballs but lovable, and though Mama Bing couldn’t handle the oven like she used to, she still had all the know-how and sass to run the kitchen.

"Alright, boys, listen up!" she barked, waving her cane at them as they scrambled to gather ingredients. “Don’t make me regret putting you two in charge! And no fooling around, you hear me?”

Mario and Luigi, grinning ear to ear, saluted her. “Yes, ma’am!” they chorused, clearly enjoying themselves a bit too much for my nerves.

I wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence as I watched them fumble their way through the baking, but Mama Bing’s watchful eye gave me some hope. She might have been sitting in her wheelchair, but she commanded that kitchen like a general on the battlefield.

Everything seemed fine, or so I thought—until I smelled smoke.

My heart leaped into my throat. I bolted into the kitchen with a fire extinguisher, only to find Mario and Luigi running around like headless chickens, waving their arms and shouting, "FIRE! FIRE!"

The oven had caught flame, and Mama Bing, completely unfazed, was barking at them. "Where’s the extinguisher, you fools? Don’t just stand there like clams outta water!"

I managed to put out the fire, my heart racing as I stared at the charred oven. The cake had to be ruined. There was no way it survived. But somehow, by some miracle, it did. It was like the universe threw me a bone for once.

Mario, ever the jokester, pointed at the cake and said, “So… can I have a sample?”

Before I could say anything, Mama Bing’s cane came down on his head. “Not until it’s finished, you squid-brained dingus!” she snapped, her voice as sassy as it was loving.

With Mama Bing overseeing every last detail, Mario and Luigi carefully iced the cake, spelling out "I’m sorry" just like I had asked. It looked perfect. I could finally breathe again.

In my relief, I gave Mama Bing a kiss on the cheek, and she smirked, pretending to shoo me away, though I could tell she was touched. I also hugged Mario and Luigi, nearly crushing Luigi in the process. They both laughed it off like the lovable goofballs they were.

Cake in hand, I headed back to the living quarters, praying that the rest of the plan would go smoother than this.

The Traffic Jam

Kent still hadn’t returned, and then I got a call. “Stuck in traffic, mate,” Kent said. “The universe really is stingy, huh?”

“Just get back soon. As long as the cake is fine, everything will be fine,” I told myself. The pressure was building again. But I kept trying to push through.

The clouds overhead were darkening. No. Not now. I had no time to worry about the weather. Everything would be fine—Jun Lin was almost here.

Section 5: The Collapse The moment Jun Lin arrived, I stepped forward, ready to present the cake to her, my apology on full display. But then the skies opened up, and it rained. Poured, really.

The cake—the last piece of my plan—was ruined.

Everything came crashing down. I couldn’t handle it anymore. The weight of it all broke me. I sank to my knees, feeling utterly defeated. The rain drenched me, but I didn’t care. I could feel Jun Lin stepping back, sensing the darkness, the frustration radiating off me.

But I wasn’t angry, not anymore. I was just... broken.

_____________________________________________________

Jun Lin's Perspective

I watched as Jaycee collapsed before me, and for a moment, I froze. Part of me wanted to step back—the last time he’d let his emotions loose, it scared me. I remember the anger in his voice, how it caught me off guard and left me feeling raw. But this... this wasn’t anger. This was something much deeper. He was crushed, like a weight had broken him down piece by piece until there was nothing left but defeat.

I hesitated, feeling that old fear creep up, but then I took a deep breath and started walking toward him. There was something different in him now, something I hadn’t seen before. The Jaycee who had shouted at me, who had lashed out, wasn’t the one kneeling in the rain before me now. This Jaycee was vulnerable, his tears mixing with the rain. It was like he’d been holding this in for far too long, and now, it was all spilling out.

I knelt beside him, the cold rain soaking through my clothes, and gently touched his shoulder. “Jaycee…” I whispered, my voice soft as the storm around us. My heart, which had felt so heavy before, softened as I looked at him. “When you yelled at me… I was scared. I didn’t understand why you were so upset, and it hurt. I was frustrated, worried, but mostly, I just didn’t know how to help you. So I gave you space, thinking that’s what you needed, but I see now… maybe it only made things worse.”

I glanced around at the soaked decorations, the ruined cake he had worked so hard to prepare. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but smile a little. The effort, the thoughtfulness—it all made my heart ache. “I see what you tried to do here, Jaycee. I know you were trying to make things right, and I appreciate it. I really do. And… I forgive you.”

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desperation. He didn’t say anything, but the way he lifted his arms toward me, like a lost child searching for comfort, broke me. He had been holding all of this pain inside, and now, he was finally asking for help, for someone to just hold him.

Despite the tears welling up in my own eyes, I smiled. “You’re such a big baby,” I teased, though my words were light, playful, filled with affection. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, not wanting to let go, not wanting to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt. The rain poured down around us, but for a moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that we were here, together, and we could finally start to heal.

_____________________________________________________

Mixed Perspectives:

Jaycee sobbed into my arms, his voice breaking as he promised, “I’ll never overreact again, not with you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I held him close, feeling his body tremble as he cried. He had been holding onto so much pain, and now he was letting it all out.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” I whispered, my own tears finally falling. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

Chapter Text

Grizz Co. was calling, but something strange caught my attention on the way. I should've been focused on getting to work, but the streets felt... off. That’s when I saw it. A ripple—a distortion—like the world itself was bending.

What the hell is that?

Before I could react, I was yanked into it, like the world decided to swallow me whole.

UNKNOWN WHITE DIMENSION

I crash-landed on an unfamiliar surface, the thud of my Black Slop Suit echoing around me. My helmet rolled off somewhere. I groaned, my hand rubbing the back of my head.

“Ugh… Where am I?” I muttered, forcing myself to my feet. My vision was a little fuzzy, but when it cleared, all I could see was white. No walls, no sky, no horizon—just an endless, empty void of white. It was unsettling.

“This... has to be a dream,” I said aloud, trying to make sense of the emptiness. That’s when I saw it—another ripple. Something was coming through.

“What the...?”

I instinctively reached for my Splatana Wiper, holding it tight as the ripple twisted and stretched, forming another portal. From the swirling vortex, I could hear a scream, then—

THUD.

Another figure landed heavily on the ground. It wasn’t long before I realized that... it wasn’t just anyone. He groaned, and as he shifted, something metallic rolled towards me—a pen. That’s when I saw his face.

“Who are you?!” I demanded, the wiper raised in front of me. “What are you?!”

He lifted his head and, for the first time, I really saw him. He looked like me. No, scratch that—he was me. Older, though. Bulkier. Wiser, maybe. But unmistakably... me.

"Settle down, boy! No need to be—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening in shock as he saw me. The same shock I was feeling right now.

"No... This... this must be a dream! I’m dreaming! You—you’re..."

"Me," he finished for me.

We stood there in silence, staring at each other like we were staring into some messed-up mirror.

"I’m surprised too," he said, breaking the tension. "Seeing myself—my younger self."

He let out a small laugh, looking me up and down. “Wow. I used to be so fit…”

My mind was racing, trying to process the impossibility of what was happening. “How is this possible?” I said, barely managing to speak. “I can’t meet myself! This is—this is—”

I paused, taking another look at him. “I look so old… and fatter! What’s with the glasses?!”

“Hey, that’s rude!” Older me shot back, adjusting his glasses. “I need these, alright? I’m near-sighted now. And yeah, maybe I’ve been eating a little more than usual, but that’s not the point!”

He rubbed his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “Look, just calm down. I don’t know what’s going on either. The last thing I remember was sitting at my desk, working on some Grizz Co. paperwork, when suddenly—bam—a portal. And now I’m here, talking to... well, you.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Wait. You work for Grizz Co.? And what’s with the suit?”

A smug smile crept onto his face. “Why, yes. I’m a Grizz Co. manager, promoted after five years with the company.”

I felt my stomach sink. Five years... That’s longer than I’ve been at the company.

“No way…”

“Yes way,” he said with a chuckle.

“Five years working, huh?” I scoffed. “If only my life were that easy.”

“Why not? Looks like you’ve been with Grizz Co. too, judging by the suit and the company logo on your vest. How long have you been working there?”

I hesitated. “Seven years.”

His eyes widened. “Seven years and you’re still just an egg collector?!”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?” I shot back, feeling a mix of shame and defensiveness.

He held up his hands. “No, no! It’s just... that’s rough. You’ve been working so hard and getting so little out of it.”

I smirked, trying to hide the hollowness I suddenly felt. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’ve managed to save up a bit.”

“How much?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Two million Squidbucks.”

His jaw dropped. “Two million?! You’re a bloody millionaire! Do you even spend that money?”

“I do,” I said, shrugging. “But not much. After seven years with Grizz Co., I’ve got everything I need.”

But as the words left my mouth, I felt an uncomfortable weight settle in my chest. Sure, I had the money, the gear, and the career... but something was still missing.

Older me raised an eyebrow, noticing the pause. “You sure about that? You sound a little... hesitant.”

I quickly brushed it off. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just... well, I don’t need much, y'know? Grizz Co. keeps me busy.”

But even as I said it, a face flashed in my mind—Jun Lin. I hadn’t thought about her in so long, not since... well, not since things fell apart with Angel Dee. But I pushed the thought away. No point dredging up the past.

He let out a low whistle. “Well, good for you. Do your friends know?”

“No,” I said quickly. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Gotcha,” he replied, raising a finger to his lips with a grin. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

But then I noticed something else—something important. A ring.

“Wait. Is that a ring on your finger?”

He glanced down at his hand and smiled. “Oh, this? Yeah, I’m married.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat. “Married?! Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Angel Dee,” he said casually, as if that were the most normal thing in the world.

I froze. “Angel Dee? No... No way. Angel Dee?!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“No,” I muttered, “it’s just... in my world, we didn’t work out. After we broke up, I... well, it’s a long story.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I hesitated, curiosity gnawing at me. “What’s it like... being married?”

Older me chuckled, a deep, knowing sound that seemed to come from years of experience. “Rough at first, honestly. After we got back together, I had to rebuild everything from scratch. The change was scary... I wasn’t used to having someone else around all the time. My home had been my sanctuary, you know? But suddenly, I had company. And, well... one thing led to another... and now—”

He paused, grinning like he was about to drop a bombshell.

“I’ve got kids.”

“Kids?!” I practically choked on the word, my eyes widening in disbelief. “You—me—have kids?!”

Older me just nodded, looking smug. “Yup. Two of 'em. A boy and a girl. They’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

My face felt hot, and I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. Kids? I hadn’t even thought about having a family, much less kids. And as if on cue, my mind flashed to Jun Lin again. What if... what if things had worked out between us? Would we have kids too? Could I have a life like that?

I opened my mouth to ask more, a thousand questions buzzing in my head, but before I could say anything—

A loud crack filled the air.

The ripple from before was opening up again, larger this time, glowing brightly as the portal reappeared.

Older me glanced at it, his expression shifting. “Looks like my time’s up. This portal... it’s pulling me back.”

“No, wait!” I shouted, stepping forward. “There’s so much more I want to ask!”

But the portal was already pulling at him, the force growing stronger. He grinned at me, despite the situation.

The conversation had been a whirlwind of shared laughter, surprises, and deep reflection. Each of us had lived different lives, with similar challenges and different outcomes. The sense of urgency grew as the portals began to close around us.

“I’ve got to go back,” I said, glancing at the glowing tear in reality.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It was nice meeting you, younger me.”

“You too, older me,” I replied with a tight smile.

He gave me a playful salute, his grin widening. “Give them hell.”

“I will,” I promised.

And just like that, I was pulled back to where I belonged—leaving behind the impossible meeting, the strange white void, and the countless unanswered questions.

YOUNGER JAYCEE'S APARTMENT

I found myself back in my apartment, sitting on my couch, a familiar movie playing on the TV. It was as if I had never left.

What just happened? I glanced at my watch. Everything felt surreal.

“Did I really just meet myself? Or was that all a dream?” My phone rang. It was Kent.

“Kent! It’s been a while! Got something to talk about?”

Chapter Text

The sound of my phone ringing snapped me out of my morning routine, a little too early for anyone to be calling. I squinted at the screen—Jun Lin. I hadn’t spoken to her in a few days, not since the rainy shift where we both got drenched. I answered quickly, a small flutter of excitement mixed with concern in my chest.

“Hey, Jun! What’s up?”

Her voice was soft, weaker than usual, and I could hear the slight rasp in her tone. “Hey, Jaycee... sorry to bother you this early, but... I think I might be getting sick.”

My stomach clenched. “Sick? What happened?”

She chuckled, a sound that came out more like a cough. “Must’ve been that rain... You remember? We were soaked to the bone. I guess my body didn’t handle it too well.”

I felt my heart race. This wasn’t good. “Jun, you shouldn’t have gone out like that! You’re—wait, have you taken any medicine? Are you alone? Is anyone there with you?”

I didn’t even give her a chance to answer. My mind was already jumping to the worst-case scenario. “I’m coming over!”

“Jaycee, wait!” she interjected, laughing weakly through the phone. “I’m okay! It’s just a cold, don’t freak out. You promised not to overreact, remember?”

That stopped me in my tracks. Right. The promise. I had told her I’d try not to hover, try not to be the overprotective guy. But this was different.

I took a breath, forcing myself to calm down. “Right... sorry. It’s just, I didn’t expect this. I don’t like the idea of you being sick by yourself.”

She chuckled again, softer this time. “You’re sweet, but I’m fine. I’ve handled colds before.”

I ran a hand through my hair, still not fully convinced. “I said I’m coming over.”

There was a pause on the other end, then her voice came through again, quieter. “But what about work? I know you have a shift today. Mr. Grizz doesn’t like it when people slack off.”

I scoffed. “Mr. Grizz knows I’m a top worker. I can take some time off—he won’t even care. Plus, I’ve been pulling double shifts for the past two weeks. I deserve a break.”

She sighed, and I could imagine her rolling her eyes on the other end. “You always say that, but remember that one time you disappeared without telling anyone? I thought you got hurt or something.”

I froze. That time. The memory of that moment hit me like a freight train. I’d disappeared because of... well, something I didn’t really want to talk about. Not now. Not with her.

“Yeah... about that...” I muttered, my mind racing for an excuse. “I just... I had to deal with something urgent. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Wasn’t a big deal?” she pressed, not letting it go. “You’re always so secretive about it. What really happened?”

I could feel her eyes on me through the phone. I swallowed, my throat dry. “Look, I’ll explain another time, okay? I’m hanging up now—text me your address.”

Before she could protest, I ended the call, feeling a small pang of guilt. Smooth, Jaycee. Really smooth.

INT. INKOPOLIS TRAIN STATION – MORNING

I stared at the address she’d texted me, reading it over again as I boarded the train.

“Coral Reef Lane, No. 109 - The Seafoam Complex.”

Even her apartment address had a sea life theme to it. I smirked, wondering if she picked it on purpose. The train lurched forward, and I found myself tapping my foot impatiently. The voice in the back of my mind, the one that was always there, whispered doubt into my thoughts.

Strike one. You’re getting in too deep. Why are you even doing this? She’s just a girl. She’s not even interested in you like that.

I clenched my fist. Shut up.

The train sped along the tracks, and I drowned out the noise in my head by focusing on the surroundings. It wasn’t long before I reached my stop, and I quickly navigated my way through the familiar streets of Inkopolis, towards her apartment complex.

EXT. SEAFOAM COMPLEX – LATE MORNING

I stood outside the building, glancing down at my phone again. Coral Reef Lane, No. 109.

“I think this is the place,” I muttered to myself, feeling a nervous twinge in my stomach. Why am I nervous?

I walked up to the door and called out. “Ayo! Ayo, anyone home?” I rang the doorbell for good measure, hearing muffled footsteps on the other side.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled and sickly Jun Lin. Her hair was a mess, her face pale, but she was still... cute. Really cute, despite the situation.

“You look awful,” I said without thinking, quickly regretting it.

She gave me a weak smile, rolling her eyes. “Gee, thanks, Jaycee. You really know how to make a girl feel better.”

“Sorry, I just... you should be in bed. You’re sick, remember?”

She chuckled, her voice raspy. “I know. Come in.”

I hesitated for a moment. This is my first time in her apartment. It felt like a big step, even though we’d been through worse. Why was I so nervous now? She’s a girl... and she’s letting you into her space. Why you, though? Why not someone else?

But I shook off the thoughts and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

INT. JUN LIN'S APARTMENT – LATE MORNING

Her apartment was small but cozy. Everything was neatly organized—books on a shelf, a small table with a single chair, and a few framed pictures on the walls. It felt lived-in, comfortable, nothing like the chaotic mess that was my place. Sure, my apartment was bigger, but it was also, well... a disaster half the time. I cleaned, sometimes.

Jun Lin shuffled back towards her bed, flopping down onto the mattress and wrapping herself in her blanket. She sneezed softly, which, oddly enough, I found kind of cute.

I smiled. “You should be resting.”

She blushed slightly, probably embarrassed by her state, but I quickly added, “Don’t worry about it. You still look great.”

She shot me a look, but I could see the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Thanks, Jaycee. You’re sweet.”

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the air. “So... what can I do while I’m here? How can I help?”

She sighed, snuggling deeper into her blanket. “Well, I’m out of medicine... Could you pick some up for me? The pharmacy is just a block away.”

I nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be right back.”

As I turned to leave, I glanced back at her one last time. She looked so small, so vulnerable under the blanket, but there was a warmth in her smile that made my heart ache just a little. I’ll take care of her.

I arrived at the pharmacy, the neon sign flickering in the morning light. I was hoping to be in and out quickly, but the moment I stepped inside, I saw the problem: the place was packed. The line for the counter stretched toward the back, and it felt like half of Inkopolis had decided to pick up their meds today.

Strike Two.

The voice in the back of my mind stirred. Why are you even here? This is pointless. She can handle herself. She’s not your responsibility.

“Shut up,” I muttered under my breath, barely noticing my words slip. But a few people nearby heard me, and I caught their confused glances. I quickly walked it off, forcing an awkward smile as if nothing had happened. They slowly went back to minding their own business, but I felt the heat rise to my face. Smooth, Jaycee. Real smooth.

I shuffled to the back of the line and the waiting game began. My impatience started kicking in almost immediately. Why is this taking so long? I checked my watch every minute, the seconds dragging on like hours. The voice came back, taunting me again.

Strike Three.

You really think this is worth it? You can’t stand waiting in line, can you? You’re pathetic, always doing things for others when they don’t even ask.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to let it take over. Stay calm. I repeated the mantra in my head, but the itch to leave was growing stronger by the second.

Thirty minutes in, things went from bad to worse. The place had been relatively quiet, save for a few coughs and murmurs, until a kid started causing a ruckus. He must’ve been about six or seven, running around and kicking customers. He was yelling nonsense, throwing things off shelves, and generally being a pain. His mother was nowhere to be seen.

I clenched my fist. Not my problem. Stay out of it. But then the kid crossed the line.

As one customer scolded him, the brat grabbed a book from the shelf and hurled it across the room. I didn’t even see it coming. The book hit the back of my head with a dull thud, and I winced in pain.

That was it. I snapped.

I marched toward the kid, who had been all smug and unruly just a second ago. The second he saw my face, though, his attitude faded fast. I towered over him, glaring down as I clenched my fists by my sides.

“You—” I growled, but stopped myself from screaming. Instead, I deepened my voice, speaking slowly, every word dripping with restrained anger. “Do you think this is funny? Do you think it’s okay to treat people like this?”

The kid cowered, eyes wide, and before he could say anything, he called for his mother.

And just my luck—here she comes. The embodiment of every nightmare customer. She stormed over, her face twisted in outrage.

“Excuse me!” she shrieked. “Are you yelling at my child? How dare you! This is child abuse!”

I wasn’t having any of this nonsense. “Child abuse?” I scoffed, raising my voice. “Lady, your kid just threw a book at my head. If anyone’s causing trouble, it’s him.”

She kept going, shrieking about how I had no right to speak to her son like that. My patience was gone. I raised my voice louder, cutting her off mid-rant. “If you can’t teach your kid how to behave, then maybe someone else should!”

She was stunned. For a second, her mouth hung open, speechless. I had won. But at what cost? I felt like I had lost control of myself. The next thing I knew, I had essentially kicked both her and her kid out of the store. They left, huffing and puffing, but the damage was done.

I could feel eyes on me. The entire pharmacy had been watching, and now they were whispering, murmuring to each other about what had just happened. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the shame creep in. Did I overstep? Did I do the right thing?

I turned to the other customers. “Can we just... forget about this?”

Some of them gave me cold stares before turning away, but a few looked entertained. One guy even gave me a thumbs up. At least not everyone was judging me. Finally, after what felt like hours, it was my turn at the counter.

I ordered the medicine and left the store as quickly as I could. The moment I stepped outside, I felt a sense of urgency hit me. Jun Lin wasn’t feeling good. I needed to get back to her.

But before I could even start walking, I heard that familiar screech. The Karen from earlier came marching toward me, fury in her eyes. “You think you can just get away with this?” she spat. “I’ll have your job for this!”

I was unphased, already annoyed beyond belief. I shot her a hard glare, and she stopped in her tracks, momentarily stunned. “I don’t have time for this,” I said calmly, but with enough force to shut her up.

She stepped back but didn’t back down completely. “You’ll regret this! I’ll make sure of it!”

I was about to fight back, my anger rising again, but the voice in my head—the inner demon—was egging me on. Do it. Let her have it. You deserve it. She deserves it.

I clenched my fists, feeling the urge to give in, but I took a deep breath and snapped myself out of it. No. This wasn’t worth it.

“I’m done with you,” I said, my voice steady, as I turned to walk away.

She continued shouting insults at my back, but I ignored her. Jun Lin was waiting. That was the only thing that mattered now.

I started running, my instincts screaming that something was wrong. The urgency of Jun Lin’s condition was gnawing at me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to get back to her as fast as possible. My heart pounded in sync with my feet, each step quicker than the last.

As I rounded the corner, I collided hard with something—or rather, someone.

I groaned, rubbing my shoulder as I realized I had knocked over an old jellyfish lady, her groceries scattered all over the sidewalk. "Oh no... I’m so sorry!" I frantically apologized, scrambling to my feet and helping pick up the mess I’d made. Cans rolled across the pavement, and I hastily gathered them up, checking to make sure she was alright.

The demon’s voice slithered into my mind. Another mistake. Look at you—always screwing things up. You can’t even run without causing a mess.

I ignored it, pushing the thoughts aside. The old jellyfish lady, despite the chaos, was surprisingly sweet. She waved her tentacle-like arms in a calming gesture and, speaking in that funny, bubbly language the jellyfish use, she accepted my apology. Her voice was high-pitched and melodic, full of kindness. It almost made me forget my urgency for a second.

I noticed she was struggling with the rest of her groceries, and against the inner demon’s whispers—You’re wasting time, side-tracking like an idiot—I offered to help carry her bags.

The demon taunted me again, but this time I couldn’t help but scoff under my breath. “Shut up,” I muttered, almost making a scene in front of the old lady. Thankfully, she didn’t notice.

“Where do you live?” I asked politely, hoping to get her bags back to her quickly.

“Oh, I live just at the complex up the road,” she said, and my heart skipped a beat. “One of the tenants there, poor girl, isn’t feeling well. Thought I’d make some soup for her.”

I paused for a moment. But I brushed off the coincidence, not realizing that she was talking about Jun Lin herself. I was too focused on getting her home quickly.

“Oh, you know Jun Lin?” I asked, trying to mask my surprise.

The jellyfish giggled, her head bobbing in her species' usual manner. “Such a sweet girl. Hard to miss her.”

I smiled awkwardly, my mind half-focused on the conversation, half on Jun Lin. We eventually reached her apartment complex, the very complex that Jun Lin was living in. I helped bring the groceries inside into the old lady’s room, and the old jellyfish thanked me again, her bubbly voice warm with gratitude.

I noticed something odd—the groceries were clearly meant for soup, but there was far too much for one person. Was she expecting someone to share it with?

I shrugged off the thought and hurried to Jun Lin’s apartment, but when I opened the door, my heart dropped.

Jun Lin was collapsed on the floor.

“Jun Lin!” I shouted, rushing to her side. My mind raced as I knelt next to her, checking if she was conscious. She weakly looked up at me, her voice soft and fragile. “I-I just wanted some water,” she said, forcing a little smile, though her voice was barely a whisper. “Guess my body gave up on me for a moment…”

Her forehead was burning up—like I could grill something on it. I tried to joke, but the seriousness of her condition hit me hard. She’s getting worse.

Without thinking, I scooped her up in my arms. She blushed as I gently placed her back on her bed. “You need to rest,” I said, trying to sound calm, but there was a nervous edge to my voice.

She wanted to talk, but I shushed her softly. “I’ll handle everything. Just relax.”

I quickly got to work, grabbing a bowl of cold water and a towel to help with her fever. I also prepared some lukewarm water for her to drink, knowing it would help keep her hydrated. As I placed the towel on her forehead, she smiled weakly.

“You’d make a great nurse,” she teased, her voice barely a murmur. “How do you know how to do all this?”

I hesitated, but then replied, “I have siblings. When Mom and Dad weren’t around, I was the one who took care of them.” I tried to keep my voice light, but the memory made me pause.

Jun Lin’s smile softened. “I’d love to meet them one day…”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and quickly changed the subject. “How about that water?” Just as I said that, the kettle beeped. I went to pour her a cup, but as I fumbled with the mug, it slipped from my hands, crashing to the floor. Water splashed everywhere.

I clenched my fists, hating myself for the mistake. Pathetic. The demon’s voice was relentless.

I was about to curse when I noticed Jun Lin stirring, trying to sit up to see what had happened. “It’s fine!” I quickly reassured her. “I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.”

She looked at me with concern. “Are you sure? You seem... pressured.”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine.” But the truth was, the demon was gnawing at me, pushing me to snap.

I cleaned up the mess quickly and brought her the water she needed, along with the medicine for her cold. “Rest now,” I said, but my voice came out colder than I intended. Jun Lin, though, understood my worry. She could always read me better than I could myself.

“I’ll be here when you need me,” I added, trying to soften my tone. She gave me a small, sweet smile and whispered, “I love you.”

Her words hit me hard, and I blushed, my thoughts racing back to what the older version of me had said about marriage. I shook those thoughts away, but Jun Lin noticed.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Nothing,” I lied, but then, looking into her eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. “I love you too.

I sat down in the small chair next to Jun Lin’s bed, pulling out my phone to kill some time. She had finally drifted off to sleep, her breathing slow and steady now. Hours had passed, and between checking on her and making sure she took her medicine on time, I felt like a caretaker on a clock.

She stirred a little when I gave her the last dose. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled faintly. “You’re really sharp with the timing,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse but filled with warmth.

I grinned. “Salmon Run teaches you to hit your mark on time. Chaos or not, you gotta meet that quota.”

She chuckled softly but suddenly tensed, her face scrunching up. “I—ahh... achoo!”

I handed her a tissue, laughing. “Bless you. Here, take it easy.” I gently laid her back down as she wiped her nose.

There was a soft moment of silence before she spoke again. “Jaycee... I’m really glad I met you.”

Her words caught me off guard. My heart did a little flip, and I felt a wave of warmth crawl up my neck.

“There’s just... something about you,” she continued, her eyes half-closed but still shining with something that made me feel a little lighter, “something no one else sees.”

She gave me a teasing smile, her expression soft despite the fever. I was flustered, but I tried to play it cool. “You jokester. You should really get some sleep.”

She chuckled weakly, and I adjusted her blanket, making sure she was comfortable. Just as I thought she was about to doze off again, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find the old jellyfish lady from earlier standing there, holding a pot of soup in her wobbling hands.

“You again!” I exclaimed, surprised to see her.

“I brought soup for the young lady,” she said in her funny, bubbly voice, jiggling her head as she smiled. “Good for her, especially in her condition.”

I took the pot from her and motioned for her to come in. “Wait a second…” I asked, putting two and two together.

The old jellyfish nodded, beaming proudly. “Yes, I’m landlady here. I live down hall, Over there”

“Wow, small world,” I said, still a bit stunned.

Jun Lin, despite looking exhausted, smiled at the old jellyfish and accepted the soup gratefully. They exchanged a few words, and I noticed Jun Lin’s cheeks suddenly turning a bright pink when the old jellyfish asked her something. Whatever it was, she shot a quick glance at me before pulling the blanket over her face.

The old jellyfish giggled, and I rolled my eyes playfully, trying to shake off the growing curiosity in the back of my mind.

“Soup’s good for you too, boy,” the old jellyfish said, turning to me. “Symbol of gratitude.”

Chapter Text

The train station was busier than usual. I stood near the platform, my back resting against one of the pillars, scanning the crowd for Jun Lin—or Bluey, as I’ve started calling her. It was early, and I half-expected her to be late, but then I spotted that familiar light blue ink weaving through the crowd.

“Thought you’d be better with time management by now, Bluey,” I teased as she approached.

She shot back a grin. “And here I thought you’d come up with better jokes. Guess I was wrong.”

We bantered back and forth as we made our way onto the train, settling into seats by the window. The ride to Grizz Co was going to take a while, and I could already feel the subtle rocking of the train pulling at my eyelids. The gentle hum of the engine and the peaceful atmosphere made it hard to stay awake. But I fought it. I always did.

Bluey, on the other hand, wasn’t as strong-willed. I glanced over just in time to see her head start to nod forward, then sideways, before eventually landing on my shoulder. I froze for a moment, then sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Her new nickname suited her more and more each day—reckless, carefree, and somehow always finding a way to make herself comfortable.

I should’ve been annoyed. But instead, I found myself easing into the moment, letting her use me as a pillow while I fought off my own drowsiness. Eventually, I gave in, closing my eyes but staying alert to the sounds around me.

Whispers filled the train. People chatting about the usual things—work, plans, the weather. But then I heard something that made my ears perk up.

"Did you hear about the strange cloud formations?" one voice said, a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Yeah, some kind of ring-shaped pattern. They say it's a good omen," another replied.

A good omen. I doubted that. The idea of it sat wrong in my gut. My grandfather’s voice echoed in the back of my mind, from stories long forgotten, about the Tides of Darkness. Stories he’d told me when I was younger, about storms that didn’t just bring rain, but something far worse. Something tied to the tides.

I leaned my head back, letting the memory wash over me as the train’s gentle swaying lulled me into a dream.

I was back at the shore. The sound of waves crashing was louder than ever, but the water wasn’t normal. It was dark, filled with the shapes of things lurking just beneath the surface. And then they emerged—Salmonid bosses, with their grotesque machinery, their roars deafening. I could see them, feel the weight of their presence, the dread building in my chest as they swarmed toward me.

Suddenly, my dream twisted, the sky darkening as a monstrous voice echoed in the distance, taunting me, promising an apocalypse. Jun Lin… I reached out, but she was gone. The water began to rise, pulling me under—

I woke up with a gasp, my heart racing, the nightmare still clinging to my mind like seaweed.

“Hey, you okay?” Jun Lin’s voice pulled me back to reality. She was still leaning on my shoulder but had clearly noticed my sudden discomfort. Her eyes were full of concern, despite the sleepiness still clinging to her expression.

I shook my head, trying to clear the lingering unease. “Just a nightmare.”

She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming. “Really? Was it a dream or a nightmare?”

I chuckled, the sound hollow as I tried to push the images away. “Definitely a nightmare, Bluey.”

She laughed, though I could tell she knew there was more to it. But I wasn’t about to tell her about the dark tides or the apocalypse I felt brewing. Some things were better left unsaid, especially now.

The train continued on its way, but my mind was still stuck on that strange weather report. Those clouds weren’t a good sign—no matter what anyone said. I just hoped I was wrong.

We arrived at Grizz Co. The familiar hum of activity greeted us as workers bustled around, preparing for another long shift. Jun Lin—no, Bluey—looked up at me, her light blue ink shimmering under the overhead lights. She gave me a warm smile, one that made my chest tighten just a bit, and leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Stay safe out there, okay?” she said softly, her playful tone barely masking the genuine care behind her words.

I felt her short arm against mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You know me,” I said, flashing a grin. “Danger’s my middle name.”

She let out a soft chuckle, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get splatted trying to show off.” With a final wink, she turned and headed toward her station.

I watched her go for a moment, feeling the warmth of her kiss linger, then made my way down to the docks. Captain Virgil was already waiting, the old Sturgeon puffing out his chest as he leaned against his boat, a grin spread wide across his wrinkled face.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite coworker!” Virgil greeted me in his thick, familiar accent, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “How’s things with you and the lil’ blue lass, eh?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You always get right to it, don’t you, Cap?” I glanced back toward where Bluey had disappeared and smiled. “Things are… good. Real good.”

Virgil let out a hearty laugh, patting my back with a strength that belied his old age. “Atta boy! It’s a good thing, lad. Keep that fire burnin’, and it’ll get you through all sorts of storms.”

I started to respond but stopped, my gaze drifting upward. The skies above us were darker than usual, heavy with clouds that didn’t belong. There, faintly visible between the layers of gray, were seven smoke rings, slowly twisting and expanding above the horizon.

My stomach dropped. The omen. It was just like the stories my grandfather had told me when I was younger—about the Tides of Darkness and the disasters that followed them.

Virgil’s laughter faded as he noticed my expression. His eyes followed my gaze, and the moment he saw the smoke rings, his jovial mood shifted to something more serious.

“Lad,” he muttered, his voice low, “you seein’ what I’m seein’?”

I nodded, feeling a cold dread settle in my gut. “It’s the same as the stories. The omens. The first sign.”

Virgil took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he studied the sky. “Aye… I’ve seen this before, back in my younger days. Wasn’t good then, and it sure as ink won’t be good now.” He glanced at me, his voice softening. “You think it’s really happenin’? That we’re on the edge of somethin’ big?”

I hesitated, but deep down, I knew the answer. “Yeah. I do.”

For the first time since I’d known him, Virgil’s confident grin faltered. He looked at me with a gravity I hadn’t seen before. “Listen, lad. I don’t know what’s comin’, but Grizz Co’s been through its fair share of storms. We’ll be ready for this one too, no matter what it brings.”

I wanted to believe him, but the question still lingered at the back of my mind. When will it happen? The omen wasn’t just a warning—it was a countdown.

Virgil seemed to sense my unease. “Don’t let it gnaw at you, son. Whatever’s comin’, we can’t worry about it now. Right now, all that matters is gettin’ a crew together and headin’ out. We’ll face whatever comes, when it comes.”

I nodded, trying to shake off the heavy feeling. He was right. There was no use dwelling on the future when there was work to do. We had a job, and the sea didn’t care about omens or nightmares. All that mattered now was getting through the shift.

But as we prepared to head out, I couldn’t help but glance back at the sky one last time. Those smoke rings, circling ominously in the distance, felt like they were counting down to something much larger than any of us were ready for.

And deep down, I knew that when the time came, none of us would be the same.

Chapter Text

Morning had come again, the usual hum of the city felt different, but I couldn’t place why. Maybe it was the air, or maybe it was the second smoke ring now looming in the sky, blending into the horizon like an omen no one else could see. My stomach churned with unease.

Bluey—Jun Lin—hadn't noticed it, or maybe she just didn’t care. She always had this carefree nature about her, something I admired but couldn’t understand. Still, she made things seem less threatening, like nothing bad could happen when she was around. But as much as I wanted to believe that, I knew better.

I rummaged through my dorm, tearing through piles of stuff, searching for something. "Where is it? Where is it?" I muttered to myself, frustration growing with every second. Until finally, I found it. A thick, dusty book—The Salmon Run Bible—with an old letter tucked inside. My hands trembled as I carefully unfolded the letter, the ink still as clear as the day it was written. It was from my grandfather—Romualdo Roho.

“To my Grandson.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t opened this letter since his passing. I didn’t want to, not now, not ever. Memories of the day I lost him came rushing back, almost paralyzing me. I hesitated, my hand trembling as I placed the letter aside for now. I couldn’t do it.

But the book... that was something else. If anyone knew about the omens, it would be my grandfather, and maybe this book would hold the answers I needed. I opened it, expecting a blank page.

Instead, I was met with an eerie illustration. The image was chilling: smoke rising from the sky, and two figures, their faces twisted in fear, running from an unknown disaster. The text beneath it made my blood run cold:

"When smoke rises from the seven rings, the pinkfish will emerge from the sea, devouring all the creatures of the land." — The Book of Madai, Chapter 10, Verse 10.

I froze, feeling the weight of those words hit me like a punch to the gut. I’d heard of this prophecy before, but seeing it like this, etched into the pages of this book, with the smoke rings already forming... It wasn’t just a myth. This was real.

I slammed the book shut, the sound startling me as if I'd just heard the crack of thunder. My heart pounded against my ribs, and I instinctively shoved the old tome away, as though hiding it might make the prophecy go away with it. The image of the smoke rings and the haunting words... they were burned into my mind now.

"The pinkfish will emerge from the sea, devouring all the creatures of the land."

No. I didn’t want to know more. I didn’t want to dig deeper into something I couldn’t explain, something I didn’t want to believe. Whatever this omen was—whatever was coming—I had no part in it. I couldn’t. That was what I told myself, at least.

But as I tried to bury the book under piles of random belongings, hoping to forget what I’d just read, something inside me gnawed at my gut. A whisper in the back of my mind, small but relentless. What if I needed it? What if the book held answers I couldn't ignore? I shook my head, trying to shove the thought away along with the book.

I slumped down on the floor, staring at the disheveled mess of my dorm. I wanted to forget, but the smoke rings were still in the sky, the second one almost complete. What if more were coming? And what if this was just the beginning?

I ran a hand through my hair, breathing heavily. No, I wasn’t ready to confront any of this. Not now. Not when I didn’t even understand it.

But as much as I wanted to deny it, a part of me—deep down—knew that this wouldn’t just go away. The fear remained, gnawing at me. And the book… it was just a matter of time before I’d have to open it again.

As I sat there, trying to steady my breath, a familiar darkness crept into the edges of my mind—the same one that had haunted my dreams before. It slithered in, wrapping itself around my thoughts like a snake coiling around its prey.

"Running away again, Jaycee?"

The voice echoed from the recesses of my mind, cold and mocking. I clenched my fists, but there was nothing to punch, no way to fight back against something that lived inside me.

"You think hiding that book will make it all disappear? The truth, the prophecy... it's all written in the ink of your fate."

I shook my head, but the voice only grew louder.

"Weak. Always denying what’s right in front of you. Your grandfather saw it, didn’t he? He warned you... but you chose to forget."

I gritted my teeth, my heart pounding. The weight of my fear pressed down on me, threatening to crush what little resolve I had left.

"Pathetic. You pretend to be strong, to protect others, but you're just a scared little Inktoling running from the inevitable. Those smoke rings in the sky? They’re coming for you. And when the pinkfish rise, you’ll be powerless to stop it."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. The words felt like poison, slowly seeping into my bones. I tried to drown out the voice, tried to think of anything else—Bluey, the shifts at Grizz Co., the laughs we shared—but the darkness was relentless.

"You feel it, don’t you? That gnawing fear. The same fear your grandfather had. He saw the signs, and now so do you. But you're too weak to face it. You’ll let them all down. You’ll let her down."

“Shut up…” I whispered, my voice barely audible, trembling. But the voice, my inner demon, only chuckled, a low, sinister sound that rattled through me.

"You can’t escape what’s coming. No one can. Not even her."

The mention of Jun Lin—Bluey—made something inside me snap. I shot up to my feet, my breath ragged. “Enough!”

The voice faded, but its presence still lingered, like a shadow that refused to leave. I stood there, fists clenched, staring at the mess in my room, the book barely visible under the pile of belongings.

I didn’t want to admit it, but the voice wasn’t wrong. There was a part of me that was terrified. Terrified of what I might find in that book. Terrified of what the smoke rings meant. And most of all, terrified that when the time came, I wouldn’t be able to protect the people I cared about.

I looked at the book again, my pulse still racing. I wasn’t ready to open it… not yet. But the truth was out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to confront it.

And no matter how much I wanted to run from it, I knew—deep down—that I couldn’t hide forever.

Chapter Text

Jaycee's Perspective

The second ring had already formed in the sky, a ghostly halo of smoke that no one seemed to notice—at least, no one my age. The city buzzed with its usual energy: Inkling and Octoling kids playing Turf Wars, crowds rushing from one place to another, the endless hum of Splatsville. But there were whispers among the older folk. The ones who'd been around longer, the ones who remembered things. The elderly fishmen with their weathered scales and faded ink, the few remaining old-timers who had seen the rise of Salmonid incursions before.

They knew.

And yet, the younger generation, including me, seemed indifferent. Maybe they had chosen to ignore it. Or maybe they truly didn’t understand. The sky was just a canvas, and they weren’t ready to see the warning signs painted there.

I wasn’t sure why, but it gnawed at me—their indifference, their laughter in the streets while that ominous second ring hung over us. The air felt heavier, like a storm was brewing just beneath the surface of reality, waiting to strike. But no one else seemed to care.

No one except the older generation—and me.

Jun Lin's Perspective

We sat together at the café, the place where we’d met countless times before. The smell of coffee and baked treats hung in the air, but something felt different today. I watched Jaycee—or Cyan, as I’d begun calling him—stare blankly at the untouched cup in front of him. His eyes were lost in the distance, as if the world beyond the café window was more real to him than the table we were sitting at.

“Cyan,” I called out gently, teasingly, the way I always did when he was in one of his moods.

No response.

I frowned and leaned in, reaching out to touch his arm. “Jaycee,” I whispered, this time using his real name, my voice soft. The touch seemed to pull him out of wherever he’d gone. He blinked, looked at me, his gaze finally focusing.

“You alright?” I asked, my concern growing. There was something different about him lately, a shadow that seemed to follow him wherever he went. I had seen it before, during those tough shifts at Grizz Co., but now… it felt deeper.

He didn’t answer right away, just stared at me with those eyes, dark and unreadable. “Jun Lin… do you ever think about the future?” he asked, his voice quiet but loaded with something I couldn’t quite place. Worry, maybe? Or fear?

“The future?” I tilted my head. “Yeah, sure. Why? What’s on your mind?”

He let out a soft chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t know... sometimes I wonder if everything's just gonna fall apart. Like... there's something big coming, and I don’t know if I can stop it.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I forced a smile, trying to keep things light. “Come on, Cyan, you’re always worrying about something. It’s probably nothing. You’ve always got a way of handling things, right?” I teased, hoping to lift his spirits.

He chuckled again, but this time it was more bitter, more real. “Yeah… maybe.”

I hated seeing him like this. The Jaycee I knew—he was strong, always the one to jump in first, the one to laugh at danger. But now, he seemed… fragile, like something was eating away at him. I reached out and placed my hand over his. “It’s gonna be okay. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

He nodded, but I could tell my words didn’t reach him the way I’d hoped. He was here, but his mind was still far away, still tangled in the storm brewing inside him. And as much as I wanted to help, I couldn’t shake the fear that he was slipping back into that darkness—the same one that had nearly consumed him before.

I knew the monster he could become.

And I wasn’t sure I could stop him if it happened again

Jaycee's Perspective

The Call...

The soft murmur of the café was interrupted by the shrill ring of my phone. I glanced down, half-expecting it to be Kent, that overly cheerful guy who never seemed to know when to back off. But as I picked up the call, the name on the screen sent a chill down my spine: Diego.

The mere sound of his name ignited a furious blaze within me, anger coursing through my veins like molten lava. My inner demon thrived on the hate, relishing the moment as I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Jaycee!” His voice burst through, cheerful and slightly awkward, as if he’d just woken up from a long nap. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in years—a voice I’d never wanted to hear again.

“Diego,” I said coolly, forcing the name out as if it were poison.

He launched into a series of questions, trying to reconnect, to catch up, as if we were old friends. I answered his queries with short, clipped responses, a wall of ice between us. But when he mentioned a family reunion at the Barnacle & Dime mall, something snapped inside me.

“Oh, that sounds great! You should come!” he said, the excitement in his voice a stark contrast to my growing fury.

I felt the storm inside me swell, the emotions boiling over. Before I could stop myself, my hand slammed down on the table, startling Jun Lin beside me. “Goodbye, Diego!” I spat, cutting the call before he could respond.

“What was that about?” Jun Lin scolded, concern etched on her face. But as she looked into my eyes, her expression shifted. She could see the pain lurking beneath the surface.

“It was… my brother,” I admitted, the weight of the words feeling heavy on my tongue.

“Your brother?” she echoed, her curiosity piqued. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, struggling to find the words to unravel the tangled history. “I’m the older one, but Diego was always our parents' favorite. He was the golden child—smart, talented. I was just the one who took care of him, pulled him out of trouble. And then… he betrayed me.”

I could see the confusion in her eyes, but I pressed on, my voice thick with emotion. “One day, he came to me, asking for money from our parents’ safe. He claimed it was for a project, and I foolishly trusted him. I knew the code, so I took some cash and handed it over.”

I felt the anger rising again, and I had to pause. “But he didn’t use it for a project. He spent it all on his so-called friends—just a bunch of punks! Lil Brats, I called them. When I found out, I confronted him, and he turned it all around on me.”

The memories flooded back—Diego’s evil grin, the way he’d snitched on me, twisting the truth until it was unrecognizable. “I was accused of theft and disowned by our family. I was banished from our home, just like that.”

I swallowed hard, the bitterness threatening to choke me. “And what made it worse? Diego became rich and influential, giving speeches about family and success while hiding the truth about how he got there.”

Jun Lin’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, and she opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “And now, this betrayer has the audacity to invite me to a family reunion? The rage… I can feel it boiling inside me, and my inner demon is encouraging it.”

“Jaycee,” she said gently, her voice like a soft breeze cutting through the storm. “If you can’t stand your brother, why not just not attend?”

“Honor-bound,” I replied, my voice heavy with the weight of obligation. “I promised my little sister I’d always be there for family.”

“Wait, you have a sister? How many—” She began, her curiosity bubbling to the surface, but then her eyes widened as she realized the question was off-topic.

“Let’s just say she’s important to me,” I said, brushing past it. “Then let me come with you. I’ll be there to support you.”

I shook my head, instinctively pushing back against her offer. “I can’t. I don’t want you to deal with that.”

“Too bad! I’m going, whether you like it or not,” she insisted, her determination unwavering.

I sighed, realizing I wouldn’t win this argument. “Fine. You can come.”

“Great! I promise it’ll be okay,” she reassured me, a smile breaking through my gloom.

I wanted to believe her, but doubt lingered in my mind. Would I really be able to face him? The inner demon inside me stirred, whispering doubts and fears. But with Jun Lin by my side, maybe—just maybe—I could confront the past without losing myself again.

The Next Day...

The next day, Jun Lin and I arrived at the mall, the bustling atmosphere buzzing with activity. As we approached the restaurant, I felt a knot tightening in my stomach. The venue was extravagant—a far cry from the casual spots I preferred.

Jun Lin’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Wow, it’s rare for me to come to a place like this!”

“Too fancy…” I muttered, a hint of spite creeping into my voice.

“Jaycee, can you please try to be a little more positive?” she chided gently, her tone laced with concern. “We’re here to support family, remember?”

With a reluctant nod, we stepped inside the restaurant. The sheer size of the place was overwhelming; a sprawling buffet showcased every kind of exotic seafood imaginable. My nose wrinkled at the scent—a mix of rich flavors that only made me feel more out of place.

A cheerful waiter approached us, her voice bright as she greeted us. “Welcome to Sea Kings! Table for two?”

I responded politely yet coldly, “No, thank you.” I hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but the words slipped out before I could soften them. The waiter’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure.

“Are you here for someone?” she asked, curiosity etched on her face.

“Diego,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with resentment.

Recognition dawned on her. “Oh! You must be one of Mr. Habuno’s guests! Right this way!” She gestured for us to follow her, and I could feel my heart racing as I scanned the restaurant, my anxiety bubbling to the surface. Too bright, too many people, I mumbled to myself.

“Calm down, Jaycee,” Jun Lin scolded softly, sensing my discomfort. “You’re going to be okay.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as we walked deeper into the restaurant. With each step, the noise of laughter and clinking glasses felt like it was closing in on me, and I fought the urge to turn back. But Jun Lin's reassuring presence beside me kept me grounded, reminding me why we were here.

Together, we followed the waiter through the crowd, headed toward whatever fate awaited us in this opulent space.

And there they were. Diego stood at the center of the gathering, flanked by my other brother, Ko-kow, and my sister, Neon. The moment Neon spotted me, her face lit up with joy. She ran toward me and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.

“I missed you so much, Jaycee! It’s been too long!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth.

I felt her love enveloping me, but instead of warmth, a chill ran through my body. I didn’t reciprocate her embrace; I simply stood there, tense and unyielding.

As Neon stepped back, her gaze landed on Jun Lin, and she tilted her head in curiosity. “And who is this?”

When Jun Lin began to introduce herself, Neon’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! You’re Jaycee’s girlfriend!” She greeted her cheerfully, her enthusiasm infectious as she led Jun Lin toward the table.

Ko-kow greeted me next, his demeanor relaxed and emotionally subdued compared to Neon’s exuberance. He was the chill brother—no problems, no troubles, just a sense of calm that stood in stark contrast to the tension in my chest. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that his allegiance lay with Diego.

Then there was Diego. He stood up and wrapped me in a warm hug, one that I did not return. Instead, I clenched my arms to my sides, fighting the storm of emotions swirling within me.

“Hey, Jaycee! It’s been a while! How have you been?” Diego began, his voice cheerful but awkward, the atmosphere around us thick with tension. I stared coldly at him, my silence making him fidget.

Jun Lin nudged me gently, urging me to respond. “I’ve been… okay,” I replied reluctantly, my tone clipped.

Diego, sensing the awkwardness, offered us seats at the table. As I scanned the arrangement, I noticed one seat was directly next to him, and the other was one away.

Jun Lin, eager to sit beside Diego, moved toward the seat, but suspicion flared within me. I quickly claimed the spot next to him, coldly glaring at my brother. He gulped nervously under my gaze, fully aware of the tension.

“Anyway, I’m so happy to see everyone again,” Diego continued, attempting to break the ice. “Especially you, Jaycee, and your new girlfriend.”

I scoffed quietly under my breath, and Jun Lin shot me a disapproving look.

Diego launched into his speech, proudly mentioning Neon’s success in opening her bakery, “Neon’s Wings.” “She serves the most delicious sweet treats,” he proclaimed. “I helped her establish it, and she promised to make me a cake for my next birthday!”

He then turned to Ko-kow, who had become a professional battler and captain of his own team, the Splat Devils, at Inkopolis. Diego wished him good fortune for their upcoming tournament, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness.

As Diego continued to boast about their achievements, I felt my insides twist with resentment. “Wow, look at them, all achieving so much and basking in glory,” I thought bitterly. I was just a worker at Grizzco, doing low-wage jobs, dismissing everything I had accomplished in life.

Diego’s self-praise as a successful businessman and influencer only fueled my anger. I scoffed again, but no one seemed to hear, especially Jun Lin, who was focused on Diego’s words. I felt my rage boiling beneath the surface as I listened to his inflated ego, sensing my sister’s quiet grunts of annoyance at Diego’s braggadocio.

Then Diego awkwardly turned to me, launching into light-hearted jabs about our childhood. “Ah, Jaycee, my older brother! Always the rude one, but you know you looked out for me. Who else would have my back when I needed help sneaking out of the house?”

“Yeah, well, someone had to keep you from getting caught,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended. “You always seemed to drag me into your messes.”

Diego chuckled, but his laughter faltered as he continued. “And you were always the angry one! Remember that time I borrowed your gaming console without asking? You nearly exploded!”

“Because you never returned it,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You kept it for weeks while I was stuck playing on my old system.”

“Yeah, but you ended up forgiving me. You always did,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s what makes you a great brother, Jaycee. You’re tough but always come around in the end.”

I could feel the anger boiling beneath the surface. “Forgiving? You make it sound so simple,” I said, my voice low and strained. “It’s easy to forgive when you haven’t been betrayed.”

The atmosphere thickened as I locked eyes with Diego, who opened his mouth but faltered, clearly not prepared for my honesty.

The word "forgiving" struck a nerve, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. In a burst of frustration, I slammed my hands down on the table, startling everyone around us, including the unsuspecting establishment. The noise echoed through the restaurant, plunging us into an awkward silence.

I felt the weight of their stares, my heart pounding as I braced myself for whatever would come next.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. “You think you can just waltz back into my life after everything you did?” I spat, my voice rising. “You ruined me, Diego! I was the one who took the fall for your lies, and you—” I jabbed a finger at him, feeling the heat of rage boil inside me. “You’re up there playing the perfect son, living the life I could only dream of! All I have is Grizz Co. and a paycheck that barely keeps me afloat!”

Diego's expression faltered, and I could see him tremble at my words. Jun Lin was next to me, trying to calm the storm brewing inside, but I was too far gone. “And you, Neon! Ko-Kow! Where were you when I needed you most?” I shouted, eyes darting between them. “I protected you both, but when the time came for you to stand up, you turned your backs!”

As the silence hung in the air, the crowd around us began to stare, whispers flickering like shadows. The inner demon inside me stirred, feeding off the tension. Neon’s eyes glistened with tears as she finally spoke. “What Diego did was unforgivable, Jaycee. Mom and Dad found out the truth, you know? It was almost as bad for him!” She broke down, her sobs echoing my own pain. “I failed you as a sister, even after all you’ve done for me.”

Ko-Kow stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. I could sense his fear and reluctance to show any vulnerability, and it infuriated me further. “You think I owe you anything?” I snapped at him. “You just stood by while I fell apart!”

At that moment, Ko-Kow snapped back, emotions spilling over as he shouted, “You think it was easy for me? You were always the favorite, the one everyone looked up to! I was just... there!” The reunion spiraled into chaos as Diego and Jun Lin desperately tried to mediate.

“Jaycee, I’m sorry!” Diego reached for me, his voice shaky as he attempted to apologize, but something inside me broke. Before I could process my actions, my fist connected with Diego's jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. Gasps filled the restaurant, and for a moment, the world fell silent.

Here's the addition with the inner demon's dialogue:

I stared in disbelief at what I had done, my heart racing. The weight of my emotions crashed over me, drowning out reason. The inner demon whispered sweet nothings of validation, its voice slithering into my mind. “Finally, you’ve shown them who you really are,” it crooned, a sinister satisfaction lacing its tone. “They deserve to see your rage. They turned their backs on you, remember? It feels good, doesn’t it? To take control at last?”

A part of me recoiled, but the demon pressed on, “Don’t let them make you feel guilty. They failed you, Jaycee. They should be afraid of you. You’re powerful; you can’t let anyone forget that. Embrace the anger! Let it consume you.”

As I stood there, realization washed over me, and without a word, I turned and fled the scene, leaving behind the chaos and my own shattered facade.

Jun Lin's Perspective

After witnessing everything unfold, I felt a sinking dread in my stomach. This wasn’t how I had imagined this reunion would go. I glanced over at Diego, still on the floor, rubbing his jaw where Jaycee's punch had left a nasty bruise. Neon knelt beside him, trying to wake him up, her face a mix of worry and confusion.

“I’m so sorry!” I frantically apologized to them, my heart racing. But they just shook their heads, admitting their own faults.

“We were fools to believe that he would be the same person,” Neon said, her voice shaky. “Look at what he’s become.”

Ko-Kow chimed in, “It’s Diego’s fault! His stupid friends and all those lies!”

“Enough!” I interrupted, raising my voice to cut off their brewing quarrel. “This isn’t the time for blame. Yes, he’s changed, but some parts of him are still the same. Don’t you remember when he came to my side when I was sick?”

Neon’s eyes softened slightly, but the tension still hung in the air. “I... I just don’t understand. Why would he do this?”

“Maybe it’s because…” I hesitated, searching for the right words, but my voice faltered. “Maybe it’s because he’s been through so much pain. I can’t explain it all right now.” I sighed, feeling defeated. “I need to find Jaycee.”

I quickly made my way out of the restaurant, my heart pounding. I spotted Jaycee in the fountain courtyard of the mall, emitting a dark aura that seemed to weigh heavily on the air around him. Even the other customers instinctively stepped back. I hesitated, fear creeping in. What if I couldn’t reach him?

But this inner conflict raged within me. I knew that if I didn’t help him, he might become the monster he feared he was destined to be. Yet, I feared what that monster could do. I took a deep breath and steeled my resolve. I chose to approach him.

In my calmest voice, I said, “Maybe today was just too hard on you. Let’s go home.”

He looked at me, his expression unreadable, and then quietly agreed. I offered my arm, and he took it. His grip was tightly grasping but gentle, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling around us. I could feel his pain radiating through the touch.

As we exited the mall and headed to the train station, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken words. Once we boarded the train, I could feel the eyes of the other passengers on us, their dirty looks like daggers against the growing silence. Jaycee sat coldly next to me, still holding my hand.

Then I noticed a tear drop onto my arm, the warmth of it surprising me. I wanted to cry too, to let the emotions out, but I needed to be strong for him.

“Everything is going to be fine,” I whispered, hoping to soothe his racing heart. “We just need to keep things calm for now.” But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that a lawsuit might come up, haunting me like a shadow.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin’s Perspective

After the train ride, we finally reached Jaycee’s apartment. It was my first time seeing it—spacious, but a bit messy. Not chaotic, but not orderly either. There was dust on the floor, and the kitchen was disorganized with decorations scattered about. It felt lived-in, but the kind of space you could tell someone was hiding in.

Jaycee thanked me quietly, his voice strained as if he was struggling to keep himself together. "I... I need to be alone for a bit," he muttered.

Something about his tone made me uneasy. I could feel the weight of his inner turmoil pressing on him, and I wasn’t about to let him drown in it alone. “Maybe I should stay for a little while?” I suggested gently. Not that I was giving him a choice—deep down, I knew he needed someone to pull him back from whatever darkness he was sinking into.

His eyes flickered with hesitation, but he didn’t argue. “Fine… I’ll be in the living area.”

I offered a small smile, pretending like everything was okay. “I’ll fix us something to eat then,” I said, heading toward the kitchen, trying to lighten the atmosphere. But I wasn’t blind. I knew this wasn’t about food. I wanted to keep him grounded, to calm the monster inside him before it consumed him completely.

Jaycee’s Perspective

The moment she turned away, I collapsed onto the couch. The demon’s voice clawed at my mind, its whispers twisting into hateful snarls. Every word it said was poison, urging me to spiral deeper into my rage.

Why do you even let her stay? You think she can save you? She can’t. No one can. You belong to me.

I clenched my fists, staring out the window. My eyes fixed on the horizon, where the fourth ring in the sky had already formed. The fifth one was almost there. A sense of dread crept into my chest as the demon's laughter echoed in my head.

It’s coming, Jaycee... The tides, the end, and you’ll be powerless to stop it. Just like you were with your family.

“Shut up,” I hissed under my breath, my voice trembling. But it didn’t stop. It never did.

Before I could fall deeper, I heard her voice again. “Jaycee?”

I glanced toward the kitchen. Bluey had stopped what she was doing, watching me with worried eyes. I could see it in her gaze—she knew something was wrong.

“Jaycee, talk to me... what’s going on?” she asked, her tone calm but filled with concern.

I wanted to brush it off, to lie and say everything was fine. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. The demon’s whispers wouldn’t let me.

“My family... it’s been eating at me for so long,” I finally said, my voice low and hoarse. “I hate them... for leaving me out, for everything Diego did, for how they...”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. The demon wouldn’t let me. It wrapped its claws tighter around my mind, twisting my words into something else. Lies.

“They don’t deserve me. They never did,” I spat, the bitterness in my voice shocking even me.

Jun Lin’s Perspective

I watched him closely, feeling the pain in his words. This wasn’t the Jaycee I knew. Or maybe it was, and he’d just hidden this side of himself for too long. His anger, his hatred—it had grown into something toxic, something beyond just his family.

But there was more. I could sense it.

“You always had the choice to reach out, Jaycee,” I said softly, stepping closer. “Why didn’t you?”

He stiffened. The walls he’d built around himself, the lies he’d told to keep others out—it all began to crack. I could see it in the way his body tensed, the way his eyes avoided mine.

There was something more... something he wasn’t telling me.

“Jaycee,” I said, my voice a little firmer now. “What else is going on? This isn’t just about your family. There’s something else, isn’t there?”

His silence was all the confirmation I needed. Whatever it was, it ran deeper than I’d realized.

“I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out,” I whispered. “Please... just let me in.”

He looked at me then, his eyes filled with guilt and something else—fear. And for the first time, I felt like I was finally seeing the real Jaycee, the one he’d kept hidden even from himself.

I couldn’t stop staring at her, wide-eyed, like a cornered animal. There was fear in my chest, rising with each breath, threatening to spill over. How could she know? How could she possibly understand the thing gnawing at my insides?

Before I could find the words, she shouted at me, her voice breaking through the haze. “I’m aware, Jaycee! I’m aware that you have an inner demon, okay? I know! I’ve always known!”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My mind reeled. How long had she known? How much of this darkness had she already seen, and how long had I been pretending to keep it from her? The walls I’d carefully constructed around myself began to crumble, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt exposed.

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell her everything, but the words tumbled out in a mess. “I... I don’t know what to do anymore, Bluey. I’m scared. There’s something coming—something horrible. An apocalypse, a darkness bigger than anything, and I’m not strong enough to stop it. I’m not...”

The words felt so small, like they held no weight. I saw her bewildered expression, confusion written all over her face. She didn’t understand. How could she? This was madness, all of it. My fear of losing everything, of losing her.

Frustration surged, and before I knew it, I slammed my fists on the floor, my body trembling uncontrollably. “I’ve wasted so much time lying to myself, lying to everyone! I hate myself for it! I wanted to forgive them, my family... to love them again...”

My voice cracked, and the tears followed, falling in hot, messy streams down my face. “I’m terrified, Bluey. I’m terrified of losing you, of everything falling apart, of not being able to protect you. I just... I just want to keep you safe. But I don’t know how.”

I broke, fully, in front of her. All the fear, all the self-loathing, all the anger I’d held onto for so long crashed down, leaving me bare and vulnerable in ways I hadn’t allowed myself to be in years. My chest heaved, my thoughts spiraled into darkness, and I could feel the weight of doom bearing down on me. I can’t stop it. I can’t...

Before I could drown, Jun Lin cut through the storm. She knelt down beside me, wrapping her arms around me tightly, her voice soft but firm. “Enough, Jaycee. That’s enough.” She held me close, her warmth steadying me against the torrent of emotions ripping me apart.

“Let it all out,” she whispered, her voice soothing the chaos in my mind. “We’ll figure it out. Together. We’ll make things right, I promise. But right now, you don’t have to carry all of this alone. You’re not alone anymore.”

Her words cut through the noise, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let go. I let myself cry, let myself feel the pain I’d kept bottled up for so long. She held me through it, and in that moment, something in me began to shift.

As I clung to Jun Lin, the flood of memories came rushing back. Memories of times I had buried deep beneath layers of anger, guilt, and regret. Faces from my past swirled in my mind, each one tugging at a piece of my heart.

I remembered Diego. My younger brother, fragile and sick when we were kids. I was the one who sat by his bed, changing the cool cloth on his forehead and feeding him when he couldn’t manage it himself. “Thank you... Brother,” he had whispered once, his small voice hoarse but filled with trust. And I’d felt proud, responsible, the protector of my little brother. Now? Now, I’d shattered him with a single punch.

Then there was Ko-Kow, with all his energy and enthusiasm, begging me to teach him how to dominate in Turf Wars. The playful competitions between us, the laughs, the teasing. “You’ve grown so much, Ko-Kow,” I’d told him one day, watching him tear through the field with precision and skill. “I learned well from the best teacher I had!” he had said, his grin wide, proud.

And Neon… my sweet little sister, who had always looked at me with those bright, admiring eyes. “You’re my knight in shining armor,” she would say. “And you’re my little princess,” I’d always reply. Those moments had been so pure, so filled with love.

Then the betrayal. Those same words echoed back to me the day I was banished from their lives. That promise to never leave her, broken by circumstances beyond my control. I had failed her, and in return, they had turned their backs on me. The darkness crept in, twisting those memories into something bitter.

But through the haze of pain and sorrow, I heard my name. Cyan... Jaycee... The voice was soft, familiar, pulling me away from the abyss.

I saw her face. The day I met Jun Lin. She had been clumsy, awkward, and beautiful. The way she handed me that invite to work together at Grizz Co, the small, nervous smile she gave me as we braved those chaotic Salmon Runs together. And then... the day she left. The long, agonizing wait. The unexpected return. Our arguments, the way she never gave up on me, even when I couldn’t understand why she would.

I remembered Captain Virgil’s words, urging me to seek forgiveness, to fix the broken pieces of my life before it was too late. And now, here I was—holding the woman I loved in my arms, feeling the weight of my past press down on me. My family, my mistakes, my love for her. It was all too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.

I felt happy and sad all at once. I wanted to cherish them—my family, my memories, her—but the demon inside me kept pulling, trying to drag me back into the pit of anger and fear. But... she was here. She was always here. Standing between me and that darkness, keeping it at bay.

Cyan... I love you... Please... be strong for me... Her voice echoed in my mind, like a lifeline pulling me out of the shadows.

Bluey... I whispered silently in my heart. I will protect you. At all costs. I’ll keep you safe... I will.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, and in that moment, the demon’s grip loosened. I could feel her warmth grounding me, her presence reminding me of everything I still had to fight for.

“Thank you...” I whispered aloud, my voice soft but filled with meaning. I wasn’t alone anymore, and maybe... just maybe, I could start healing.

Jun Lin held me tighter, her steady presence the anchor I didn’t know I needed.

Jun Lin gently placed her hand on my cheek, her thumb brushing away the tear that I hadn’t realized was there. Her eyes, filled with warmth and understanding, locked onto mine. She leaned in close, her breath soft against my ear as she whispered the words that would ground me for the rest of my life.

"No matter how dark it gets, Cyan... you’ll never face it alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here."

Her words were like a balm to my soul, soothing the chaos within me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a flicker of peace. I pulled her closer, holding on as if my life depended on it.

The darkness wasn’t gone, but with her by my side, it was no longer unbeatable.

And that... was enough.

Chapter Text

Jaycee's Perspective

Things had somewhat settled between me and Bluey after everything that had happened earlier. She had made us a delicious dinner—Sour Shrimp Soup, her specialty. The smell filled the room, pulling me away from the chaotic thoughts that usually clouded my mind. For a brief moment, it was just us, no demons, no looming threats, just a peaceful evening.

I lifted my spoon, ready to take another bite when something flashed before my eyes—like a glimpse of the future. It wasn’t just any future. It was one between me and Jun Lin, and the dark, terrifying vision of the apocalypse looming over us. My heart skipped a beat. Was this real? Or just my mind playing tricks on me again?

Bluey, ever perceptive, noticed the pause in my movements. She looked at me with those soft, caring eyes of hers. “Cyan? What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice gentle but laced with concern.

Learning from past mistakes, I knew I had to be honest with her. I set the spoon down and met her gaze. “I... I just had a thought about the future. About us... and the world.”

She blinked, and to my surprise, a soft blush crept across her cheeks. She gave me that teasing smile she was so good at. “Oh? Us, huh? Isn’t it a little early to be thinking about that?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, though the thoughts of the apocalypse still lingered in the back of my mind. Her playfulness was infectious, but the weight of what I’d seen—or thought I’d seen—was heavy.

As the night grew late, and the comfort of the meal settled in, Bluey made a surprising suggestion. “I think I’ll stay here tonight,” she said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I nearly choked on the air. “Wait—what?” I blurted out, completely caught off guard. My mind instantly went to... inappropriate thoughts. I shook my head, banishing them immediately. NO! Jaycee, you are a man! And you should treat women with respect!

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some composure. “Uh... where else are you going to go anyway?” I asked, half-joking, but mostly just trying to process what she had said.

She shrugged, completely unfazed. “I don’t mind crashing on the couch. This is your space, your sanctuary. I wouldn’t want to intrude, even if I am a girl. I know my boundaries,” she said with a smirk, and I had to admit, you don’t find girls like her very often. Strong, yet understanding, someone who respects not just herself but the people around her.

I sighed, my gentlemanly instincts kicking in. “No way. If anyone’s sleeping on the couch, it’s me. You can take the bed.”

She frowned, crossing her arms. “Cyan, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not sleeping on the couch in your own home.”

“I insist,” I said firmly. “I’ll be fine in the living room.”

She huffed in protest, but I wasn’t backing down. A small, knowing smile crept onto my face as I realized—this is what it meant to care for someone, to put them first, even in the little things.

Jun Lin's Perspective

Jaycee's Room

After our little argument about who would sleep where, I couldn’t help but tease Cyan. He always took everything so seriously, but it was cute seeing him try to be all tough. "Fine, fine. I'll take your room, happy now?" I playfully scoffed as he sent me off with a wave.

“Go on, get some rest,” he said, his voice a bit more relaxed, though I could tell he was still holding back something. He always did.

I entered his room and closed the door behind me. As soon as I stepped in, it was pitch dark. I felt around for the switch and flicked it on. To my surprise, the room wasn’t a mess like I expected—it was actually well-organized. I smiled to myself. Cyan, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?

I scanned the room and couldn’t help but admire the shelves lined with action figures. He had the whole collection—the Squid Sisters, Off the Hook, even the latest trio, Deep Cut. Wow, I thought, he’s a bigger fan than I am.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I began to rummage through the various items displayed around the room. There were photos too, lots of them. As I was about to take a closer look at one of them, a loud thud echoed from the living area. I quickly rushed out. “Cyan? You okay?”

I found him standing awkwardly over a pile of fallen books and random items, his face red with embarrassment. “I’m fine. Just… being my clumsy self,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

But something seemed off. He was hiding something behind him. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?” I asked, my suspicion growing. Was he hiding something from me again?

After a moment, he sheepishly revealed a book. Just a book, or so I thought. “Really, Cyan? It’s just a book,” I said, not thinking much of it. Little did I know, it was that Salmon Run book he’d kept hidden all this time.

I shrugged it off and went back into his room, focusing again on the photos. One in particular caught my eye—Jaycee, younger, maybe twelve or fourteen, with a group of kids. His siblings, I assumed. It looked like it was taken at his birthday. But there was also a photo of a girl I didn’t recognize. Could that be… his ex? I didn’t know her name, but I had a feeling this was someone important from his past. I pondered it for a moment, but quickly moved on.

Another picture made me chuckle. Jaycee, round and chubby, eating ice cream with his best friend Kent. They were so young, back at Haggle Fish market. I couldn’t help but smile at how different he looked back then—so carefree and innocent. And then there was the more recent photo of us, taken back at the Monger’s cabin, after that awkward apology party Jaycee had tried to pull off.

But one photo stood out from the rest—a picture of him, alone, standing at the shore, staring out at the sea. I recognized the shoreline. It was Grizz Co., taken long before I was ever in his life. He looked so distant, so… alone.

Without thinking, I whispered to myself, “You’re not alone anymore, Cyan…”

I glanced over at the bed, deciding I’d had enough reminiscing for one night. As I threw myself onto it, I was surprised at how incredibly soft it was. I sank into the plush mattress, letting out a sigh. “Of course, Mr. Tough Guy has a soft spot,” I muttered, amused at the irony. For someone who always acted so rough around the edges, he sure liked his comforts.

I even spotted a small collection of plush toys, neatly arranged near the pillows. They were sweet, fragrant, and smelled faintly like him. Cyan… you’re such a contradiction.

As I lay there, the old jellyfish’s words echoed back in my mind… A future with Jaycee?

I found myself lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling. Could I really see that happening? I didn’t have an answer, not yet. But the thought lingered as I drifted off into sleep, with his scent and his presence surrounding me.

Jaycee's Perspective

The Letter and the Book

As I sat in the living room, the chaos of the earlier confrontation with Bluey still fresh in my mind, my gaze fell on the book I had tried to hide. I picked it up, its spine creaking slightly as I opened it. The familiar smell of aged paper wafted up, and I hesitated for a moment. Memories of my grandfather flooded back—his voice, his laughter, and that last day. But I gathered my courage and flipped through the pages until I found the letter.

“To my Grandson,” it began, penned in my grandfather's neat handwriting.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself. The words brought back a rush of emotions, a mix of pride and sorrow.

“Dear Jaycee,

If you are reading this, it means my time has come to an end. I want you to know how truly honored I am to have had a grandson like you. You brought so much joy into my life, and I am grateful for every moment we shared. I have always admired your strength, your courage, and your unwavering spirit.

I pass down my legacy to you with pride. The world can be a tough place, and you will face challenges that will test your resolve. But I want you to remember that true strength is not just in physical prowess; it’s in your heart and your capacity to forgive.

There will be times when you feel lost, and it may seem easier to hold onto pain. But know this: forgiveness is the key to freeing yourself. Love the ones closest to you, especially your siblings, for they will need you just as you need them. Cherish them and protect them, just as I have tried to protect you. Life will take unexpected turns, but always stand strong and face it with courage.

With all my love and strength,

Grandpa...

Give 'em hell, son!”

As I read the letter, a familiar echo resounded in my mind: “I pass down my legacy... On to you... My son.” I was transported back to that moment, grasping my dying grandfather's hand, feeling the warmth fade away. I wanted to stop reading, to push the book away, but something deep inside urged me to continue.

The words of encouragement wrapped around me like a warm embrace, making me feel both heavy and light at the same time. I could hear his voice in my head, urging me forward. “To be strong, to forgive those who have hurt you…”

I paused again, the ache in my chest intensifying as I thought of my siblings—Ko-Kow and Neon. They had been robbed of the chance to know him, to feel the same warmth I once did. And here I was, with the weight of his legacy resting on my shoulders.

Tears began to well up in my eyes as I reached the end of the letter. “With love and strength… Grandpa… Give 'em hell, son!”

“I will… I will…” I whispered to myself, feeling the determination surge through me. I was not just fighting for myself anymore. I was fighting for my grandfather’s legacy, for my family, and for the love that still existed despite the darkness that threatened to engulf us all.

With a newfound sense of purpose, I kept the book open, my heart heavy yet resolute. I would carry my grandfather's words with me, a beacon of hope in the storm. I would honor his memory by living with strength and love, and I would protect Bluey—no matter the cost.

But as I continued, my eyes landed on the first page—the page that started it all. The reason my fears had taken root and festered in the shadows of my mind. I felt a chill run down my spine as I read the text again, recalling the foreboding images that haunted me.

“On this dark day, we faced our greatest challenge. The Salmonids have evolved, and with them came an unspeakable terror…”

I could feel the familiar grip of fear tightening around my chest. The inner demon that lurked within me was stirring, eager to unleash its chaos. Yet I pressed on, defiant. I needed to know; I had to understand the legacy my grandfather had left behind.

Flipping through the pages, I found illustrations of the various Salmonid bosses that had plagued his time, each one drawn with meticulous detail. They were divided into three categories, as my grandfather had labeled them.

Assault Class:

Scrappers: Ruthless and relentless, these creatures would stop at nothing to claim their prey.
Steel Eels: Massive and deadly, their surprising speed made them formidable foes on the battlefield.
Maws: Creatures that lurked beneath the waves, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Front Line Support:

Steel Heads: Towering and armored, they provided critical support on the front lines, often backing up other Salmonids.
Drizzlers: Agile and quick, they showered the battlefield with dangerous ink, making them a constant threat.
The Siege Class:

Stingers: Annoying and persistent, their attacks were often a precursor to greater threats.
Fly Fish: Ugh. I grimaced at the thought of these annoying pests. Their incessant flying and the explosive devices they dropped made them my least favorite enemy. Just the thought of them made my blood boil.
As I perused the pages, I realized the new species of enemies I had encountered in my work weren’t mentioned in the book. My heart raced as I neared the end, where a final page caught my eye. The words were written in a dark tone, and the title sent a shiver through me: “Devils of the Seas.”

I felt my heart stop for a moment, my stomach turning uneasily at the thought of what awaited me. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself. I need to do this. I need to know!

As I opened the page, my breath caught in my throat. There, illustrated in vivid detail, was the first of the so-called Devils: Cohozuna. My grandfather had described it as the largest monstrosity he had ever encountered, and from the looks of it, I could understand why.

Cohozuna resembled a giant, extremely obese Cohock, its back adorned with red scales that shimmered ominously under the ink-light. The sides were a dull gray, giving it a dismal appearance that seemed to suck the vibrancy from the room. Two bulging, glowing white eyes peered out, full of malice. Chains encircled its thick neck, and I could see remnants of an anchor hanging off its massive body, as if it had once been a prisoner of the sea. Its thick scales were layered like armor, capable of withstanding a barrage of weapons during my grandfather’s time. The thought of facing such a creature sent a shiver down my spine.

My grandfather’s words echoed in my mind: “I thought Steel Heads were large, but this… this is something else!”

Turning the page, I was met with the terrifying visage of the second Devil: Horrorboros. This creature was a long, serpentine nightmare, looking more like a mutated eel than anything else, yet possessing an almost dragon-like majesty. Its scales glimmered menacingly, and its eyes, a disturbing shade of yellow, seemed to stare right into my soul.

“Smaller in stature compared to the first Devil, but don’t be fooled,” my grandfather had warned. “It can create massive ink explosions, even bigger and stronger than a Booyah Bomb special.”

I couldn’t help but picture the chaos such a creature could unleash, its gaping mouth lined with crooked teeth, reminiscent of the mechanisms Steel Heads used for their bombs. Wires snaked along the sides of its head, and rows of eerie lights illuminated its serpentine body, making it look even more formidable.

But the worst was yet to come.

I hesitated before flipping to the final page, my heart racing in anticipation and dread. Megalodontia. The name alone sent chills through me. My grandfather had claimed it was the largest King Salmonid in his records, large enough to swallow a ship whole. I could hardly fathom such a beast, and as I looked at the illustration, I felt my stomach twist.

Megalodontia shared similarities with Maws, but was infinitely larger. Its white bulging eyes stared blankly, eerily similar to the other King Salmonids, while blue hair framed its gigantic head. Around its jaw was a grotesque contraption resembling orthodontic braces, a bizarre sight that made me question the sanity of the creature. Various nets adorned its back, and a large red bump with two bandages crossed over it made me wonder what horrors this thing had endured.

“This final Devil was the most terrifying of them all,” my grandfather had ominously written, each word steeped in dread.

As I closed the book, the weight of his words pressed down on my chest like a crushing wave. He had spoken of how fortunate they were to have pushed back the hoards of these abominations, yet the unmistakable fear in his tone echoed in my mind—a foreboding sense that they were not truly vanquished, merely lying in wait for the right moment to strike again. My resolve ignited like a flame in the darkness. If these Devils were still lurking in the abyss, I would confront them head-on—no matter the cost.

Chapter Text

Falling asleep after reading the book, I felt myself drifting into a place that wasn’t real—or at least, I told myself it couldn’t be real. When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t in my apartment. I was standing in the middle of a dense forest, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. The trees around me loomed like giants, their canopies blocking out the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest floor. Everything felt too vivid, too detailed for a dream, yet I knew this place didn’t exist.

I heard rustling in the bushes to my right. My heart jumped, and instinct kicked in. Without a weapon, I grabbed the closest thing I could find—a rock. I tightened my grip on it, my knuckles white. The rustling grew louder, and I could feel the panic rising in my chest. In an attempt to cover my fear, I shouted out, enveloping myself in false bravado.

“Whoever’s out there, don’t even think about it! I’m not someone to mess with!”

My heart raced, each beat louder than the one before. I knew I was bluffing. No one was around to back me up, and I had no idea what kind of danger I might be facing.

Then, from above, a teasing voice called out, echoing through the treetops. “Scared, are we? For someone acting tough, you sure look like you're about to bolt.”

I looked up, startled, and from the canopy, a figure emerged—a young boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, dropped down gracefully from the branches. I stumbled back, still clutching the rock like it was my lifeline. The boy had Inkling features, with tentacles styled in cornrows, dirt smudging his face, and raggedy clothes hanging from his small frame. Yet, despite his appearance, he held himself with an air of pride. In his hand was a weapon that seemed eerily familiar, though I couldn’t place where I had seen it before.

The boy chuckled at my reaction and extended a hand, helping me up. "You're pretty jumpy for someone who talks big," he said, his voice playful. "What's your name?"

I hesitated, still wary. "Cyan," I muttered, not giving him my real name. Something about him made me cautious, like I shouldn’t trust him just yet.

The boy beamed, clearly pleased with my response. “Nice to meet you, Cyan. I’m Roho,” he said, the name striking a strange chord of familiarity in my mind. Where had I heard that before?

Roho didn’t seem to notice my unease, or maybe he just didn’t care. He spun his weapon casually in his hand and asked, “So, what brings you to this part of the forest, Cyan?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words got stuck in my throat. What had brought me here? The last thing I remembered was reading the book—then nothing. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog clouding my thoughts. “I... I don’t know,” I finally said, my voice trailing off.

Roho gave me a knowing look, but he didn’t press further. “Doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug. “This area isn’t safe for someone like you. Too many things lurking in the dark. You should stick close to me. I know a place—a village. It’s not far from here. You’ll be safe there.”

His offer sounded tempting, but I hesitated. Something about him felt off. Yet, the way he stood, the way he moved—it was all too familiar. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew him somehow. And then it hit me—his posture, his voice, his confidence. He reminded me of my grandfather, but younger, more carefree.

“Come on, Cyan. Don’t just stand there like a lost Salmonid,” Roho teased, already turning away. “Follow me. It’s your best bet if you don’t want to get eaten.”

With no better option, and curiosity pulling me forward, I followed him deeper into the woods. I didn’t trust him completely, but there was something about him—about this whole dream—that I needed to understand. And maybe, just maybe, this strange boy would help me find the answers I was searching for.

The Village

Roho led me through the dense forest until we reached a small village nestled along the coast. At first glance, it seemed ordinary, but something about it tugged at the back of my mind. As we stepped closer, the familiar sea air hit me, and it dawned on me—I had seen this place before. It was the town where my grandparents grew up. The stories Grandpa used to tell me flashed through my mind, yet the village looked much older now, as if frozen in a distant time.

“This is it,” Roho said, waving a hand toward the cluster of cottages and the weathered sea port. “Home. It ain’t much, but it’s just how I like it.”

Just as he finished speaking, a sharp voice cut through the air. "Roho!"

We both turned to see an Inkling girl marching toward us, her face twisted in frustration. She looked about Roho’s age, but something about her felt...familiar too. Her green tentacles were tied back in a loose bun, and she wore a tattered apron that suggested she'd been working. The way she moved with purpose reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place it right away.

"Winnie..." Roho muttered under his breath, shifting nervously as if he knew he was in trouble. He shot a nervous glance at me before giving her an awkward grin.

"Where have you been?" Winnie demanded, crossing her arms. “You’ve been gone all day! Skipping out on your chores again? You think horsing around all the time is going to get your life together?”

Roho fumbled for an excuse, avoiding any mention of me. "I was just, you know, checking the traps by the shore. Something’s got them all messed up."

I watched as they continued to banter, her scolding him for his carelessness while he halfheartedly defended himself. It was... familiar. Too familiar. As I studied Winnie’s mannerisms—the way she shook her head when Roho came up with another weak excuse, the way her voice softened when she said she was just worried—it clicked.

Her movements, her tone, the way she nagged at him—it was just like Grandma.

I blinked and took a step forward, my voice rising over their exchange. “Winnie?” I called out, half expecting her to turn around and acknowledge me.

But she didn’t. She didn’t even flinch.

I frowned, trying again. “Winnie!” Still nothing. It was like I wasn’t even there. I reached out a hand toward her, hoping to make some kind of contact, but my fingers passed through empty air. I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t interact with her at all.

The banter between Roho and Winnie came to an end with Winnie letting out a sigh. "I’m just looking out for you, Roho. You know that, right? I worry, that’s all."

Roho gave her a small smile, his posture relaxing. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Winnie."

With that, Winnie turned back toward the small cottage at the edge of the village, leaving Roho and me standing in the middle of the dirt road.

I stared after her, still in disbelief. "She didn’t notice me... why couldn’t she hear me?"

Roho gave a short laugh and shrugged. "Because she’s not really here. None of this is. Everything you’re seeing is part of a dream—your dream, actually." He looked at me with a smirk. "Or should I say... your memories turned into a dream."

I felt my stomach twist. “I knew this wasn’t real," I muttered, more to convince myself than him. But even as I said it, I couldn’t shake the feeling of how tangible everything had felt—the trees, the village, the sea breeze, Winnie. It was like I was living in a moment from someone else’s life.

Roho chuckled, clearly amused by my confusion. “Couldn't you connect the dots sooner?" He shook his head, then motioned for me to follow him. “Come on, Cyan. I want to show you something."

Despite my lingering doubts, I followed Roho down a winding path toward the sea shore, the salty breeze growing stronger with each step. There was something about the way the waves crashed against the rocks that felt like it held answers, pulling me closer to whatever truth Roho wanted to reveal.

Roho led me to a secluded spot on the cliffside, his energy infectious as he dashed ahead, glancing back to make sure I was following. "I thought I trained you better!" he teased, laughing as I tried to catch up, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation at his playful demeanor.

I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself, thinking, Yep, he is my grandpa, alright. As we reached the edge of the cliff, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The view was breathtaking—a panorama of the ocean stretching into the horizon, painted with hues of orange and pink as the sun began its descent.

"Take a look," Roho said, urging me to soak in the moment. We both stood there, mesmerized by the sunset, just like we used to. It reminded me of countless memories: laughter shared with Kent at Haggle Fish, the tender moments with Bluey, and the time Captain Virgil had comforted me during my darkest days. Now, here I was with Roho, the essence of my grandfather manifesting in this dream.

As the colors of the sky deepened, I felt tears welling in my eyes. I turned to look at Roho, now transformed from a boy into an old man, his wisdom palpable.

"In this life, you must remember the light, even when the darkness tries to claim you," he said, his voice calm and steady. His words resonated within me, lifting the heaviness in my heart. "Courage isn't the absence of fear, but the strength to face it."

I was baffled by his words. "Why are you saying all of this?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion.

Roho smiled knowingly. "I know the fear in your heart. We’re in your mind, Jaycee, in a space where memories and dreams collide. That book you read—it has manifested your fears into this realm."

Suddenly, the vibrant sunset shifted ominously. The sky darkened to a brooding gray, casting shadows over the land. The calm ocean that had mirrored the sunset began to churn violently, the waves rising higher and crashing against the rocks with increasing ferocity.

My heart raced, sensing the danger that loomed ahead, a foreboding reminder of the trials that awaited me.

“It’s coming, my son... The day when the tides will rise, and the Salmonids will invade the mainland...” Roho—no, my grandfather—warned me as he hovered toward the chaotic seas, his voice a haunting echo in the storm.

“How do I stop it? How? HOW?” I trembled, desperate for answers. The fear was suffocating me. I needed to protect everything, everyone I loved.

“You can’t...” his voice echoed, reverberating through the storm, and I felt my heart sink into a dark pit of despair.

“I promised her... I PROMISED TO PROTECT HER!” My voice broke, shaking with raw emotion. The winds screamed, the rain poured harder, and the waves crashed violently against the cliffside. “I just got this love back... I can't... lose it... not now... not again.”

My grandfather’s voice, calm yet thunderous, cut through the chaos. “My son... nothing is impossible. Let it go! LET IT ALL GO—YOUR PAIN, YOUR SUFFERING!” His words grew louder as the storm intensified, shaking the very foundation of the dream world.

Suddenly, three enormous shadows emerged from the storm, their towering presence casting a suffocating darkness over me. I could barely breathe as they took deep, monstrous breaths and roared—a sound so powerful it made the earth tremble. Their cries echoed within me, a visceral force tearing at my soul.

I stared up at them in terror, but something shifted inside me. They were familiar. These were not just the Devils of the Seas. They were something more.

The first Devil, Cohozuna—Rage Incarnate—towered above me, and in its enormous, lumbering form, I saw Ko-Kow. His anger, his bitterness toward me, his sense of betrayal... all merged with the Devil’s monstrous form.

The second Devil, Horrorboros... Neon. I could feel it—the agony of her sadness, the crushing weight of her fear. It was the pain of my broken promise, the day I left her behind. Her soul cried out in unending sorrow, bound to the creature before me.

Then came the largest, most terrifying figure—Megalodontia. My heart froze as I realized this was my inner demon, the manifestation of everything that had been festering inside me. My hatred, my rage... Diego. The influence that had haunted me for so long, holding me back, feeding on my fear and anger. It was all Diego, his presence entangled with the darkest parts of my soul.

But then... I saw the tears. Each Devil—Ko-Kow, Neon, Diego—they weren’t just monsters. They were crying, their immense forms shaking with pain.

“They yearn for your forgiveness,” my grandfather whispered, his voice cutting through the storm. “They cry out for you, my son. Face them... FACE THEM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!”

Just as I braced myself to confront the Devils, I heard another voice, a soft but powerful whisper cutting through the storm. “Jaycee... Cyan!”

I blinked, and a flash of light engulfed me.

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer standing on that stormy cliffside. Instead, I found myself looking directly into Bluey’s concerned eyes.

“Cyan?” she asked softly.

Without thinking, I pulled her into a tight embrace. My heart was still racing, my thoughts tangled, but I needed her close. Bluey stiffened in surprise but quickly relaxed into the hug. She understood—she always did. This was me, breaking down and holding on, like I always did after these nightmares.

As I held her, something caught my eye through the window. In the sky above, I saw the fifth smoke ring. The sixth was already forming, swirling ominously.

The time to act had come.

Chapter Text

There was a strange distortion in the air, the kind that made everything feel just slightly off. The world around me rippled like water, bending at the edges, making it hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. It was as though I’d slipped into a dream that didn’t quite belong to me, a story out of place—yet somehow, I was at the center of it all.

I knew this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. And yet... something about it felt so familiar, so tangible, that I couldn’t shake the feeling that it mattered.

I stood on unfamiliar ground, the soft earth shifting beneath my feet. Above, the sky stretched in unnatural hues of purple and gold, a dreamscape painting itself before my eyes. There was no wind, no sound, just the weight of something heavy in the air—a weight I knew all too well. A deep, dull ache. The kind that clung to you after losing something precious.

Then, breaking through the stillness, came a soft giggle. Light, playful, cutting through the silence like a melody. I turned, squinting toward the sound, and saw her—a small figure darting through the trees. A child.

I took a step toward her, my heart catching in my chest. She was moving so fast, too fast for me to catch. But something pulled me forward. Something deep and instinctual.

She stopped suddenly, peeking out from behind a tree with a mischievous smile. Her tentacles, streaked with blue, caught the light in a way that felt too familiar. She wasn’t just any child. She was like me. A half-breed.

“Baba, you’re too slow!” she teased, her voice ringing out, clear and bright.

Baba? My heart clenched at the word, the meaning not fully registering at first. But when it did, it nearly knocked me off my feet.

She dashed off again, leaving me standing there, frozen, the ground seeming to shift beneath me. I tried to call after her, but the words wouldn’t come. My throat felt tight. My mind was spinning, trying to piece together what this all meant.

Still, I followed. I couldn’t help myself.

The world blurred around me, scenes flashing by—half-formed memories I hadn’t thought of in years. Some warm, filled with joy, others tinged with sadness, regret. But all of them mixed together, like fragments of a life I hadn’t lived—or maybe, a life I had but couldn’t remember.

Finally, I caught up to her, standing at the edge of a cliff, gazing out over the sea. The wind picked up here, howling and twisting around us, but she stood firm, staring out as if the storm didn’t exist. I approached, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on me, but she didn’t turn to look at me. She just spoke, her voice soft, but filled with knowing.

“You promised, didn’t you?” she said, her words cutting through the storm.

I felt a pang in my chest. A promise. I had made a promise once, hadn’t I? A promise to protect, to be there. But somewhere along the way, I had failed. I had lost.

“I… I promised,” I whispered, the weight of that word sinking deeper into me.

She finally turned to me, her eyes bright and full of something that felt far too old for a child. She stepped closer, reaching out her small hand to take mine, her touch grounding me in this dream. In this impossible reality.

“You’re still here,” she said, her voice laced with affection. “And I’m here because of you.”

I knelt before her, the weight of my past crashing down all at once. I should’ve felt weak. I should’ve felt broken. But I didn’t. Holding her hand, I felt... hope.

Her forehead touched mine in a gesture so simple, yet so profound, as she whispered, “It’s okay, Baba... I’m here.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I couldn’t stop them. There was something about her—this child, this girl—that made the pain of everything else fade away.

“Misha,” I whispered, the name slipping from my lips before I even realized it. It felt right. Like she had always been there, waiting for me to find her.

She giggled softly, pulling me to my feet. “Come on, Baba! There’s so much to see!”

I followed her, letting her lead me away from the edge of the cliff and the weight of the past that had held me down for so long. In her small, strong grip, I found something I hadn’t felt in a long time—a reason to keep going, a purpose. Something worth protecting again.

Chapter Text

Jaycee's Perspective:

I came back to reality with a jolt, blinking against the fading remnants of that strange, distorted dream. My head felt heavy, as if I’d just surfaced from deep water, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. But the weight of Jun Lin’s arms around me quickly brought me back, her grip tight, as if she was afraid I’d disappear again.

“Cyan? Are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling with concern.

I blinked at her, still shaken, but the details of the dream were already slipping away like sand through my fingers. Misha... the cliff... Baba... It all felt distant now, a haze of something important yet elusive. It didn’t matter, though. Not right now.

“I—yeah, I’m fine,” I mumbled vaguely, though even I wasn’t sure what that meant anymore. I couldn't fully explain what I’d seen or what it meant. But one thing was clear: something bad was coming. Something big.

I grabbed my phone and quickly dialed Kent. His voice crackled through the line after a few rings, casual at first, but it quickly shifted when he heard the urgency in my tone.

"Jaycee? What's going on?" Kent asked, confusion lacing his words.

"You need to meet me at Grizz Co—now. Something’s not right. The sky, it’s turning orange, and the water... it’s acting strange. We don’t have much time."

"Wait, what? What are you—"

"WITH HASTE, KENT!" I cut him off, louder than I meant to be. I didn’t have time for explanations.

There was a moment of silence before Kent responded, more serious now. "I'm on my way."

I ended the call and turned to find Jun Lin watching me, her worry etched into every line of her face. She could sense the tension, feel the shift in the air around us. Something big was happening, and I was at the center of it, whether I wanted to be or not.

“Cyan, what’s going on?” she asked softly, but her eyes were sharp, seeking the truth I hadn’t shared yet.

I hesitated for a moment, then pulled out the book my grandfather had given me. It felt heavier now, like the weight of it had grown since I last opened its pages. With trembling hands, I flipped to the first page and showed it to her—the prophecy. The one that had been hanging over me since the moment I learned about it.

Jun Lin gasped as her eyes scanned the words, and her hand shot to her mouth in shock. “This... this is happening right now, isn’t it?”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. And it’s only going to get worse.”

She looked up at me, her expression softening as she took a step closer. “You’re not alone in this, Cyan. Whatever happens, I’ll be here with you. We’ll face it together.”

Her words were a balm to the storm raging inside me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope. I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

“I know,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

I moved to my room to get my gear ready, my mind focused on the task ahead. Whatever was coming, I needed to be prepared. The skies were darkening faster, and the city’s waters were swelling in unnatural ways. There was no telling what we were about to face.

Jun Lin’s Perspective:

As Jaycee left the room, I noticed something he’d forgotten—his phone, still lying on the desk. My eyes flicked to the door, making sure he was out of sight, and before I could stop myself, I picked it up.

I know I shouldn’t snoop. I really shouldn’t. But something nagged at me, an instinct I couldn’t ignore.

His phone unlocked easily, and I scanned through the contacts, not really expecting to find anything. But then I saw them—names I hadn’t seen before, names that Jaycee never talked about. His siblings.

I stared at the screen for a moment, my heart beating a little faster. Jaycee had their contact information all this time. He could’ve reached out. He could’ve made amends. But instead, he chose to distance himself, to lie to himself, pretending that the connection wasn’t there, that they weren’t part of his life.

I let out a small, quiet scoff. For all his bravado, he was still afraid—afraid of facing the past, afraid of the pain that came with it. And now... now was not the time for fear.

Without a second thought, I copied the contacts and tucked the phone back where it was. I knew what I had to do. If Jaycee couldn’t confront his past, then I’d have to push him toward it. Whether he liked it or not, this wasn’t something he could handle on his own.

I looked out the window, seeing the fifth smoke ring forming in the sky, the sixth one on its way. Time was running out.

“Well,” I muttered to myself with a determined grin. “One thing to do now...”

Jaycee's Perspective:

The train screeched as it came to a stop, my hands gripping the edge of the seat. I could feel the eyes of the other passengers on me, their whispers circling in the air, curious about the tension brewing. It had been a close call, almost causing a scene when my anxiety got the best of me. But we were here now. Grizz Co.

Kent was already there, waiting near the entrance with his arms crossed, a concerned look on his face. The second I stepped off the platform, he pushed himself off the wall, heading straight toward us.

“What the hell is going on, Jaycee?” he asked, his voice low but urgent. "You’re freaking me out."

“Just follow me,” I said, brushing past him, not wanting to explain everything right here, right now. Jun Lin and Kent exchanged a worried glance but followed without pressing further.

As we made our way to the administration office, I could feel their growing tension. The air was thick with it. I wasn’t even sure if they fully believed me, but I didn’t have time to convince them.

When we reached the front desk, I approached the sea anemone secretary. She was an old-timer at Grizz Co, with pale, faded tentacles that draped lazily over her chair. She glanced up from her paperwork as we entered, barely sparing us a look.

“What do you want, boy?” she said, her voice rough, not bothering to hide her irritation.

“The Big Run is coming,” I stated, my voice firmer than I felt. "You need to contact Mr. Grizz. Now."

The secretary scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Big Run? That old myth again? How many times have we heard it? Just a load of nonsense, boy. Get outta here with that.”

I slammed my hand down on the desk, the sound echoing through the quiet office. "Open your eyes! Look at the sky, the water! The signs are all there! We don’t have much time!"

She scowled, her tentacles twitching with annoyance. "Don’t you raise your voice at me, boy. I’ve been working here long before you were even—"

Before the situation could escalate further, Kent stepped in, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Jaycee, calm down. We don’t need this right now."

Jun Lin, too, gently tugged at my sleeve, trying to ease the tension. “We’ll figure it out. Just... give it a minute.”

Just as things were about to spiral out of control, the shrill ring of the secretary’s phone cut through the air. She paused mid-scold, casting a glance at the desk before reluctantly picking up the receiver.

"Grizz Co, Administration, how can I—"

Her eyes widened slightly as the voice on the other end spoke. A familiar, authoritative voice. Mr. Grizz. The boss himself.

"Y-yes, sir. Right away, sir," she stammered, her defiance melting away. She put the phone down slowly, her expression a mix of disbelief and irritation.

She turned back to us, her voice grudgingly respectful now. “The Big Boss has given orders. All employees, especially those near the docks, are to gather at the nearest Grizz Co facility. A war is about to begin.” She paused, then added, “As for you... the boss mentioned you specifically, though he didn’t seem to remember your name.” She waved her hand dismissively. “He said to grant you and your... friends access to the latest weaponry.”

My heart pounded in my chest as her words sank in. The Big Run... It was real. It was happening.

The secretary took a deep breath, clearly displeased, but she couldn’t defy a direct order. She pressed a button on her desk, her voice echoing through the facility’s PA system. "Attention all Grizz Co employees. Report to your nearest Grizz Co facility immediately. This is not a drill. A major event is unfolding, and we are entering a state of emergency. I repeat, report to your designated facility."

She finished the announcement and turned back to us. "Follow me."

We trailed behind her as she led us down a series of long, dimly lit hallways until we reached a large set of metal doors. She stopped in front of them and, after punching in a code, the doors slowly creaked open, revealing a vast warehouse filled with rows upon rows of weapons. They were unlike anything I’d ever seen—massive, modified versions of standard Grizz Co gear. Dangerous. Unstable.

Kent and Jun Lin’s eyes widened as they stepped inside, their gazes darting over the array of weaponry. Kent whistled low under his breath. "What the hell have they been cooking up in here?"

The secretary gave a dry chuckle, her tentacles twitching with a sort of dark amusement. “These weapons are highly unstable. They’re experimental, and no one’s been brave—or foolish—enough to test them in the field yet. But it seems like you three are about to be the lucky ones.”

Her tone was mocking, her words dripping with doubt. She didn’t believe in us. I could feel it in every word she spoke, every glance she gave.

But I wasn’t about to let her doubt hold me back. I looked her in the eye, my voice steady. “We can handle it.”

As I spoke, there was a loud crash from across the room. Jun Lin had attempted to lift a heavily modified Dynamo Roller, but its sheer weight had caused it to topple over, pinning her to the ground.

“Help! Help!” she cried, struggling under the massive weapon.

Kent rushed over, trying to help her lift it, but even with both of them, it was a struggle. The secretary crossed her arms, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as she watched the chaos unfold.

I shot her a sharp look. “You find this funny?”

She shrugged, her tentacles curling lazily. “I find it amusing when people bite off more than they can chew.”

Ignoring her, I hurried over to Kent and Jun Lin, putting my weight into helping them lift the roller off her. Together, we managed to heave it back onto its stand, and Jun Lin stumbled to her feet, brushing herself off.

"Thanks, Cyan," she muttered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

I gave her a small smile. “No worries. Let’s just hope we don’t need to use that thing.”

But deep down, I knew... we probably would.

As we stood in front of the racks of experimental Grizz Co weapons, I could feel the weight of what was about to happen settle into my bones. Each of us, in silence, moved toward the gear we were drawn to. Kent, after scanning through the options, reached for a heavy Grizz Co Slosher.

The thing looked slow and bulky, but the second he hoisted it up, I could see the way his eyes lit up. He tested the weight in his hands, resting the weapon on his shoulder before bracing it in front of him. As he pulled the trigger, a thick stream of sludge shot out, the heat of the weapon causing the air to shimmer. The slug punched through a nearby stack of armor plates, dissolving them with ease. Kent nodded in satisfaction, though his muscles strained from the weight.

“Feels heavy,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow, “but right.”

The Slosher didn’t just hit hard—it seemed to burn through even the toughest materials like they were nothing. He grinned at me, a gleam in his eye that I hadn’t seen in a while. The heat of the weapon seemed to reflect the fire inside him.

Jun Lin, on the other hand, eyed a sleek Grizz Co Charger Rifle, its long barrel gleaming under the harsh lights. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, then lifted the weapon to her shoulder, lining up a shot. The rifle charged so quickly that the bright glow nearly blinded me, and when she fired, the sheer power of the blast sent her stumbling backward.

“Whoa!” Jun Lin exclaimed, barely regaining her balance. “That thing’s got a kick!” She examined the weapon, her eyes wide in surprise. “But the range... incredible.” She smiled, brushing off the recoil with a joke, her usual way of lightening things up. “Looks like a flute,” she teased, holding it up like she was about to play a tune.

Kent and I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. The idea of a weapon that could level a building being compared to something as innocent as a flute? Typical Jun Lin.

But then it was my turn. I took a deep breath, my eyes drawn to the Modified Grizz Co Splatana. The moment my hand wrapped around the hilt, a familiar feeling settled over me, like shaking hands with an old friend. The blade was heavier than any Splatana I had ever wielded before, much like Kent’s Slosher, but there was something different about it. I could sense the raw power coiled within its edge, waiting to be unleashed.

I gave it a swing, the weight forcing me to adjust my stance. The weapon tore through the air like it could slice through anything in its path. The blade hummed in my grip, almost as if it was alive, resonating with me. It felt... right. Just like every other weapon my Grandpa had taught me to master, but this one—it was special. This Splatana would be the one I’d use for this fight. It was going to see the front lines.

I closed my eyes for a moment, centering myself as I held the Splatana in both hands. Grandpa’s lessons echoed in my head, the countless hours of training, the stories of war and survival, the pride he’d had when I mastered my first weapon. “Become one with it,” he’d say, “and it will protect you, just as you protect those you love.”

I took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the Splatana, letting it settle into my core. The memories of those teachings and traditions settled over me like armor. This weapon would be an extension of me, just as every blade I’d ever wielded had been.

But this one was different. It wasn’t just about mastering the blade anymore. This time, the stakes were higher. There was something bigger happening. I wasn’t just fighting for survival. I was fighting for them—for Kent, for Jun Lin, and for whatever was coming.

I looked over at them, both still examining their weapons, Kent wiping sweat off his brow and Jun Lin fiddling with the grip on her Charger. The sight of them grounded me. They were counting on me. We were in this together. Whatever was coming next, we’d face it as a team.

I tightened my grip on the Splatana and turned to face the secretary, who still watched us with a mix of amusement and doubt. Her tentacles shifted lazily as she observed our little display of power.

“You’ll be needing that confidence out there,” she remarked dryly, clearly unimpressed. “These weapons... they might be more than you can handle. But hey, you’ll either succeed or... well, you’ll see.”

I gave her a hard look, one that told her we weren’t here to be underestimated.

“We’ll handle it,” I said quietly, but with conviction. And I meant it. I wasn’t going to let doubt stop us. Not now.

Just as we were preparing to move, a loud thud echoed through the room. We turned to see Jun Lin, her Charger slipping from her grip as she attempted to lift a heavily modified Dynamo Roller. The massive weapon had pinned her to the floor, her legs flailing as she tried to wriggle free.

“Help!” she cried, struggling under the sheer weight of the Roller.

Kent rushed to her side, laughing under his breath as he tried to lift the weapon off her. "You really know how to pick 'em, don’t you, Jun?"

I moved in to help as well, the three of us barely managing to heave the Roller off her. It crashed back into place with a heavy clang, leaving Jun Lin slightly flushed but otherwise unharmed.

The secretary raised an eyebrow, watching the scene unfold with a smirk. “Yeah... you’ll be just fine.”

Ignoring her, I turned back to Kent and Jun Lin. “Let’s go. Time’s running out.”

Jun Lin gave me a sheepish grin, dusting herself off. "Lead the way, Cyan."

We were ready. Armed, together, and determined. And whatever was waiting for us out there—whether it was the Big Run or something even worse—we’d face it head-on.

The tension in the air was almost unbearable. The sky had deepened to a vivid orange, casting an eerie glow over the city, while the wind whipped against our faces, sharp and wild, as if a hurricane was tearing through. Standing at the edge of the restless port, I could feel the anticipation vibrating through Kent and Jun Lin. The waves beneath us churned violently, crashing against the docks with increasing force, as if the sea itself was preparing for what was about to come.

And then, the scent hit me—a sharp, unmistakable sting in the air. Salmonids.

I clenched my fists, feeling the familiar jolt of adrenaline surging through my veins. We all stood there in silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on us, until the first sound shattered the stillness—the blaring call of battle horns. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in a long time but one I would never forget. The deep, guttural cries of war.

The water at the port began to bubble and boil, the surface frothing as shadows moved just beneath. And then, in a flood of chaos, they emerged.

Salmonids. Dozens, no—hundreds. Small Fries darting across the shore, while larger, more menacing forms followed—Steelheads, Scrappers, Drizzlers—all of them. The waves seemed to spit them out endlessly, their sheer numbers making the sea itself look alive with writhing, monstrous bodies. The entire port was overrun within moments.

I could feel Kent tensing beside me, his grip tightening on his Slosher. His breath was shallow, and I could tell his mind was racing. "This is... insane," he muttered, eyes wide as he took in the endless horde.

I nudged him with my elbow, forcing him to meet my eyes. “We’ve faced worse, remember? Back when we were kids,” I said, giving him a small smirk, trying to ground us both in the middle of this madness. "We've got this."

Kent let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, just like old times, huh?”

Before we could say anything else, the ground beneath us began to tremble—not from the onslaught of Salmonids, but from something else. A new force was approaching.

We turned and saw them. Grizz Co’s entire workforce. Hundreds of Inklings and Octolings marched in formation, their footsteps thunderous, weapons at the ready. Every worker was suited up and armed with whatever experimental weaponry they had on hand. It was a sight to behold—a powerful, united force ready to defend the city from the Big Run.

And then, over the loudspeakers, an announcement boomed, cutting through the chaos. It was him.

Mister Grizz.

"THE CITY IS IN DANGER!" his voice roared, filled with an intensity that echoed across the port. "THE BIG RUN IS UPON US! SHOW THESE SLIMY SALMONS THAT THEY DON’T BELONG HERE! GO GET THEM!"

The workers erupted in a deafening cheer, their energy electric, but Mister Grizz wasn’t done.

"And don’t forget to grab some of their eggs!" he added, a sly undertone slipping into his voice.

The crowd roared again, louder this time. I exchanged a glance with Jun Lin and Kent. That familiar spark, that sense of purpose, flared inside all of us. We weren’t just bystanders. We were part of this fight.

Together, we raised our weapons, joining the swelling roar of the workforce.

“CHARGE!” I yelled, the word tearing from my throat as we surged forward. Jun Lin and Kent followed without hesitation, our steps in sync with the force behind us, ready to meet the Salmonids head-on.

As we charged, I cast one last glance at the sky. The seven smoke rings had appeared, clear as day, hanging ominously in the orange glow. A sign of the apocalypse, or something much worse.

No... this wasn’t just any battle.

The Big Run war had begun, after nearly 2,000 years. And we were going to end it.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin's Perspective:

The battlefield was chaos. From the moment we charged forward, it felt as though the very ground was shaking beneath us. The waves that had once calmly lapped at the shore had now turned into a relentless tide, vomiting forth an army of Salmonids—small, vicious creatures that swarmed over the docks like ants.

Small Fries darted around my feet, their tiny bodies hard to target as they scrambled across the battlefield. Chums followed, their glowing eyes filled with a terrifying hunger as they charged in droves. But it was the Cohocks that caught my breath—their massive forms lumbered toward us like walking tanks, their heavy feet pounding against the ground with each slow but menacing step.

And behind them, the real nightmare began.

I barely had time to process the rush of movement before a blur of metal caught my eye—a Scrapper. The thing barreled through the ranks, a makeshift vehicle crafted from piles of junk and scrap metal, yet it moved far too fast for something that looked so pieced together. It careened toward us, crushing anything in its path, and I could feel my heart race.

Then, with a screech, a Steel Eel slithered into view, its long, mechanical body coiling and uncoiling like a monstrous snake. The thing was crude—its metal plating slapped together with bolts and rusted edges, yet there was no mistaking its power. It wove through the battlefield, its sheer size and intimidating presence forcing anyone in its path to scatter or be crushed.

And then there were the Flipper Floppers—ugly, rotund creatures that hovered menacingly above, casting shadowy circles of ink over the ground. I watched in horror as one landed with a resounding crash, sending a ring of ink exploding outward. Anyone caught in the trap would be helpless as it rose again, ready to repeat the attack. They were slower, but methodical—each attack a death sentence for anyone who wasn’t quick enough to get out of their way.

But it was the Steelheads that truly made me freeze in my tracks. They stood like giants among their ranks, their huge, hulking forms towering over everything else. Their thick armor seemed impenetrable, and I watched as they methodically raised their arms, lobbing explosive canisters from the glowing sacks on their heads. The explosions tore through our defenses, leaving destruction in their wake. They were juggernauts, their presence alone enough to send a wave of panic through the Grizz Co workforce.

The battle was madness—there was no clear front line, just an endless sea of chaos and destruction. Amidst it all, I caught sight of some of our co-workers—a few brave souls wielding Grizz Co Rollers, massive and heavy. They barreled through the hoards, smashing Salmonids under the weight of their weapons. I watched in awe as one of them collided with a Scrapper, the sheer force of the Roller crumpling the junk machine as though it were made of paper.

Others were blasting away at the Salmonids with Grizz Co Blasters. I could feel the shockwave from the explosions, powerful bursts that sent debris—scrap, metal, even Salmonid bodies—flying through the air. The blasts were strong enough to clear waves of enemies in one fell swoop. Next to them, those armed with Grizz Co Dualies moved with speed and precision, twin barrels spitting rapid-fire shots that tore through the hoards like a storm of bullets. The agility they provided allowed their wielders to dodge and weave through attacks, constantly in motion as they tore through the enemy ranks.

In all the chaos, I barely noticed the Scrapper barreling toward me—its junk-filled body aimed straight at me with deadly intent. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I froze.

But just as it was about to collide, I felt a sharp gust of wind followed by a flash of steel. Jaycee appeared out of nowhere, his Splatana slicing through the air with a deadly precision. The sling slash tore through the Scrapper’s body, sending metal and junk flying in all directions. The machine crumpled to the ground in a heap of twisted debris.

"Thank you!" I shouted, my voice barely cutting through the noise. Jaycee glanced back at me, giving a quick nod before diving back into the fray, his Splatana flashing as he cut through another wave of enemies.

I turned my attention back to the battlefield and spotted Kent, fighting his own battle. He was dealing with another Scrapper, but just as he was about to take it down, a Flipper Flopper landed nearby, trapping him in a ring of ink. I could see the panic in his eyes as he struggled to escape, his feet stuck in the rising tide of ink.

Without thinking, I raised my Grizz Co Charger. The weapon hummed with power as I charged it up, aiming directly at the Flipper Flopper. The beam shot forward, and the impact sent a wave of energy through the air. The Flipper Flopper took the hit, its bulky body shaking under the force, but it wasn’t enough. I fired again, this time hitting it square in the center. It let out a screech, its body trembling before finally collapsing under the assault.

Kent managed to break free just in time. “Nice shot!” he called, flashing me a relieved grin.

We regrouped for a moment, just enough to catch our breath, but the battle was far from over. The hoards were endless, and the sky was growing darker with every passing second.

The war had only just begun.

Jaycee's Perspective:

The thrill of battle surged through my veins. The air was thick with the stench of Salmonids, and I couldn’t help but feel a twisted excitement with each slash of my Splatana. The hoard was endless, but I wasn’t slowing down—not yet. More... I need more!

I slashed through a Scrapper with ease, its junky vehicle collapsing in a pile of twisted metal at my feet. Another Steelhead lumbered toward me, its thick armor glowing as it prepared to launch one of those explosive canisters. Not today. I dashed forward, slicing through it in one clean motion. It barely had time to react before collapsing in a heap.

Then, I felt it—something big creeping up behind me. I whipped around, just in time to see a Steel Eel towering over me. But before I could make a move, its driver slumped forward, and the whole thing crumbled. I glanced up, spotting Jun Lin perched in the distance, her Grizz Co Charger smoking from the shot.

"Thanks, Bluey!" I called out, giving her a quick salute before scanning the battlefield for Kent.

There he was, taking on another Steelhead. I grinned and charged in, slicing through the Steelhead’s armor just as Kent was about to finish it off. It collapsed in front of him, and I couldn’t resist smirking.

"That was supposed to be mine!" Kent scoffed, giving me an exaggerated glare.

"You're welcome!" I shot back, sarcastic but playful. We both chuckled, the laughter a brief break from the chaos around us.

Then, the war horns sounded again. A cold chill ran down my spine as Mr. Grizz’s voice crackled over the radio. "Another wave inbound. Prepare yourselves."

More bosses. Great. As if the hoard we were already dealing with wasn’t enough. I squinted through the orange haze of the battlefield, and there they were.

Drizzlers—small, tricky things that flew through the air with their makeshift umbrellas, launching torpedoes that exploded into massive storms. Acid rain poured down in their wake, covering the battlefield in corrosive ink. It was chaos, the storm blurring everything in sight.

Then the Fish Sticks appeared, those tall, spinning towers that rained slime everywhere they went. They turned the battlefield into a slimy mess, the ground slick with their disgusting spray. It was like trying to fight in a swamp, and everything felt heavier.

And then, the Slammin' Lids. Huge, floating platforms that slammed down onto the ground with enough force to flatten anyone caught underneath. But worse than that, they were dropping more Salmonids into the fray—reinforcements. As if the hoard wasn’t big enough already.

I spotted a Cohock that had gotten stuck under a pile of debris, but just as it managed to pull itself free, a Grizz Co Roller barreled over it, squashing it flat. I couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of it all.

I looked over at Kent. We exchanged a glance—a silent understanding—and charged headfirst into the chaos.

Kent made quick work of a Drizzler, his Slosher melting through its umbrella with a well-aimed shot. "That’s one down!" he shouted, grinning as the thing collapsed in a heap of torn metal and ink.

I had my eyes set on a Slammin' Lid. I waited, tricking the driver into dropping its platform down over me, and just as it slammed to the ground, I leapt up and landed right on top of it. The driver—some Salmonid barely keeping its junk heap together—looked up at me with wide, terrified eyes.

"Hey there," I grinned, charging my Splatana.

The Salmonid panicked, reaching for its ladle to try and swat me off its platform, but it was too slow. I slashed through it with a single strike, the force of the attack sending the driver toppling over the edge. With that, the platform crumbled beneath me, and I jumped off just in time.

As I landed back on the ground, I regrouped with Kent and Jun Lin. We were breathless but grinning, the energy between us electric. We were unstoppable. For a moment, the chaos around us seemed to disappear, and all that was left was the sound of our laughter echoing through the battlefield.

We were far from done.

I gripped my Splatana tightly, the tension in the air thick enough to taste. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me, the weight of the battle lifting for just a moment. With a smirk creeping across my face, I glanced at Kent and Jun Lin. The chaos, the screams of the Salmonids—it all blurred together into a rhythm. The battlefield was our stage.

"Time to turn this dance up," I muttered under my breath, raising the Splatana with a wicked gleam in my eyes.

We moved in sync, tearing into the hoard like it was nothing. Each slash, each shot, was like hitting the beat of a song only we could hear. Kent was blasting through the masses, his Slosher sending waves of ink that melted anything in its path. Jun Lin was picking off targets with surgical precision, her Grizz Co Charger lighting up the sky.

But me? I was slicing through them like paper. Every strike of the Splatana sent Salmonids flying, their armor crumpling under its force. It wasn’t just fighting—it was a frenzy. And for a split second, I couldn’t stop grinning. More came at us, but it was like they were moving in slow motion. We were unstoppable.

I caught sight of a Scrapper barreling toward me. Perfect. With a quick dash, I launched myself at it, carving straight through its junky armor like it was nothing. The rush, the thrill—it was intoxicating. I laughed, spinning around to catch Kent in action, stealing another Steelhead right out from under him.

"You’re gonna owe me for that one!" I shouted with a smirk.

"Keep dreaming, Jay!" Kent yelled back, firing off another round.

Jun Lin took down another target, and as she reloaded, we all exchanged a look—no words, just the wild energy crackling between us. The battle was chaos, but we were in control. It was a massacre, and somehow, it felt like we were dancing through the wreckage, unstoppable and untouchable.

The world blurred around us, explosions, ink splashes, and debris flying in every direction. But the three of us? We were laughing through it all. It wasn’t just a fight—it was a thrill ride, and we weren’t about to let it end anytime soon.

And as the battlefield roared around us, we dove back in, cutting through the chaos like it was nothing. The Big Run had no idea what was coming for it.

The air shifted. The familiar blare of war horns echoed once again, but this time there was something more—something darker. My heart skipped a beat as another crackling call cut through the chaos. It was Mr. Grizz’s voice, cold and sharp through the radio.

"ALERT! ALERT! The Big Guns are coming!"

I froze, a chill running down my spine. The others—Kent, Jun Lin, and the whole Grizz Co army—they knew what that meant. We all did. The most dangerous, the most deadly of the Salmonid were coming. And we weren’t ready.

A sound caught my attention. It was low at first, almost like the rattling of chains. Then I saw them. Stingers. Towering beasts, their bodies made of stacked pots, each one glowing ominously as they fired streams of ink from their sniper-like turrets. One shot could tear through a squadron if we didn’t act fast.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, that honor belonged to the next monstrosity rising from the sea—the Big Shots. Their massive cannons slammed onto the shore with a deafening crash. Huge, mechanical contraptions, their operators hidden within. They pushed heavy yellow cannons forward, and with each launch, tidal waves of ink surged toward us. Each shot carved massive holes into our forces, sending Grizz Co employees flying.

I clenched my fists, but it wasn’t until I heard that hum that the real dread settled in.

Flyfish.

A familiar, high-pitched hum pierced the battlefield. I whipped around, and there they were—those wretched things, floating above the chaos. Flyfish. Their twin missile launchers bristled with energy, locking onto our forces, ready to unleash devastation. I felt it in my gut, that creeping fear crawling up my spine. The Flyfish were the worst. Their missiles rained down from above like a relentless storm, turning the battlefield into a graveyard if we couldn’t take them out.

I couldn’t breathe. Not with those things in the air.

My eyes darted across the shore. The battle was spiraling out of control, and the Flyfish were only making it worse. There were hundreds—no, thousands—of Salmonids swarming the shore. Even our Grizz Co Rollers, Blasters, and Dualies were struggling to hold them back. The machines that once tore through the ranks of our enemies now sputtered against the endless tide. We were being overrun. There was no breaking through. Not like this.

Then, just as my thoughts spiraled into despair, another radio call came through, cutting through the noise.

"Do not worry, Grizz Co. Workers. Grizz Co. Cannons have been activated!"

My head snapped back, eyes widening as I watched massive Grizz Co Cannons deploy behind us. They rose like beacons of hope amid the chaos. And there, standing tall by one of the cannons, was Captain Virgil—the old Sturgeon I knew well. I could hardly believe it.

"Captain Virgil!" I breathed his name in awe, watching him climb onto the platform. He didn’t hesitate for a second, his old hands working the controls like he was born for this. His eyes were sharp, focused. And as the first blast from the cannon fired, the entire shore seemed to tremble.

Explosions lit up the battlefield, clearing a path. Salmonids were thrown into the air, torn apart by the force of the cannon fire. The Stingers wobbled under the assault, the Big Shots staggered, and even the Flyfish faltered, struggling to maintain their position in the sky. Captain Virgil was relentless, sending round after round into the enemy ranks, blasting through the horde.

I couldn’t help but smile, relief flooding through me. With the path cleared, I turned to Kent and Jun Lin, nodding.

"Now’s our chance!" I shouted over the noise.

Together, with the rest of the Grizz Co army behind us, we charged toward the shore. The fear that had gripped me moments before was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline. We would take out the Big Guns. We would tear through the Salmonids. And we would win this fight, no matter what.

Jun Lin's Perspective:

The rush of adrenaline was like nothing I’d ever felt before. The chaos around us only seemed to heighten the thrill. As we charged toward the shore, it felt like we were unstoppable, like the very tide of battle was shifting in our favor.

Ahead, the so-called "Big Guns" were falling one after another. The Stingers—those towering beasts firing their deadly streams of ink—were crumbling under the force of Grizz Co. The air smelled like cooked fish as the snipers dropped, their ink attacks splattering harmlessly as they went down. I couldn’t help but grin at the sight. For once, it wasn’t us running from them.

The Big Shots were next. Their massive cannons that once sent waves of destruction crashing through our ranks were now getting overwhelmed. Grizz Co’s weapons blasted through their armor, making them stagger and fall, ink spilling everywhere. We were no longer the hunted.

But the best part? Watching Jaycee in action. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was a force of nature, his Splatana glowing with energy as he charged forward. Then, with one powerful swipe, he sliced through a Flyfish like it was nothing—one clean cut, and the thing fell apart, its missiles exploding uselessly in the air. The dreaded Flyfish, the very creatures that had terrorized us for so long, were finally at our mercy. Jaycee didn’t even pause to celebrate; he just kept going, carving a path through the Salmonids like it was second nature.

Not far from him, Kent was doing the same. His Grizz Co Slosher was slow, but powerful—every swing sent waves of molten ink crashing onto the battlefield. I watched in awe as he melted the driver of another Flyfish, its machine smoking and crumbling under the pressure. Kent gave a satisfied nod, and for once, we were the ones with the upper hand. The ones in control.

The battlefield was utter chaos, but it didn’t matter. We were winning. After so long, these monsters didn’t scare us anymore. I could feel the thrill in my chest, the power coursing through us as we cleared out the shore. We were unstoppable.

But then… something shifted. A feeling, subtle at first, like a sting below me. My breath caught as I looked down, sensing a strange warmth spreading beneath my feet. My heart skipped a beat.

It was right underneath me.

I froze, my mind racing as the realization hit me. In all the chaos, with all the destruction around us, we’d forgotten about one last Salmonid boss.

And now it was right below me.

Jaycee's Perspective:

The rush of battle consumed me. Each swing of my Splatana sent another Salmonid crashing to the ground, another Flyfish reduced to nothing more than a shattered machine. The power surged through me, excitement bubbling in my veins. These enemies had tormented me for far too long, but today, I was the one with the upper hand.

But then… I saw it. A familiar glowing bulb slithering beneath the surface, cutting through the murky ink like a predator stalking its prey. The Maw. That massive, terrifying beast—more teeth than body, its bulbous lure drawing closer to the surface. And it was heading straight for Jun Lin.

"Jun Lin!" I screamed her name, but the battlefield was too loud. The roar of cannons, the screeching of Salmonid war cries, the blasts of ink—it drowned out everything. She was too distracted, too focused on taking down the last of the bosses to notice the danger beneath her feet.

I tried to push forward, desperate to reach her, but the Salmonids kept coming—Scrappers with their junkyard armor, Big Shots firing cannons, and Steelheads lumbering forward with their explosive payloads. Every one of them seemed to know, as if they could sense my urgency. They swarmed around me, blocking my path.

"JUN LIN! NOOOO!!!" My voice broke as I struggled to get through.

Then, everything blurred. A strange distortion echoed in my mind, a whisper from another time and place. Baba...

I froze. Misha? I whispered, confusion and fear tangling together as the battlefield seemed to spin. My vision darkened at the edges as I watched in horror—the Maw’s bulb bubbling up, the creature beneath stirring, ready to strike. Jun Lin looked at me then, her eyes widening as she realized what was about to happen. The Maw was right beneath her, and she was trapped.

No… No!

Just as the Maw lunged from the slime, jaws wide to swallow her whole, a figure shot through the air. A flash of dark ink, trailing like a shadow. Someone—something—was moving faster than I’d ever seen, zipping through the chaos like a bolt of lightning. It wasn’t a weapon I recognized, but the way it moved… the way the figure seemed to stretch and pull like ink itself… it was incredible. Before I could even process what was happening, this stranger had swooped down, grabbed Jun Lin, and whisked her away from the jaws of death.

The person—cloaked in ink and moving with unnatural speed—dropped Jun Lin into my arms before vanishing just as quickly as they had appeared.

Jun Lin screamed as she fell into my embrace, but for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just us. I held her tightly, feeling her heartbeat against mine. Relief, overwhelming and pure, surged through me. She was safe. She was alive.

But the Maw wasn’t done. The beast lunged again, its massive mouth gaping open. This time, we both moved in sync, leaping out of its path. I hurled a grenade as we landed, the explosion lighting up the sky as the Maw was finally blown to pieces.

The battle around us raged on, but I could feel the tides turning. Slowly but surely, we pushed the Salmonid hoards back. The sound of war horns echoed over the battlefield, signaling their retreat. They were fleeing, vanishing back into the murky green waters from which they came.

"VICTORY!" The shout came from all around us, Grizz Co workers roaring in triumph. The facility itself seemed to shake with the cheers of our comrades.

Bluey—Jun Lin—and I stood there, panting, watching the last of our enemies disappear into the sea. We turned to each other, and in an instant, we hugged. There were no words, just the silent understanding that we’d made it. That we were both still here, alive, after everything.

Jun Lin pulled back and laughed, a sound that was bright and full of life. "I might be a doctor now," she said, shaking her head, "but I’ve never felt more alive than I did out there!" Her laughter was contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile.

"You’ve really come into your own out here," I said, admiring her growth. "You handled yourself like a pro, Bluey. You really know how to take care of yourself now."

But even as we celebrated, even as the victory sank in, a shadow lingered in the back of my mind. That figure—the one who saved Jun Lin—it gnawed at me. Who were they? Why had they helped us?

And then there was something else, something darker. A feeling I couldn’t shake, like a weight pressing on my chest. This battle… it wasn’t over. Not really. The Salmonids we’d fought today? They were just the beginning. The devils of the sea were still out there, lurking, waiting for their chance to strike again.

The Big Run wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin's Perspective

All I could see was the aftermath—pieces of machinery twisted and bent, scraps of metal half-buried in the mud, and scattered scales that glimmered dully in the fading light. The remnants of frying pans and makeshift armor lay abandoned, mingled with the torn clothing of the Salmonids who had fled. The stench hit me hard, rising with the smoke and sea spray. It was overpowering—a mix of burnt metal, seawater, and something fishy, sour, and rotten all at once.

Jaycee caught my eye and grinned. "Yeah, war's a mess. Even the ocean's fighting back now."

I smirked, not missing a beat. "Kinda reminds me of your apartment, you know. The mess, the smell..."

"Ha ha ha," he responded with a flat laugh, rolling his eyes. "Very funny, Bluey."

But even in the chaos, I knew there were spoils of war to be collected. There was a sudden rumbling from afar, and I glanced up. In the distance, a line of dump trucks appeared, slowly rolling towards the battlefield. They were here to clean up the wreckage, and the sight of them kicking up dust felt surreal after the intensity of the fight.

A crackle interrupted my thoughts, and the familiar, condescending voice of Mr. Grizz boomed through the speakers scattered around the field.

"Congratulations to all Grizz Co. employees! You did a splendid job. Really... top-notch." His tone had that hint of slyness again, like he was holding back a laugh. "Now, let's not waste any time. Collect the spoils, and remember—there’s more where that came from."

Kent walked up beside us, shaking his head as he watched the trucks roll in. "Does he always sound like that?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. "I don't know... there's something... off about him. Something sinister."

I watched Jaycee’s expression soften with amusement as he shrugged. "Well, the pay’s good, right? Keeps food on the table and a roof over my messy apartment."

Kent managed a chuckle, but I could see the unease lingering in his eyes. He couldn’t shake that sense of foreboding. I didn't blame him—Grizz Co. had always seemed a little too polished, too eager to reward us for risking our lives in these battles. But everyone has their own way of coping, their own views on what matters.

The dump trucks were getting closer now, and the entire field buzzed with activity. People were hauling wreckage into piles, sifting through the debris for anything valuable or useful. The waves had started to calm, the sea returning to its usual dull roar, but I could still hear the echoes of the war horns in my mind, the clash of ink and steel ringing in my ears.

The clean-up had begun in earnest. Workers moved through the wreckage, rummaging through heaps of broken machinery and shattered armor. The battlefield had transformed from a chaotic war zone into a bustling hive of activity. Every now and then, someone would cheer—a worker would lift a gleaming golden egg from the fallen Salmonid Bosses, holding it high like a trophy. These eggs were precious, a rare reward for the blood and ink shed, and they were quickly collected and piled onto the waiting dump trucks.

But it wasn’t just golden eggs that the workers were unearthing.

From a distance, I noticed a young Inkling girl, her goggles hanging loosely around her neck, stop abruptly as she crouched over something half-buried in the mud. She reached down with trembling hands, lifting a battered helmet, covered in ink and scratches. Her eyes widened, and I saw the recognition in her expression, the way her shoulders stiffened as the weight of the moment crashed over her.

"No... it can’t be..." she whispered, her voice breaking as she clutched the helmet to her chest. Then, all at once, she crumpled, falling to her knees, sobbing. The sound of her grief cut through the noise, raw and piercing. It was the kind of cry that made the air feel heavier, more oppressive. Workers nearby stopped what they were doing, forming a quiet circle around her. Some knelt down, placing gentle hands on her shoulders, whispering words of comfort. Slowly, they helped her to her feet and led her away, supporting her as if she might fall apart at any moment.

I didn't know what had happened to the Inkling or who she'd lost, but I understood the pain—the hollow ache of losing someone who mattered. I hugged myself, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the sea breeze.

I turned back, hoping to find Jaycee, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence, but he was gone. Panic flickered at the edge of my thoughts, and I scanned the crowd, my heart starting to pound. I couldn’t see him anywhere, and the battlefield suddenly felt even larger, emptier.

“Jaycee?” I called, my voice barely rising above the clamor of the workers and the rumble of the dump trucks. “Jaycee, where are you?”

I looked around frantically and spotted Kent a few paces away, his back turned as he rummaged through a pile of debris. He looked up when I called his name, confusion etched across his face.

"Have you seen Jaycee?" I asked, my voice sharp with urgency.

Kent just shrugged, looking puzzled. "No, I haven't. I... I thought he was right here a moment ago."

I couldn’t help the flash of irritation that tightened my chest. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

Kent gave a sheepish smile, shaking his head. "Guess not... Sorry."

"Never mind," I said quickly. "Help me find him."

Kent nodded, and we began to weave through the crowds, calling Jaycee’s name as the sense of unease grew stronger. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that Jaycee wasn’t just hiding or wandering aimlessly. He had vanished, and the weight of that realization settled heavily in my stomach.

I didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

Jaycee Perspective

The battlefield lay in a chaotic sprawl of twisted metal, shattered weapons, and glistening scales, and the sharp tang of the sea mingled with the stench of ink and scorched machinery. The rank, fishy odor was overwhelming, far worse than anything I’d smelled in the dim, oily confines of the Grizz Co. facility. Yet amidst the filth, there was a strange sense of triumph, of satisfaction—a reminder that the bounties earned here were more than worth the cost. Golden eggs, shimmering with promise, piled high in the backs of dump trucks, a hard-won reward that would keep the gears of our city turning.

I watched the workers efficiently sort through the mess, their arms elbow-deep in the remains of Salmonid bosses. One of them, a younger Inkling, struggled to hoist the massive, limp form of a Maw onto a truck bed. Its rows of sharp teeth hung open, lifeless, and I caught myself wondering if its flesh would end up on someone’s plate tomorrow. They were our enemies, sure, but they were also... resources. Food for the hungry and power for the city’s machines. A cycle of survival where even the monsters had their place.

I couldn’t help but think of Jun Lin, who had come so close to being another casualty—another lifeless body left in the muck. My stomach churned as the memory surged back, vivid and raw. The Maw’s gaping mouth rising from the slime, the helpless look in her eyes when she realized she couldn’t escape. But then, that hero had appeared... that masked figure, with the sleek gear and the strange ink weapon. He saved her, saved her when I couldn’t, and I was left with an empty pit in my chest.

What if she hadn’t been saved? What if I had lost her right then and there?

Would I have gone on, hunting more bounties, laughing off the danger like always? Or would I have sunk into the same darkness I’ve felt for so long, the kind that grips me when I’m alone at night?

I shook my head, trying to banish those thoughts, but they clung like ink stains that wouldn't wash away. Just as I was about to turn back, I felt a prickle at the back of my neck—a strange, familiar sensation that made my breath catch.

“Jaycee...”

I froze. The voice was distant, soft, almost a whisper carried by the breeze, but I knew it. I knew it in my bones. It wasn’t Jun Lin or Kent. It wasn’t anyone from Grizz Co.

It was different—something deep, something old, like a memory I’d forgotten but had never truly left behind.

I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly racing. I turned away from the dump trucks, my gaze searching the shadows amidst the debris, my feet moving before I knew what I was doing. I had to find it, that voice. The air felt heavier, charged with something I couldn’t quite explain, drawing me away from the crowd and into the lonely, broken remnants of the battlefield.

“Jaycee...”

It called again, clearer this time, and I felt a shiver run through me. Whatever it was, whoever it was—it wanted me to come closer.

So I did.

I wandered away from the battlefield, my steps aimless but driven by a strange pull I couldn’t resist. The clamor of Grizz Co. faded behind me, the sound of engines and machinery growing distant, replaced by the gentle whisper of waves rolling onto the shore. The voice, the one that had called me, grew clearer, sharper. Each step I took seemed to blur the edges of my surroundings, twisting my sense of time and place. A heaviness settled over my thoughts, and for a fleeting second, I saw... her.

Misha.

A playful giggle rang out, echoing through the mist that seemed to hang over the shoreline. "Baba! You always take the long way around, don’t you?" I froze, the teasing words settling into the pit of my stomach like a stone. I knew that voice—the lightness, the gentle taunt, all too familiar. A voice that should’ve been long gone, only to return like a forgotten melody. She was here. I could feel it, even if it didn’t make sense.

"Misha?" I called, my voice shaky. No answer—only the echoes of that laughter, teasing me, daring me to follow. So I did, my feet moving before I could second-guess myself. I broke into a jog, my eyes fixed on the shimmering horizon. The darkness of the battlefield was behind me, and before me, the sky was painted in a brilliant golden-orange hue, as if the entire world had been washed in sunlight. It was bright, vibrant—so different from the dark purples that had loomed just moments ago. Those smoke rings, the strange omens that took days to form, were gone. Vanished in seconds like they’d never existed.

I didn’t understand it. It didn’t matter. The laughter called to me again, and I pushed forward, skidding down the rocky shore and stumbling towards the source.

It led me to a narrow gap in the rocks—a dark crack that looked almost too small to squeeze through. "Over here!" The voice was muffled but close, like it was just on the other side. I hesitated, then took a deep breath, squeezing into the narrow passage. The walls were rough, scraping against my arms and shoulders, but I pushed on until the passage widened, opening up into a hidden cove.

I stopped short, my breath hitching in my throat.

Massive cliffs surrounded the cove on three sides, their jagged edges reaching up toward the sky like the arms of some ancient guardian. A small, crescent-shaped beach lay at my feet, the sand soft and untouched, a golden-orange hue reflecting the sunset above. Sunlight streamed through a gap in the cliffs, casting long shadows across the water and bathing the secluded haven in a warm, ethereal glow. It was like stepping into another world, one of peace and quiet—so far from the chaos and noise I had left behind.

This place... it reminded me of Captain Virgil and the days we spent on the sea, far from the worries of battles and the grim duties of Grizz Co. A pang of sorrow tugged at my chest, and I felt the edges of my vision blur. I wanted to cry, to fall to my knees and let everything go—but then I saw her.

Misha, standing at the water’s edge, turned to face me with a wide, mischievous grin. Her hair caught the light just right, her figure almost glowing with the brilliance of the sunset. "Took you long enough!" she teased, crossing her arms. "I thought you'd never find me."

I stood there, frozen, unable to move or speak. The sight of her, alive and laughing, shattered every ounce of composure I had left. It couldn’t be real. But she was there, right in front of me, as if she’d always been there, waiting. I took a step forward, my voice breaking, "M-Misha... is it really you?"

She only laughed again, the sound light and carefree. "Well, who else would it be, Baba?" she teased, sticking her tongue out playfully. "Now, come on! Don't just stand there like a lost squid!"

I moved forward, each step feeling heavier and lighter all at once, until I was standing just a few feet away from her. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. All I could do was stare, caught between disbelief and the aching hope that she was real, that she wouldn’t fade away if I reached out.

But she only smiled, a gentle, knowing smile, and pointed towards the cliffside, where the sunset was painting the rocks in shades of gold and crimson. "Beautiful, isn’t it? You know, you always forget to look at the horizon... always too focused on what's right in front of you." Her tone was playful, teasing, but there was something else there, something deeper that I couldn’t quite grasp.

I looked out over the waves, my heart still hammering in my chest. She was right. It was beautiful. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a moment of peace—that something had drawn me here for a reason. And standing beside Misha, with the world bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, I knew that I was about to find out what it was.

"No... This isn't real... I... I don't even know you... and yet... How come I know your name?" My voice was shaking. It didn’t make any sense. I didn't know her, but I knew her—Misha. It was like a distant memory I could barely grasp, a name that shouldn't mean anything but felt as familiar as my own.

Misha’s smile wavered, her eyes softening with something that looked almost like pity. "In another life...," she said quietly, her voice tinged with a sadness that cut through me. She paused, staring at me as if she saw something I couldn't, something I should have remembered. "You were my Baba... My guardian... My hero."

A single tear traced down her cheek, catching the light of the setting sun, and she let out a small, teasing laugh. "And you always were so dense," she said, her voice cracking with a mix of fondness and pain. It was like she knew me in a way that no one else ever had, and I was left staring at her, completely lost.

Suddenly, a sharp, almost electric pain shot through me, like a jolt to the base of my neck. It felt like the world was shattering for a split second, and then I saw it—a flash of another life, another me, saving this girl, Misha, from the jaws of a Maw. The memory—or whatever it was—cut deep, like a dream I was waking up from, and I gasped for breath.

Misha’s smile faded, and all I saw was the sadness in her eyes as she began to dissolve like mist under the sun. "I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, before she faded completely from view. I was left standing there, my heart pounding, my mind reeling. Whatever this was—whatever had just happened—was too surreal, too real. And yet, I knew I couldn’t tell anyone about it. Not even Jun Lin would understand.

I stood there, staring at the horizon, the orange light soft and warm on my face. I didn’t want to leave that place, didn’t want to let go of the strange, impossible feeling that had settled over me. But I knew I had to go back. Jun Lin would be looking for me.

With a heavy sigh, I tore myself away from the cove, glancing back one last time before heading back towards the chaos of Grizz Co. The warmth of the sunset lingered on my skin as I walked, and with each step, the strangeness of the encounter faded, leaving only questions I had no answers for.

When I finally got back, I barely had a chance to catch my breath before Jun Lin came barreling into me, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. "Where the heck have you been?!" she demanded, her voice half-scolding, half-relieved. I could feel her trembling as she held me, squeezing me so tight it hurt.

"Whoa, you've got a strong grip for a girl," I joked, trying to ease the tension. But my words didn't do much to calm her; she only tightened her hold.

Kent, who was standing just behind her, let out a long sigh of relief. "Man, do you know how worried she was?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "She wouldn't stop blaming me for losing you."

"Because you weren't paying attention!" Jun Lin shot back, pulling away just enough to glare at him. Kent shrugged, clearly at a loss, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter.

I took a deep breath, knowing I couldn't keep everything to myself—not entirely. "I found something... A cove, hidden away past the shoreline," I said slowly, watching their reactions carefully. "It's beautiful. I think it's worth checking out. I’d like to show it to you both."

Jun Lin’s eyes lit up, curiosity and excitement flashing across her face. "Really? That sounds amazing! I can't wait to see it!" she said, practically bouncing on her heels. I forced a smile, feeling the weight of what I hadn’t told her—the strange vision, the impossible encounter with Misha.

Kent, meanwhile, looked a little skeptical, but he gave me a small, begrudging nod. "I don’t know, man... I’ve got a packed schedule," he said, but when he saw the look on my face, he relented. "Fine, fine. I’ll make time. It better be worth it, though."

"It will be," I promised, even though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince—him, or myself.

As Jun Lin chattered excitedly about what the cove might look like, I couldn’t help but get swept up in her enthusiasm. Her eyes were alight with wonder, painting a picture with her words of secret caves, hidden treasures, and shimmering sunsets. I chuckled as she imagined the possibilities, her excitement a welcome distraction from the lingering confusion in my mind.

Kent trailed behind, feigning disinterest. "I don’t know why you’re getting all worked up about it, Jun. It’s probably just another hole in the wall," he said with a smirk.

Jun Lin shot him a playful glare. "You don’t get it, Kent! Jaycee wouldn’t just wander off for nothing. It has to be something special."

"Yeah," I said, backing her up with a grin, "I think even you would be impressed. It’s... hard to explain, but you’ll see when we get there."

Kent raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Oh, so now we’re going to follow you into random caves? What’s next, spelunking in the sewers?"

Jun Lin laughed, a light and clear sound that made my chest feel a little lighter. "If it’s with Jaycee, I’m game," she said, giving me a quick wink. "Besides, it can’t smell worse than your apartment, right?"

"Ha ha, very funny," I replied with a sarcastic roll of my eyes. “For the record, my place is practically spotless compared to the mess we just crawled out of.”

Kent snorted. "You’re dodging the point, but whatever. If you two are dead set on playing explorers, I guess I’ll have to come along. Just don’t get your hopes up, alright? I don’t want to hear any whining if it’s a bust."

"Oh, come on, Kent," Jun Lin nudged him with her elbow. "We both know you’re just as curious as I am."

He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, I’ll make time. But this better be worth it," he grumbled, though I could tell he was more interested than he let on.

I just smiled, feeling a strange sense of relief that they were both with me. “I promise, it’ll be worth it. There’s... something about that place. I can’t really put it into words.”

Jun Lin gave me a curious look, tilting her head. "What do you mean, ‘something’? You’re being all cryptic again."

I hesitated, my thoughts drifting back to the girl I’d seen—the one who called me Baba. I wanted to tell them everything, to share that surreal moment, but something inside me told me to keep it to myself for now. “It’s just a feeling,” I said instead, my voice quiet. “Like... there’s more to this than just a cool cave.”

Kent snorted. "Great. Now he’s a philosopher."

Jun Lin ignored him, squeezing my hand. "Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together."

Her words settled something inside me. I squeezed her hand back and nodded. “Yeah. Together.”

As we walked back toward the Grizz Co. facility, the distant rumble of dump trucks echoed behind us, the remnants of the battle slowly being cleared away. I glanced back one last time at the battlefield, seeing the golden light of the sunset paint the wreckage in a warm glow. The clouds, once dark and foreboding, had faded into a peaceful orange and pink, the smoke rings in the sky gone as if they’d never existed.

Jun Lin’s voice pulled me back to the moment. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it?"

I nodded, feeling a strange sense of closure and a lingering unease that I couldn’t quite place. "Yeah... it is," I said softly.

Kent groaned. "Alright, enough with the sentimental stuff. Let’s just get back. I’m starving."

Jun Lin laughed, giving him a playful shove. "You’re always starving, Kent."

"Can’t help it," he shot back with a grin. "Saving the world makes a guy hungry."

I chuckled, grateful for the moment of levity. Whatever was waiting for us, I knew I didn’t have to face it alone. Even if I didn’t understand everything that had happened—especially that strange, heartbreaking moment with Misha—I felt a strange sense of determination settle inside me.

I glanced one last time at the horizon, where the sun was dipping below the waves, casting long shadows over the battlefield. It felt like a promise and a warning all at once.

I looked back at my friends, my family, and knew that no matter what was coming, I’d face it head-on. For Jun Lin, for Kent, and for the girl I couldn’t forget.

And with that, we walked on together, the warmth of the fading sunset guiding us back to a world that suddenly felt a little more uncertain—and a little more hopeful.

Chapter Text

Jaycee's Perspective

After a long day at Grizz Co, I stepped off the boat and onto the pier, feeling the weight of the shift fade away as the breeze hit my face. Captain Virgil, standing at the helm, tipped his cap with a grin.

“Back again tomorrow, eh, lad?” he chuckled in his warm, familiar drawl.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Captain,” I called back, waving. “Stay safe out there.”

“Oh, ye know me,” he replied, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Try not to bring any of that muck home with ya! See ya on the mornin' tide!”

I laughed and shook my head, turning to see a familiar figure waiting for me. Jun Lin—Bluey—stood at the end of the pier, holding something in her hands. I couldn’t hold back the rush of excitement and charged down the dock, feet thudding on the wooden planks.

She opened her mouth to greet me, but I didn’t let her get a word in. I scooped her up and spun her around, catching her surprised yelp before settling into a warm embrace.

“I missed you...” I whispered, feeling the tension of the day melting away.

“You need a shower,” she teased, scrunching her nose.

“Way to ruin the moment, Bluey,” I said, setting her down with a playful grin.

She smirked and switched gears. “Well, I got something for you. Hope you like it.”

Curious, I glanced down at the box she held out. The logo on the side of the box was familiar. My heart skipped a beat.

“Heavenly Wings Cafe?” I muttered, taking the box from her. I lifted the lid to reveal a delightful assortment of pastries—muffins, cupcakes, and doughnuts all neatly lined up.

“Not bad, huh?” she said, eyes twinkling with excitement.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You do realize I’m trying to keep in shape, right?”

Jun Lin pouted, hands on her hips. “Hey! I waited in line and spent extra just to get these for you. The least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “A little sugar won’t hurt.”

Reaching into the box, I grabbed a chocolate custard doughnut. As I took a bite, the rich sweetness hit me instantly. There was something about it... something familiar. I paused, chewing slowly. A memory, buried and almost forgotten, tugged at the edge of my mind.

Jun Lin noticed my hesitation. “Jaycee, is everything okay?”

I took another slow bite, savoring the taste, and swallowed, trying to place the feeling that had settled in my chest. Turning to her, I asked, “Bluey... where did you get this?”

Jun Lin’s gentle reminder broke me out of my daze. “It’s from the Heavenly Wings Cafe,” she said again, sensing my confusion.

I pressed on, “Yeah, I got that. But where...?”

“Down in the Downtown area of Splatsville,” she replied, watching my face closely. I felt my stomach drop. Diego’s words from long ago flashed back to me: “Our sister’s running a pretty successful pastry shop now.”

A lump formed in my throat. Could it really be...? I swallowed hard and turned to Bluey. “Did you see... did you see my sister? Neon?”

Her expression shifted, and I saw recognition in her eyes. “Oh! Yes, I think I did,” she said, her voice softening. “She was the one who sold me the box. We had a short chat. She looked... really happy, Jaycee.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and I cut her off without meaning to. “Can we... can you take me there? Right now?”

Jun Lin hesitated. “I... I can’t, not today. I still have paperwork to finish up for Grizz Co. But tomorrow, I promise.”

I tried to keep the disappointment from showing, but my fingers clenched around the edge of the box. I nodded slowly. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

She must have seen the turmoil on my face because she reached out, placing her hand gently on my cheek. “I know that look, Cyan,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “You’re worried. You’re always worried about something.” She leaned in and pressed her lips softly against mine, the sweet comfort momentarily easing the ache in my chest. “We’ll face this together, I promise.”

I could only manage a whisper. “Yes... yes, we will.” She gave me a final squeeze, then turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the box of pastries.

As the sun dipped lower behind the city skyline, memories came rushing back like a flood. I took another bite of the custard doughnut, the familiar sweetness triggering a cascade of images from my past—of Neon, my little sister.

___________________________________________________________

“Look, Kuya! I made this! My very first cupcake!” Her excited voice rang clear in my mind, as if I were back in our old kitchen. A smile tugged at my lips as I remembered her holding up that lumpy cupcake with so much pride.

I had taken a bite back then, even though the top was burnt and the inside was still half-raw. “It’s... good!” I’d lied, trying to swallow without grimacing. “Maybe... just a little more sugar next time?”

She’d huffed, her face falling. “You never like my cooking!” Her lower lip had trembled, and I’d felt a pang of guilt. I’d meant it as helpful advice, but she’d taken it to heart.

Memories blurred together—one failed recipe after another. The kitchen covered in flour, chocolate splattered on the walls, the smell of burned sugar hanging in the air. Then... that one day. The day.

She had beamed at me, holding out a perfect chocolate custard doughnut. “I think I finally got it right, Kuya. Try it!”

I had been skeptical, but when I bit into it, I knew she had done it. It was perfect, better than anything I’d ever tasted. Her delighted laughter echoed in my ears even now, warm and full of life.

But that same day, everything changed. The day my family cast me out, my world falling apart in a single moment. I still remember the look on her face as I turned my back on my home. Her smile... fading with each step I took away. All that love, all that joy... vanished.

___________________________________________________________

I blinked, the taste of custard and chocolate still lingering on my tongue. It was the same. It was exactly the same as the doughnut she’d made all those years ago. My hand trembled as I reached for another bite, a single tear escaping down my cheek.

“Neon...” I whispered to the empty pier, the sound swallowed by the waves below.

Jun Lin's Perspective (The Next Day)

I reached Jaycee’s apartment and knocked. The door swung open a moment later, and there he was—standing there with a chocolate cupcake in one hand, frosting smudged at the corner of his lips. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he gave me that cocky grin I was so used to seeing.

"About time you showed up," he said, sliding his keys into the lock to close the door behind him. He seemed... lighter today, and I wondered if it had anything to do with what he had on his mind last night.

My eyes landed on the cupcake, and I couldn't resist a smirk. “Are you still eating those pastries? You’ve got more of a sweet tooth than I thought, Cyan.”

He blushed, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks, and I had to stifle a laugh. “It’s... it’s just breakfast,” he stammered, brushing off the embarrassment. He tried to act casual, but I could see the cupcake was nearly half-eaten. He was really savoring those sweets. It was adorable.

“Uh-huh,” I teased. “Do you still have the box from yesterday? I was wondering if there’s anything left for me.”

Jaycee cleared his throat and shot me a look, clearly uncomfortable with my teasing. “Come on, let’s get going, Bluey. We’re wasting time here.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me away, clearly trying to change the subject. I couldn’t help but smile as he led me down the hallway, our footsteps echoing in the quiet space. He was being his usual stubborn self—deflecting anything that made him feel vulnerable—but I knew him well enough to see through that.

“You can’t hide from me, you know,” I said playfully as we walked. His hand still held mine, firm but gentle. I let him pull me along, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “If you keep eating like that, you’re going to turn into one of those cupcakes.”

He scoffed, his grip tightening just a bit. “Oh, shut up. I’ll have you know I’m perfectly fit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I teased, bumping my shoulder into his. He glanced over, his eyes meeting mine with that familiar spark. For a moment, I forgot all about the real reason we were heading out—his sister.

This was a side of Jaycee that I loved, the playful and carefree part that peeked out when he was comfortable enough to let his guard down. But I knew today wasn’t about that. Today was about facing something he’d been avoiding for a long time. I could feel his anxiety even if he didn’t say it out loud, and I was determined to be there with him every step of the way.

“Let’s go find your sister,” I said softly, squeezing his hand as we reached the elevator. He didn’t respond, but he gave me a nod, his face growing more serious.

Today was going to be important, and I had to make sure he knew I was right there beside him.

The Train Ride

The train was packed, more so than usual—a weekend sale in downtown Splatsville was likely drawing in crowds. Jaycee and I finally spotted a seat, but it was only good for one. Naturally, he insisted I sit, and just as naturally, I refused.

“Come on, Bluey, sit down already,” he said, nudging me.

I smirked, crossing my arms. “Sometimes, it’s way too easy for us girls to play the ‘ladies first’ card. I think you should take the seat, Cyan.”

Our banter continued until a huffing old Puffer waddled by and took the seat without a second glance. Jaycee and I exchanged looks, then burst out laughing.

After a few stops, enough passengers shuffled out for us to grab two empty seats together. Jaycee gestured to them, and we took our places, the train gently rumbling as it rolled onward. It was unusually calm and peaceful—a quiet almost too still, almost boring. I watched him for a moment, noticing he seemed lost in thought, his gaze distant.

Breaking the silence, I leaned in and asked, “Hey, are you alright?”

He blinked, clearly surprised. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, Bluey. Did you need something?”

I shook my head, giving him a knowing smile. “Thinking about your sister, aren’t you?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I’m anxious to see her again, especially after... well, you know. The family reunion disaster.” His voice softened as he spoke, and I could see the tension etched into his expression. “Neon, she... she might still be affected by it. I acted like such an idiot that day—punching Diego and making things worse. All I want is for her to forget that day ever happened, but I know it’s not that simple. I just want a chance to apologize.”

“Diego, right?” I recalled, shaking my head. “Things seemed to be going well until that part.”

He looked down, deep in thought, before lifting his eyes to meet mine. “I need to make things right, Bluey. I want to repair things with my family—especially with Neon.”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “What’s making you want to fix things now?”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, then he glanced away, almost shyly. “You did, Bluey. You made me realize... maybe it’s time to face these things head-on. Maybe it’s time I let go of my past grudges, forgave myself, and started over.”

I placed my hand over his, feeling the tension in his grip, his fingers cold but tightening around mine. “Well, you know I’m here for you every step of the way,” I promised, squeezing his hand gently.

He looked down at our joined hands, then back up at me, his expression softening. “Thank you, Bluey... really.”

Feeling his shiver, I knew he was more anxious than he was letting on, that behind the tough exterior, he was just a guy trying to fix his mistakes. “You’ve got me, Cyan,” I said, resting my head lightly against his shoulder. “I’ll help you however I can. Promise.”"

Jaycee's Perspective

Downtown Splatsville, The Cafe

As we reached the café, I felt my steps slow as I looked up at the sign, murmuring its name. It was familiar, yet... "Wait—wasn’t it ‘Neon’s Wings Café’?" I asked, feeling a flicker of confusion.

Jun Lin shrugged with a soft smile. "Maybe she changed the name. Doesn’t matter. What matters is... are you ready to meet her again?"

I answered vaguely, "Yes," but my body said otherwise. I couldn’t move forward. The heavy feeling of fear weighed down every muscle, making me feel like I was anchored to the ground. Just then, I heard it—a voice as familiar as my own shadows.

Ah... it’s been a while, boy.

My demon was back, delighting in my hesitation. She’ll never forgive you. Why would she? You’re the reason for all her hurt!

Its mocking words sunk in, the despair gnawing at me. But then, cutting through the voice, I heard a gentle whisper from beside me. “Cyan?” Bluey’s voice was steady, reassuring. “I’m here. I’ll be right by you, okay? We’ll get through this.”

Taking a shaky breath, I gripped her hand. “Alright. Lead the way, Bluey.”

We stepped into the café, and I was hit by the inviting scent of fresh coffee and pastries, blending with a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time. The place was bustling, filled with all kinds of customers. Yet despite the chaos, it was spotless and neatly arranged, almost a mirror of my childhood home. I glanced at the walls, decorated with bright, welcoming colors, and then back to the staff, who moved swiftly around tables, tending to customers.

And then... I saw her.

Neon moved gracefully among the tables, a bright smile lighting up her face as she greeted customers. She looked older now, more self-assured, but there was still a trace of that same spark from our younger days. For a moment, I almost forgot about the years lost between us.

But when our eyes met, her smile vanished. Her face fell, and I could see a flash of fear and pain in her expression. She stood frozen, the tray slipping from her hands, the sound of shattering ceramic punctuating the air. The café quieted, every pair of eyes turning to us as she covered her mouth and backed away, trembling. Then, without another word, she bolted, a tear-streaked face the last thing I saw before she disappeared into the back.

The tension eased as people gradually returned to their meals, the café resuming its usual hum of activity. But the feeling lingered with me. I swallowed, glancing down at the broken shards scattered on the floor. “Maybe… maybe this was a mistake.”

Jun Lin’s hand tightened around mine. “Don’t say that, Cyan. She’s just… surprised, that’s all.”

I shook my head. “Bluey, I did this. The things I said, the mistakes I made—they’re too heavy for her to just forget. The past... it’s not that easy to erase.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “You’re forgetting something, Cyan. She’s a girl. She’s hurt, yes, but I can understand her feelings here. Let me help.”

I paused, her words breaking through the tension. I felt the barest hint of a smile pulling at my mouth. “You’re reckless, you know that? Just as daring and stubborn as when we first met.”

She winked, squeezing my hand one last time before stepping forward. “Just sit tight. I’ve got this.”

And with that, I watched her walk toward the back, determination in her stride. As she disappeared into the corridor where my sister had gone, I could only hope that maybe, just maybe, Jun Lin’s voice could reach the parts of Neon’s heart that I couldn’t.

Jun Lin's Perspective

As I approached the café staff, I caught the eye of a young Octoling who seemed uneasy. “Could you let Neon know I’m here to see her?”

She hesitated. “I don’t think our manager’s in the mood for visitors right now…”

I offered a gentle smile, but my tone was firm. “She’ll see me. Just let her know Miss Jun Lin is waiting.” The Octoling gulped, nodded, and slipped through the door Neon had disappeared behind. I could hear the muffled back-and-forth as the Octoling explained, and then, after a tense silence, she returned and nodded. “She’ll see you.”

Entering Neon’s office, I took a quick look around. Like the café, it was meticulously organized and warm. Yet my gaze quickly fell on a picture frame on her desk—a family photo, one that seemed to capture a happier time. Jaycee’s younger self stared back at me, grinning and full of life. Another shot showed him with Neon, both messy with frosting, laughing. It was a reminder of the carefree days they shared, ones I could tell Neon held close even now.

But then my attention shifted to her. Neon was hunched over, shoulders shaking as she murmured something to herself, barely able to keep herself composed. This wasn’t the lively, sweet Inktoling I’d heard so much about. This was someone overcome by fear, trapped in a memory that haunted her.

When she looked up and saw me, she swallowed hard, visibly trying to steady herself. “Please, sit,” she managed to say, her voice shaky. She offered to call someone to bring refreshments, but I waved it off gently. “No, let’s get right to it.”

I took a deep breath, looking her directly in the eyes. “Neon, I know we don’t know each other well, but from what I’ve heard—and what I remember—you’re someone who’s sweet, full of life, and warm-hearted.” She looked down, almost embarrassed, but I continued. “But just now, when you saw Jaycee… you were terrified. Are you struggling with anxiety?”

After a tense pause, she gave a tiny nod, barely able to hold herself together. “Yes… yes, I am.” Her voice wavered as she explained, “He just… he scares me now. After what happened at the family reunion...”

I winced, feeling the weight of her words. Jaycee’s actions had left a painful mark on her, a scar that ran deep.

Neon’s voice trembled as she continued, “That day... after Jaycee hit Diego, everything just shattered. I remember standing there, watching as Kow-Kow and I tried to keep Diego conscious.” She paused, voice barely a whisper. “We had to call for help, rush him to the hospital. And Jaycee… he was just gone. No words, no apology, nothing. Just rage and… then silence.”

I bit my lip, feeling a pang of sympathy for her. “It must have been terrifying…”

Neon nodded, her gaze distant. “It wasn’t just the injury, you know?” Her voice cracked, and she looked at me, her eyes filled with pain. “It was knowing that someone I trusted, my own brother, could hurt someone like that. It changed everything, Jun Lin. Since that day, I’ve been afraid of him… like he’s a stranger.”

I took a breath, understanding her fear all too well. Jaycee could be intense, terrifying even, when his anger took hold. But I had also seen another side of him—the remorse, the guilt that gnawed at him afterward.

Gently, I shared my own experience. “Neon, I know exactly what you’re saying. Jaycee’s anger… it’s real, and it’s fierce. I’ve seen it too, and it shook me.” She watched me, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution. “But you know what else I saw? The regret. I could feel it, like he was dragging around a weight he couldn’t put down.”

Neon looked away, her lip quivering. “I want to believe that… I really do. But how can I be sure?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” I said softly. “He’s still the brother you remember, Neon. The one who used to laugh and make messes with frosting. That’s still him, deep down. He regrets what happened. And all he wants… is a chance to make things right with you.”

She blinked, tears pooling in her eyes. “You really think so?”

I nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “I know so.”

She sniffed, looking down at her hands. “How can you be sure?”

I reached across the desk, placing my hands on hers. “Because I’ve seen it, Neon. Underneath the tough exterior, he has a soft heart. And all he wants… is your forgiveness.”

She looked at me, eyes wide. “He still… remembers? Even now?”

“Every day,” I answered. “And more than anything, he misses you, Neon. He misses the sweetness you brought to his life. So, why don’t you make his favorite? Chocolate custard doughnuts, right?”

Her eyes softened, a hint of a smile creeping back. “But… what good would that do?”

“Trust me,” I said with a wink. “I’ve got a plan.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, a quiet “Okay” slipping from her lips. She stood up, a spark of determination finally lighting her eyes. Together, we left the room, ready to take the first steps toward bridging the distance between them.

I sat quietly, waiting for my coffee and for Jun Lin to return. The staff worked diligently around me, polite and attentive, offering small smiles as they served my drink. I could tell they were uneasy, but it didn’t bother me. It was often like this; people didn’t know who I really was, only what they’d heard or seen in a single, bad moment.

The waitress set down my coffee with a quick nod, and I thanked her, watching her scurry off. I didn’t take it personally—I was used to it by now.

Then I heard a familiar voice, soft and slightly shaky. “Kuya… do you need anything else?”

I looked up to see Neon standing there, a plate of my favorite chocolate custard doughnuts in her hands. She wore an awkward smile, her usual sweetness tinged with a hint of fear. I glanced over to Jun Lin standing beside her, giving me a gentle nod and whispering something encouraging.

Neon stepped forward, placing the plate in front of me. She sat across from me, and for a moment, we both just stared, the silence heavy between us. I could see her looking down, uncertain, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. My little sister… after all this time.

I reached for a doughnut, taking a slow, savoring bite. The taste brought back so many memories, simple moments when things were easier. I looked at her, taking a breath.

“Neon…” I said softly, “this taste, it’s exactly the same. I never forgot it, you know. Not once.”

She stayed quiet, listening, her expression softened but guarded.

I swallowed, choosing my words carefully. “Look… I know I can’t undo what happened with Diego. And I know it hurt you. I understand if you don’t forgive me, but… I want you to know, I’m so proud of you.” I managed a small, genuine smile. “You’ve taken what you love and made it into something amazing.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at me with wide eyes. Feeling a pang of sadness, I started to stand, thinking maybe that was all there was. “Thank you for the meal, Neon,” I murmured. I began to wave for a staff member to help me pack things up, but then felt a soft tug on my shirt.

Neon clutched the fabric, her eyes glistening. “I’m sorry too,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, breaking under the weight of her own emotion. “I was so scared of you… of what you’d become. But… you’re still the same Kuya, the one I knew.”

She pulled me into a hug, her tears soaking into my shirt as I held her tightly. I heard her whisper, “I forgive you…”

I gently rubbed her back, murmuring, “Thank you…” My own voice wavered with gratitude I couldn’t quite put into words.

I glanced over to see Jun Lin watching from a distance, a few tears of her own in her eyes. We made eye contact, and she nodded, her expression warm. “Thank you,” I mouthed to her.

Just as I turned back, I felt something cold and sticky on my face. I blinked, touching my cheek. Frosting.

“What the—!” I sputtered, glancing at Neon, who looked like she might faint from fear of my reaction.

But I smirked, grabbing another doughnut, and with one swift motion, smeared the filling across her face. She gasped, then laughed, her eyes bright with mischief as she grabbed another doughnut, smacking it onto my cheek.

Laughter bubbled between us as we relived an old, silly memory, flinging frosting and filling like kids again. A few customers grumbled, but none of it mattered to me—or to Neon. We were just two siblings, picking up the pieces of something that felt almost lost.

And for the first time in a long while, things felt right.

Later...

As I walked out of the café, clutching a box full of Neon’s doughnuts, I felt a lightness that hadn’t been there before. It was like breathing fresh air after years of holding it in. My sister had forgiven me—and somehow, we’d picked up right where we left off. I didn’t realize until now just how much I’d missed that.

Jun Lin strolled alongside me, a teasing smirk on her face as she glanced at the box in my hands. “I thought you said you were avoiding sweets. Could’ve fooled me,” she remarked, trying to stifle a grin.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, shut up, Bluey,” I muttered, nudging her with my elbow, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

She let out a laugh, her voice soft and warm. “This is why I love you, Jaycee,” she said, her words carrying that familiar mix of fondness and humor.

I just shook my head, but I couldn’t hide the smile that finally broke through. In that moment, with the scent of sugary doughnuts drifting up from the box, my sister’s forgiveness fresh in my mind, and Bluey laughing beside me, it felt like everything might just be okay.

Chapter Text

Jaycee's perspective

Jaycee's Apartment

The screen flickered to life, spilling flashes of color and crowd cheers into the room as the Grand Winter Tournament intro blared. Every year, the matches pulled in crowds from all over Splatsville, and this year’s stakes were higher than ever. Jun Lin was already glued to the couch, practically bouncing as the opening montage rolled, highlights from previous tournaments adding to the anticipation.

“C’mon, Cyan! It’s starting!” she yelled, her eyes never leaving the screen.

“Bluey, chill,” I said, attempting to steady the mountain of snacks, drinks, and, of course, the box of pastries from Neon that had become the center of every joke since I’d picked them up. I carefully set everything down on the coffee table, sliding her one of the drinks. But, of course, she wasn’t going to let it be that easy.

She picked up the box, waggling it in front of me. “You know, you can’t keep denying it forever. Aren’t you supposed to be avoiding sweets, Mr. Healthy?”

I sighed, rolling my eyes as I reached for the controller. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Nope,” she said with a gleeful grin. She popped open the box and took out a pastry, holding it up like some prized trophy. “You don’t even realize how long I’ve been waiting to catch you with a sweet tooth. Neon must be thrilled you’re finally coming around.”

I sat down next to her, leaning back on the couch. “You know, as much as I’d love to torture you right now for being so smug…” I shook my head, letting the thought trail off with a smirk.

“Oh, right! You can’t touch me, huh?” she teased, tapping her shoulder. “What happened to all that macho stuff, Cyan? I thought you were tough!” She laughed, crossing her arms like she’d won some sort of unspoken challenge.

“Alright, alright,” I muttered, feigning exasperation. But before I could respond, she hushed me, eyes glinting with excitement.

“Quiet, Cyan! It’s starting!”

We both leaned forward as the announcer’s voice boomed across the screen, the teams taking their places on the arena stage. I handed her one of the pastries, trying to play it cool, but she just smirked, whispering, “So, can’t resist the sugar, huh?”

I shook my head, a small grin tugging at the corner of my mouth as we both focused on the screen. The tension in the room shifted, from teasing jabs to something easier, a quiet understanding settling over us. It felt good, sharing these simple moments with her—moments that made the rest of the noise feel a little quieter.

As the opening match roared to life, Jun Lin leaned her head against my shoulder, her energy finally settling, her laughter echoing with mine as we both got lost in the game.

As the opening match roared to life, Jun Lin leaned her head against my shoulder, her laughter fading as we both settled into the intensity of the game.

The announcer’s voice cut through the excitement, hyping up the arena as he introduced the teams. “On one side, we have the Splat Devils, the reigning champions with a reputation for unrelenting, aggressive plays! And on the other—the TentaHooks, a fierce up-and-coming team of rising stars!”

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as each player’s face appeared on the screen, their gear and stats flashing alongside them. But then, my stomach tightened as one particular face took the spotlight.

Jun Lin gasped, her finger pointing at the screen. “Hey, isn’t that your—?”

“No way…” My voice dropped, a mix of shock, disbelief, and something else that felt heavy. “Kokow?!”

It was him, alright—my younger brother, staring straight ahead with a look I knew too well. There was a focus in his eyes, an intensity that bordered on icy. He held his splatana at his side, the announcers calling him “the Splat Devils’ wild card,” talking up his unpredictability and relentless drive. But as I watched, I saw a coldness in his face, a calculating edge that sent me back to that night—the reunion.

The memories hit hard, his face that night filled with anger and disappointment, almost numb to reason. We’d clashed, said things we couldn’t take back. And now, seeing him here, that same calculating look in his eyes—it was almost like he’d locked himself away, shutting out anyone who dared get too close. Even me.

I leaned back, muttering, “Clam Blitz, huh? Sort of like Salmon Run, but at least here no one’s worried about getting swarmed or ‘decommissioned’ if they slip up,” I said, trying to shake off the tension. Jun Lin glanced at me, sensing something behind my words but not pressing.

The announcer’s countdown began, filling the air with anticipation as the teams braced at their spawn points.

“Three… two… one… GO!”

The crowd erupted as both teams dove in, paint exploding across the stage. Kokow was already on the move, his splatana carving bold, calculated paths as he collected clams, darting in and out of enemy range with practiced ease. Each strike was sharp and precise, his movements fierce but methodical. He looked almost… ruthless, like every move was part of a strategy only he could see.

“Still as intense as ever,” I muttered, unable to keep a tinge of awe from slipping into my voice. There was no doubt—he was good. Maybe even great. But as I watched him, the memories of that night lingered. We’d been close once, Kokow and I, inseparable. But somewhere along the line, something broke.

“He’s amazing!” Jun Lin’s voice was breathless, her eyes wide. “Didn’t you teach him some of those moves?”

I managed a small smile, shrugging. “Maybe a few. But he’s taken things to a whole new level.”

She gave me a sidelong look, smirking. “So… you’re not the only Cyan family champion, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, nudging her with my elbow. “Watch it, Bluey. Just because he’s good doesn’t mean I’d let him beat me.”

She stifled a laugh, glancing back at the screen. “You sure? He’s got some serious moves!”

But her words didn’t ease the knot in my chest. Watching him now, all those missed chances—the countless practice sessions we hadn’t shared, the bond that had frayed—came rushing back. That cold, guarded expression on his face… I’d put it there, in some way.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix things. Maybe, somehow, I’d find a way to reach out to him again.

I leaned forward, eyes glued to the screen as the match escalated, my heart silently rooting for Kokow.

The opponents didn’t stand a chance. Every ambush, every calculated strike—it was like watching a blade slice through water, smooth and unyielding. The crowd roared with each splat, Kokow’s ruthless efficiency electrifying them as he methodically cleared the field. His teammates capitalized on his deadly pace, gathering clams and launching them into the basket with ease. The enemy team could barely score, helpless in the wake of the Splat Devils’ relentless assault.

When the match ended, the announcers couldn’t praise Kokow and the Splat Devils enough, commenting on their flawless victory. “Let’s go live to one of our co-casters for an exclusive interview with the team of the hour—the Splat Devils!”

On screen, the team stepped up to the stage, basking in the applause. But when the caster tried to interview Kokow, the supposed wild card leader, he simply stood there, silent and stoic, his face unreadable. His teammates fielded the questions instead, laughing and cheering while Kokow’s expression remained as cold as stone. He had once been so chill, the relaxed kid who could laugh off a loss. But now… this was someone else, someone hardened and shut off.

I watched him carefully, swallowing against the knot in my throat. I guess my banishment left more than just a scar on his heart…

Jun Lin’s soft gasp brought me back to the present as we watched Kokow scoff and abruptly leave the stage mid-interview. The crowd murmured in surprise, and the announcers scrambled to cover up the moment, hastily shifting the focus. “And with that, the Splat Devils are advancing to the finals! Can they bring home the championship?”

Jun Lin’s excitement returned in full force, and she grabbed my arm, practically bouncing. “Cyan, we have to see this live! Can you imagine watching Kokow in action, right there in the arena?”

I flinched at the thought, my mind racing. What would he think if he saw me there? The last time we’d been in the same room, it had ended in harsh words and even harsher silence.

“Bluey, I’m not really sure…” I said slowly, trying to backpedal.

She gave me a pointed look, leaning closer. “Wouldn’t you want to see your brother in his element? Aren’t you proud of him?”

I hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s not that… it’s just…”

Jun Lin’s expression softened, and she reached for my hand, her voice a comforting whisper. “Jaycee, I was there at the reunion. I know it hurt you both… but maybe this is a chance for something new. Just think about it, okay?”

Her words sank in as I looked back at the screen, where Kokow’s teammates were basking in their victory without him. Maybe she was right.

One Week Later

One week later, after juggling the grind of Salmon Run shifts and stolen moments with Jun Lin, I finally held two tickets to the Splat Champions’ Grand Finals in Inkopolis. Jun Lin had all but squealed when she saw them, her excitement contagious despite my lingering doubts about seeing Kokow again. But I pushed that aside—this was a chance to reconnect, or at least show up in support. And anyway, having Jun Lin there felt like enough for now.

We boarded the Inkopolis Express just before sunset. The train hummed to life, its rhythmic motion almost lulling as it snaked out of Splatsville, heading toward the city lights in the distance. I leaned back, looking over at Jun Lin, who gazed out the window with a thoughtful smile.

“It’s been a while since I last went to Inkopolis,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Back in college, I’d go all the time. Eventually, I left it all… to chase what I wanted.”

Hearing that hit a little harder than I expected. Even though she was right here with me, a dull ache surfaced. I looked away, swallowing back the feeling.

Jun Lin nudged my arm gently. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the noise. “I came back, remember? And I’m staying. This time… it’s different.”

Her words melted away the tension, and I managed a smile. “Guess I’ll hold you to that.”

I turned my attention to the landscape blurring past, familiar fields and backroads shifting into the contours of Splatsville fading behind us. Inkopolis was a distant silhouette against the darkening sky, a beacon that felt half like a memory, half like a dream.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been back there,” I muttered, mostly to myself. The city held pieces of my past, tucked away in alleyways, in streets where I used to train with Kokow as a kid. And now, that bridge that united Splatsville and Inkopolis made it all feel surreal. There’d been a time when getting between cities meant saving for a boat trip or booking a pricey plane ticket. Now, everything felt… connected, like the worlds of my past and present were melding.

The train began crossing the bridge, and the shimmering lights of Inkopolis spread out like stars on the horizon, casting reflections across the water below. Jun Lin leaned closer, her eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she whispered, her voice filled with the awe of seeing something she loved anew. “You should’ve seen me when I first came to Inkopolis—I was practically glued to the window!”

I chuckled, but something about the sight made my chest tighten. As if in another life, I’d seen this view… or maybe even lived here once. Vague, flickering memories surfaced: blurred faces, laughter, old battles. I blinked, trying to shake off the strange sense of familiarity, like I was seeing something through a veil.

“Hey, you alright?” Jun Lin’s hand touched mine, snapping me out of the trance.

I forced a smile. “Yeah, just… a weird headache or something.”

She frowned, her eyes narrowing as she studied me with a practiced gaze. “Alright, but if that headache doesn’t let up, I’ll step in! Remeber I'm a doctor?”

I chuckled, and the tension melted as her smile softened. As the train rolled closer to the city, the excitement in my gut grew. We were almost there, the stadium lights and roaring crowds waiting ahead. For the moment, the weight of old memories faded into the background—at least, for now.

Jun Lin Perspcetive

Black Belly Skatepark

Blackbelly Skatepark was buzzing with anticipation, the lights casting a glow over the entire arena. Rows of fans packed the bleachers, holding up signs and waving light-sticks. Skaters zoomed along the ramps, adding to the already chaotic energy of the place. It was as if the entire park had come alive just for this championship event.

“Wow, the energy here is... intense,” I murmured, trying to take it all in. The last time I’d been in a crowd this loud was back in college, back when life was all about excitement and friends and dreams of becoming a doctor.

Next to me, Jaycee stayed silent, his face set in a slight scowl. I nudged him, trying to pull him back from whatever place his mind had wandered to. "You doing alright?"

He gave a small shrug. “Just… not used to all this noise, I guess. Salmon Run is loud too, but it’s different. Controlled. This…” His eyes darted across the cheering, roaring fans. “This feels like chaos.”

I chuckled. “Cyan, overwhelmed by a little cheering crowd? What happened to the tough guy who can take on a horde of Salmonids?”

He rolled his eyes but gave a half-smile. “It’s not the crowd. It’s… I dunno. Just feels different.”

Before I could tease him further, the announcers’ voices boomed through the speakers. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Squid and Octo-folk alike, welcome to the final showdown! Tonight, we have the Splat Devils, led by Kokow, facing off against the Hydro Crew!”

The crowd exploded with excitement as the teams took the stage. I watched as Kokow and his team lined up, their uniforms looking sharp and intimidating under the spotlights. Then, the captains stepped forward. The opposing leader, a tall, cocky-looking Inkling, smirked at Kokow, crossing his arms in a clear display of arrogance. Kokow, though, just stared him down with an icy gaze, completely unfazed.

“Wow, your brother has a stare that could freeze an Octoling mid-ink.” I glanced over at Jaycee, who was watching intently, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah, he’s… changed a lot since we were younger,” Jaycee said quietly, his voice trailing off. “He was the easygoing one before. But now…” He shook his head, looking a little sad.

I placed a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “People change, Cyan. Sometimes we go through things that force us to harden up. But he’s still your brother.”

“Guess you’re right.” He gave me a small smile, but I could see the tension in his eyes. “Still hard to watch him like this, though.”

Just then, the rules for the match flashed on the screen: Painters’ Duel!

I squinted at the display. “Painters’ Duel? That’s new.”

Jaycee’s eyes lit up a bit. “Yeah, they added it about two years ago. It’s basically a showdown where both captains are limited to using Brush, Roller, or Splatana weapons. Whoever gets three splats on the opposing captain wins the match for their team.”

I tilted my head, thinking it over. “And if they can’t get three splats?”

“The rest of the team has to pick up the slack,” he explained. “If they hit 20 splats as a team, they win instead. It’s a way to keep the pressure up without dragging out the game.”

“Sounds like it could get pretty intense. But what if one of the other team members accidentally splats the captain?”

Jaycee smirked. “Good question. Used to count as a regular kill, but that backfired—matches ended up feeling like regular turf wars. So now if someone takes out the captain by accident, their team loses points.”

I raised my eyebrows, impressed. “That’s a clever rule.”

Jaycee nodded, leaning in slightly as he spoke. “Yeah, it’s strategic. And if the captain does get splatted, they can super jump back into the match thanks to a beacon. It’s all set up to keep the leaders in play.”

I couldn’t help but smile, the excitement finally hitting me. “This is gonna be one wild match!”

Jaycee crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Kokow as the opposing team’s captain took a few practice swings with a Splatana. “Yeah,” he murmured, his tone carrying a mix of pride and concern.

I turned to him, a little curious. “Hey, Cyan… Are you proud of him?”

He hesitated, his eyes never leaving Kokow. “I am. He’s a lot stronger now, in his own way. But… I don’t know. After everything, I guess I feel responsible. He wasn’t like this before. Something changed, and… I wish I could’ve been there.”

My heart ached for him, but I smiled softly. “Maybe that’s why we’re here now. Maybe this is your chance to reconnect.”

Jaycee looked over at me, a glint of hope in his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

The whistle blew, and both teams surged from their spawn points, the crowd’s cheers growing louder as the captains immediately super-jumped to the beacon in the center tower. The cameras zoomed in on them, capturing every move as Kokow and the opposing captain, an arrogant-looking squid wielding a massive Kraken Roller, faced off. The intensity in their stances was unmistakable—both were here to dominate.

Without missing a beat, the arrogant squid made his move. He swung his Kraken Roller with full force, a sweeping attack that could crush anyone in its path. He rushed at Kokow, each swing of his Roller throwing splashes of ink as he tried to land a direct hit. The crowd collectively held its breath, the tension thick in the air.

But Kokow moved with stunning agility. Every attack from the Roller only met air, Kokow dodging effortlessly with sharp turns and quick steps, as if he anticipated his opponent’s every move. His calm, calculating expression never wavered. With a fluid motion, Kokow dashed to the side, slid his weapon—a Splatana Wiper—out, and struck. The blade hit its mark with precision, splatting his opponent in one swift move.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and I couldn’t help myself—I joined in, cheering Kokow’s name, feeling the rush of victory even from the stands. Jaycee, on the other hand, seemed uncomfortable, rubbing his ears and flinching slightly at the volume around us. I leaned in and touched his arm gently.

“Hey, Cyan,” I said, lowering my voice, “I’m sorry… maybe bringing you here was a bad idea. I didn’t think it would be so loud.”

He looked at me, surprised, then shook his head. “No, it’s fine, Bluey. I might not love the noise, but I am enjoying watching my brother in action. He’s… impressive.”

Relief washed over me, and I gave him an encouraging smile. “He really is,” I agreed, watching Kokow as he made his way back to his team, not even pausing to soak in the cheers. There was something intense and relentless in his gaze, and I could tell he wasn’t letting his guard down—not yet.

The announcers’ voices filled the arena again, signaling the start of Phase 2. The lights around the skatepark dimmed slightly, casting an almost eerie glow over the battlefield. The beacons around the tower multiplied, shifting to different locations. The rules now required the captains to switch to a different area each time they respawned, adding a layer of unpredictability.

“Alright, now it gets interesting,” Jaycee murmured beside me. His eyes were sharp, fully focused on the action unfolding in front of us.

The arrogant squid, having respawned, wasted no time making his way to the next beacon, his grip on the Roller tight. The cameras showed him narrowing his eyes, clearly irked from his last defeat. He had a new plan—his approach seemed more cautious, waiting for Kokow to make the first move.

“Think Kokow’s got this?” I asked, sensing the tension between the two captains.

Jaycee’s mouth curved in a small smirk. “If he’s anything like he was back in our turf war days… he’s already planned five moves ahead.”

Phase 2 began, and Kokow’s opponent took a different approach. Rather than charging in aggressively, he taunted Kokow, gesturing him forward with an arrogant smirk, practically daring him to make the first move. Kokow paused, reading the opponent’s posture with an amused eye-roll before finally charging in, leaving no mercy in his stride.

The clash was intense. Kokow’s speed was astonishing, every step calculated and every strike carrying an undeniable force. Each swing of his Splatana Wiper brought him closer to his opponent, who now looked overwhelmed and panicked. Kokow’s strikes came with such force that even from the stands, I could practically feel the energy reverberating with every slice. The opposing captain, clearly outmatched, tried to retaliate, but his impatience only left him open. Kokow seized the moment with perfect timing, landing the decisive blow. In an instant, his opponent burst into a cloud of Kokow’s ink, his form dissolving in defeat.

The crowd went wild, cheers and chants filling the air as the scoreboard updated to 2-0 in favor of Kokow. Excitement coursed through me, but as I glanced up at the main screen, I caught a glimpse of the secondary score—the one tracking the rest of the teams' kills.

“Kokow’s winning his duel,” I muttered to Jaycee, trying to suppress my worry, “but look at his team’s kill count.”

Jaycee’s attention snapped to the scoreboard, his eyes widening at the numbers on display. Kokow might be ahead in the Painter’s Duel, but his teammates were struggling against the rest of the enemy team. The score read 8-15, a stark reminder of the Splat Devils’ slipping grip on the secondary win condition. The tension around us thickened as everyone realized what was at stake; if Kokow couldn’t close this duel with a third victory soon, the Hydro Crew could snatch the win through sheer numbers.

“Bluey, if his team falls too far behind…” Jaycee whispered, trailing off as he clenched his jaw.

I nodded, feeling the weight of the pressure building. Kokow had to win this next round—if the enemy captain could fend him off and his own team kept up their momentum, the Splat Devils would lose, regardless of Kokow’s efforts.

The announcers recapped the stakes, voices crackling with urgency, “One more splat, and Kokow claims victory for the Splat Devils! But the Hydro Crew isn’t going down without a fight—the kill count now stands at 8-15 in favor of Hydro Crew. If they reach 20 first, Kokow’s duel victories won’t save his team. It’s all or nothing in Round 3, folks!”

As his opponent respawned, I saw Kokow standing tall, his eyes sharper than ever, fully aware of the pressure riding on him now. The stage was set, and it was all up to him.

Jaycee's Perspective

The tension in the arena was crushing, as thick as ink. The scoreboard blinked 10-18, and my chest tightened seeing how close the Hydro Crew was to taking the win. Kokow had to do something—and fast. He lunged forward, only for his opponent to dart just out of reach, teasing him. I grit my teeth, watching this play out as the timer ticked down and the kill count climbed: 11-19.

Then, Kokow’s opponent stopped in his tracks, tentacles starting to glow with a pulsing, ominous energy. He turned back to Kokow with a smirk, then threw his head back and bellowed, “KRAKEN!”

I barely had time to brace myself before the field was lit up with the monstrous transformation. His body surged and twisted, tendrils expanding into thick, ink-coated limbs. The creature standing in the ring looked like something from a nightmare, and a collective gasp rose from the crowd. I could feel the roar of excitement vibrating through me, yet I felt detached, my eyes solely on Kokow.

To my shock, Kokow didn’t even flinch. His tentacles glowed in response, his ink gathering around him, armoring him in a layer of slick, deep blue. He crouched low, his body poised to spring. Then I heard the announcer’s voice call out, “ZIP CASTER!”

Something flickered in my mind at the sight—the form, the energy, it reminded me of…something. Memories from the Big Run crowded in, memories I thought I’d buried but never truly could. That instinct, the raw agility—there was no mistaking it. As I watched Kokow lunge forward, those memories slammed into me with a clarity that made my pulse race.

“No…” I whispered, the realization clawing its way up. The thought flickered and flared, too fast to grab hold of, as Kokow zipped forward with focused intent. But my mind kept drifting back to that day, to the surge of panic and desperation, to the one who had thrown himself into the chaos to save Jun Lin. I'd watched the ink of a Zip Caster streak across the battlefield, cutting through hordes with the same ferocity, the same precision I saw in Kokow now.

That memory… it wasn’t just about Jun Lin being saved. It was about the relentless drive, the fierce courage of that Zip Caster, pushing back against the tide of monsters in defense of everything and everyone dear. I shook my head, pushing the feeling down. It couldn’t be…

He closed in, zig-zagging through the Kraken’s attacks with a terrifying precision. He wasn’t just dodging; he was calculating, every swing timed perfectly to give him another split-second advantage. Then, in one swift, breathtaking motion, he sliced right through one of the Kraken’s massive tentacles. A roar burst from the crowd, but Kokow didn’t stop. His Zip Caster’s speed carried him through another swing, and I watched as the Kraken’s remaining tentacle burst into a spray of Kokow’s ink.

It was 11-19, the crowd screaming as the match teetered on the edge. Only one more strike was needed—one perfect hit to end it.

A flash on the screen caught my eye: one of Kokow’s teammates had been pinned by a Hydro Crew member, their ink meter nearly empty. I felt the weight of it settle in my chest. It was all or nothing now. Kokow saw it too, his gaze flicking to his teammate before he took his final stance.

The arena felt like it was holding its breath as Kokow climbed to his highest perch. Then he lunged forward, the sheer power behind him almost visible in the air. Time seemed to slow as he descended on his opponent, who threw up a last-second defense, but Kokow was too fast. His Splatana cut through the air and, with a final, triumphant slash, landed a clean hit that sent his opponent bursting into his ink.

“THE SPLAT DEVILS… HAVE WON!” the announcer roared. The crowd went wild, their cheers swelling to a deafening pitch.

I felt a strange mix of pride and awe as I stood there, trying to catch my breath. But just as I exhaled, Kokow’s gaze shot up. Out of everyone in the arena, his eyes found mine, locking onto me with an intensity that made my chest tighten. A shadow passed over his face, and before I could process what I was seeing, he activated his Zip Caster again, launching himself into the crowd, landing just inches in front of me. The arena fell silent, and I froze, his eyes fierce as he looked at me.

“K-Kuya,” he said, his voice barely a growl, laced with something raw and unresolved.

“Kokow…” I barely managed to whisper, my throat tightening. We stared at each other, words unspoken, emotions brimming just beneath the surface.

Then, before I could say anything else, his Zip Caster wore off. He vanished, reappearing on stage with his team. Whispers rose around me, people murmuring as if they’d just seen something forbidden. I could feel the weight of their stares, the churn of emotions I thought I’d buried stirring again.

Beside me, Jun Lin took my arm gently. “Maybe… maybe we should go, Jaycee.”

I nodded, letting her lead me out of the arena, but my thoughts were still on Kokow, on the intensity in his eyes, on what might lie unspoken between us.

Was it Kokow all along?

The question hit hard, burrowing into my thoughts like an echo that refused to fade. As Jun Lin guided me through the bustling crowd, her gentle tug on my arm the only anchor in the storm of voices and cheers, the noise around us blurred into a distant hum. My focus remained locked on Kokow’s glare, that fierce, unyielding stare as he’d zipped right into the stands to confront me.

Why now? Why this look…?

Each step felt heavier, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on me. Kokow’s transformation into that warrior, his ruthlessness and skill with the Zip Caster—how much had he hidden, how much had I missed?

Jun Lin’s quiet concern pulled me back to reality, her hand slipping gently into mine as she whispered, “Jaycee… let’s go.”

But as we left the arena, one question wouldn’t leave me.

Was he the one who saved her that day? And if he was… what did that make of us now?

Chapter Text

Jaycee's Perspective

The air felt thick, charged with whispers and sideways glances as Jun Lin and I wove our way through the crowd. Each pair of eyes felt like a stone thrown my way, stinging with questions, accusations, maybe even shock. They must’ve seen it—the silent clash between Kokow and me. Jun Lin’s hand tightened on my arm, pulling me forward, but I could feel my legs slowing, weighed down by the sight of Kokow’s glare burned in my mind.

My heart thundered as we broke free from the denser clusters of people. I was barely aware of where we were heading. All I could hear were the echoes of the stadium, the roar of the crowd, and a memory—that memory—of Kokow, years ago, on that sparring field. Back then, he’d been young, brash, all raw potential but no control. I remembered his anger, the way he slammed his fist into the ground, the sheer force of his frustration as I stood over him, the victor.

“Someday, I’ll beat you, Kuya! Someday, I’ll be better,” he’d gritted out, his voice a snarl against his own wounded pride. The bitterness in his eyes stung as I tried to share something, anything that would help him, guide him out of that anger.

“Kokow,” I had said, hoping he’d listen, “rage isn’t strength. It’s just a leash that’ll hold you back. Fight with focus, not with fury.”

His eyes had only darkened then. He had shrugged off my words, just as he’d shrugged off every other piece of advice I’d tried to give him. I could see it in his gaze today—he’d spent years building walls with that same rage, never letting anyone tear them down, least of all me.

“Jaycee…” Jun Lin’s voice brought me back, her gentle tug drawing my attention. She must’ve sensed the storm roiling inside me, the memories as sharp and jagged as the glares Kokow had thrown my way. “Are you…okay?”

I barely managed a nod. “Yeah… I just…” But the words died in my throat, the reality too tangled, too painful to put into words. I glanced back, half-expecting to see him, to see his glowering face watching me. But there was only the distant hum of the crowd, the stadium fading behind us.

I couldn’t shake it—the idea that the years, the distance, everything between us had twisted him into something colder, harder. All this time, I thought he’d just refused to understand, to heed my advice. Now, he’d taken his pain, his defiance, and forged it into that deadly calm, the precision he showed today. He was no longer the hot-headed brother I’d left behind. He was something else.

Yet, as Jun Lin and I walked in silence, I couldn’t help wondering if that duel—the one where I’d thought I could guide him, maybe even protect him from his own darkness—had set us on this collision course.

As we finally broke free from the crowd, the weight of Kokow’s glare still lingered, gnawing at me. We reached a quieter stretch of road, and I leaned back against the wall, sinking to the ground, my legs feeling heavy under the crush of my thoughts. Jun Lin settled beside me, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and curiosity.

After a moment of silence, she looked at me and, hesitantly, asked, “I hope it’s okay to ask…but, Jaycee, what was that between you two? It was different from last time. At the family reunion, he was quiet…resentful, maybe, but nothing like…well, whatever just happened back there. The intensity, the noise, it was like something’s…shifted.”

I let out a breath, feeling the memories unravel like a tightly wound spool. “Kokow was… he was always the little brother who looked up to me,” I began, staring into the distance, my voice heavy. “When he was ten, he’d barely learned to hold a Splatana, and yet, he was determined to master it—just like I had learned from Grandpa. I saw something in him, that spark. So, we trained together. Day after day, I watched him grow. He was clumsy at first, quick to tears, but he always picked himself back up. And I… I always tried to give him the encouragement he needed.”

Jun Lin nodded, listening intently, her presence grounding me as I continued.

“Seasons changed, and Kokow grew. He got sharper, stronger…until one day, he challenged me. He wanted to prove he was better.” I swallowed, the memory of that day as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. “We dueled, and he fought with everything he had. But he wasn’t ready. In the end, I defeated him.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, voice barely a whisper. “And I gloated. I was so caught up in the win that I didn’t see how much it hurt him. When he slammed his fist into the ground, I tried to backtrack. I told him about rage, how it’s nothing but a leash. I told him that strength needed focus, not fury. But he didn’t want to hear it. He brushed me off, and I thought that was the end of it.”

Jun Lin placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, her silence urging me to continue.

“What I didn’t know was…he listened. Not in the way I’d hoped, though. He took that advice and twisted it into something cold, something detached. And today…I saw it. His movements, precise and smooth, but still fueled by that same anger. It was like watching my advice turn into something I never intended. And the worst part? I don’t even recognize him anymore.”

Jun Lin’s expression softened as she considered my words. “It sounds like he’s shaped himself around that moment, around trying to prove something—to you, maybe, but more to himself. He’s become something else, someone else, and that anger hasn’t really left him.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of regret. “I wonder if…if it’s too late. If I can even reach him now.”

Before Jun Lin could respond, we were interrupted by a hurried voice. A young Octoling girl—one of Kokow’s teammates, from the look of her jersey—was approaching, her face set with urgency. She stopped just in front of us, catching her breath.

As the Octoling girl approached, she paused, squinting at me with a nervous intensity, as if double-checking to make sure she’d found the right person. Finally, after a small nod to herself, she stepped closer.

“Jaycee?” Her voice was tight, almost hesitant, but the urgency in her expression was unmistakable. “I’m glad I found you. There’s…something urgent you need to know. It’s about Kokow…”

I exchanged a quick glance with Jun Lin before looking back at her. “What’s going on?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “What news do you have about him?”

She hesitated, her gaze shifting from me to the ground as if weighing her words. After a tense moment, she finally looked up, her eyes hard with determination. “Kokow…he’s issued a challenge. A Painter’s Duel. To you, Jaycee.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy.

Jun Lin’s expression shifted, her eyes dark with worry, as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. I could feel the weight of her gaze, see the memories replaying behind her eyes—the fierce strikes, Kokow’s relentless pursuit of victory, his almost overwhelming force. She looked as if she were seeing something dangerous, a line being crossed.

“Jaycee,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with the strain of what she wanted to say. “Are you really sure about this? I don’t think this is… Have you really seen how he could—”

I cut her off gently, but firmly, understanding what she was getting at. The fierceness she’d seen from Kokow today had been unsettling; even I’d felt it, sharp as a splinter. But if Kokow’s challenge was his way of reaching me, of saying what words wouldn’t, then I couldn’t ignore it. This wasn’t just about skill or pride—it was something buried deep, and the only way I could reach him again was by facing him head-on. “I know what I’m up against,” I said, meeting her eyes, hoping she could sense the certainty that stirred within me. “This is the only way. The only way to really get through to him, to finally settle whatever’s been building between us.”

I turned to the Octoling girl who’d delivered Kokow’s message. She shifted on her feet, casting uncertain glances between me and Jun Lin. But I held my gaze steady, giving a small nod of finality. “Tell your leader I accept his challenge,” I said.

For a second, she hesitated, her own apprehension plain. Then she gave a quick, respectful nod before turning and hurrying back through the crowded streets, vanishing into the shadows.

Beside me, Jun Lin sighed heavily, her frown etched deeper with every step the Octoling girl took away. Her concern was almost palpable, weighing on me like armor, yet I couldn’t shake the determination in my gut. “I just… hope you know what you’re doing, Cyan,” she murmured, her voice soft but resolute.

I forced a small smile, though I knew it barely held up. “I know, Bluey. And just like you, I don’t like what I’m about to do next,” I admitted, letting my own worries slip out for a moment. I reached out for her hand, squeezing it gently, a silent assurance that I understood her fear—because it echoed something in me too. “But for now, let’s go home.”

She looked down at our intertwined hands, her fingers pressed against mine, tense with reluctance. Her face was caught between understanding and something like resignation, but after a beat, she let go, glancing away as if she couldn’t quite face me in that moment. “Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath against the cold night air.

Together, we walked, silent in the thickening darkness, our steps quiet yet heavy as we made our way back. The night was cool, and the bustling noise of the crowd faded into the background, distant and blurred, as my thoughts turned inward. I could feel Jun Lin’s presence beside me, her tension almost tangible, as if it was ready to surface and shatter the fragile quiet.

Each step seemed to echo the unresolved tension between Kokow and me, lingering questions and buried memories rising in my mind like smoke. The determination I felt to settle this clash, to break through whatever walls he’d built, only deepened. Yet Jun Lin’s doubt hung in the air too, a reminder of the cost this might exact.

And as we finally left the noise and light behind, stepping into the quiet path toward the train station, I felt it settle—this strange calm before the storm. The lights of the platform glowed dimly in the distance, casting a soft haze over the tracks, while the quiet hum of the trains and the low murmur of late-night travelers drifted around us.

Jun Lin kept her gaze ahead, her shoulders tense, each step seeming heavier than the last. The energy from earlier, the roar of the crowd, and Kokow’s intense glare—it all felt so far away now, yet closer than ever. I could feel the weight of her silence beside me, each unspoken word lingering in the cool night air.

In the distance, the train bound for Splatsville rolled in, its lights flickering through the darkness. As it slowed to a stop, the doors opened with a quiet hiss, inviting us in. I glanced at Jun Lin, catching her eye, and for a moment, it felt like everything was suspended in the silence between us.

We stepped onto the train, finding a pair of seats near the window. The city lights blurred as the train picked up speed, fading away behind us as Splatsville grew closer, and the realization settled deep in my chest—this calm, whatever it was, would be short-lived.

One Week Later...

Jaycee's Apartment

The message from Kokow had been brief, almost cryptic. Just a location, a time, and nothing else: Scorch Gorge, at twilight. I could picture him there already, waiting, each second adding to the weight of whatever it was he wanted to settle. This wasn’t just a battle; it was something personal, something I’d unintentionally created. I turned to the shelf where my grandfather’s letter sat, yellowed with age. His words echoed in my mind as I brushed my fingers over the edge.

“What a fool I am, Grandpa…to create a monster,” I murmured, the words barely leaving my lips. Gripping my Splatana tighter, I took one last look around before stepping out into the early evening.

The Train Station

The station was like a ghost town, dim lights casting long shadows on empty benches and ticket counters. Only a low hum of trains in the distance filled the silence, broken by the occasional murmurs of scattered travelers. I was alone, with only the echo of my thoughts.

As I scanned the graffiti sprawled across the walls—art that once held meaning, now weathered into indifference—I heard it. A familiar, rapid step approached from behind, a voice breaking the stillness.

“Jaycee!”

I turned, and there she was—Jun Lin, standing there with a look of unmistakable determination, her eyes bright with something I couldn’t quite place. My shock must have been plain on my face because her expression softened, but she didn’t miss a beat.

“Bluey? How… why are you here?”

Instead of answering, she held my gaze, her voice firm, as if she’d prepared for this. “Just… let me go with you.”

Her insistence hit me like a wall, and I could feel my expression shifting. She was hiding something—I could sense it. Her voice held an edge, almost pleading, something I rarely saw in her.

“Please, Cyan. Just let me come along.”

I shook my head, barely able to process her request. “No,” I replied, feeling the tension in my own voice. “Why? And how did you even know?”

She hesitated, her eyes skirting mine, almost as if looking anywhere else would hide what she wasn’t saying. “Just… please, Jaycee. I won’t get in the way.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I could see something more in her eyes—a desperation that bordered on fear, as if this was something she couldn’t afford to lose. Her words were coming faster, her tone threading between resolve and something more urgent, something she was guarding closely.

My voice sharpened, “Bluey, this isn’t—”

“I know what it is, Cyan,” she shot back, her voice quivering with an edge of frustration. “Just… please.”

The tension between us was growing fast, and I could feel people nearby starting to take notice. Bystanders glanced in our direction, their whispers and sidelong stares prickling at the back of my neck. We were a scene, something for them to watch, to wonder about.

I sighed, weighing the argument on the tip of my tongue, feeling it shift as I tried to hold back, feeling the eyes on us like a weight. With a reluctant sigh, I let it go.

“Fine…” I muttered, almost more to myself than to her.

Relief washed over her face, but it was tainted, her expression slipping back to something guarded, something cautious. I could see it then—the truth, a mystery that hung in the air between us, heavy and unspoken. She knew more than she was letting on, but whatever it was, she wasn’t sharing it.

The train rolled in, its headlights casting a brief glare across the platform. I climbed aboard, my eyes still on her, waiting for answers that never came. We settled into our seats, the silence swelling as the city faded from view, lights and streets replaced by shadows and blurred landscapes.

She sat beside me, the closeness suffocating yet comforting in its own way. I felt her glancing at me, her eyes darting back each time I looked her way. There was a story behind her silence, something buried deep, and it gnawed at me, filling the quiet space between us with questions I couldn’t begin to ask.

Scorch Gorge

The cool twilight had settled over Scorch Gorge, casting long shadows across the cracked terrain. As Jun Lin and I stepped off the train, I felt it—a heavy, unmistakable presence lingering in the distance, like a dark cloud threatening to break. And there, silhouetted against the last slivers of light, I saw him. My brother, Kokow, standing still as stone, his figure obscured by the lengthening shadows, yet coldly patient as he waited.

The Gorge was eerily silent, save for the soft whisper of the wind that cut through the rocks, and it seemed that every shadow, every gust of wind, was holding its breath. The empty arena stretched out before us, and I knew Kokow had chosen it for this—isolated, stark, and devoid of any interference. Twilight bathed everything in a surreal light, and as I walked forward toward the central tower, an invisible grip seemed to tighten around me.

"Please, no…" Jun Lin’s voice cut through my thoughts, her face etched with worry, her eyes pleading. She clung to my arm, her grip firm but trembling.

I stopped, turning to her. Her face said everything she couldn’t—fear, desperation, maybe even a hint of regret. But I couldn’t turn back. Not now.

"Bluey…" I whispered, forcing her hand away, though her fingers lingered for a heartbeat longer than I expected. "I have to do this."

She bit her lip, her face tense, struggling to find her words. "Then… at least let me come with you."

I sighed, relenting with a slight nod. "Fine."

Together, we approached the tower, the silence between us heavy as we stepped closer to Kokow, who was waiting, unyielding and cold. His gaze flicked over to me before settling on Jun Lin, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“So…” his voice was smooth, laced with a bitter edge, “you finally came, Kuya.”

"Like I promised, brother,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.

Kokow’s eyes moved to Jun Lin, his expression darkening. “And it seems you’re not alone.”

I tried to introduce her, but he cut me off with a tone sharp enough to slice through steel.

“Ate June,” he spat, addressing her with a mix of sarcasm and reverence. “Why, of all places, did you come here?”

Jun Lin took a step forward, her voice calm yet firm. "I came to negotiate with you."

"What?!" I exclaimed, my shock slipping out. “Jun Lin, how did you even—”

“Silence, Kuya!” Kokow snapped, his gaze like ice as it bored into me. “You know this is between him and me, right?”

“Yes,” she continued, ignoring my interruption, “but I’m here to say there has to be another way. There must be a way to settle this, peacefully!”

Kokow’s eyes narrowed, and he tightened his grip on his Splatana, the edge glinting under the fading light. “We tried that at the reunion, remember?” His voice held a bitter edge, memories of the failed reconciliation evident. “And it didn’t work.”

His Splatana rose, catching the last rays of twilight. This was his answer.

“But—” Jun Lin started, one last time.

“Jun Lin,” I interrupted, feeling the tension coiling tight within me. “I don’t know how you know him so well already, but I’ll find out soon enough. For now…” I cast her a look that left no room for debate. “I suggest you let us handle this. Brother against brother.”

Her mouth opened to protest, her stubbornness refusing to die. I could see the conflict in her eyes, her determination colliding with the reality of the situation.

“Damn it, Jun Lin!” I snapped, my patience fraying. “It didn’t have to be like this, Bluey! As much as I admire your reckless spirit, now’s not the time.”

Her expression softened, but I could see her reluctance, her fists clenched in quiet resignation. “I… I see.”

“Now go,” I said, more gently this time. “Leave us be.”

She gave a final, reluctant look, her face a mixture of defeat and worry, before she turned, slowly leaving the arena. I watched her retreating figure until she disappeared into the distance.

And now, with nothing left between us but silence, I turned to Kokow. The tension hung thick, a palpable energy filling the Gorge, as we stood across from one another. The twilight deepened, shadows cloaking the jagged rocks around us, and I could see the look in Kokow’s eyes—sharp, calculating, with a hint of something darker.

We were alone now. And the duel that had been brewing between us for years was about to begin, beneath the gathering twilight, in the desolate heart of Scorch Gorge.

The Duel...

The air was thick with tension as Kokow and I stood across from each other, both of us clutching our Splatanas with a grip that bordered on desperate. We took our stances, feet firm on the ground, and I forced myself to draw a deep, steadying breath, fixing my gaze on Kokow. He mirrored me, his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body taut, ready to spring.

The cold desert breeze swept over us, a sharp reminder of the desolate landscape around us, but it was barely noticeable. I was too focused on him—on my brother, who stood before me with a simmering intensity I’d never seen before. I was ready, or so I thought, until I caught the flash of movement in Kokow’s eyes as he lunged forward at a shocking speed, his Splatana slicing toward me.

I barely had time to raise my own Splatana to parry, and when I did, I felt the full force of his strike. The power behind his swing was overwhelming, pushing me back a few inches as my muscles strained against his weight. The impact reverberated through my arms, but I grit my teeth, using my own strength to push back, to regain control.

With a burst of resolve, I launched my own counterattack, slashing from side to side, forcing Kokow back. But he blocked each swing with uncanny precision, deflecting my strikes with ease, his eyes locked on mine with an almost challenging glint.

“I—I didn’t teach you that!” I exclaimed, a flicker of surprise and almost pride slipping through as I struggled to keep the duel in focus. For a moment, I forgot the reason we were here.

Kokow’s gaze hardened. “I’ve learned many things since you left, Kuya,” he spat, his words carrying a mixture of bitterness and defiance. “And now, I’m going to unleash everything I’ve got on you.”

With a raw battle cry, he launched himself into the air, his Splatana raised high as he aimed to strike down on me. I braced myself, digging in and meeting his attack with my blade, the sheer force of it nearly driving me to my knees. My arms quivered from the impact as I fought to hold him off.

“Can you feel it, Kuya?” Kokow taunted, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction.

I mustered all my strength, pushing him back and breathing hard. “Feel what?!”

Without warning, Kokow was on the offensive again. Our blades clashed with every strike as he drove me back, each swing fueled by a rage that seemed endless. His words cut as sharply as his weapon.

“I’ve been waiting for this day!” he growled, his strikes growing faster, more powerful. “The day I’d finally get to defeat you!”

With each clash, I felt his rage radiate through his weapon. His movements were relentless, a fury unleashed in every swing.

“I haven’t forgotten that day, Kuya!” Kokow’s voice shook with emotion, his strikes quickening. “Your words…they sting, like rubbing salt into a wound!”

“Kokow…” I murmured, my voice faltering as I tried to catch my breath, to find the words that might somehow reach him.

But Kokow’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as he hissed, “Shut up! I don’t want your pity, Kuya!”

With a sudden surge of power, Kokow forced me back, his Splatana pressing into mine, nearly pushing me off balance. I stumbled but recovered just in time to raise my weapon as he advanced again, his strikes more ferocious than ever.

“Who filled me with dreams?” he shouted, his voice cracking as he swung his Splatana at me with a ferocity I could barely hold back. “Who told me I had greatness in me? And who’s the one who called me the biggest disappointment?!”

His tentacles glowed ominously, and before I could react, Kokow activated his Zip Caster ability, disappearing in a flash and reappearing at my side, his Splatana bearing down on me faster than I could defend. The sudden onslaught was brutal, his strikes coming from every direction, each blow landing harder than the last.

“Tell me, Kuya! Tell me!” he demanded, his voice choked with emotion. “TELL ME?!”

With his final, devastating strike, he shattered my defense, and my Splatana flew from my grip, clattering to the ground out of reach. I stumbled back, the force of the blow sending me sprawling to the ground. My vision blurred, the edges of my sight darkening as the fatigue from our fight began to set in. I could feel the bruises, the sharp sting of cuts I hadn’t even noticed during the heat of the fight.

As I lay there, struggling to push myself up, the last thing I saw through the haze was Kokow’s face. His expression was cold, a mask of fury and resentment, his eyes blazing as he raised his Splatana, standing over me like an executioner ready to deliver the final blow.

As I lay on the cold ground, every part of me ached—not just from the fight, but from the sting of Kokow’s words that cut deeper than any blade could. I felt his shadow above me, and through my blurred vision, I could see the trembling of his Splatana, hovering between us, ready to deliver what he’d promised. His silhouette was sharp against the darkening twilight, the fading sun casting everything in a solemn, desolate glow.

“Kokow…” I murmured, barely recognizing my own voice. It was strained, thick with emotions I hadn’t expected to spill over. “I’m sorry…”

He didn’t lower the blade. His gaze was hard, almost unrecognizable, yet somewhere in that intensity, I saw something break. “What?” His voice cracked, and the edge of confusion, of vulnerability, was just barely there.

“I’m sorry… for being so… arrogant that day.” I swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment press down on me. “My pride… my own foolishness… it led you to this.” My words wavered, caught between guilt and a strange, bitter pride. “You’ve grown strong, Kokow. I see that now. I’m… proud of you.”

A tremor passed over his face, a flash of something raw and unguarded. His fingers gripped his weapon harder, knuckles white, and he looked away, as if unwilling to let me see him falter.

“I wanted this,” he muttered, voice low and trembling, his pain bleeding through each word. “To end you… to make you pay for being such an arrogant Kuya.” His voice grew unsteady, the facade of anger slipping. “And now I’ve proven it… I’m stronger now…” He looked down at me, his eyes brimming with a mix of hatred and sorrow. “And yet… why doesn’t it feel like enough?”

I saw it then—a single tear slipping down his cheek, the weight of our fractured bond tearing at him. I forced myself to sit up, muscles screaming with effort, and looked up at him, feeling the gravity of everything we’d lost. “If you want to finish this, Kokow…” I said quietly, voice rough. “Then what’s holding you back?”

The silence stretched out between us, heavy, broken only by the howling wind that seemed to mirror the tension between us. The twilight deepened, the sky fading into shadows, and I watched him waver, his resolve beginning to crack. I could see it, the hesitation, the battle within him that was tearing him apart.

“Kokow?”

His name slipped from my lips like a plea, and his gaze flickered, the mask he wore crumbling for just a moment. Then, without a word, he blinked, wiping his face with the back of his hand, and in a flash of movement, he turned and fled, disappearing into the encroaching darkness. I could only stare at the spot he left behind, stunned, feeling the emptiness where he had been, the air thick with words we hadn’t said.

“Jaycee! Cyan!” Jun Lin’s voice broke through the silence, her cries frantic and laced with panic. She rushed over, dropping to her knees beside me, her face etched with worry as she took in the bruises and cuts, her fingers ghosting over each mark with a tenderness that made my chest ache.

“You’re covered in bruises,” she said softly, her eyes narrowing as they moved over each mark. “You were right... Why… why did suddenly leave you?...” Her voice wavered, a mix of frustration and worry evident in her gaze.

But I couldn’t bring myself to answer. The fight, Kokow’s words, his trembling hand—it all lingered in my mind, looping over and over, suffocating me with its weight. I stared past her, my thoughts lost somewhere in the vast emptiness, and as I looked out over the barren landscape, my own regrets clawed at me.

Kokow’s voice echoed in my head, relentless, unforgiving. This was my fault. I’d built my life on a fragile web of lies, believing I had left no scars, convinced that my own pride hadn’t caused fractures between us. Now, I saw how wrong I had been.

Jun Lin’s hand tightened around mine, grounding me for a moment, but all I could think about were the cracks I hadn’t noticed—the consequences of my arrogance. As the sky darkened further, shadows creeping over the landscape, I clenched my fists, the weight of the night settling over me like a sentence.

Chapter Text

Looking back now, it feels like the past belongs to someone else—someone half-forgotten but still lingering in me. Life has a way of circling back, reminding you where you came from when you least expect it. Sometimes, I feel like I’m still that reckless, scrappy Inkling kid, always on the outside looking in, and yet… so much has changed.

I was always different. Even as a young girl, I didn’t fit into any neat, tidy little box. Where most girls were careful, I was wild. While they practiced manners and pretty things, I was off roughing up my knees and pulling stunts that would have shocked them all. Back then, I had no interest in what they cared about—the frills and the ribbons, the gossip and the neat little games. It wasn’t me, and because of that, I was never quite… enough, at least not in their eyes.

And that’s how it started. The whispers, the stares. They labeled me the “Bottom feeder” or just “Lubber.” I was rough, untamed, the oddball, the ink splatter on their perfect little canvas. I would shrug it off, throw back a line or two in return, but alone, I felt it, sinking in like weights around me. Even my father… he didn’t say it outright, but I saw the disappointment in his eyes. Sometimes I could swear he was embarrassed of me, or maybe he felt like he’d failed. He always told me to “find my place,” like he believed I couldn’t do it without fitting into someone else's picture of a “proper” Inkling girl.

But my mom? She saw past all that. No matter how many times I got into trouble, scraped my knees, or showed up covered in grime from another ridiculous stunt, she’d be there with that soft, steady smile. She was my only shelter from everything else, the only one who didn’t see my rough edges as a flaw. When I asked her—practically begged her—to teach me how to “fit in,” she didn’t lecture me or try to change who I was. Instead, she showed me something deeper.

“It’s not about acting soft or being someone you’re not,” she told me, holding my hands as she always did. “Being a girl, being a woman, isn’t about perfect poise. It’s about finding strength in grace, and using that strength to care for others deeply.” She said this with a quiet intensity, one that hinted at things left unsaid. I could see something flicker in her gaze, like there was a part of her own story she was sparing me. Maybe it was my dad. Maybe it was the life she had led before me. But she didn’t explain, and I didn’t ask.

Grace, it turned out, wasn’t something that came easy. I’d stumble over myself trying to be ladylike, my clumsy attempts only making me laugh. But caring? That came naturally. And it wasn’t the kind of caring I could just pour into anyone. I felt a longing to protect, to stand by those who deserved it. She’d taught me that loving wasn’t a weakness; it was a strength. She always believed I’d figure out where that strength would take me, even if no one else did.

Eventually, it was time to leave and find out for myself. When that moment came, I felt a pang of fear, of uncertainty, maybe even doubt. I wasn’t graceful or elegant, not the kind of Inkling girl anyone expected. I told her I was scared of facing whatever lay beyond. She just laughed softly, brushing my cheek, and said, “You are brave, my little Jade... Face the unknown! Find your destiny!”

And so I left. I took that warmth, that love, with me, wrapping it around me as armor for the unknown. Now, in moments like this, I can feel her words echoing back, urging me forward, reminding me that there is strength in even the most delicate threads of love. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve lived up to that love, to her faith in me. I wonder if I’ve done justice to the destiny she believed I’d find, or if I’m still that reckless girl trying to find her place.

The first year away from home was nothing like I'd imagined. It was colder, quieter, and at times, just plain harsh. There were nights where sleep wouldn’t come, where the unfamiliar streets of Splatsville whispered all around me, a constant reminder that I was somewhere far from everything I’d known. For all my talk of bravery and independence, those first nights alone rattled me. Every creak and echo felt strange, and for a while, I didn’t know if I could keep going.

Then I met her—my landlady, that gentle Jellyfish who’d taken me in and nursed me back to health when sickness had gotten the better of me. She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known; her words came out in broken phrases, scattered and simple, almost like she was piecing together thoughts one by one. But she spoke with such sincerity that every word felt real, like each one carried weight. Her language wasn’t polished; instead, it was humble, raw, like a patchwork quilt of kindness stitched together by rough-hewn phrases.

She saw something in me that others seemed to overlook. Maybe it was the tired, lost look in my eyes, the kind of look I’d tried to hide but couldn’t. Without hesitation, she opened her doors to me, offering a small, warm room she had to spare. I still remember her eyes, their soft, shimmering glow as she’d said, “You need place. Need belong.” Her voice, though simple, wrapped around me like the warmth I’d felt as a child in my mother’s arms.

Her kindness was more than just a room. It was a balm for my loneliness, a sense of belonging I’d feared I might never feel again. It was the compassionate love my mother had always spoken of—the love that sees beyond flaws and hardship, straight to the heart beneath. She didn’t just give me shelter; she reminded me that I was worth caring for, that I hadn’t lost the chance to find a place in this world.

One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I’d become her tenant. I didn’t pay rent at first—she wouldn’t hear of it. But that didn’t sit right with me. I’d left home to stand on my own two feet, and I was determined to repay her kindness in some way. And that’s how I landed myself at Grizz Co. I’d heard the place was always hiring, especially if you didn’t mind the erratic hours and… the peculiar nature of the work.

I’ll admit, I was skeptical at first. The dark, industrial look of the place was intimidating, to say the least. The walls were grungy, the machinery creaked, and there was something about the whole setup that felt slightly… off. It didn’t take long to realize the risks were as high as the pay was tempting. But the reward was real, and I knew it would be enough to not only pay the bills but also start giving back to the one person who’d shown me kindness when I had nothing.

In those early days, working at Grizz Co was both terrifying and thrilling. Each shift brought new challenges, unexpected moments, and the rush of knowing I was earning my keep in a city that barely knew I existed. It was strange work, far from what I’d envisioned, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

Grizz Co was nothing like I'd imagined. Chaos was its heartbeat, echoing through every mission, every frantic call to the basket. I’ll never forget the way the world seemed to blur around me as I sprinted to deliver an Egg, how the sounds of explosions and screaming, of weapons firing in every direction, loomed over my thoughts like a dark cloud. There were close calls, so many of them, and at times, it felt like it would never end. I wanted it to end, but I knew deep down that stopping would mean turning my back on why I’d come here in the first place—to repay the kindness my landlady had shown me, the one who had taken me in when I had nothing and no one.

As the battles wore on, I finally saved enough for my first paycheck. The risk had been worth it. The pride I felt walking up to my landlady with those hard-earned bills, eager to give back a fraction of what she'd given me, is something I’ll never forget. She was so surprised, her tentacles waving in gentle refusal. “No, no… no need, dear,” she murmured, her simple words carrying so much love. But I insisted, pressing the pay into her hands until she accepted, though she took just a little. It was then that I realized: I’d never be able to repay her kindness fully, but I’d do everything in my power to try.

More battles came and went, and Grizz Co changed me. It changed all of us. I saw comrades go from strangers to friends, and friends to broken, haunted people who barely made it back to the shore. Some couldn’t handle the strain and never returned, others faced terrible nights of restless, haunted dreams. I wasn’t immune either; the memories of close calls clawed at my mind, and one brush with a Maw nearly left me eaten alive. I felt such pity for those who struggled after a shift, for the burden each of us carried when we walked away. It clicked for me then—maybe I could be more than just a friend in these dark times. I could be their healer, their calm after the storm. Yes, maybe this was the destiny my mother wanted for me: to become a doctor.

With a new purpose, I began saving for medical school. Every shift was another step closer, and I threw myself into work, desperate to make it happen. Then, one fateful day, he showed up—Cyan. From the moment we met, I knew he was different. He was cold, even a little intimidating, his eyes sharp and distant. And yet, there was something in him I couldn’t ignore, a kind of quiet vulnerability that peeked through his hardened shell. When he returned a small trinket of mine, something I’d thought lost forever, I saw a gentleness in his eyes, a rare warmth hidden beneath the brute exterior.

Helping him became my new purpose. But how? That question nagged at me every day. In the end, I fell back on my old ways, doing reckless things to catch his attention. He was clearly annoyed by me, rolling his eyes at my attempts, but still, my plan worked. Eventually, I found the courage to give him my contact. We met at the café soon after, and from that day forward, everything felt like a fever dream.

Work was somehow easier, even with all the chaos around us. We were a team, Jaycee and me, and while I wasn’t as skilled as he was, together, we got the job done. I looked forward to every shift, every call to action, knowing he’d be there by my side.

But then came the day I dreaded—the day I had to leave.

As I waited for him to arrive at the train station, a knot twisted in my stomach. I kept looking down at my phone, rereading that message I’d sent, each word feeling emptier than the last. How do you say goodbye to someone who became your whole world? Someone who didn’t just come into your life but saved it, piece by broken piece. I couldn’t bear to say it to his face, not yet, so I chose words on a screen, hoping he’d understand the rest. But when I saw him walking toward me, head down, expression heavy, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

As soon as he looked up and saw me, I felt a lump form in my throat. Jaycee’s face held that familiar hardness, but his eyes—they told a different story. His gaze met mine, filled with something I couldn’t place. Resignation? Hope?

I swallowed, forcing myself to speak. “Jaycee, I... I didn’t think you’d actually come,” I murmured, more to myself than to him.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at me as though trying to memorize every detail, like this was the last time he’d see me. Then he took a deep breath. “Of course I came, Jun Lin. I... I had to.”

Silence fell between us, broken only by the distant rumble of trains arriving and leaving, but in that moment, it felt like we were in a world of our own, the noise fading away until it was just us.

"Look, Jun Lin," he began, voice barely above a whisper, "I know this is what you want. That... that you need to go do something for yourself." His hands clenched, and I could tell he was fighting his own emotions, as always. "But... I don’t want you to leave. Stay, just... stay."

My heart clenched. I could feel the weight of his words, the way he offered his heart in those few, simple words. For a moment, I wanted to say yes, to throw all my plans aside just to stay by his side. But I had to think beyond that.

“I... I can’t, Jaycee,” I managed, barely able to hold his gaze. “You know how much this means to me, right? I can’t just... I need to do this, for me, for the people who need help out there. People like us, like you.” I hesitated, seeing the sadness darken in his eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. I’m... I’m sorry.”

Jaycee sighed, a long, deep sound that seemed to carry all his frustration and resignation in one breath. “Don’t apologize. Just... do what you have to do. I’d never stop you. You know that.”

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “You’re... you’re more understanding than I deserve.”

But Jaycee simply shook his head. “Just don’t forget me, alright? Don’t go running off and find someone else to give you that awful coffee you like.” His attempt to lighten the moment brought a faint smile to my face, and I tried to hold onto it, knowing it would be my last memory of us together for a while.

It felt selfish, but we all have hard decisions to make. I was terrified that he’d hate me, that I’d shatter the bond we’d built. And yet, even as sadness filled his eyes, Jaycee was there, steady, reassuring. He was the same gentle soul I’d come to believe in. Even when I chose my path over him, he held that space for me—unconditionally. He didn’t blame me. Instead, he encouraged me in his own quiet way, as he always did.

Inkopolis was as vast and bright as I had always imagined, and finally being there to attend the university felt like stepping into a dream. It wasn’t easy, though. My first year was filled with long nights, cold apartments, and constant self-doubt. But little by little, I grew, challenging myself with each class, and finally making it through my thesis, which felt like a victory over every doubt I’d ever had. When I received my degree in medical care, I was the only one cheering for myself. My parents still didn’t know; they lived so far, in a quiet rural town, where they’d had no idea what their daughter had accomplished. But I promised myself I’d tell my mother someday—she was the one who’d given me the courage to pursue this.

The day I returned to Splatsville, ready to help others, I didn’t expect to find Jaycee again so soon. Not as my first patient, and definitely not at Grizz Co. Yet, there he was, looking up at me with a mix of surprise, relief, and something I couldn’t quite place. Seeing him in that vulnerable state, needing me to heal him, reminded me of why I had chosen this path. It strengthened our bond in a way I hadn’t foreseen. We were back together, but fate would test us again soon enough.

And then, one day, the Jaycee I knew vanished. Anger erupted from him like a force of nature, intense and uncontrollable. He lashed out at me, his rage as sharp as a blade. The person standing before me was no longer the gentle soul I had loved but something almost unrecognizable, raw and untamed.

"Jaycee!" I cried, trying to reach him as he hurled words that cut deeper than any weapon. “Stop! This isn’t you!”

But he wouldn’t listen. His eyes blazed with fury, words spilling from him like venom. I felt fear gnawing at me, fear I’d never felt around him before. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned and ran, unable to face the storm he’d become.

In the days that followed, I avoided him, convinced he didn’t want me around, that he’d be better off without me. But deep down, a part of me ached for him, for the person he had been, for the friendship we’d shared.

Then, one day, he found me. I could see the change in his eyes, the regret that weighed heavily on him. “Jun Lin…” He took a deep breath, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just... I couldn’t control it. But please, please don’t go. Not like this.”

I looked at him, the fragile expression on his face reminding me of the Jaycee I’d known—the Jaycee who stood with me at the train station, who’d encouraged me even when it hurt him. This was the Jaycee I’d always believed in, the one who couldn’t hide his gentleness, no matter how tough he tried to act.

"Jaycee," I said softly, stepping closer, "I never wanted to leave. I was just... scared."

He nodded, his gaze not leaving mine. "So was I. But I don’t want to lose you again. Not like this."

I reached for his hand, holding it tightly, feeling the warmth and strength that had been there since the beginning. “You won’t lose me. Not now. Not ever.”

And in that moment, I knew that no matter what storms came our way, Jaycee and I would face them together. Because he was more than my friend, more than my patient—he was my constant, my anchor. And no amount of distance or rage could ever change that.

The memory of the family reunion still lingers, etched deep in my mind like a wound that hasn't fully healed. Jaycee had invited me, hesitant but hopeful, as if finally letting me glimpse the family he so rarely spoke of. I’d expected tension, but I could never have predicted the explosion that followed—a huge argument between him and his siblings, voices raised, anger spilling over. I could see it happening in slow motion, each harsh word tearing deeper into him, his mask cracking, raw and exposed. It felt like the entire room held its breath, watching the storm unfold.

Later that night, after the shattered pieces of the reunion scattered and the dust settled, I found him outside, sitting on the edge of the quiet docks. I approached slowly, careful not to startle him, and sat beside him without a word. The look in his eyes—wounded, vulnerable, yet somehow… resolute—said everything. He opened up to me that night, letting the emotions spill out in waves. He confessed his fears, his anger, and the deep-seated pain he’d buried for so long. And somewhere amidst those words, his feelings for me surfaced, raw and unfiltered, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Jun Lin," he whispered, voice rough with exhaustion, "I don’t know if I deserve this… deserve you. But… I can’t imagine doing this alone. Not anymore."

I felt my heart stir, as if a seed planted years ago had finally taken root. Everything my mother had ever told me about love, about being strong yet graceful, caring but steadfast—it was all manifesting in that moment, guiding me. I reached out and held his hand, offering the silent promise that I’d be there, through the storms and calm seas alike.

But soon after came the Big Run—a nightmare for every Inkling, and even more terrifying this time. During that endless, brutal night, the terror nearly swallowed me whole. The sound of roaring Salmonids, the murky shadows of Grizz Co. crewmates scattered in the chaos—I fought hard, but there was a moment, a chilling instant when I found myself getting stuck in sticky slime, a lurking Maw closing in. Just as I felt its jaws nearly snap around me, a shadow struck from above, pulling me out of danger in the last second. It happened so fast—a mysterious figure in a Zipcaster suit, moving with agility and precision, saving me without a word.

I knew it was him—Kokow. Jaycee’s brother, so much like him yet so different. After the Big Run, I made an effort to connect with Kokow, curious to understand the family that Jaycee was so conflicted about. It wasn’t cheating; it was a way of bridging the divide, of seeing what had shaped Jaycee into the man I loved. Kokow was surprisingly easygoing and relaxed, but if I ever mentioned Jaycee, a flash of anger sparked in his eyes, a silent fury I’d never seen before.

“I know you care about him, Kokow,” I’d said gently, trying to find a common ground, “but he cares about you too. Maybe... maybe there's a way to move past it.”

Kokow had merely shaken his head, a cold smile tugging at his lips. “You wouldn’t understand, Jun Lin. You only know the Jaycee he shows you.”

And then, everything came crashing down. I was back at Jaycee’s apartment, nursing the bruises and cuts Kokow had inflicted on him. Jaycee was silent, his face a mixture of pain and frustration, his eyes betraying the hurt of a brother’s betrayal. As I carefully dabbed antiseptic on his wounds, my mind raced, wondering if there was anything I could have done differently, anything to ease the rift I’d found myself tangled in. Every philosophy my mother had taught me seemed to fall short in the face of this family conflict.

As I wrapped a final bandage around Jaycee’s wrist, I glanced at his face, the soft vulnerability there catching me off guard. This half breed. This ma, so tough on the outside, was haunted by wounds that no amount of bandages could heal.

In the quiet of his apartment, as the last traces of night faded and the first light of dawn seeped in, I sat by him, pondering what more I could have done. How do you mend something so deeply fractured, so tangled in past grievances and unspoken words? I knew I couldn't fix everything, but I was here, and for now, maybe that was enough.

Only time would tell if this rift could heal. Until then, I held onto my mother’s words and the promise I’d made to myself. I would be strong, graceful, and steadfast—for Jaycee, and for whatever lay ahead. For now, that was all I could offer. And perhaps, it would be enough.

Chapter Text

Jaycee's Perspective

In my apartment’s quiet, dim light, Bluey was carefully dabbing a cotton ball over the cuts and bruises Kokow had left on me. The sting of antiseptic was sharp, biting into my skin as she pressed the medicine on a deeper cut. I sucked in a breath and let out a hiss.

Bluey clicked her tongue. “Seriously? The big, bad Jaycee can’t handle a little sting?” She smirked and dabbed even harder, clearly enjoying this a little too much.

I rolled my eyes, wincing again but managing a grin. “Hey, it’s not the sting—it’s the sheer force you’re using! Are you trying to treat me or finish me off?”

She gave a laugh, rolling her eyes playfully. “Maybe a little of both. You deserve it after picking fights with your brother.”

Soon enough, she was wrapping the bandages around my arm, her hands steady and precise. Her face was close to mine, and I could see the small frown of concentration that creased her brow. The way she focused, even on something as routine as this, it… meant something.

But as silence settled between us, my thoughts drifted back to Kokow. The wounds he’d left behind went deeper than just cuts. They were a reminder of something more painful, and I couldn’t shake it.

“So…” I started, breaking the silence, “you know Kokow?”

Bluey froze, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing her face. She quickly returned to wrapping the bandage, her hands slightly more tense now. “Uh… yeah, I, um, met him… once or twice.”

I raised an eyebrow, not buying her casual tone. “Once or twice, huh? That doesn’t sound like ‘just an acquaintance.’”

She bit her lip, her gaze avoiding mine. “Jaycee, it’s complicated.”

I sat up a little straighter, ignoring the tug of pain as I moved. “Complicated how? You went behind my back to… what, talk to him? My own brother?”

“Jaycee, please,” she murmured, her voice almost pleading. “I was just… trying to help you both. I wanted to understand what happened between you two.”

My jaw tightened, and I felt a sharp pang in my chest. “So you thought doing it behind my back was the way to go? Without telling me?”

She looked at me, frustration mixed with a touch of guilt in her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d let me. I thought you’d get defensive, and I just wanted to—”

“To what? Fix it?” I cut her off, my voice harsher than I intended. “Bluey, I trusted you. And you went behind my back like I wouldn’t notice?”

She stammered, trying to find the words. “I wasn’t trying to betray you. I was trying to make things right.”

“But you didn’t let me decide that, did you?” I countered, feeling a crack in the foundation of everything I thought I knew.

Bluey’s voice cracked, her hands trembling as she held onto the roll of bandages. “Jaycee… I only wanted to help.”

Those words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. The sight of her teary eyes, the way her shoulders slumped, it tore at something deep inside me. But I couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on my chest, the betrayal burning in the back of my mind.

I took a slow, shuddering breath, keeping my voice steady. “Bluey… just… leave me.”

She blinked, her lips parting as though to protest, but the words seemed to die before they could form. I saw the flash of hurt cross her face, and it struck something inside me too, but I couldn’t take it back. She hesitated, lingering at the door, like she might try again. But then, swallowing whatever she’d been about to say, she nodded and stepped out, closing the door softly behind her.

The room was painfully quiet now, the silence thick and stifling. I stared at the spot where she’d stood, still feeling the warmth of her presence even as the cold emptiness began to settle in. Every part of me felt torn, pulled between the anger coursing through my veins and the desperate ache that begged me not to push her away.

I buried my head in my hands, the weight of everything crashing down on me. It felt like no matter what choice I made, I’d be standing on shaky ground. And now, alone in the dark, with the lingering scent of her bandages and the echo of her soft cries, I could feel it all slipping out of my control.

I could do nothing but let the anger and heartbreak bleed out in quiet, choked sobs, wondering if I'd just pushed away the one person who’d tried to be there for me.

The memories surged like an undertow, dragging me down into a suffocating darkness I’d fought so hard to escape. I could still see those faces, sneering and twisted with disdain, the ones who had made me feel like a stain on the world. People who couldn’t understand, who didn’t care to—only saw me as something less. They called me names that clung to me like barbs, branding me with every insult meant to belittle me as a half-breed, something neither Inkling nor Octoling, something wrong in their eyes.

I remembered standing there, alone, the world around me silent save for their taunts, their judgment. It was like poison sinking into my skin, soaking into every pore until I believed it myself. And worst of all, I knew no one would come. No one ever did. I was forced to face it, the endless cruelty, the brutal rejection of a world that saw me as an outsider. And I was too young to understand why. It carved itself into me, shaping me, isolating me.

Then, there was my family. The only warmth in that relentless cold, the one place I thought was mine, a small sanctuary from everything else. I clung to them as tightly as I could, believing they’d keep me safe, that they’d never let the outside world take them from me. But even that was taken, ripped from my hands by the one person I trusted—Diego. My own brother. He was the one who had planted the seeds of suspicion, who’d turned my family’s love into something brittle, something that shattered when I needed it most. He was the reason for that last moment, that final look from my father, the one filled with rejection I’ll never forget.

I felt the sting of it all over again, a fresh wound that hadn’t healed, wouldn’t ever heal. And now, Bluey. Bluey. The one person I thought would never betray me, who said she’d be there, who promised. I’d given her my trust, shared things with her I couldn’t tell anyone else. And yet, she went behind my back, believed she could fix my family with her own hands. Without even asking.

I tried to tell myself it was to help, that she had good intentions, that she was only trying to make things right. But the words tasted bitter, hollow. The voice in my mind—my own voice, crueler than any stranger’s—began twisting it around, whispering things I didn’t want to believe.

“She betrayed you.”

No. I gritted my teeth, trying to shove the thought aside. But it just laughed, worming its way deeper.

“Would you ever trust her again? After everything? After everyone?”

My fists clenched tight enough that my nails dug into my palms, a sharp pain that couldn’t even scratch the surface of what I felt inside. She said she loved me, I thought, but then she just… She thought it was hers to control, to fix, like I wasn’t enough to make those choices myself.

Just because she cared, she thought she could meddle in what was mine. Like she knew better than me, could do better than me, like I was too weak to handle it alone. I’d given her my trust, and she threw it away.

Each thought cut deeper, each a twisted blade tearing through everything we’d built, everything I thought we had. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pressed my palms against my temples, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping somehow that it would quiet the vicious torrent in my mind.

But instead, everything came crashing down harder. The betrayals, the loneliness, the helplessness of a life spent clawing for acceptance I never found, not even from those closest to me. The agony was overwhelming, drowning me in memories, each one a wound that had never healed, each a scar that never faded.

“AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

I screamed, my voice raw, tearing out from some place deep inside, filling the empty silence of my apartment. It didn’t ease the pain; nothing would. It only left me feeling emptier, like I was falling into a void that had been waiting for me all along, a place where I was truly and utterly alone.

Jun Lin's Perspective

I sat there in the living room, my hands trembling as I clasped them together, fingers pressing into my skin to keep from falling apart. And then his scream cut through the silence—raw, jagged, tearing through the walls like it could reach me, expose me. What have I done…

I wanted to be the one to hold him, to soothe him, to take the weight he carried and make it lighter, somehow. But instead… all I’d done was make it heavier. I could hear the pain in his voice, feel the betrayal in the way he’d looked at me. That look—it had shattered something in me, something that now lay in pieces, impossible to piece back together.

I thought I was helping. I thought I could fix things, could find the part of him that longed for family, for connection, and give it back to him. I only wanted to help, I told myself over and over, as if it would somehow make it right. But nothing felt right now; nothing felt like it could ever be okay again. I wanted him to trust me, to see that I did it because I… because I love him.

But maybe love wasn’t enough. Maybe wanting to help wasn’t enough if it meant breaking that trust, if it meant going behind his back, pushing into a part of him he wasn’t ready to share. I thought I could handle it, but the look on his face had told me otherwise. And the hurt—the hurt had taken root deep within him. And now, maybe it was too late to take it back.

My hands shook harder, and my vision blurred with the hot sting of tears welling up, until they spilled down my cheeks in silence. What if I’ve just driven him further away? What if I’ve done exactly the opposite of what I wanted?

“Jaycee… Cyan… forgive me,” I whispered, voice breaking as my throat closed tight. “I only wanted to help you…”

"Forgive me..."

Chapter Text

Jaycee's Perspective

The waves crashed softly against the sand as I stepped onto the shore of the secluded cove. I’d found it in the aftermath of the Big Run, and it’d quickly become my refuge. Here, away from the relentless chaos of Splatsville, the noise of the world faded, and I could breathe. No Grizz Co. assignments, no bruises or blood—just peace. I needed this now more than ever, after what had happened with Kokow. I needed to feel like I wasn’t caught in a tug-of-war between what’s broken and what’s left.

Even Bluey had tried to pry me from coming here, claiming it was best to rest under her watch. But right now, I just needed to be away. Even from her.

I hadn’t made it far into the cove when an uneasy chill settled over me, gripping my spine and freezing my step. For a split second, it felt like something—or someone—was watching. The sensation passed quickly, but I couldn’t shake it. Something was off. I scanned the area, wary, but it was only the gentle curve of the cove ahead and the empty sand stretching out before me.

But I was wrong; I wasn’t alone.

Near the shoreline, standing still as stone, was someone I’d never seen before. His broad figure blocked a good portion of the sunlit water behind him, casting a long shadow on the sand. I paused, my hand instinctively moving to my side as I sized him up. This guy was tall, built like a rock wall, with shoulders that looked like they could shrug off a Steel Eel and keep going. From where I stood, he had the stance of someone who knew his way around a fight. My instincts screamed caution, but curiosity rooted me in place.

Then he turned, and for a second, surprise flashed across his face. Without hesitation, his arm shifted toward a massive anchor lying by his side. Before I knew it, he’d hoisted it as easily as if it were just another splatling or a basic Blaster. My mind raced, trying to figure out who’d haul something like that around as a weapon. I’d seen plenty of unique gear in my time at Grizz Co., but this? It was like something out of a myth. Strange, yes—but also… creative, I had to admit.

He held his ground, one hand gripping the chain looped around the anchor, his gaze locked onto me, sharp and wary. I took a moment to study him. Beneath the hardened look of a seasoned fighter, his face seemed surprisingly young, almost boyish. It was strange—a mix of raw strength and youthful features that didn’t quite match his imposing figure. And yet, something about his face tugged at my memory, a hint of familiarity that I couldn’t quite place, as if I’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t remember when or how.

There was something about his eyes—dark, intense, and focused—that made me feel like I’d seen him before, though I couldn’t remember where or when.

The stranger's voice broke through the quiet with a tremble barely masked by his attempt at authority. "Who—who are you? And how—how did you know about this place?" His voice held a mix of defiance and fear.

"That's what I'd like to know as well, mate," I replied evenly, not budging. I kept my hands loose at my sides, careful not to come off as a threat. As I took him in, I noticed the hints of Octarian lineage in his face—the distinctive tentacles mixed with Inkling traits. Half-breed, I thought. Just like me.

I took a single, cautious step forward, but his grip on the anchor tightened, and he squared his shoulders. "Don't come any closer," he warned, trying to sound firm, but I could hear the edge of nerves in his voice.

“Relax,” I said, lowering my tone to something calm, almost gentle. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just came here to clear my head, same as you, it looks like. No need for weapons, alright?”

He hesitated, eyes darting from my face to the empty shore around us. After a tense moment, he let out a shaky breath, dropping his gaze to the sand before lowering his anchor. Without another word, he sank to the ground on the shore, wrapping his arms around his knees, almost curling in on himself like he’d been holding his breath this entire time.

I stayed a few steps back, watching him. There was something hauntingly familiar about him, something that tugged at memories I’d thought buried. I studied his features—sharp cheekbones, thick brows, a quiet strength laced with a fragility he seemed to hide.

And then it hit me. There was no mistaking it. This boy had the same delicate features, the same eyes, as my ex, Angel Dee.

As I stepped closer, I could feel the tension radiating from him, thick as the air before a storm. There was an aura around him—a mix of exhaustion and sadness, like he’d been carrying a burden too heavy for too long. Something about him felt worn, stretched thin. He looked like someone who’d been through something rough, and not just in the physical sense.

The silence around us felt heavy but oddly calming, broken only by the quiet crash of the waves rolling against the shore. I lowered myself down onto the sand, feeling the grit under my hands and the cool, grainy texture pressing into my palms. We both stared out at the open water, letting the rhythm of the waves wash over us. There was no sunset yet, but in the gentle glow of the daylight, the ocean shimmered with a soft light, like it was offering some kind of unspoken comfort.

After a long, unbroken silence, it was the stranger who finally spoke, his voice low. “How did you…how did you know about this place? And why are you here?”

I didn’t look at him right away. Instead, I kept my gaze on the waves, bending down to pick up a smooth, flat stone. I turned it over in my hand, feeling its cool weight, then drew my arm back and let it fly. It skipped once, twice, three times before it finally sank, leaving ripples that spread outward, rings upon rings on the surface of the water, each one expanding until it vanished.

“I come here to clear my mind,” I answered, watching as the last ripple faded away. “Found it by chance not long ago, actually. It's quiet here…a good place to just…be.” I paused, letting the sound of the waves fill the space again.

“This cove…it has a kind of peace to it, don’t you think?” I added, finally glancing at him. He didn’t respond right away, just kept staring at the spot where the rock had disappeared, as if those ripples held an answer he couldn’t quite grasp.

The stranger let out a quiet, almost surprised laugh. “Funny, I found this place by accident too. Needed somewhere to clear my head, somewhere…away.”

I nodded, sensing a common thread between us—two people drawn to the same quiet place, both needing an escape from whatever weighed us down. Something about it softened the silence between us, just a little.

“It’s rare to find quiet like this in Splatsville. Almost feels like…we’re not supposed to be here,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Maybe that’s what makes it feel so calm.”

He glanced at me, his guard lowering by a fraction, and after a pause, he murmured, “Yeah. Feels like a place no one would think to look.”

We both returned to watching the water, letting the sounds and the silence ebb and flow between us. It felt strange—this shared understanding, this unspoken connection. But it was nice, too, like a calm ripple in the middle of a storm. And after a while, the stranger spoke again, his voice carrying a hint of something softer, less guarded.

“You…ever feel like you’re carrying a weight that just won’t let up? Like, no matter what you do, it’s always there?”

I let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I know what that’s like. Feels like something’s on you, pressing down—sometimes just trying to stay afloat feels like a battle.”

He nodded, and I could see the tension in his face ease just a little, as though admitting it took some of the burden off his shoulders. A breeze drifted over us, filling the quiet once again, but this time, the silence wasn’t as heavy.

I ventured, “You don’t have to say what it is, but…sometimes it helps to let it out. Even if it’s to a stranger.”

He hesitated, glancing away before looking back out at the water. “It’s…family stuff. Not something I can just walk away from, no matter how much I want to. Some things you’re born into—like it or not.”

I could feel the honesty in his words, and that familiar ache of family tension settled in. “Yeah,” I replied, “I get that. There are things you can’t choose, like where you come from. But you can choose who you become despite it.”

He looked over at me, and for the first time, I caught a glint of trust in his eyes—a guarded hope, like he might just let me in. He seemed younger in that moment, stripped of the armor he’d worn since I first saw him.

After a moment, he spoke again, softer this time. “Maybe…maybe we both found this place because we needed someone to talk to,” he said, almost as if testing the idea out loud.

“Maybe so,” I replied, letting the connection between us settle into something tangible. We didn’t need to explain ourselves fully, didn’t need to prove anything. Just two strangers, meeting by chance, with burdens too heavy to carry alone. And somehow, that felt like enough.

Our conversation drifted, both of us silent, lost in the rippling waves and the comfortable weight of a shared understanding. Then, after a while, I sighed, feeling the words I’d kept inside clawing their way out.

“Funny thing is,” I began, my gaze fixed on the horizon, “I came here because of a…girl.” I paused, the words heavy. “My girlfriend... She- She thought she could fix things for me, help me with…family stuff. But she went behind my back to get in contact with my siblings, thought she’d bridge the gap or something.” I shook my head, feeling the weight of that betrayal settle in again. “It was noble, sure, but…she didn’t ask. Just took matters into her own hands. And I can’t just…pretend it didn’t hurt.”

The stranger watched me carefully, his expression flickering between empathy and something else—maybe recognition. And then he nodded, a humorless smile crossing his face.

“Funny,” he echoed, voice thick, “it’s…also a girl for me, but she’s not really the problem. I was.” His words faltered, and I could see him trembling, struggling to keep control. “I—I let my own emotions take over, blinded myself with pride and rage. I scared her away.” His voice cracked, barely a whisper now. “I’m an idiot. And it wasn’t just her. My dad…we had a huge argument. I went too far.”

“What did you do?” I asked, watching him closely, knowing from the tension in his frame he was holding back more than he let on.

He shifted, his expression guarded again, but the struggle to hold back was evident. “Let’s just say…my friend and I did something reckless, and it didn’t exactly sit well with him. Made him furious.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between us. I felt for him—I understood the mess of family and the sting of betrayal, whether it was someone close or your own reflection staring back at you, raw and disappointed.

After a pause, I murmured, “Yeah, I know what that feels like. Mistakes are…they’re like knives, right? They stab deep, leave you bleeding, aching. Hurts like hell. But somehow, you’re still here, having to live with the wound.”

He looked over at me, eyes filled with a pain that mirrored my own. For the first time, I saw a kindred spirit in this stranger—a soul that, like me, had tasted loss, regret, and a desire to heal, even if it felt impossible.

“Sometimes I think,” he whispered, “it’d be easier if I could just…walk away from it all. But no matter what, you’re still tied to everything you left behind.”

I nodded, his words echoing the same battle that raged in my own chest. “Trust me, I get it. Running away…it sounds easy, but it doesn’t solve anything. You just end up carrying the weight further, until you can barely stand.”

For a while, we just sat there, letting the quiet offer a balm to our wounds. We both knew that words alone wouldn’t fix anything, but in sharing them, there was a sliver of relief—a reminder that maybe, just maybe, neither of us had to shoulder our burdens alone.

The silence stretched on, but it was the kind that comforted instead of suffocated. I drifted back into my thoughts, glancing out at the waves that seemed to move endlessly but always circled back to the shore, anchored to the ebb and flow of the tide. In some way, they reminded me of myself, of this stranger sitting beside me, and the burdens we were both carrying.

Being anchored, I thought, can be its own kind of suffering. Stuck, pulled down by everything you can’t forget. Memories of my own mistakes, the arguments, the regret, and even the love I’d clung to—they all rose to the surface, swirling just below the surface, like a tide ready to pull me under. But I knew, just as I’d learned time and again, the past wasn’t just something that bound you—it was something that could shape you, mold you if you let it.

“Funny thing about the past,” I murmured, my voice low but steady. “It’s easy to get trapped there, replaying things over and over. Like…you’re chained to it, a prisoner to your own memories.” I paused, feeling the weight of those words settle between us. “But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

The stranger looked over at me, his gaze thoughtful. There was something softened in his expression now, a flicker of understanding.

“I think…I think I know what you mean,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like…even though it hurts, even though you hate remembering all those mistakes, sometimes they’re the only things that feel real. Like if you let them go, you lose…a part of yourself.”

I nodded, understanding that tug-of-war all too well. “It’s true. Those memories, even the painful ones, they’re a part of you. But they’re only pieces. They don’t have to define everything.”

He stared out at the water, and I saw a glint of something hopeful in his eyes, though it was fragile, like a light trying to break through the cracks of a long-forgotten window. “But…how do you move on when it feels like it’s all you have?”

I thought about it for a moment, watching the gentle roll of the waves. “I don’t know if you ever completely move on. It’s more like…you carry those memories with you, but you use them to build something new. Learn from the pain, let it teach you, instead of letting it trap you.” I let out a small laugh, almost to myself. “You’d be surprised how much those scars can help you grow if you let them.”

He glanced at me, a little surprised by my honesty, and for the first time, I saw a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“It sounds…different, coming from someone else,” he admitted, almost shyly. “I’ve been trying to figure it all out on my own. Guess it’s not so easy.”

“Yeah, it’s not,” I agreed. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

There was a long pause, the quiet somehow heavier yet comforting, and I could feel something shifting between us—a trust forming in the aftermath of our shared confessions. For the first time, I felt less alone in my own struggles. Maybe he felt it too, a strange sense of companionship born from broken pieces.

The stranger looked down at the sand, tracing patterns absently. “Maybe…maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t have to carry it all by myself.” He looked over at me again, his expression raw, unguarded. “Thanks, by the way…for not judging. For just…listening.”

I gave him a nod, feeling something lighten inside me. “Anytime. Besides, sometimes just talking helps more than you’d think.”

We fell back into silence, the kind that wasn’t empty, but full of a quiet understanding. The waves continued their rhythmic dance, a reminder of both the unchanging and the ever-changing. And as I sat there with this stranger, I realized that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new for both of us—a chance to untangle ourselves from the anchors of the past, one small step at a time.

A sudden chill prickled down my spine, interrupting the calm that had settled between Jayden and me. Just as I glanced around, I heard a soft voice echo through the cove.

"Kuya?! Kuya Jayden?! Are you here?"

From the cracked entrance, a young girl emerged, her figure silhouetted by the afternoon light. She looked like a half-breed as well, her features strikingly Inkling, with bright, curious eyes and a rounder face that softened her expression in a way that contrasted with Jayden’s sharp, intense look. She was dressed in a blue mechanic jumper suit, complete with patches and stains that gave her a scrappy, resourceful vibe. Yet there was something hauntingly familiar about her face, something that nagged at the back of my mind…but I couldn’t quite place it.

The girl walked over to us with a mix of confidence and curiosity, her gaze shifting between me and Jayden. Finally, she tilted her head and squinted at me, looking like she was trying to piece together a puzzle.

“Do I know you?” she asked, brows knitting together. “You look very…familiar?”

Before I could respond, Jayden quickly pulled her attention back. “April, enough. Let’s not bother him.”

I watched as the two siblings slipped into a playful quarrel, bickering over who was responsible for letting their dad find out where they’d been hiding. The exchange made something stir in me—a memory of squabbles with my own siblings, those moments of innocence that had long since passed. Watching them, I could almost see myself in Jayden, and even in April, the innocence and energy so tangible, yet fragile.

Eventually, the bickering ceased, and April tugged at Jayden’s arm, pulling him toward the entrance. “Kuya, Dad’s waiting for you.”

Jayden turned back to me, a flicker of gratitude softening his gaze. “Thanks…for listening.”

I nodded, feeling a strange kinship with him. “No problem, Jayden. And hey—that name suits you.”

April looked up at me one last time, then pulled harder at Jayden’s arm. Just as they were turning to leave, Jayden paused, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asked, his voice curious but respectful.

“Jaycee,” I replied, smiling faintly. “It’s Jaycee.”

He blinked at me, and to my surprise, his eyes widened, as if something profound had just struck him. Then, almost like a whisper on the wind, he said, “D-Dad?”

My heart skipped. “What…what did you say?”

But before I could react, April pulled him faster, urging him out through the cracked entrance, leaving me frozen in place. I stumbled forward, my feet carrying me in a half-daze, but as I squeezed through the cracked opening into the sunlight beyond…they were gone.

Only the echoes of the waves remained, the emptiness settling around me like a fog. The question lingered, clawing at my mind, and all I could do was wonder…had I really just met my own children?

Yet, as impossible as it seemed, the memory of that strange encounter with myself drifted back—the words of my other self, speaking of a future I hadn’t yet seen. A future where I had kids.

I stood there, gazing out into the silent landscape, the mystery leaving a quiet ache in my chest. But for now, the answer would remain elusive, leaving me to ponder the truth of what had just happened.

The thought lingered, etching itself into my mind like an unanswered question—who were those kids? And could they really be…mine?

Chapter Text

Jun Lin and Me...

I kept my steps even, my face calm, but inside, my heart was twisting with a heavy weight that seemed to grow tighter every time I saw her. Jun Lin was right there—her shoulders slumped, her gaze lowered whenever she thought I wasn’t looking, guilt plain on her face. Two days of this strained silence, of her trying to find ways to bridge the distance, and yet every time I opened my mouth to forgive her, that ache in my chest clawed its way back, refusing to let me say the words. It was like an anchor, rooted deep in my past, holding me down in place when I wanted nothing more than to move forward.

Forgive her, I thought. You’ve been through worse, haven’t you? I’d said as much to Jayden: that anchoring yourself to the past was a way to grow. But my own advice felt like a mockery now, a bitter echo in my mind. The pain was… heavier than I’d expected. The temptation to just lash out at her, to make her feel the same sting, taunted me. Every glance, every word she’d said to try and make things right, was a reminder of her betrayal, and I hated that it felt like this.

Today, as she handed me a warm towel, she hesitated, her hand just shy of my arm. Her voice was a quiet plea. “Jaycee… please, let’s talk. I want to… I want to make things right.”

I clenched my jaw, the urge to snap at her mixing with a desire to let it go. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bluey,” I replied flatly, taking the towel and avoiding her eyes. “It’s done.”

She flinched, her lips pressing together as she looked down. I could see her trying to form words, struggling to find a way to say what I knew she wanted to. But I didn’t want to hear it. Not yet. Not when I couldn’t even make sense of my own feelings.

“If it were really done,” she murmured, barely loud enough for me to hear, “you wouldn’t keep looking at me like that.”

I felt my anger flare up, the temptation to let her see just how deep the hurt ran. But I fought it down, my hands gripping the towel tightly. “Maybe I don’t know how to look at you any differently right now,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice level.

She took a shaky breath. “Jaycee, I didn’t mean for it to feel like… like this. I only wanted to help.”

“And look where that got us,” I replied bitterly, my gaze fixed ahead. I wanted to let it go, to reach out and tell her that I understood, but something held me back. The pain, the memories, they were all tangled up, refusing to loosen their grip. And now, all I could do was hold on, feeling like every step was one through thick, sinking mud.

Days passed like this, each one filled with moments where I’d catch her looking at me, hoping I’d finally let the silence end. But every time I tried, that shadow crept in, whispering doubts, urging me to keep my guard up.

Spawning Grounds

The Spawning Grounds were hell today. Even for me, the constant chaos of the battlefield was reaching a new high, and every shrill battle cry from the Salmonids seemed to pierce through whatever thin layer of focus I had left. The waves were relentless, and the terrain, wet and uneven, was living up to its miserable reputation as the second-worst battlefield. But worse than that was the noise in my own head, the same words from Bluey echoing over and over, scraping at my focus.

"I just wanted to help…"

Her voice—soft, pleading—dug into me like barbs. I clenched my jaw, trying to push it down. I had to keep it together. Focus. Fight. Survive.

But it was no use.

"Help?!" I shouted suddenly, fists tightening around my weapon. "Who asked for help?!”

A few heads turned my way, faces twisted with confusion and alarm. My coworkers were too stunned to respond as I pressed forward, unleashing all the pent-up rage and frustration onto anything in my path.

I spotted a Scrapper chugging towards me, its metal exterior clinking as it pushed through the murk. Without a second thought, I launched forward, sending a brutal swing that dismantled it in one splat. Its scrap metal pieces clattered down as I turned to see a Flipper-Flopper descending, rings forming beneath my feet. I didn’t hesitate, spinning through with my blade, watching its lifeless form crash into the water.

And then... a Flyfish.

My teeth ground together. That infernal, floating machine and its smug little pilot lurking behind that plexiglass shield. I lunged forward, using all my strength to slice at its side, my weapon hitting the glass barrier with a resonating crack. My grip tightened, the glass giving way under the sheer force of my strike. I shoved my hand into the cockpit and felt the creature squirm, my fingers curling around it with a crushing grip.

With a swift movement, I tossed it aside, watching as the Flyfish crashed to the ground, revealing the golden eggs scattered around. But even with that small victory, the anger simmered, refusing to subside.

Suddenly, my earpiece crackled. “Oi, Jaycee! We’re losin’ control of the field!” Captain Virgil’s voice rang through, tense and urgent. “We got a huge swarm comin’ in. Ya need to get back here!”

“But the quota—” I argued, barely able to suppress the fire in my voice.

“To hell with the quota!” Virgil snapped back. “Safety’s more important right now. Move it, boy! Get back to the boat, now!”

The words jarred me back, but only slightly. With a final, frustrated shout, I activated my super jump, watching the chaos below shrink as I soared towards the safety of Virgil’s boat.

As I landed, Captain Virgil met me with a wary look, his eyes narrowed in concern. “Lad… what in the blazes happened out there?”

I clenched my fists, feeling the lingering sting of adrenaline, anger, and something else—something colder. I was too spent to answer, only managing to mutter, “I don’t know, Cap. I don’t know…”

As the rest of the crew clambered aboard, breathless and soaked, I retreated to the back of the boat, trying to find a corner where the others wouldn’t see me unravel. Captain Virgil was the only one who kept his gaze on me, his expression shaded with worry and something else—like he was seeing something in me he couldn’t quite understand. Without a word, he turned on the engine, and we lurched forward, the boat grinding against the choppy waters as we put distance between us and the shoreline.

Behind us, the horde swelled, a dark mass of writhing figures that would have overwhelmed us if we’d stayed. Captain Virgil had been right—the timing couldn’t have been better. At the front, he squinted over his shoulder, eyes narrowed as he took in the scene.

“Good call, Cap,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the engine. “Those Stringers almost got in range…”

“Aye,” he replied, sparing me a small, reassuring nod. “Nothin’ good comes from stickin’ around these waters too long. Better to head home in one piece.”

As we made more distance, I caught something odd from the corner of my eye. The water rippled in unnatural waves, a strange shuddering that sent a chill through me. I frowned, narrowing my gaze to focus, but my eyes struggled to make sense of the shapes below the surface.

Fins… long, jagged, and spiking up like thunderbolts breaking through the sea’s skin. They weaved dangerously close to our boat, cutting through the water like blades. But every time I tried to focus, they’d vanish, swallowed up by the shadows and frothy waves. For a moment, it felt like something monstrous was circling us, something ancient, coiling just out of reach.

I shook my head, forcing myself to look away. The exhaustion must be messing with me. It had to be. Just stress… but the unsettling image of those fins stayed lodged in my mind, like a shard I couldn’t shake.

The Docks...

The rough seas finally gave way to the steady rocking of the dock as we pulled in, and I let out a long breath, taking in the sight of the Grizz Co docks. Since the Big Run, the place looked almost unrecognizable. Mr. Grizz had actually started investing in defenses. Towers lined the perimeter, fortified barriers and steel gates casting shadows over the loading bays. Couldn’t help but think he should have thought of this sooner, especially considering how much we risk out here.

The rest of the crew scrambled off the boat, sighs of relief and muttered oaths of survival breaking the silence. One Inkling lost his battle with seasickness and retched over the dock. I stayed put, thoughts still gnawing at me, the weight of everything pressing harder than I’d like to admit. I stood and was just about to step off when Captain Virgil planted himself right in my path, his weathered eyes narrowing at me.

“Oh no, ya don’t, lad,” he said, crossing his fins with a firm stance. “I can’t let ya leave. Not like this.”

An edge of irritation flared up in me. I knew he meant well, but right now… “And why not, old geezer?”

He cocked his head, watching me closely, his gaze both sharp and gentle. “I’m not blind, Jaycee. You’re off your game, and I don’t just mean today. Somethin’s gnawin’ at ya, lad, and it’s pullin’ ya down. This isn’t the Jaycee I’ve known for years.”

I glanced away, chewing on the words that felt too heavy to say. But he wasn’t going to let me go until I gave him something. “It’s… it’s Bluey, alright?”

“What?” He squinted, adjusting his cap as if he hadn’t heard me right. “Bluey? The girl? Thought you’d patched things up with her!”

“It’s different this time, Captain,” I muttered, staring at the chipped wood beneath my feet. “She… she went behind my back. Took my contacts, tried to reach out to my siblings.”

Virgil scratched his chin, letting out a scoff. “So, she meddled a bit? Lad, you’re an open wound about that family of yours—she’s only tryin’ to patch it up.”

I huffed. “Yeah, but it’s more than that. She knew how much it all hurt. It felt like a… a betrayal. Like everything I’ve told her was just ignored.”

Virgil frowned, his gaze turning pensive, almost sympathetic, as he listened. “And? You think this dark spell you’re under’s because of her?”

I closed my eyes, clenching my jaw. “Not entirely… it’s just, everything’s been piling up. Her going behind my back, my past, the resentment toward my family, the… disgust I feel with myself, like I can’t escape this anchor that’s holding me down. Every time I look at her, I feel like I’m ready to blow up… but I know it’s not fair. She’s only trying to help.”

Captain Virgil listened intently, nodding now and then, his eyes dark with understanding. He let out a long sigh, then gave me a look that was somewhere between exasperation and pity.

“So that’s what’s eatin’ ya. Love can be the greatest joy and the fiercest storm. It’s the one place ya’ll see your own heart, all the good, bad, and ugly of it. But it’s clear as these seas, lad, that you’re just spinnin’ in the waves now. Tell ya what—let’s go grab a drink at Monger’s cabin. My treat.”

“But… Jun Lin’s probably waiting for me back home…”

“Lad, trust me on this.” His voice softened as he placed a fin on my shoulder. “You need a moment to settle yer head, and maybe a bit of good company’s all you need to make sense of it. Just one drink?”

I hesitated, staring out at the docks, the waves rocking gently against the shore. Virgil was right—maybe a talk over a drink would help settle the thoughts swirling in my head.

Monger's Cabin

The Monger's Cabin was a welcome burst of life, buzzing with the steady hum of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the blare of an old television perched high above the bar. Workers, ink-splattered and worn, filled the space, laughing loud and unwinding after another hard day. The smell of sizzling seafood and the rich, savory aroma of stews filled the air, wrapping me in a rare sense of warmth.

Mama Bing noticed us right away, her round, warm face lighting up as she maneuvered her wheelchair over with surprising speed. “Well, if it ain’t my two ol’ sea dogs!” She cackled, patting Virgil on the arm before casting me a critical eye. “And look who’s finally graced us with his presence. I was wonderin’ if you’d forgotten the way here, Jaycee.”

I shrugged, scratching the back of my neck. “Been, uh, spending a lot of time with Jun Lin lately, I guess.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she wheeled back. “Oh, I’ve heard. You know, boy, some of us were takin’ bets on whether you’d gone and disappeared with her!”

Virgil chuckled, and I felt myself relax a bit, laughing along. The warmth here was almost foreign after everything that had happened. Virgil looked around, giving a small nod to the bar. “Mama Bing, can we get a round of drinks?”

She smiled, gesturing toward the counter where her son Mario was deftly filling orders, while his twin, Luigi, cleared away dishes with expert hands. “Go on over. Mario’ll fix ya up right.”

“Much obliged, Mama.” Virgil tipped his cap, and we headed toward the counter.

When we reached Mario, Captain Virgil threw him a cheery wave. “Oi, Mario!”

“Captain Virgil! Or should I say Captain Blast?” Mario grinned, referencing an old nickname Virgil must’ve earned ages ago. “What can I get for you tonight?”

Virgil chuckled, patting me on the back. “My usual, lad, and a nice sugary drink for this one here. My treat!”

“A sugary one, huh?” Mario raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he went to work. The bitterness of most drinks was lost on me. I couldn’t understand how anyone found joy in a drink that practically stung.

I watched Mario pour our drinks, glancing over at Virgil. “So… why’d you drag me here, exactly?”

Virgil leaned against the bar, his rough, weathered hand gripping his glass. “A lad like you, you need to learn the art of relaxin’. You’re a kettle at full boil these days, Jaycee, just about ready to burst. A night here might just remind you what it’s like to let loose a bit. Ain’t good for a soul to be carryin’ around so much weight.”

Mario placed our drinks in front of us, and Virgil raised his glass to him. “Thanks, lad!” he said, before giving me a grin. “Well, don’t just sit there starin’. Drink up!”

I stared down into my glass, watching the foam bubble and settle, my reflection slightly warped in the glass. The ripples made my face look fragmented, broken up into pieces. It was fitting, in a way. Here I was, in a place meant for unwinding, but all I felt was the chaos churning inside.

With a sigh, I lifted the glass, taking a small sip. Sweetness flooded my mouth, washing away some of the tension, but not all.

Captain Virgil slammed his empty glass down, shaking the bar with a laugh. “Mario! Another round!”

Mario gave a thumbs-up, reaching for the next bottle. Virgil eyed my untouched drink with a mischievous look. “Ain't even taken a sip, lad? Tell ya what, if I finish this one and you’re still sittin’ there dry, that sweet drink’s mine!” He threw back his head, his laughter a thunderclap in the warm chaos of the cabin.

I forced a smile, barely a chuckle. The cabin was alive: workers filled the space, loud with laughter and banter, the TV blaring something about the latest Turf War, dishes clattering in the back. Mama Bing’s boys were hustling around, pouring drinks, slinging plates. The smell of seared seafood and fried noodles should've stirred up some kind of appetite, something comforting. But all I could feel was… nothing.

Captain Virgil was doing everything he could to lift my spirits. His voice had been booming, teasing, telling stories I’d heard at least a dozen times before. I knew he meant well—he always did. But even here, in this warm, bustling place, I felt like I was on the outside looking in, unable to really… be there.

“Order up!” Mario called, setting down Virgil’s second drink. The Captain turned to me, raising his glass with a hearty grin. We clinked glasses, and he downed his drink like he was savoring every drop. I watched him, but my mind drifted again.

I glanced around the room. Not everyone here was laughing or having a great time. Some sat at the bar, silent, staring into half-empty glasses. I recognized it: that same hollow look. People who’d lost something, who’d had hard days, hard lives. Hiding from it all in bitter drinks and noise. For a moment, I thought I saw my reflection in one of their glasses, like a warning of what could be waiting for me if I kept sinking.

“Oi, lad!” Virgil’s voice snapped me back, his tone still light, though I caught a thread of worry beneath it. “What ya want for dinner, eh? Pick anything. My treat!”

“Captain, I—” I started, struggling to steady my voice. The weight of everything felt like it was pressing down, making it hard to breathe. “As much as I appreciate it, I just… I think I need to go.”

I saw his face fall, a flash of surprise, maybe even hurt. Virgil wasn’t used to me turning down a meal, especially here, with him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but I was already moving, trying to ignore the pang of guilt tightening in my chest.

The moment I stepped outside, the warmth and noise faded, replaced by the chill of the night. I stood there on the wooden steps, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drifting through the door. It all felt so distant now, like it belonged to a different world. I shivered slightly, the cold sinking in as the quiet wrapped around me.

Standing there, alone, all I could feel was the weight of everything crashing down. I took a deep breath, trying to hold it all in. But the ache in my chest was as raw as ever, and somehow, the silence out here made it louder.

Captain Virgil came out quietly, standing next to me as I tried to gather myself. He held a small tin plate, and when I glanced down, I caught the familiar aroma before I saw it. Roasted Maw meat, golden-brown with a sprinkle of crisp seaweed garnish and a little bowl of sweet oil on the side.

I opened my mouth to refuse, feeling my resolve slip. “Captain, I told you, I didn’t—”

“Lad,” he interrupted, his voice softer than usual, “just take it… please?”

The look in his eyes told me it was as much for him as it was for me, and I couldn’t bring myself to argue. With a small nod, I took the plate from him. “Thanks, Captain.”

As I took my first bite, the rich, smoky flavors slowly melted away the tension in my shoulders. It was… comforting. Virgil watched me, letting me eat in silence for a bit. Then he leaned against the wooden rail beside me, crossing his arms with a quiet sigh.

“Another storm’s brewing in you, lad,” he said. “And this one? Well, it’s worse than most. Not the worst,” he added, catching my questioning glance, “but worse.”

He glanced out toward the sea, the dark waves crashing against each other in the distance. “The way I see it, the storms out there and the ones inside us aren’t all that different. Both dangerous, both hard to navigate, and either they pull you under… or you stay strong and live through it.”

I nodded, trying to understand the weight of his words.

“I get it, lad. You’ve been hurt. And your so-called girl? She gets it too, more than you realize.” He looked back at me, his eyes sharp. “Think about it. Yeah, she went behind your back, and it’s torn you up, but for what? For you, lad.”

I frowned. “But Captain, she—she betrayed me. Went behind my back.”

“Aye,” he admitted, “she did. But it wasn’t to hurt you. From what I’ve seen of Doctor Jun Lin, that lass has a spine. She wouldn’t stand by and let you crumble alone.” He shook his head with a slight grin. “You’re blessed, lad. You’ve got someone who fights for you, even in a city as chaotic as Splatsville.”

I wanted to respond, to tell him he was wrong, that he didn’t understand. But he held up a hand, silencing me before I could even begin.

“Save the excuses, lad. They only blind ya,” he said, his voice firmer now. “Excuses—they’re lies we tell ourselves. They trap us in circles, hurting us and everyone around. And your heart? Full of excuses.”

I froze, his words settling like a stone in my chest. He was right. Every time I thought of Jun Lin, every resentment I held against her, every reason I’d found not to forgive—it had all been an excuse to hold onto my own pain.

A grin tugged at the Captain’s lips as he watched my expression shift. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

I looked up at him, the faintest hint of a smirk of my own starting to show. “Yeah… yeah, you did, Captain.”

“Well then, that’s something, isn’t it, lad?” he chuckled, his voice a little softer.

As I finished my meal, Virgil’s words circled in my mind. I couldn’t help but mirror them against every resentment I’d harbored, every excuse I’d leaned on to justify my bitterness. Slowly, it began to clear, like the clouds breaking after a storm.

When I was done, I handed my plate back to him, my voice quiet but sure. “Thanks, Captain. For everything. I… I know what I have to do now.”

Virgil placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch steady and warm. “That’s the spirit, lad. Go on, then.”

With a deep breath, I turned, ready to face what waited beyond the quiet night.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin's perspective

The weight of the day pressed on me, both in the aches of exhaustion and the heaviness in my heart. I went through each patient's chart, adding the last notes of care and comfort I’d offered them. Each page brought me closer to the end of my shift, but not to the end of the thoughts swirling in my mind.

Jaycee’s outburst had been nothing like the last time. I still remember how his anger once filled me with fear. But this time…it stung differently, like a bruise I couldn’t shake. It made me feel guilty, almost ashamed. I thought I was doing the right thing, that what I did would help him, help us. I thought I could guide him in a way that would pull him up from the dark places he so often slips into. But…things didn’t go the way I imagined. I thought—

As I flipped through the last few notes, I paused on a familiar name, a patient I’d seen a few times now—one struggling with anger. Not just the everyday frustrations that we all carry, but something deeper, something gnawing. I remember he’d come in the first time with elevated blood pressure, clenching his fists so tightly I thought he might strain a tendon. He’d barely met my eyes as he spoke, voice tight, words clipped. His anger wasn’t just something he felt; it seemed to be something he wore, a shield he put up to keep the world at bay.

He’d never said exactly what weighed him down. Maybe he didn’t know, or maybe he didn’t want to face it. Sometimes, when people can’t name what they’re feeling, it festers. The silence grows louder and pulls them under. I’d tried to explain to him that unchecked anger wasn’t just a storm in his mind—it was one that could unravel his body. I told him how too much stress and unresolved feelings could wear on his heart, straining it until it struggled to keep pace. I remember warning him, softly, that without managing his anger, it could end up managing him.

There was a flash in his eyes, something between defiance and vulnerability, like he didn’t want to believe me but also knew I was right. He’d scoffed but nodded, a reluctant understanding in the way his gaze shifted away. I told him to practice finding calm, to give himself space. To release that anger little by little, rather than let it sit in the dark corners of his heart, waiting for an inevitable eruption.

And yet, as I closed his file, a pang of recognition echoed in me. How could I not think of Jaycee? I couldn’t deny the similarities—the simmering anger, the words left unspoken. But with Jaycee…it hurt in ways that lingered longer, in ways that felt like I’d done something wrong. I’d only wanted to help, to understand him, to ease the pain that shadows him.

But I couldn’t force him to see things my way, could I?"

I stacked the last of the notes and straightened the scattered papers, letting out a small sigh. Another day’s work done. As I was putting things in order, a photo tucked under the corner of my desk caught my eye. I’d nearly forgotten about it—just a simple shot I’d taken and printed out on a whim. The two of us at Hagglefish Market, carefree and laughing. Jaycee had insisted we stop by a vendor selling deep-fried shrimp, and we’d shared ice cream for dessert, flavors mixing messily between our laughter. I could still remember the warmth of his smile, the way his eyes softened, the rare gentleness that came through when he was really, truly happy.

In that moment, I couldn’t help but think, Did I push him too far? Did I drive away the boy I loved so much?

"No," I whispered to myself, gripping the edge of the photo. I still believe in him… I wanted so badly to believe in him.

But a darker thought pushed forward. You’re being delusional, it whispered, cold and cutting.

“No,” I protested softly, feeling a tightness in my chest. He’s still that sweet boy and kind person. I know it.

But then another voice—just as stubborn—echoed back. What if he hates you? After everything…after what you did behind his back.

I did it out of love. The thought felt raw, desperate even.

No, you did it out of selfishness. Reckless hag.

My breath caught, and I forced myself to let go of the photo, gently sliding it back under the corner of my desk. Enough. No more second-guessing tonight.

I grabbed my keys and, with one last look around my office, shut the lights and closed the door.

I turned to leave for the train station, knowing this might be the only way to truly give him the space he seemed to want. He hadn't asked to meet; in fact, I’d convinced myself he’d rather I kept my distance. So I held my head down, swallowing back the bitterness of guilt, hoping to escape unnoticed and let everything fall into silence.

But then, I saw it—through the fog, the faint outline of a figure ahead. The street lamps barely touched the mist, casting soft glows that distorted whoever it was, but something in the way they moved struck me. And then, I heard him call out.

"Bluey!"

My heart leapt, crashing against my ribs. That voice, so familiar yet carrying an intensity that nearly made me stumble, rooted me in place. It was Jaycee, his form becoming clearer with each step he took toward me. Every muscle in me tensed, warring between running and staying, though neither choice offered me comfort.

He kept coming closer, and I could feel my pulse quicken, every heartbeat echoing with fear, regret, and the love I couldn’t silence. In the darkness and the settling fog, he looked like a stranger and yet still so much the Jaycee I knew—the boy who laughed with me over ice cream, whose gentle smile could undo my fears. But that person seemed so far away now, his expression obscured by the fog, by the tension that thickened the air around us.

I felt my legs go weak as he finally stopped a few steps away, just close enough for me to see the way his gaze pinned me down. His presence felt like a weight pressing against me, a reminder of everything I’d done wrong, of every word I’d held back when he needed to hear the truth.

What was he thinking? I wanted to ask, but my voice felt trapped, choked by the knot in my throat. I could feel my hands trembling, betraying the calm I tried to wear. The silence between us was deafening, as if the world had stilled just for this unbearable tension to settle in.

"Bluey…" he said, his voice a quiet murmur in the cold night. But there was something raw in the way he spoke my name, and it hit me harder than anything else he could have said. I could feel his disappointment, the hurt, and the disbelief, all unspoken yet loud enough to fill the empty space between us.

A tear slid down my cheek, warm against my cold skin. I wanted to look away, to hide from the way he was looking at me, but I couldn’t. His eyes held mine, searching, questioning, and it was all too much. Every doubt, every moment I’d replayed in my mind, every regret swelled inside me, crashing over me like waves in a storm.

Forgive me, Cyan, I thought, though the words barely formed in my mind, heavy and hollow. The silence dragged on, thick and tense, neither of us daring to break it, neither of us knowing what might come next.

Jaycee perspective

Seeing her standing there, with that look—painful, vulnerable, weighed down by everything between us—I realized how deeply I’d hurt her. She was carrying it all, every unspoken word, every misunderstanding, as though the weight belonged to her alone. Her eyes held this tension, a sorrow mixed with something that felt like guilt, and it hit me harder than I expected. This… all of this mess… it wasn’t on her shoulders to bear, but I’d made her feel like it was. Because of my pride, my selfishness, my fear of facing what hurt most.

It was my excuses that pushed her away, my fears that held me back. I knew this. And I knew that if I let this go on any longer, I’d lose something irreplaceable.

Without thinking, I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms. Her body tensed, like she hadn’t expected it, but as I held her tighter, I felt her melt, if only just a bit, into the embrace.

"I'm sorry, Bluey…" The words fell from my mouth, heavier than I’d imagined. They felt raw, rough, but real. She was warm, and though I could feel how her muscles held tension, a tremble beneath my fingers, I also felt her begin to breathe, slowly, as if for the first time in a while. I pressed her against me, letting my arms hold her, feeling the weight of everything she’d been carrying… because of me.

She lifted her head, her voice a mere whisper. "I thought… I thought you were still angry at me?"

I sighed, the regret thick in my chest. "I was… but an old friend reminded me that my excuses were blinding me. Blinding me from seeing everything you did—for me, for us. You were only trying to help, and all I did was shut you out.”

For a second, she looked away, biting her lip, as if holding back a flood of emotions she’d kept buried. And I realized then how much of herself she’d put into this—how much she cared, enough to endure my stubbornness, to do what she thought would help me even if it cost her my trust.

"I was... I was only trying to help—" she murmured, her voice breaking, barely audible against the fog and the quiet hum of the night.

I could feel the crack in her voice, the tremor in her shoulders. She was holding it all back, holding herself together because that’s what she’d been doing all this time, even when I hadn’t seen it. And here she was, right in front of me, still trying, still hoping I’d understand.

"I know, Bluey," I whispered back, pulling her even closer, like I could somehow piece together the parts of her I'd shattered. "I know now. You did it all... you did it all for me."

She was trembling, her hand clutching at my shirt as if holding onto something she thought she might lose. I felt the weight of her every effort, her every worry. She’d gone so far, carried so much, and all the while, I’d been so blind. And it hurt to see how much I’d put her through.

“I never meant to push you away,” I said, swallowing back the ache in my throat. “I got so caught up in my own head, my fears… all those excuses. I didn’t see how much you cared.”

Her eyes lifted to meet mine, shining with a rawness that shook me. The hurt was still there, laced with hope and something deeper.

I held her close, feeling the warmth of her against me, like a steadying pulse in the chaos of my own heart. She was the light, my anchor, after years of darkness and torment, the one who’d stayed, who’d believed in me even when I couldn’t. She’d fought for me, and here I was, only now realizing what a fool I’d been to push her away, to let my own bitterness cloud the very thing I needed most.

I choked back the tears that were welling up, my voice breaking as I said, “You’re… you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, Bluey. I don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but here you are. I’m so, so blessed to have met someone like you.”

I could feel her hold tighten, her face buried in my shoulder, but she didn’t say a word, just let me speak, let me pour it all out.

“You’re… you’re stubborn like me,” I laughed softly through the tears, “and still, somehow, you’re my opposite. My foil. You bring light where there’s nothing but darkness in me. Even when I tried to keep you out, you stayed, and you fought to stay.”

Her fingers dug into my shirt, and I knew she felt every word.

"I let my own anger, my own pride—no, my excuses—blind me to all you did for me. And I was such a fool, Bluey, to let those emotions get in the way.”

The tears spilled freely then, raw and unguarded. She deserved to see it. She deserved everything honest from me.

Jun Lin's perspective

I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw the person I’d always known was there beneath the anger, the bitterness, the weight of his own emotions that had once threatened to break him. But here he was, reborn, his walls finally down. And the darkness that once clouded my heart faded, melting away in the warmth of his embrace. Every hurt, every doubt—all of it vanished as I felt his quiet strength wrapped around me, grounding me.

His tears traced a path onto my shoulder, steady and unrestrained. For once, he was showing me the pain he’d kept hidden for so long. He was so much bigger than me, yet he held me so gently, so carefully, as if I were something precious. He had always been the stronger one, but in this moment, I knew his heart was soft, more tender than he would ever let the world see. I reached up and placed my hand on his right cheek, brushing my thumb over his tear-streaked skin, his warmth a reminder of everything I’d held onto.

“I knew I was right in believing in you,” I whispered, barely able to hold back the rush of emotions welling inside me. I wasn’t even sure he heard me. But something about the way he looked at me, so vulnerable and raw, made my heart ache with a feeling that words couldn’t capture.

Before I knew it, a surge of something far stronger than words took hold of me. Without a second thought, I leaned in, feeling the distance between us vanish until there was nothing separating us at all.

And then, everything we’d been through—the arguments, the pain, the misunderstandings, and the forgiveness—melted away as our lips met in a gentle, unplanned kiss. It was like every scar we’d endured dissolved, replaced by a warmth that neither of us had ever known before. A warmth that said more than any words could: that through it all, we’d found our way back to each other.

Jaycee perspective

The moment our lips touched, I felt a rush, like a wave crashing against the shore, pulling me under and holding me there, safe and sound. This was my first kiss—my real first kiss. Not even Angel Dee had given me anything close to this, nothing like the way Jun Lin made my heart race and settle at the same time. She was the one who saw me, who took every jagged edge and believed in me, no matter how many times I tried to push her away. And here we were, finally, in each other's arms with no barriers, no walls.

All the memories of us—every late-night talk, every quiet moment, every laughter-filled day—rushed around us, swirling in a whirlwind of everything I felt for her. I remembered the way she’d smile when she’d catch me off guard, her warm eyes and her quiet, unbreakable strength. She had always been the light in the darkness I’d shut myself away in. And finally, I realized just how deeply I loved her, how much she truly meant to me. I held her closer, not wanting the moment to end, feeling like we were bound together, more than we ever had been before.

Jun Lin's perspective

In that kiss, my own memories rushed back, as if they were alive around me. All my dreams of helping people, of healing hearts, seemed to lead back to this moment. In every patient I'd ever comforted, every injury I'd treated, there had always been a part of me that saw the world through his eyes—through Jaycee's eyes. And now, he was here, whole and raw, vulnerable in my arms. He was my most cherished accomplishment, something no other healing could ever match.

If only my mother could see us now, I thought. I could almost hear her voice, encouraging me, proud of the love I’d found and nurtured. Every hardship, every misunderstanding we’d pushed through, they’d all been worth it to be here, together. As I pulled back, still close enough to feel his warmth, I realized that in him, I had found something beyond any dream I could have imagined. In him, I had found a love that felt as true and as steady as the tides.

And standing there, just the two of us, it was as if our souls had finally aligned, our memories and dreams bound together into something far greater than either of us alone.

As we pulled back from the kiss, I couldn’t help but just look at him—really look at him. His face, so familiar, was softened by the lingering tears that shimmered in his eyes. And then, slowly, a smile spread across his lips, a smile that was both gentle and vulnerable, full of so much emotion that I could feel it down to my core.

"I love you, Bluey..." he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you."

I couldn’t resist a little teasing, even now. I smiled, touching his cheek softly. "Cyan... you’re such a big baby," I said, letting a playful lilt enter my voice. "But you’re still my big baby." And then I wrapped my arms around him again, feeling the shivers of his mixed emotions, of relief, love, and whatever sadness was still clinging to him. I could feel the weight he’d carried for so long finally lifting, if only a little.

As I held Jaycee, feeling his warmth and the way his breath calmed, something in the distance caught my eye—a dark shape lingering at the edge of the fog. Just barely visible, I saw the outline of someone watching us, someone sturdy and patient, with an unmistakable air of quiet wisdom. His silhouette, softened by the mist, stood tall, unmoving, his head tipped slightly as though he’d been waiting for this moment. And then, a small grin creased his shadowed face before he turned and slipped away, melting back into the fog like he’d never been there at all.

Who was that? I wondered. But the thought vanished as Jaycee’s voice broke through the quiet, bringing me back.

“Let’s go home, Bluey. Or, actually, maybe… maybe you could just stay with me—or no, even better, maybe we could… get mar—”

"Whoa, whoa," I interrupted, laughing softly. I reached up and brushed his cheek, feeling the remnants of his tears there. "We don’t need to rush things, okay, Jaycee? When the time is right."

He nodded, his eyes soft and open in a way I hadn’t seen in so long. "Yes… when the time is right." A soft blush crossed his face, a hint of bashfulness breaking through his usual confidence. But he didn’t look away, just held out his hand for me.

I took it, feeling the familiar strength there, steady and real. Together, hand in hand, we turned away from everything that had held us down, the weight lifting as we moved forward. In the quiet, with the mist swirling around us, we walked through that heavy fog, knowing that whatever lay ahead, we would face it together.

Chapter Text

The First Incarnation...

I am the Heavy weapons guy. And this… this is my weapon.

My fingers wrap around the cool, solid handles of Sasha, my heart thumping in rhythm with her perfect hum, and I know there’s no bond stronger. Crafted from the finest metals, she’s my pride and my purpose, and holding her feels like wielding thunder itself. A weapon like Sasha isn’t just some tool. No, she’s a work of art—a masterpiece that roars to life when called upon, every bullet in her drum singing the song of raw, beautiful power.

A masterpiece that, for the right price, fires at a rate unmatched. Four hundred thousand dollars to keep her singing for twelve seconds. And every penny? Worth it.

The roar of Sasha as I squeeze her trigger, unleashing that raw, unstoppable force, sends shivers through my spine. The ground trembles beneath my feet, and a strange, blissful clarity takes over, sharp as her rounds cutting through the air. It’s almost… poetic. The chaos, the perfect, rhythmic brrrrrrrr of her rounds tearing into anything foolish enough to stand in her path. And that feeling—that feeling is second only to family.

"CRY SOME MORE!" I bellow, laughter booming from deep in my chest. "WHAHAHAHAH!"

But I’m not alone, no—out of the corner of my eye, I spot my comrade, the Doctor. Standing a bit too close, white coat already smudged from dust and smoke, his crazed smile only gets wider as the blasts and bullets intensify.

"Doctor! Are you sure about this?" I shout, bracing as Sasha’s full strength rips through the battlefield.

With the press of a button, there’s a flash and a brilliant rush of energy surrounds us, every fiber in my body electrified by the sudden, impossible surge.

"Ahaha! I have NO IDEA!" he shouts, eyes wide with that familiar, mad gleam.

“YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I roar, caught in the moment’s sheer, euphoric madness, feeling invincible. The world fades into light and noise, the frenzied thrill of it more powerful than any battle before. All that exists is me, Sasha, and the Doctor’s unhinged laughter echoing through the thunderous, unstoppable rush.

Through it all, I know I am no simple gunman, no hired killer—no. I am a soldier with purpose. And Sasha? She’s more than a weapon. She is my partner, my shield, my strength. And with her, I am more than I could ever be alone.

When my day comes, if it ever does… I will look for Sasha on the other side. Because we were made for each other, Sasha and I. This is our life, and it is love, built on bullets and iron and loyalty as unwavering as the ground beneath our feet.

Life on Hoxxes IV

The life of a Deep Rock Dwarf isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a life born of grit and iron, dug straight from the deepest veins of Hoxxes. Every mission down here in the dark, crawling with bugs as far as the eye can see, is another day spent with the rock walls closing in around you, lit only by the fire from your barrel and the glow of the team. Management says it’s all for the minerals, for profit, but I know what keeps me coming back.

I’ve got her.

"She’s not just a gun. She’s 100 pounds of raw power," I mutter, patting the metallic, solid frame of Sasha—no, the Lead Storm. It’s not like the Thunderhead or that shiny new Hurricane launcher they keep shoving at me. No, Lead Storm’s a beast all her own, crafted with precision and fueled by thunder itself. When she kicks, it’s like music to my ears, a perfect blend of chaos and control that cuts through any bug swarm Hoxxes can throw at us.

Sasha’s different. She’s got weight, a heft that fills my hands with a purpose that goes beyond simple firepower. When I press down on the trigger, the barrel heats up, glowing hot as she hums to life—a low, menacing rumble just before she unleashes a torrent of lead on anything foolish enough to step into range. Each round feels like a heartbeat, like she remembers every battle we’ve fought together, each blast a memory of the days where there was only the roar of combat, and the thrill of holding fast, charging forward.

And when I need her to, I push her hard—overheating on purpose, sending her into overdrive until she vents. The Aggressive Venting roars in a wave of heat and power, a blast that’s as much a threat as the bullets themselves. It’s a fiery exhale that sears anything nearby, like Sasha’s own way of saying, “Back off.” In that moment, I know she’s more than just a weapon; she’s a partner, a piece of my own fight forged in steel.

Sasha’s different. She’s got weight—a sturdy, solid presence that roots me to the ground with purpose. When I press down on the trigger, the barrel glows hot as she purrs to life, then roars, sending torrents of lead slicing through the air. Each shot is like a heartbeat, a connection pulsing between us, and I swear she remembers me, each round carrying a memory of those battle-worn days where there was nothing but the sound of fire and fury.

And now R&D’s made things interesting. They’ve given me coolant packs—little miracles strapped to Sasha’s core, designed to keep her cool just long enough to push her limits. Now, I can keep the trigger pulled longer, feel her hum deepen, like she’s holding on right with me. It lets me overheat her on purpose for an Aggressive Venting blast that sends waves of scorching heat, searing everything foolish enough to come close. It’s Sasha’s personal warning shot, her way of keeping the bugs at bay.

But with these new packs, I’m free to push her harder, shoot faster, and explode louder. The cycle of heat and venting feels like breathing—she burns hot, vents, and then is ready for more, as if she’s been waiting her whole life to reach this perfect rhythm of shooting and booming.

By the time my retirement came around, it was finally time to say goodbye. I’d held Sasha through endless waves, through smoke and fire, every spin of her barrel a reminder of all we’d been through together. She was more than just a weapon; she was my steadfast partner, my shield and my fury in those dark, bug-filled tunnels.

But, deep down, I knew this wasn’t the end. Somehow, I knew that in my next life—wherever that might be—I’d see her again.

The Salmon and Gun

I was sorting through the cold, dimly lit Grizz Co. warehouse, checking the inventory for what weapons we'd need for the next shift. There was the usual assortment lined up in crates, but one in particular caught my eye. A massive Splatling gun sat alone on the rack, gleaming under the dull overhead lights. I froze, staring at its barrel, at the heavy frame that looked powerful yet grounded. I couldn't explain it, but a spark ignited inside me, a feeling I hadn’t felt before. It was like the gun was calling to me.

Even though my life was bound to the way of the Splatan—the way my grandfather would have wanted—something about this weapon felt... different. Familiar. I placed my hands on it, feeling the weight settle, the hum of potential just beneath the surface, and I knew instantly. This was more than just a weapon.

"Alright then," I murmured. "Let's see what you can do."

Out to the battlefield we went. The thrill washed over me, like some hidden instinct waking up. "Bomming, Lootin’! Burning, Shooting!" The words came out on their own, wild and triumphant. The moment I pulled the trigger, I felt a rush—YEAAAAAAH! The roar of the gun and the screech of enemies filled my senses as I mowed down Steelheads, Steel Eels, whole waves of Salmonids falling before us.

"BZZZZZZZZ RARARARARA BRRRRR! CRY SOME MORE!"

I didn’t know where those words came from, but it didn’t matter. The quota had to be met, and this Splatling would help me get there. I could see it, hear it, feel it—the connection that pulsed between us. It was a memory almost, of charging into swarms without a second thought. With her, it was all possible.

"This gun..." I whispered, glancing down at the barrel. "Sasha."

In that moment, I knew I’d given her the right name.

As the final wave broke and the last of the horde crumbled under Sasha's relentless fire, I stood amidst the silence, heart pounding in sync with her quiet hum. I knew this feeling, like a thread pulling me back through hazy, half-remembered lives. Holding Sasha now, I felt something ancient, a bond woven into every shot, every roar.

A thought surfaced, soft yet unbreakable, a truth etched in the echoes of each battle fought, each bond made.

"Some friendships are so strong, they can even transcend lifetimes."

Chapter Text

The Book...
The night after that emotional whirlwind with Jun Lin played over and over in my head. Every moment of it: her touch, her warmth, the way her lips felt on mine—soft yet electric, a charge that lit my soul after years of being submerged in shadows. I still couldn’t believe it. That night we talked about something I never thought I’d discuss with anyone: moving in together.

Jun Lin had smiled at me, her eyes twinkling with hope, and while I tried to hide it, my heart was practically doing somersaults. Excitement, anxiousness, a little fear—all of it churned together. I hadn’t lived with someone in years. After what happened to Angel Dee, after losing everyone else close to me, the idea of opening my home, my sanctuary, to someone felt foreign. But with Bluey… it felt right.

So there I was, sitting on the couch in my small apartment, thumbing through the worn pages of the Salmon Run bible—a book I inherited from my grandfather. The notes he had left behind were extensive, almost obsessive, documenting every Salmonid boss we’d encountered over the years. Now it was my turn to continue the legacy.

The new entries I’d added filled me with a sense of pride, though some of the Salmonids were downright bizarre.

Assault Class - Flipper Flopper
-“A new pain in the rear,” I muttered, jotting down my notes. Resembles an old creature called a dolphin, though I wouldn’t call this monstrosity graceful. Its diving rings created chaos if you weren’t paying attention. And its looks? “Ugly as sin,” I chuckled.

Support Class - Slammin’ Lid
A sketch of a flying saucer stared back at me. I scribbled notes next to it. It’s not just a shield—it’s a platform for reinforcements. Watch out for the driver, though. They’re anxious and aggressive, a bad mix.

Support Class - Fish Sticks
The visual was as ridiculous as the concept: a tower carried by a pack of chirping Small Fries, blaring music like they were hosting a festival. “That music,” I groaned aloud, “is so obnoxious it deserves its own entry.”

Big Gun - Big Shot
Now this one gave me pause. Large, docile-looking Salmonids that seemed oddly peaceful—until they started launching cannonballs to create shockwaves. Strange, I thought. I jotted a question next to the entry: Why have I never seen a Big Shot attack Grizz Co. workers directly? Are we splatting innocent Salmonids just trying to protect themselves?
A pit formed in my stomach, but I shook it off. “No excuses,” I muttered. That lesson, the one Jun Lin helped me learn, stuck with me. Still, it was a tough pill to swallow.

Once I finished, I closed the book, running my fingers along the edges of its well-worn pages. But something made me pause. I flipped back to a page I’d seen countless times before—the one I could never bring myself to forget.

The Devils of the Seas.

The words on the page loomed larger than ever, as though the ink carried the weight of countless stories and warnings. My breath hitched as I turned to the entry. Cohozuna.

Its sketch seemed to pulse with life, a towering behemoth of rage captured on the brittle paper. Every line, every stroke, spoke of chaos and fury, as though the artist could barely contain its wrath within the confines of the page. Rage incarnate. That’s what it was. Not just a beast but an embodiment of destruction, of unrelenting anger unleashed upon the world.

I could almost feel its shadow bearing down on me, a tidal wave of fury ready to sweep away everything in its path. The words beside the sketch, penned in my grandfather’s bold, steady hand, whispered warnings from a time long past: "Cohozuna is the storm. It is the tide. It is the sea’s unyielding rage given form."

I ran my fingers over the ink, the weight of those words pressing into my chest. My grandfather had always spoken of Cohozuna with a rare tremble in his voice, the kind of fear even his hardened heart couldn’t suppress. This was no ordinary Salmonid. This was fury born from the depths, a force of nature, not to be fought but endured.

Looking at its looming figure, I felt a strange mix of awe and dread. My mind raced with questions. Could such unbridled wrath have a purpose? Or was it simply destruction for its own sake? My grandfather’s warnings had been clear, but the thought lingered. What is Cohozuna raging against?

The inked lines of the bible seemed heavier tonight, the pages resonating with an ancient terror. Even now, in the quiet of the warehouse, I could almost hear the thunderous roar of the creature, echoing through the tides. The thought chilled me, but I couldn’t look away.

Rage incarnate, I repeated to myself. That’s what Cohozuna was.

It’s strange, though, isn’t it? A monstrous creature like Cohozuna, the embodiment of rage itself, and yet… it hadn’t shown itself alongside the other devils. Not during the Big Run. Not when the sky screamed with those seven smoke rings, and the tides surged with Salmonid hordes. Why?

I stared at the sketch again, my fingers tracing the rough lines of its fins. The signs of their presence were undeniable. I couldn’t forget the memory—huge fins breaching the water far off in the distance, cutting through the waves like harbingers of doom. But were they Cohozuna’s? I couldn’t tell. The fins were massive, but in the chaos of that night, it was impossible to say for sure.

Still… they’re out there.

That thought sent a chill down my spine. Cohozuna and the others weren’t myths. They weren’t just sketches or warnings in a book. They were real. I could feel it in my gut, that instinctive pull, like the waves themselves whispered their truth. They were waiting, biding their time beneath the dark waters.

But why hadn’t Cohozuna risen during the Big Run? The signs were there—the chaos, the tides, the hordes—but the devil of rage itself hadn’t come. Was it because it didn’t need to? Or was it something else entirely, something worse?

I shook my head, trying to push the thought aside, but it lingered like a shadow. Whether those fins belonged to Cohozuna or not, one thing was clear: the devils of the seas were still out there, waiting. And when they came, the world would tremble.

The Next Day

The morning started like any other, with the sharp sizzle of Maw’s meat hitting the pan and the rich, savory aroma filling my apartment. The sound was oddly comforting, like a ritual to keep the world at bay for a little longer. I flipped the meat with practiced ease, glancing over to the counter where a bowl of creamy salmon eggs was waiting, their soft, glistening orange contrasting against the sleek black of the kitchen surface. My coffee brewed steadily nearby, the gentle gurgling sound promising warmth and clarity.

Plate in hand, I carried my breakfast over to the small dining table by the window. From here, the view was mesmerizing. The crystal-clear waters stretched out into the horizon, shimmering like a living tapestry of blues and greens. The sunlight danced across the surface, reminding me that, no matter how chaotic life got, moments like this were worth holding onto.

The TV murmured in the background, a pair of news anchors reporting with their usual mix of fake cheer and genuine concern. I glanced at the screen as I took a bite of the Maw’s meat—crispy on the outside, tender on the inside.

“Reports from Grizz Co Industries suggest a significant rise in casualties following the Big Run event,” the female anchor said, her voice carefully measured.

“That’s right,” her male counterpart added, his expression grave. “Workers are claiming unsafe conditions, citing unpredictable Salmonid behavior and insufficient equipment for dealing with the rising threats.”

“Not to mention,” she continued, leaning forward for dramatic effect, “the low wages. Many are wondering if risking life and limb is worth the paycheck. Are we seeing a brewing storm of discontent among Grizz Co’s employees?”

I scoffed, sipping my coffee. They didn’t get it—none of them did.

“Low wages?” I muttered to myself. “Squids who say that clearly never pulled their weight.”

The truth was, the pay wasn’t bad if you knew what you were doing. Sure, the risks were high, but that came with the territory. You got paid based on performance. That’s how Grizz Co worked. And me? I’d racked up a reputation there. Consistency, skill, and a knack for getting things done had ensured a steady stream of income.

“Let them talk,” I mumbled, smirking as I polished off the last of my salmon eggs. “They’re just scared to get their hands dirty.”

I drained the rest of my coffee, the bitterness waking me up fully. Standing, I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, glancing one last time at the serene waters outside. The world could debate Grizz Co all it wanted, but I had a shift to get to.

With a firm twist of the doorknob, I stepped out of my apartment, leaving the comfort of the morning behind as the day ahead loomed. The life of a Grizz Co employee was never dull, and I wasn’t one to back down from the challenge.

Train Station with Bluey

The train station was already bustling when I arrived. The usual mix of commuters, workers, and travelers shuffled about, their chatter blending with the rumble of arriving trains. Amid the crowd, Jun Lin stood near the platform, her light blue ink glinting in the soft morning light. As soon as she spotted me, she broke into a smile, walking up and greeting me with a kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning, Cyan,” she said softly, her touch lingering just enough to make my heart skip a beat. But her playful smirk quickly turned to concern as she studied my face. “You look angry today. What seems to be the problem this time?”

I exhaled sharply, still carrying the irritation from earlier. “It’s just the news, Bluey. They’re saying things that irritated me.”

She nodded knowingly as we began walking towards our platform. “Oh, I saw the news too on my laptop this morning. Yep... I figured something like that would get under your skin.”

“It’s the same nonsense every time,” I said, my voice rising slightly. “A bunch of cowards sitting behind their desks, spouting garbage about things they don’t understand. Complaining about wages, as if any of them have actually done the work.”

Jun Lin chuckled softly but gave me a pointed look. “Let them be, Cyan. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you. How many times now, hmm? How many mornings have started like this because of some headline?”

I stopped mid-step, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry, Bluey.”

Her gentle smile returned. “It’s okay. Just... save your energy for the real fight, okay?”

By the time we reached the platform, the train had pulled in with a low, screeching halt. The doors opened, and we stepped inside, finding seats near the window. As the train jolted to life and began its rhythmic journey, Jun Lin rested her head on my shoulder, her breathing slowing as she started to doze off.

I stared out at the passing cityscape, the hum of the train and her presence grounding me. Yet, my mind wandered to the strange events I’d witnessed lately. The enormous fins cutting through the water during a recent shift, too large to belong to any normal Salmonid. The unsettling whispers on the news hinting at a deeper crisis brewing within Grizz Co.

Something wasn’t adding up. The signs were all there, but no one seemed willing to connect the dots. Even Grizz Co itself, secretive as always, was tight-lipped. My gut told me trouble was coming—trouble bigger than anything we’d faced before.

I glanced down at Jun Lin, her soft breaths matching the sway of the train. For her, for us, I’d keep going. But the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily against the back of my mind.

To Work, I go...

The Grizz Co facility loomed ahead, its metallic structure gleaming under the morning sun. Jun Lin’s hand felt warm in mine as we walked toward the entrance, the quiet buzz of workers and the distant hum of machinery filling the air.

“This is where we part ways again,” I said, reluctantly letting go of her hand. “See you later, Bluey?”

“Always,” she replied with a soft smile. Then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she added, “Just promise me you won’t come back all bruised and battered again, Cyan.”

I scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Me? Bruised? Never. I’m practically invincible, didn’t you know?”

“Uh-huh, invincible. Says the guy who came back limping last week,” she quipped, her voice dripping with mockery.

“Hey, that was a strategic limp,” I shot back.

She laughed, rolling her eyes in that playful way that made her whole face light up. “Sure, sure. Strategic. Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye. Love you,” I said softly, watching her step away.

“Love you too!” she called over her shoulder, flashing me one last grin before disappearing into her office. Through the small glass pane, I could see her already greeting patients who waited inside.

Turning back toward the docks, I spotted Captain Virgil waiting for me, his imposing yet oddly comforting figure a stark contrast to the hustle of the workers around him.

“Ready to start the day, lad?” he called out, his gruff voice cutting through the noise.

“As always, Captain,” I replied, making my way over. “So, who are the crewmates this time?”

“Oh, some new recruits—or rather, some lads that got rehired. Hard to explain,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “They’ve been here before but left, only to come back. Their records are... let’s just say, fuzzy. Management’s placing them under us. Eggsecutive VP.”

I stopped in my tracks. “In our rank? New recruits? What’s management even thinking?!”

Virgil chuckled, his whiskers twitching. “Orders are orders, lad. Best not to dwell on it. Let’s get to—”

A loud, overly enthusiastic voice interrupted him.

“Oh, look! It’s our ship, just like the secretary said!”

My heart sank as I turned toward the source of the voice. A male Octoling stood at the edge of the dock, pointing at our boat. Two Inklings flanked him, their shapes and colors all too familiar. My chest tightened, and a simmering rage began to stir within me.

“No...” I murmured, my throat dry. It couldn’t be. After four years, ghosts of my past had suddenly reappeared, unearthing feelings I thought I had long buried.

“What’s wrong, lad?” Virgil asked, his voice laced with concern.

Before I could answer, one of them broke into a sprint toward me.

“J-Jaycee!!!” Loid shouted, his voice booming with excitement. He pulled me into an enthusiastic hug, nearly knocking me off balance.

“Dude, it’s been forever! How’ve you been?” he asked, his bright blue ink and mushroom-cut hairstyle unmistakable. His grin was wide and genuine, just as I remembered.

I swallowed hard, forcing a response. “I’m... fine, Loid.”

The rage bubbling inside me was barely contained. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. Loid stepped back, still beaming, completely oblivious to the storm brewing within me.

“Never thought we’d see you again, mate!” Ryan chimed in, his red ink slicked back in a classic style. His goatee added a suave, “too-cool-for-this” flair that was as grating as ever.

“You too… Ryan.”

Then came Russel, the Octoling. His punk-styled red hair spiked up as he approached with a calm, measured demeanor. He smiled warmly, his voice steady. “Jaycee, it’s been a long time.”

“Looks like the Marauders are back!” Loid yelled, throwing his arms up in excitement.

The Marauders.

I forced a smile, but inside, my thoughts turned bitter. Once, I thought they were my friends. We fought together, laughed together, and endured countless battles side by side.

But now? They were just acting like my friends. And I... I was playing along.

“Boy?...” Virgil’s voice broke through my thoughts. His gaze was sharp yet understanding, his expression unreadable. He said nothing but stayed close, his presence grounding me. He could see through the act, through the mask I wore to hide the tempest beneath.

This wasn’t the time. Not yet. I wasn’t ready.

The boat rocked gently as Captain Virgil fired up the engines, and we began drifting away from the dock. I took a seat near the stern, pretending to adjust my gear while my mind churned. Loid was at the edge of the boat, practically bouncing with excitement, his energy grating on me. Ryan and Russel stood a few feet away, locked in casual conversation about their lives since they’d last been here—conversations I wasn’t included in.

Not that I wanted to be.

It didn’t escape me that they hadn’t once invited me to their group chats, nor reached out for a proper catch-up. Their familiarity now felt rehearsed, like they wanted something from me without the effort of actual friendship. I knew their tricks. I wasn’t falling for it again.

As we approached the sea gate, the towering structure loomed overhead. Massive steel walls jutted into the water, reinforced with layers of technology that management swore could hold back even the fiercest of tides.

“It’s an impressive piece of work,” I muttered under my breath, my eyes scanning the structure. “Expensive, too. Management’s big gamble, I guess.”

But deep down, I doubted it would hold. Nature, or whatever forces drove the tides, always had a way of proving our arrogance wrong.

“Ahoy! Open the gates!” Captain Virgil’s voice boomed through the horn speaker, startling everyone on board.

The sea gate began to groan and creak as it opened, revealing the vast expanse of the open ocean. The sunlight shimmered on the water like liquid gold, inviting yet foreboding.

Loid stood at the bow of the boat, his hands gripping the railing as he leaned forward, beaming with excitement. “This is gonna be epic! I can feel it!” he shouted to no one in particular.

Ryan and Russel kept chatting, their voices blending into the hum of the engines. It wasn’t long before Ryan burst into laughter, his deep, smooth chuckle echoing across the deck.

And me? I sat there, my thoughts heavy and dark.

I thought my resentment against my siblings was bad. Turns out, I’ve got more demons inside me than I realized.

I felt a weight on my shoulder, startling me from my brooding.

“Lad,” Captain Virgil said quietly, his gruff voice tempered with kindness. “I said, now is not the time.”

I glanced at him, his expression unreadable but his grip firm. There was no judgment in his eyes—just a quiet reminder to stay focused.

With a flick of his wrist, the Captain ignited the boat’s boosters. The engines roared to life, and we sped forward, cutting through the crystal-clear waters.

“Next stop...” Captain Virgil called out, his voice carrying an air of excitement, “SOCKEYE STATION!”

The familiar name sent a chill down my spine. The journey was only beginning, but something told me this trip would stir up more than just the waters.

The Battle at Sockeye

The boat came to a steady halt near the Sockeye Station landing zone. I took a deep breath, taking in the battlefield that had become one of the most iconic and dangerous zones in our line of work. Its weathered platforms and rusted railings told stories of countless battles fought here. The air was thick with the salty tang of the sea, and the occasional screech of distant Salmonids echoed in the background, faint but ominous.

Captain Virgil wasted no time, setting up the super jump link with practiced efficiency. The satellite equipment buzzed softly as it activated, stabilizing the gravity field around the area. Without it, we won't be able to launch ourselves out of this boat and into the battlefield.

“That should do it,” the Captain muttered, double-checking the link’s connection. He turned to address the crew. “Alright, lads, just a quick reminder: golden eggs go into the basket as soon as possible. We’re runnin’ on borrowed time, okay?”

The crew nodded, all replying in unison, “Aye aye, Captain!”

Loid, Ryan, and Russel didn’t waste any time, leaping into the air and disappearing into streaks of ink as they super jumped to their positions. I stood there, adjusting my gear, ready to follow suit, when Captain Virgil’s voice cut through my focus.

“Hold on, lad,” he said, his tone sharp yet understanding.

I froze mid-step and turned to face him.

“I noticed you were actin’ up again,” he said, his gaze piercing but not unkind. “Those new recruits got somethin’ to do with it, ain’t it?”

I hesitated, clenching my jaw before nodding. “Yes…”

The Captain raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to elaborate.

“They were friends,” I finally admitted, the words bitter in my mouth. “At least, I thought they were…”

Captain Virgil sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Yer complicated, lad, aren’t ya? Always keepin’ things bottled up. But listen here: don’t let yer emotions get the better of ya. Out there, focus is what keeps ya alive. Focus, lad. That’s yer job. Everything else? Leave it for later.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Aye aye… Captain.”

He patted me on the shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “Now go! We’re about to start soon.”

I turned back to the super jump link, gripping my weapon tighter as I launched into the air, a streak of cyan ink trailing behind me. As the ground of Sockeye Station rushed toward me, I pushed my thoughts aside.

Focus, I told myself. The past can wait.

I landed with a solid thud onto my designated spot, the weight of the mission settling over me like a familiar mantle. Around me, the team was already busy. Russel and Ryan were unpacking their gear, their movements quick and efficient, while Loid adjusted the straps of his pack with his usual carefree grin.

I swung Sasha over my shoulder, gripping the crank firmly. The minigun's barrels spun to life with a mechanical whir, a reassuring hum that steadied my nerves.

“Let’s get painting, boys!” Ryan called out, his enthusiasm cutting through the tension.

I gave a sharp nod, my boots already moving. The ink flowed as I began coating the ground and walls, laying the foundation for what was sure to be chaos. The others followed suit, their colors blending into a tactical canvas.

Then came the sound—the low, mechanical groan of the basket rising from its hiding spot. It stood there, gleaming like a beacon, as if daring us to keep it safe.

“Alright, lads,” Captain Virgil’s voice crackled over the comms. “Salmonid lure goes live in six!”

The countdown began, and my heart started to pound.

5…

The walls were nearly covered, every inch of space a tactical advantage.

4…

Ryan had already taken his sniper position on the tower, his Charger aimed and ready.

3…

Russel crouched near the steps, his dualies glinting in the faint light.

2…

Loid paced near the steep spiral slope, a lookout to catch anything slipping through.

1…

Sasha’s barrels were spinning, the hum growing louder as I took my position near the pit.

The basket emitted a low, resonant wave, and then the air seemed to shift.

In the distance, the horns blared—a guttural, haunting sound that made the hairs on my arms stand.

“GO!!!” Captain Virgil’s order came sharp and clear, just as the beach began to bubble and churn.

The water darkened, and then we saw them. Glowing red-yellow eyes broke the surface, dozens of them, blinking in the encroaching gloom. The horns blared again, and the first wave surged forward, their grotesque shapes illuminated by the faint light of the basket.

“HERE THEY COME!!!” Ryan yelled from his perch, his voice a mix of adrenaline and resolve.

I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip on Sasha. The barrels roared to life as I unleashed a storm of ink toward the advancing horde.

The battle had begun.

The battlefield had erupted into chaos, a cacophony of blaring horns, splattering ink, and guttural roars from the encroaching Salmonids. My grip on Sasha tightened as the gun roared to life, the barrels spinning faster than my heartbeat.

“YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” I bellowed, unleashing a torrent of ink that tore through the advancing horde like a blade through butter.

The smaller Salmonids fell by the dozens, their glowing eyes extinguished as Sasha’s inkstorm carved a path. But the respite was short-lived. Out of the bubbling water emerged the unmistakable hulking figure of a Steelhead, its massive form dwarfing the lesser Salmonids. It raised its grotesque head, glowing green with a deadly payload ready to launch.

“Steelhead on the left!” I shouted into the comms.

A precise shot rang out from above. Ryan’s Charger released a brilliant beam of energy that pierced the Steelhead’s bomb mid-charge. The explosion that followed was enough to send the surrounding Salmonids flying, their lifeless forms splashing back into the water.

“Nice shot!” I called out, but there was no time for a response.

A Scrapper barreled toward me, its makeshift shield deflecting my ink. “Damn it, move!” I snarled, my boots skidding against the ink-slicked ground.

Just as the Scrapper’s driver prepared to ram me, a bright arc of ink soared through the air, splashing directly onto the vehicle’s rear engine. The contraption sputtered and exploded in a burst of golden eggs.

“That’s two for me!” Loid shouted, his Splosher still dripping with ink. He gave me a wink from across the field.

“Don’t get cocky!” I fired back, already turning to the next threat.

Russel was holding his own on the steps, his Dualies dancing through the air as he executed dodge rolls to evade the swarm. He moved like a shadow, outmaneuvering the Salmonids with practiced precision. Every roll was followed by a deadly burst of ink that cleared his immediate area.

“Russel, heads up! More coming your way!”

“I see ‘em!” he responded, his voice calm despite the chaos.

The horns blared again, louder and more foreboding this time. The sound was like a knife against my nerves, and my stomach dropped as I turned toward the shoreline.

The water rippled violently, and with a deafening crash, a massive yellow cannon slammed onto the sand. The Big Shot emerged from the depths, its hulking form accompanied by another wave of Salmonids.

“Big Shot incoming!” Ryan’s voice echoed over the comms.

“No kidding!” I growled, pivoting Sasha toward the new threat.

The Big Shot’s cannon began to glow, a bright orange light building as it prepared to launch its devastating projectile. I unleashed Sasha’s fury, but the beast was flanked by another wave of Salmonids acting as a shield.

“Loid, Russel! Take the left flank!” I barked.

“On it!” Loid responded, already moving into position.

Russel rolled into a better angle, his Dualies aimed at the smaller Salmonids while Loid’s Splosher targeted the Big Shot’s defenses.

The battle was only growing more intense. My arms burned from holding Sasha steady, but I couldn’t stop now.

The battlefield was chaos—utter chaos. Ink splattered in every direction as waves of Salmonids surged toward us, their monstrous forms relentless. My arms screamed in protest as Sasha’s barrel spun up, the roar of the weapon drowning out almost every sound save for the blaring horns and guttural cries of the horde.

“Ryan, cover me!” I barked.

“Roger that!” came his crisp reply as his Charger sent bolts of energy zipping past me, clearing a path.

I focused my sights on the hulking Big Shot, its lumbering form seemingly oblivious to the carnage around it. For a moment, I hesitated. The words I’d spoken to Jun Lin last night crept into my mind: They’re docile creatures. They don’t attack unless provoked.

The Big Shot placed a glowing orange cannonball into its cannon with slow, deliberate movements. The sound of the artillery firing echoed across the field, a deep, resonant thrum.

“INCOMING!” Loid’s voice cut through the comms, panic lacing his tone.

The shockwave from the cannonball’s impact rippled through the ground, sending several lesser Salmonids flying. The sheer force of it made me stagger, but what froze me was Ryan’s shout.

“JAYCEE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

His voice snapped me out of my daze. With a growl, I leveled Sasha at the Big Shot and squeezed the trigger. The beast roared as its bulky form was riddled with ink. It collapsed in a heap, spilling golden eggs onto the sand.

“This is a war... not a mercy fest,” I muttered to myself, trying to shake off the pang of regret gnawing at me.

The ground shook as more Boss Salmonids emerged from the depths. Slammin’ Lids, Fish Sticks, Flipper Floppers, and Steel Eels—a veritable parade of nightmares.

Ryan’s voice cut through the chaos: “Jaycee, take care of the Steel Eel! I don’t want it overwhelming the field!”

“I’m on it!” I shouted back, spinning Sasha toward the slithering monstrosity.

As I made my move, the horns blared again, louder and more menacing than before. My heart sank as I spotted two familiar silhouettes slinking onto the battlefield.

“No... no, no, no!” I muttered under my breath.

Stingers. Their towering inkpots began to stack, preparing to rain down their deadly beams.

And then, as if the universe decided to spite me, I saw it—Flyfish.

“How many times have I described these things?” I growled into the comms. “And how many times do I have to say how much I hate them with a passion?”

“Loid, Russel! We’ve got a problem. A major problem,” Ryan’s voice crackled.

“Flyfish?” Loid replied, his tone shifting to exasperation.

“Yes…” I grumbled, my teeth gritting.

“I’m on it! Cover me!” Loid called.

“Got your back!” I shouted into the comms, repositioning myself.

As Loid moved in, my focus shifted to the Steel Eel slithering dangerously close to the basket. Its glowing pilot sneered as if mocking me.

“Not today!” I growled, unleashing a torrent of ink.

Loid and I pushed forward, our boots sinking into the damp, ink-covered sands of the beach. The air was thick with the acrid smell of ink, and the relentless war cries of the Salmonid horde filled every corner of the battlefield. Sasha’s barrel spun furiously as I mowed down wave after wave of Salmonids, but it was like trying to bail out a sinking ship with a spoon. For every one that fell, two more seemed to rise to take its place.

“Ryan, we can’t break through!” Loid shouted, his Splosher unleashing arcs of ink that barely made a dent against the massive, lumbering Cohocks leading the charge.

“Keep trying!” Ryan snapped back over the comms. From my peripheral vision, I saw him perched on the high ground, his Charger taking precise shots. A burst of ink from his weapon dropped one of the Slammin’ Lids, but it wasn’t enough to stem the tide.

I gritted my teeth, the weight of Sasha growing heavier with every passing moment. “Loid, we need to pull back! This is a losing fight!”

“No way! We just need to—” Loid’s words were cut off as the battlefield was suddenly illuminated by an ominous glow. My heart sank as I looked up and saw it: the Flyfish hovering in the distance, its twin launchers brimming with glowing missiles, ready to unleash their fury.

And then there was the Stinger, its inkpots stacked impossibly high as it prepared to rain boiling streams of ink across the field.

“Loid, move!” I shouted, but it was already too late.

The world erupted into chaos.

The high-pitched hum of missiles filled the air, followed by the deafening roar of explosions as they slammed into the ground. Waves of scalding ink splattered across the battlefield, the heat of it stinging against my skin even from a distance.

“Argh!” A pained cry came through the comms.

“Russel!” Ryan’s voice was sharp, filled with panic.

“I’m fine!” Russel barked back, though his voice trembled slightly. “I’m fine! Just take out those bastards!”

I turned to see Russel crouched behind a stack of crates, his Dualies spinning as he fended off a swarm of lesser Salmonids. The fiery trail of a Stinger beam barely missed him, scorching the sand where he had just stood.

“Loid, cover Russel! Jaycee and I will handle the Flyfish!” Ryan yelled into the comms.

“On it!” Loid replied, his Splosher carving a path through the horde as he made his way toward Russel.

I locked my sights on the Flyfish, my grip tightening around Sasha’s handle. My mind raced as I calculated my approach. These things were always a pain to deal with, their missile launchers shielded from direct attacks. I needed to get close enough to lob a bomb into their exposed hatches, but the path was swarming with Salmonids.

“Ryan, I need cover!” I called out, my voice strained.

“Gotcha!” Ryan’s Charger fired off another shot, the laser-like ink beam taking out a chunk of the horde in front of me.

The battlefield was a cacophony of explosions, ink splatters, and cries of battle. But there was no time to think, no time to hesitate. One wrong move, and it was over—not just for me but for the entire team.

This was war, and there was no room for second thoughts.

The battlefield was chaos. Ryan and I had fought tooth and nail to take down the Stinger, its inkpots exploding in a satisfying burst of gold. But there was no time to celebrate. Our eyes locked on the Flyfish, its twin silos glowing ominously as it prepared to unleash another devastating volley.

I glanced at Ryan, and something in his expression caught me off guard. His face was twisted with rage, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a fiery intensity. It wasn’t just anger—it was personal. I could see it in his eyes, a silent demand for justice for Russel. I understood it, even shared it, but there was something else there, something darker.

“On my mark,” Ryan growled, his voice low and resolute. The Flyfish opened its silos, its mechanical whirring like a sinister taunt.

We both readied our grenades, my fingers gripping the ink bomb tightly.

“Now!” Ryan shouted.

Before I could throw, a flash of motion caught my eye, and Ryan staggered back, clutching his head. A Cohock had come up from behind, its frying pan still raised after landing the hit.

“Ryan!” I yelled, revving up Sasha in a frenzy. The barrels spun and sprayed ink, cutting through the swarm like a scythe. I barely noticed the lesser Salmonid scattering as I reached him.

Ryan groaned, shaking his head to clear the daze. I looked back at the Flyfish. The infernal machine hummed menacingly, its silos now fully charged. The air was thick with tension as the silos began to glow brighter.

“It’s about to fire!” I yelled, panic creeping into my voice.

“We need to get out of here!”

“No!” Ryan shouted, his voice fierce. “We need to take out this stupid Flyfish! I’m not running from it!”

Before I could argue, the blaring horns sounded again, louder and more menacing than before. I turned toward the shore and froze. Another horde was advancing, this time led by a pair of Steelheads and two Steel Eels. The ground seemed to quake with their heavy steps, their glowing red eyes locking onto us like predators to prey.

“Ryan, we’re going to get overrun!” I shouted.

Ryan reached for his comms, desperation in his voice. “Russel, Loid, we need backup now!”

Their responses were grim.

“We’re pinned down!” Russel’s voice crackled through the comms, his usual bravado replaced by exhaustion. “These Scrappers won’t let up, and there’s a Slammin’ Lid hovering right over us!”

“And don’t forget the Flipper Floppers!” Loid chimed in, his voice strained. “We’re holding out, but it’s bad! They’re reinforcing with a Drizzler, too!”

As if things couldn’t get worse, I looked up and saw the brewing storm clouds above the battlefield. The dark skies swirled ominously, lightning crackling in the distance. It was a harbinger of chaos, a reminder that the storm was just beginning.

“Damn it all,” Ryan grumbled, his fists clenched tightly.

“Get up!” I barked, pulling him to his feet. “We need to retreat to the basket now! We’re not going to win this here!”

But as we turned to fall back, another wave of Salmonids emerged from the water, blocking our path. Their war cries filled the air, and we braced ourselves for another brutal fight. There was no time to think, no time to rest.

The battlefield felt like it was closing in on us. Every muscle in my body ached, every bruise and burn from the infernal slime and relentless blows weighing me down. But we kept fighting—Ryan, Russel, Loid, and I—pushing back against the endless tide of Salmonids with everything we had. The basket was our beacon, the one thing keeping us tethered to the mission amidst the chaos.

When we regrouped, it was like an old memory stirring to life, a flash of the days when we were brothers in arms. I had doubted them before, placing their skills in question, but now I realized how wrong I had been. They weren’t perfect, but neither was I.

Russel, our agile frontliner, had been caught off guard by a Cohock’s frying pan, and Loid had been pinned down in a pool of boiling slime. Even Ryan, our sniper and the calmest among us, had been sent flying by a Steelhead’s explosive payload. The cracks were showing, and everything felt like it was falling apart.

Then Ryan stood. His expression was unlike anything I’d ever seen—a raw, primal rage boiling just beneath the surface. His voice tore through the comms like a war cry.

“Enough!”

In a flash, Ryan unleashed his Kraken form, his ink morphing into a monstrous, shimmering squid. He surged forward with unstoppable force, cutting through the Salmonids like they were nothing. With every crushing blow and sweeping attack, the horde thinned, even the towering Steelheads collapsing under his wrath.

“Russel! Loid!” Ryan’s voice thundered as he emerged from the carnage. “Specials, now!”

Without hesitation, Russel activated his Triple Inkstrike, three devastating columns of ink raining down like divine retribution. Loid followed suit, unleashing the Killer Wail, its piercing beam carving through the swarm and forcing the Salmonids to scatter.

Their combined power created just enough breathing room to gather more golden eggs, and we threw them into the basket, inching closer to our quota. For a brief moment, it felt like we had a chance.

But that hope was shattered by the deafening sound of cannon fire.

“Incoming!” Russel shouted, his voice breaking through the chaos.

I barely had time to look up before the massive cannonball hit the ground nearby, the shockwave sending us all reeling. Even with our specials, it wasn’t enough to keep up with the unrelenting swarm. And then, the comm crackled.

“Lad,” Captain Virgil’s voice came through, grim and urgent. “Something big is heading your way. And I mean big. It’s bringing a massive swarm with it. You need to head back to the boat. Now.”

I froze. My grip on Sasha tightened. I knew what was coming. My heart sank like a stone. I knew what he meant. One of the devils.

“What about the others?! Were they informed?!” I shouted into the comms, desperation rising.

“I tried! They’re too busy fighting! Tell them!” Captain Virgil’s voice distorted, the static eating away at his words.

Ryan reverted back to his normal form, breathing heavily. His frustration was palpable, his rage barely contained as he turned to me.

“Why didn’t you use your special, Jaycee?!” he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

I hesitated, trying to find the words, but he wasn’t done.

“Do you even care?!” Ryan growled, his anger boiling over. “We’re out here giving everything we’ve got, and you’re just holding back?! We’re so close to hitting the quota! Why didn’t you—”

“Something big is coming,” I interrupted, my voice steady but grave.

“I don’t care! To hell with whatever it is! We’re almost there, Jaycee!”

“To hell with the quota!” I snapped back.

Ryan glared at me, his frustration turning into something sharper. “Coward,” he spat. “We’re so close, and you—”

A sound tore through the battlefield, silencing us all.

A massive, thunderous roar echoed across the shore, shaking the very ground beneath us. Every Salmonid froze, their relentless assault halting as their attention turned toward the water.

We turned with them, our hearts sinking in unison as we saw it.

In the distance, a towering shadow began to rise from the waves, its enormous form breaking the surface with terrifying majesty. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent red, and its deep, guttural growl rumbled like an earthquake.

“...What the?...” Russel whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding surf.

Cohozuna had arrived.

All around us, the Salmonid horde began to swell, their war cries rising in a deafening crescendo as they rallied behind their colossal leader. The sheer scale of the beast was overwhelming, its presence alone enough to send a chill down my spine.

We weren’t ready for this. Not even close.

The sight of it froze me in place. Cohozuna, a towering monstrosity, roared as it lumbered closer, its guttural cry shaking the earth beneath us. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen, a nightmare made flesh, and yet Ryan stood defiant.

“What the hell is that thing?!” he shouted, his voice a mix of fury and awe. “Whatever it is, we’re taking it down!”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you insane, Ryan?!” I yelled, spinning to face him. “You’ve seen what it can do! We’re outmatched!”

Ryan’s glare was like a blade cutting through me. “Another excuse, Jaycee! That’s all you ever have—excuses!”

“This isn’t an excuse!” I shot back, my voice cracking with frustration. “This is reality! You’re leading us to our deaths!”

“And you’d rather run than fight, wouldn’t you?” he spat. “Typical!”

I clenched my fists, but before I could retort, Ryan shouted to the others. “Russel! Loid! To my side!”

Neither of them moved.

Loid was the first to break. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope—I’m out of here!” Without hesitation, he launched into a super jump, vanishing in a burst of ink.

Ryan’s face twisted in rage. “Fine! Run, Loid! You’re a coward too!”

“Ryan, stop this!” Russel growled, but Ryan wouldn’t listen.

Cohozuna was upon us. Its massive foot slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave rippling through the battlefield. Ryan didn’t flinch, his jaw set as if he believed sheer defiance could stop the creature.

“RYAN!” Russel’s voice rang out like a gunshot.

I barely had time to react before Russel darted forward, dodge-rolling through the chaos. He tackled Ryan, shoving him out of the way just as Cohozuna’s massive body came crashing down where Ryan had stood. Ink and debris sprayed into the air, obscuring everything.

“Russel!” I shouted, revving up Sasha to clear a path. The smaller Salmonids swarmed us, relentless, but I cut through them as best as I could.

Russel hauled Ryan to his feet, shaking him violently. “Enough, Ryan! This is over!”

Ryan shoved him off. “We can still win this! The quota—”

“DAMN, the quota! YOU IDIOT!!” Russel snapped. “Super jump back to the boat, now!”

For a moment, I thought Ryan would argue, but the fury in Russel’s eyes was enough to silence him. With a grunt of frustration, Ryan activated his super jump and vanished in a burst of ink.

I turned back to Cohozuna, my breath hitching. It was massive, its sheer presence suffocating. Every step it took shook the ground, its roar drowning out the chaos around me.

I’d read about this in the Salmon Run Bible—a creature of legend, whispered about in ancient tales. The King of the Salmonids. Cohozuna...

The comms crackled, Captain Virgil’s voice cutting through the noise. “Lad! You’re the only one left! GET ON THE BOAT—NOW!”

But I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot, staring at the beast as it towered over the battlefield.

“Jaycee!” Loid’s voice came through the comms, desperate and cracking. “Snap out of it! GET ON THE DAMN BOAT!”

The urgency in his voice jolted me awake. My legs finally obeyed, carrying me forward as the horde closed in. I activated my super jump at the last second, the roar of the Cohozuna fading as I soared through the air.

I landed hard on the boat, my knees buckling beneath me. The others were already there—Russel gripping the rail, Ryan seething silently, and Loid, his face pale as he stared back at the shore.

“PUNCH IT, CAP!” Russel yelled, slamming his hand on the dashboard. “Get us out of here!”

Captain Virgil didn’t hesitate. The boat roared to life, speeding away. I slumped against the side of the boat, chest heaving as exhaustion set in. The battlefield shrank in the distance, but the image of the Cohozuna seared itself into my mind—a living nightmare surrounded by its endless horde. The roar of the beast still echoed, sending shivers down my spine.

The boat’s engine roared, hurrying us away from the chaos, but just as I thought we were safe, Cohozuna turned its head. Its glowing eyes locked onto us, and with a deafening roar, it slithered back into the water.

“Uh… Is that thing supposed to follow us?” Loid’s voice trembled, breaking the silence.

“No...” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

Cohozuna dove beneath the waves, its massive body creating a surge of heavy ripples that rocked the boat violently. The sudden motion threw us off balance, and we scrambled to grab onto anything for dear life.

“Steady… Steady…” Captain Virgil muttered, gripping the boat’s controls tightly, his fins shriveled as he fought to keep us upright.

“Keep it together, girl,” he whispered, coaxing the vessel as if it were a living thing.

Loid, pale and panicked, shouted, “Can’t this thing go any faster?!”

“She’s already at her full strength!” Virgil snapped back, his voice taut with frustration.

“That’s not good enough!” Loid retorted, the tension making his voice rise.

“Enough!” Russel bellowed, stepping between them as I raised a hand to quiet the argument. “Let the Captain focus, or we’re all going to end up drowning!”

I turned my attention back toward the water, my stomach churning with unease. Cohozuna’s massive fins broke the surface in the distance, cutting through the waves like a predator circling its prey. Its movements were slow, almost deliberate, as if it were toying with us.

With its size, it could easily capsize the boat with a single strike, but it didn’t. Instead, it continued to shadow us, the glint of its massive form shimmering just beneath the surface.

“Why…?” I whispered to myself, my mind racing. Why isn’t it attacking?

The rest of the crew was too preoccupied with holding on to notice. But as I kept my eyes on the Cohozuna, unease crept into my chest. It wasn’t just letting us go—it was watching. Waiting. For what, I couldn’t tell.

The legends were true. And this nightmare was far from over.

Outburst

An hour passed. My eyes stayed locked on the water behind us, searching for any sign of movement. The Cohozuna hadn’t attacked. It was unsettling, almost as if it was… waiting. For what, I had no idea.

The murky ocean stretched endlessly before us, but relief finally came when the towering Grizz Co Sea Wall came into view, its silhouette cutting through the haze of the horizon. Loid perked up, breaking the tense silence.

“We’re almost at the gates!” he shouted, his voice carrying a mix of hope and exhaustion.

Just as he said it, alarms blared from the sea wall. A cacophony of sirens rang out, and the unmistakable Grizz Co cannons emerged from their armored mounts, swiveling to aim at the shadowy fins trailing behind us.

The first volley thundered out, shells screaming through the air before erupting into the ocean with violent sprays of water.

“Can’t these people aim?!” Loid hollered, gripping the boat’s edge as another explosion rocked the waters dangerously close to our stern. “That thing behind us is a massive target!”

“Tell me about it,” Russel and I groaned in unison, the shared exasperation clear as we both buried our faces in our hands.

Despite the chaos, the relentless bombardment served its purpose. Cohozuna’s fins hesitated, then broke away from their trail behind the boat. A low grumble echoed across the water as the creature sank back into the murky depths, disappearing completely.

The boat steadied as the danger passed, the crew letting out sighs of relief, though no one dared to fully relax.

I glanced over my shoulder, staring at the rippling water where Cohozuna had vanished. My mind couldn’t shake the unease clawing at me. I mumbled to myself, the words heavy with doubt and lingering dread.

“It may be gone now, but I’m sure it’ll be back... It’s smarter than it looks.”

No one replied. The gates of the Sea Wall creaked open ahead of us, but all I could feel was the weight of what had just transpired—and the sense that this wasn’t the end of it. Not by a long shot.

The boat docked with a gentle thud, the dull hum of its engines fading into silence. Before the rest of us could even process it, Loid leapt onto the dock with an exaggerated hop, landing in a dramatic sprawl on the sturdy planks.

He immediately rolled onto his back, throwing his arms wide as if embracing the very ground beneath him. "Sweet, sweet safety," he sighed loudly, hugging the dock like it had just saved his life.

I couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. Typical Loid. The same goofy, carefree Inkling I’d met when we first joined Grizz Co.

Russel chuckled behind me. “Still the same ol’ Loid,” he said, shaking his head in amusement.

But Ryan wasn’t laughing. He stepped off the boat with deliberate steps, his expression dark, his usual sharp gaze now filled with frustration.

“You call that bravery?” Ryan snapped, pointing a finger at Loid. “Hugging the dock like some scared kid? You’re a coward, Loid. That’s all you’ve ever been!”

Loid blinked, his humor fading into annoyance. He sat up, brushing off his gear as he muttered, “Cowardice? Did you not see the beast chasing us? You wanna call me weak for not sticking around to die?!”

“You are weak,” Ryan shot back, his tone venomous. “I thought picking you over Jaycee for that mission was the right choice, but clearly—”

“What did you just say?” I interrupted, my voice sharp, cutting through the argument like a knife.

Ryan didn’t even look at me, his focus entirely on Loid.

Sensing the rising tension, Loid scrambled to change the subject, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, maybe I was a little eager to get outta there, but we all made it, didn’t we? No harm, no foul, right?”

But it was too late. Ryan’s words stung, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Loid, usually the peacekeeper of our group, fired back with uncharacteristic heat.

“Excuses! That’s all you’ve got, Ryan! You can’t admit you’re wrong, so you throw your anger at everyone else!” Loid’s voice rose, his usual cheerfulness replaced by raw frustration. “Maybe you’re the weak one!”

Ryan’s fists clenched at his sides, his face twisting in rage. He took a step forward, towering over Loid.

“THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU!” Ryan roared, his voice echoing off the dock walls. He raised a hand, as if daring Loid to say one more word.

The air crackled with tension, every eye on the dock now focused on the unfolding scene. Russel and I exchanged a glance, knowing this wasn’t going to end well unless someone stepped in.

The sudden blur of movement was all it took. Ryan pounced, his fists swinging as he tackled Loid to the ground. The clash was violent and chaotic, drawing everyone’s attention to the dock.

“Ryan, stop!” I shouted, but my voice was drowned out by the sounds of fists meeting flesh and Loid’s desperate yells.

Russel darted forward, trying to grab Ryan, but the sheer fury of the Inkling made him unstoppable. "Jaycee, get him off Loid! He's too strong for me," Russel yelled, his voice strained as he knelt to shield Loid. "I’ll take care of Loid—just do something!"

“LET ME GO, JAYCEE!” Ryan roared as I grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away. He fought like a cornered animal, but I held firm, my grip unyielding.

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO ASSAULT LOID LIKE THAT, RYAN!” I shouted back, the anger in my voice matching his.

Finally, with a surge of effort, I yanked Ryan off. He stumbled, breathing heavily, his fists still clenched. Behind him, Loid lay battered and trembling, his face a mess of bruises and fear.

Ryan spat, his fury not yet quenched. "Pathetic. Just like I said—Loid’s nothing but dead weight."

Russel hovered protectively over Loid, glaring at Ryan. “Enough, Ryan! What’s gotten into you?!”

But Ryan wasn’t done. He turned, his fiery glare locking onto me. “And you—don’t think I’m letting you off the hook, Jaycee. You’re no better!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped, still catching my breath.

“EXCUSES!” Ryan bellowed. “That’s all you ever do! Make excuses! You’re worse than Loid! Always were!”

His words hit harder than any punch. Memories flashed in my mind—our old missions together, my hesitations, my failures. Ryan wasn’t entirely wrong. Back then, I did hold us back.

Ryan stepped closer, his finger jabbing into my chest. “Now look where your cowardice has gotten us! An opportunity wasted! BOTH in quota AND glory! We could’ve taken that beast down, Jaycee! We could’ve been legends! Eggsecutive legends! But no—because of YOU, we ran away like cowards!”

My fists clenched at my sides, anger and guilt swirling inside me. But then his words shifted something in me, something deep and unwavering.

“It’s because it’s stupid,” I muttered.

“What did you just say?” Ryan barked, his tone dripping with menace.

“I SAID IT’S STUPID!” I yelled, my voice echoing over the dock. “Everything you said about me—it’s true. I made excuses. I screwed up. That was the old me, Ryan. But I’ve changed. I’m not the same half-breed you used to boss around!”

Ryan’s face twisted with disbelief, his anger simmering dangerously.

“And you,” I continued, stepping closer to him, “you let your pride and your anger blind your judgment again. You’re so obsessed with glory that you can’t see when a fight isn’t worth it. You nearly got us all killed out there!”

Ryan’s hands trembled with rage. “Take that back...” he growled, his voice low and threatening.

“Why?” I shot back. “Because it’s the truth? Maybe I made mistakes, but so did you, Ryan. Maybe coming back to Salmon Run—or to Grizz Co—wasn’t even a good idea for you. I guess some people never change.”

“GRRR... TAKE THAT BACK!!” Ryan’s voice cracked as he lunged forward again, his anger boiling over.

Ryan’s fury was unrelenting as he clawed at my arms, his fists pounding into me with unrestrained anger. Every blow carried years of pent-up rage, frustration, and perhaps something even deeper.

“TAKE THAT BACK! TAKE THAT BACK!!” Ryan bellowed, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

Russel grabbed at Ryan, trying to pull him off me, but even his strength wasn’t enough. “Jaycee! Do something!” Russel pleaded, his voice strained.

Pinned to the ground, I shielded myself as best as I could, feeling each punch reverberate through me. My mind raced. Why was this happening? Why had it come to this? Between gasps, I shouted at him, "Why did you even come back?! It’s been years! Why now?!”

Ryan paused for a fleeting moment, his voice dripping with venom. “It’s because we needed the cash!”

His answer struck a chord. He wasn’t wrong—Grizz Co’s payouts were enticing. But as I looked into his blazing eyes, I saw more than desperation. “There’s more to it than cash, isn’t there, Ryan? Your own personal glory… You’ve been hiding it all this time, haven’t you?”

His fists froze mid-swing, his hesitation palpable. For a brief moment, the fire in his eyes faltered.

“To think,” I continued, the words pouring out despite the pain, “I thought you guys had changed. Especially you. I thought you were better than me. But now… I was wrong. You’re nothing but a hypocrite.”

Ryan’s face twisted in fury and pain, his features almost unrecognizable. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! MORE EXCUSES FROM YOU!!” His punches came harder and faster, each one fueled by his unraveling emotions.

I couldn’t take it anymore. My body screamed in pain, but something inside me snapped. “That’s enough!” I roared, summoning every ounce of strength I had left.

I grabbed Ryan’s wrists, twisting and overpowering him. My fist connected with his face—a solid punch that left a red mark across his cheek. He stumbled back, momentarily stunned, giving me the chance to rise to my feet. I stood there, my chest heaving, blood on my lip, glaring at the shadow of the friend I once knew.

Ryan roared again, his rage refusing to die. But as he lunged, I blocked his punch, meeting his eyes. They weren’t the same. The cool, level-headed leader I remembered had been consumed by something darker—pride, anger, and the relentless pursuit of glory.

As I deflected another blow, a strange feeling swept over me. It was as though I were looking into a mirror—a reflection of the person I could have become had I let my own demons win.

“What happened to you?” I muttered, my voice barely audible amidst the chaos. “What happened to the Ryan I used to know?”

Before I could think further, a voice cut through the storm of emotions.

“CYAN!”

I froze, the name striking me like lightning. That voice… it was hers.

Turning, I saw her standing at the dock—Bluey. Her wide eyes were filled with shock and concern. Her lips trembled as if struggling to find the right words for what she’d just witnessed.

“Bluey…” My voice cracked. “I-I…”

Before I could explain, Ryan’s fist connected with my face in a powerful, unexpected blow. Pain shot through my head as I hit the ground. My vision blurred, the edges darkening as the world around me began to fade.

Through the haze, I could hear distant voices.

“JAYCEE!!” Bluey’s voice pierced through the fog, trembling with desperation. It sounded distant, like she was shouting at me from across a freezing chasm.

The cold hit me next, sharp and unforgiving. It clawed through my body, making every bruise throb, every ache burn like ice seeping into my veins. My breath hitched as a sharp pain bloomed across my ribs, each shallow inhale a fresh stab.

“What’s going on out here?!” Captain Virgil’s gruff voice cut through, distant and distorted.

The cold tightened its grip, numbing my fingers and toes, but the pain refused to dull. It became a cruel reminder that I was still here—barely.

The last thing I sensed was Bluey’s face swimming in and out of focus, her wide eyes shimmering with fear and sorrow. Her lips moved, but her words were swallowed by the growing void.

And then, mercifully, the darkness took over.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin's Pespective
The Prodigy
Months before the chaos that unfolded recently, I found myself in a strange celebration after the harrowing end of the Big Run. The facility we fought to protect had barely survived, holding the line just long enough to prevent the Salmonids from breaking through to the city. It was a bitterly hard-won victory, but the Salmonids had finally retreated. For now, at least.

Back at the Monger’s Cabin—a rustic wooden lodge nestled within the facility grounds—the atmosphere was alive with relief and joy. Mama Bing, an elderly yet spirited Octoling, had prepared a feast worthy of the effort we’d poured into saving the city. The smell of roasted Maws wafted through the air, mixing with the crackle of the roaring fireplace and the sounds of laughter.

Kent and Jaycee were seated near the hearth, gorging themselves like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Kent, especially, tore into his meal with reckless abandon. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was starving!” he laughed between mouthfuls, drawing amused looks from the others.

Jaycee wasn’t far behind, though he ate with slightly more restraint. I smiled, remembering how he’d scolded me for skipping meals during shifts. The image of him wolfing down roasted Maw felt almost ironic.

I was just about to join them when I felt it—a strange chill crawling down my spine. Something, or someone, was watching us. I glanced toward the window and froze.

A figure stood just outside, half-hidden in the shadows. His cold, piercing gaze wasn’t on me or the others. It was locked solely on Jaycee.

The person or should I say the young boy's expression was unreadable, but there was something unsettling about the way he stared, like a hunter sizing up his prey. Then, as if realizing I’d noticed him, he vanished into the night.

I straightened, my appetite forgotten. “Bluey?” Jaycee’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Huh?” I turned toward him, suddenly aware of his concerned eyes on me.

“You okay? You looked like you saw a ghost,” he said, half-teasing, half-worried.

“Yeah, just… thought I heard something outside.” I hesitated, not wanting to alarm him. “I’ll check it out real quick.”

Jaycee frowned, already looking too protective. “Bluey, c’mon. Just stay. It’s probably nothing.”

I waved him off with a reassuring smile. “I won’t be long. Promise. You know Mama Bing won’t let me starve.”

Jaycee sighed, clearly not convinced. “Okay, but be sure to come back! You’re gonna miss out, Bluey!”

“I will!” I called over my shoulder as I slipped out the door, his nickname for me echoing in my ears.

The night air bit at my skin as I stepped into the quiet beyond the cabin. The light and laughter of the feast faded behind me, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the faint crash of waves against the nearby shoreline.

Who was that young boy? And why was he staring at Jaycee like that?

I had no answers, only the uneasy feeling that whoever he was, he wasn’t here by coincidence.

The cold air nipped at my face as I stepped outside, shivering slightly. The facility grounds were quiet now, the echoes of celebration muffled by the cabin’s walls. But in the middle of it all, I saw him—the boy.

He stood alone, his figure barely illuminated by the dim facility lights, walking away with deliberate, almost ghostly steps.

“Wait!” I called out, my voice breaking the stillness.

The figure stopped, his head tilting slightly, as if debating whether to acknowledge me. Slowly, he turned around.

I froze, the faint light revealing a young face shadowed by indifference. Something about his presence was unsettling—not threatening, but undeniably intense. I took a cautious step forward, my heart beating faster.

“What is it you want, Ate?” he asked, his voice cool but not unkind. The term caught me off guard, familiar yet unexpected.

“I have questions for you…” I said, trying to steady my tone. “Are you stalking someone?”

The boy’s lips quirked slightly, almost a smirk. “Maybe,” he replied. “But why make it your business?”

“I’m curious,” I said, narrowing my eyes. As I studied him closer, something struck me—familiar features, a shadow of someone I knew. “Do I know you? Have we met before?”

The boy tilted his head, his gaze flickering over me as if scrutinizing every detail. Then his eyes widened slightly, recognition dawning on his face.

“Ah…” he said, nodding slowly. “I know you. You’re the girl Kuya Jaycee brought to the family reunion.”

His words hit me like a cold gust of wind, memories of that day flooding back. “You’re… Diego, right?”

The boy’s expression shifted to something between amusement and mild exasperation. “No,” he corrected. “I’m the youngest of the brothers—well, besides my sister, Neon. But my name is Kokow.”

“Kokow…” I repeated, the name foreign yet oddly fitting.

“And you are, Ate?” he asked, his voice softer now, though his eyes remained sharp.

“Jun Lin,” I said hesitantly. “Jaycee’s—”

“Girlfriend?” he interrupted, his tone laced with subtle amusement, as though he’d pieced together a secret.

The word caught me off guard, making my cheeks flush despite the cold. “I—what?” I stammered, unsure how to respond.

“Don’t deny it,” Kokow said, crossing his arms. “I can tell. Kuya wouldn’t bring just anyone to a family reunion, especially with the way he looked at you.”

His confidence left me speechless for a moment. Jaycee’s younger brother had the same piercing insight, but unlike Jaycee, Kokow wielded it with unnerving ease.

“Kokow,” I said firmly, shaking off my surprise. “Why were you staring at Jaycee earlier?”

His playful demeanor faded instantly, replaced by a colder, more guarded expression. “That’s my business,” he said flatly, the warmth in his voice extinguished.

“It’s mine too,” I pressed, stepping closer. “If you’ve got a problem with him, I want to know why.”

Kokow hesitated, his gaze dropping for the first time. Then, after a long pause, he looked back at me, his eyes carrying a weight far beyond his years.

“Maybe I just wanted to see how much he’s changed,” Kokow said quietly, almost to himself. “And if he’s still the Kuya I remember.”

The answer hung in the cold night air, leaving me with more questions than answers.

“Wait,” I called out again, taking another step toward Kokow. “Did you ever get a message from him?”

He froze, his back to me, before slowly turning his head. His expression was neutral, but there was something simmering beneath the surface. “Yes,” he said flatly. “He said he needed help. Said it was about this Big Run everyone kept talking about. And they weren’t kidding about the crisis.”

I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I participated,” he admitted, his voice tinged with reluctance. “Sadly, this is the only time I get to see my brother in action again.”

His words trailed off, and for a moment, his expression hardened—anger flashing briefly across his face before he seemed to wrestle it down. “And… it’s nothing!” he snapped abruptly. “I only came because I heeded my brother’s call. That’s all.”

I folded my arms, my gaze unwavering. “Actually, I was the one who called you. Or… texted you, to be exact.”

Kokow’s eyebrows shot up, and that flicker of rage returned, more potent this time. “Why did you do that?” he demanded, his tone sharp. “You dare take the contacts from my brother's phone—”

“You needed to help him!” I interrupted, raising my voice just enough to match his intensity. “He needed all the help he could get. I was expecting all of you to come, but sadly, it’s only you who showed up.”

He opened his mouth to argue but stopped short as I continued. “You said you wanted to see if he’s changed, right? I can help you with that.”

Kokow glared at me, his arms crossing defensively. “Ha! You?” he scoffed. “It’s been years since I’ve seen him. I don’t need your help. I can do this myself, thank you very much.”

I took a deep breath, bracing against the cutting wind that chilled me to the bone. “You do need me,” I said firmly, meeting his icy gaze. “Because I know him now better than you do.”

Kokow paused, his sharp demeanor faltering slightly as the air grew still. The cold seemed to slice through the tension between us, leaving me with a shiver down my spine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed. “Fine,” he relented, his voice quieter now. “You’ll be my informant, then. If things are what you say they are… But I appreciate it if you keep this between you and me.”

“I promise,” I said, offering him a small, genuine smile. To emphasize my sincerity, I raised my hand in a gesture of assurance.

“Very well,” he said, his tone softening. “I’ll see you next time.”

As Kokow turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the facility, I couldn’t help but stand there, watching him leave. This wasn’t the Kokow I first met at the family reunion. That boy had been a ball of rage, yelling at Jaycee and escalating the party into the disaster it became. But now… this boy carried something else. Something heavier.

Then, a nagging thought crept into my mind.

No, wait, Jun Lin… Aren’t you going behind Jaycee’s back by doing this? You know this might end badly…

But another voice argued back: We’re doing this for him. For Jaycee.

But what if he finds out?

No, no… what would his reaction even be? Oh, Jun Lin, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

The wind howled around me as I hugged my arms for warmth, my thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and determination.

Observation

It’s been a week since I first started texting Kokow. In that time, I’ve learned so much about the mysterious boy I met by chance. Kokow wasn’t the cold, hostile person I initially assumed he was. He’s reserved, yes, but not unkind. Once the conversation starts, he’s surprisingly easy to talk to, even friendly in his own quiet way.

I couldn’t help but dive into some research on him. A memory from Jaycee’s other brother, Diego, had surfaced during one of our chats—something about Kokow’s team being called the Splat Devils. Curious, I searched for clips of their matches online. What I found was... captivating.

Kokow wielded his Splatana with a grace I’d only seen in Jaycee, but their styles were completely different. Jaycee’s swings were deliberate, precise, each strike carrying a weight that could end a match in a single blow. Kokow, on the other hand, was speed and fury incarnate—his attacks fast and relentless, slicing through opponents like a whirlwind. They lacked the same raw power as Jaycee’s, but there was an artistry in their precision. Even a slight cut from Kokow left his opponents wincing in pain, their movements faltering.

It dawned on me that Kokow may have unconsciously adopted a piece of Jaycee’s persona. Beneath his tough exterior, there was something distinctly different—a softer side, perhaps, hidden behind his icy demeanor.

After our initial agreement that I’d act as his informant, I shared what I knew about Jaycee. But in doing so, I might have let my talkative nature get the better of me. I spilled a few of Jaycee’s flaws, and I could sense Kokow growing skeptical. Still, I tried to balance the narrative. Most of the time I spent with Jaycee, he was caring, thoughtful, and sweet—albeit occasionally overprotective and, admittedly, a little possessive. But I’ve always understood where that came from. Learning about his past, it’s clear Jaycee spent a lot of his life feeling alone, even abandoned.

I want Kokow to see that Jaycee has changed. I believe the fiasco at the family reunion was a misunderstanding—one that time and perspective could heal.

On one particular day, Kokow asked about Jaycee’s work hours. I told him what I knew about Jaycee’s schedule, his relationship with Captain Virgil, and his time spent aboard the Dark Pearl. Kokow seemed intrigued, though I couldn’t tell if it was genuine interest or polite curiosity. I even mentioned the irony of the ship’s ominous name being juxtaposed with the sweet, wise old Sturgeon who ran it.

After that, Kokow went silent. At first, it was only a day or two, but then those days stretched into a week. I haven’t heard from him since. I couldn’t help but wonder: Did he lose interest? Or was there something else keeping him quiet?

Whatever the reason, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this silence wasn’t the end of the story.

The Duel

I never imagined things could spiral this far. Two people I cared about—Jaycee and Kokow—were standing across from each other, weapons drawn, their feud reaching its devastating climax. I watched in disbelief, my heart pounding in my chest. How did it come to this? Was it my fault? Could I have done something—anything—to stop this madness?

Kokow’s last message haunted me.

"You have done enough as my informant. Now it’s time for me to settle the score with him."

I had begged him to reconsider, to find another way.

"We can talk this out," I’d pleaded. "You don’t have to fight."

But his reply was sharp, cutting through any hope I had.

"You are a fool to believe things will always go the easy way. Don’t you dare interrupt us. Don’t you dare."

The weight of his words crushed me, but I couldn’t stay away. My stubborn nature wouldn’t allow it. I came here, driven by the belief that I could fix things, that I could make them see reason. Instead, I found myself standing on the sidelines of a tragedy I couldn’t stop.

Kokow’s cold gaze locked onto me, and his lip curled with disdain. His voice was sharp enough to cut through steel.

“And it seems you’re not alone.”

I tried to defuse the tension, to explain Jun Lin’s presence, but Kokow didn’t let me finish. His words were laced with bitterness.

“Ate June,” he sneered, mocking and reverent at the same time. “Why, of all places, did you come here?”

Jun Lin didn’t flinch. Her voice was calm, steady, yet full of purpose.

“I came to negotiate.”

“What?!” Jaycee exclaimed at me, his voice cracking with disbelief. “Jun Lin, how did you even—”

“Silence, Kuya!” Kokow snapped, his eyes narrowing at Jaycee like icy daggers. “You know this is between him and me, don’t you?”

I took a step forward, ignoring his venom. My tone was firm yet pleading.

“There has to be another way, Kokow. Please, there must be a way to settle this peacefully.”

Kokow’s grip on his Splatana tightened, the blade gleaming under the dim light. “We tried that at the reunion, remember?” His voice was laced with venom, each word carrying the weight of past wounds. “And it didn’t work.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, hidden beneath his rage. This wasn’t just about pride; it was years of hurt, betrayal, and misunderstanding festering into something dangerous. He raised his weapon, his answer to my plea clear...

“But—” I tried one last time, my desperation evident.

“Jun Lin,” Jaycee interrupted, stepping in front of me. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to connect with him like this, but right now, this isn’t your fight. This is between us.”

my eyes met with Jaycee's, full of defiance and worry, but I didn’t back down.

“Bluey,” Jaycee continued, his voice strained with frustration, “as much as I admire your reckless spirit, this isn’t the time. Please, leave us to handle this.”

My lips trembled, my fists clenched, but I nodded reluctantly. My voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“I… I see.”

I turned, my steps slow and uncertain, weighed down by guilt and sorrow. Even as I walked away, I felt their gaze linger, heavy with rage and unspoken words. The wind carried the faint echoes of their silence, the space between me and Jaycee growing wider with every step until I finally disappeared from their view.

Then, it began.

Kokow’s movements were fast, precise, and unrelenting. His Splatana sliced through the air with a fury I’d never seen before. Jaycee tried to match him, his strikes deliberate and powerful, but he was struggling to keep up. The contrast between them was stark—Kokow’s relentless speed against Jaycee’s steady strength.

I felt every blow Kokow landed on Jaycee as if it were hitting me instead. Each cut weakened him, chipping away at the person I loved most. I could barely breathe when I saw Kokow’s blade carve a deep slash across Jaycee’s cheek. Blood dripped onto the ground, staining the dirt beneath them. A scar that no Salmonid, no enemy, had ever managed to leave.

Jaycee collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his body trembling from exhaustion. I wanted to scream, to run to him, to protect him, but I was frozen. Fear, helplessness, and despair rooted me to the spot.

And then it struck me—this was their battle, their pain to resolve. Jaycee and Kokow had chosen this path, one only they could walk. I had told myself before that it wasn’t my place to interfere, that this wasn’t my fight. The memory of Kokow’s warning echoed in my mind: Do not dare interrupt us.

I gripped my hands tightly, trembling from the conflicting emotions surging through me. What if stepping in only made things worse? What if I robbed them of the closure they sought? I was paralyzed, caught between my desperate need to act and the agonizing truth that I had to let them face this alone.

Then Kokow stood over him, his Splatana raised for the final strike. My heart stopped.

“No…” I whispered, taking a step forward. “No, don’t do this...”

I was about to intervene, my body moving on instinct, but something stopped me. A strange, unexplainable feeling. Observe.

Kokow’s blade hovered in the air, his hands trembling. His fierce expression wavered, replaced by something I couldn’t quite name—hesitation, regret, or maybe a mix of both. He lowered his weapon, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his actions had finally caught up to him. Without a word, he activated his Zipcaster and vanished, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

I stood there, trembling, my mind reeling. The Zipcaster. The same ability that had saved me during the Big Run, pulling me from the jaws of a Maw.

It couldn’t be.

It was Kokow all along.

The realization hit me like a tidal wave, and I crumpled to my knees beside Jaycee. My hands shook as I reached out to touch his face, his scar warm under my fingertips. Tears blurred my vision as guilt and helplessness consumed me.

I had failed. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t protect him. And now, I was left with the shattered pieces of what should have been a mended bond, wondering if there was any way to fix what had been broken.

The Shattered Boy
Several days had passed since that devastating duel. After Jaycee caught me going behind his back, things between us were far from pretty. I knew the risks, and I took them—only to face the consequences once again. During those days of distance, it felt like we were teetering on a fragile line, but somehow, we managed to push through and forgive each other. That’s why I love Jaycee. Even with all his rage and flaws, his heart remains compassionate and kind, even when it’s battered and broken.

And then, out of nowhere, I received a message. From him. Kokow. He wanted to see me.

At first, I wasn’t sure why. The duel had been a nightmare for all of us, and I assumed he wanted to lash out or maybe accuse me of meddling again. But no—he had found out about my work as a doctor, specifically treating patients suffering from PTSD after Salmon Runs. He said he needed help.

When Kokow finally stepped into my office, his presence felt as cold and sharp as the Splatana he wielded. There was a haunting weight in his eyes, a shadow of something deeply unresolved. He was intimidating, to be sure, but once he sat down across from me, his mask of indifference cracked.

And he broke.

Tears streamed down his face as he tried to keep himself together, but it was no use. I sat there, watching him crumble, letting him take his time.

“What’s been troubling you?” I finally asked, my voice soft but steady, giving him the space to speak.

At first, he didn’t answer. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of his chair, his eyes locked on the floor. Then, like a dam bursting, it all came rushing out.

“I was filled with so much rage,” Kokow confessed, his voice raw. “Shredding him apart... All I wanted was to prove myself, to show him how much I’ve grown. And yet…” He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I let my emotions get the better of me. Heck, why did I even say I wanted to end him? My own brother!” His voice cracked, and he slammed a hand against his forehead, leaning over to hide his face in shame.

He’d been holding on to this guilt for days, the weight of it crushing him from the inside.

As I watched him, it struck me—Kokow wasn’t so different from Jaycee. The way he broke down, unable to carry his burdens any longer, reminded me of Jaycee’s moments of vulnerability. They were alike in so many ways, yet different in how they handled their pain.

Kokow continued, his voice trembling. “I only wanted to show him how much I’ve improved over the years. But then… the memories of our last duel came flooding back. The way he—he…” Kokow’s voice faltered as he choked back a sob.

“Go on,” I urged gently.

“He called me…” Kokow paused, his voice barely a whisper. “He called me the biggest disappointment.” His words were laced with so much pain it felt like they hung in the air, cutting through the silence. “After everything, after filling me with dreams, with hope and passion, he just said that to me.”

“That was the old Jaycee,” I said softly, leaning forward. “He’s not like that now. I’ve seen it. I know it.”

Kokow hesitated, his gaze distant. “He… he was proud of me,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I know that now. And yet, I chose to hurt him. I hurt him so badly…” He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with renewed sobs.

I placed a hand on his arm, steadying him. “We all make mistakes, Kokow. None of us are perfect—not you, not Jaycee, not me. But mistakes don’t define who we are. How we move forward does.”

He looked up at me, his tear-streaked face filled with uncertainty.

“Given the chance,” I continued, “would you like to see him again? But this time, I’ll be there with you. You won’t have to do it alone.”

Kokow hesitated, the conflict evident in his expression. “I… I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

I smiled gently, trying to reassure him. “You’ll know when the time comes. And when it does, I’ll be there to help. I promise.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes before standing. “Fine… but just don’t make it embarrassing, okay?” His tone was cold, but I could hear the fear and hope mingled beneath it.

“I promise,” I said. “For now, go wait in the lobby. Jaycee isn’t coming back just yet, so there’s time to figure this out.”

As he reached the door, Kokow paused, glancing back at me. “Thank you, Ate…” The words were stiff, hesitant, but sincere.

And as he left, I could feel the tiniest glimmer of hope—fragile, but real—beginning to take root between these two shattered brothers.

Cyan's fall
Hours had passed since Kokow and I had first settled into the facility. He sat on the couch in my office, his head drooping until he eventually succumbed to sleep. I tried to focus on my work, my mind weighed down by everything that had happened over the past few days, but the silence was deafening.

Then, the alarm blared, shattering the quiet like a bolt of lightning.

I jumped in my seat as the noise echoed through the halls. Was it another Big Run? No, something about it didn’t feel the same. The energy was different—not panicked, but urgent.

Before I could process it, one of the workers rushed past my office, muttering frantically, “The Dark Pearl came back early!”

“What? That’s Jaycee’s boat! But… why would it be back so soon?” My chest tightened with unease. Something was wrong.

Kokow stirred from his nap, groggily rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, grabbing my coat. “Wait here,” I instructed, but Kokow ignored me, his concern for Jaycee outweighing his exhaustion. Together, we stepped out of the office and headed toward the port.

As we reached the edge of the hill overlooking the docks, I spotted it—the Dark Pearl. Its sleek frame glistened under the facility lights, but the sight of it docking prematurely sent a chill through me. Workers murmured in confusion and unease, creating a tense buzz in the air.

Without another word, I hurried down the hill, Kokow following close behind despite my earlier command.

As I reached the docks, the scene unraveled before me like a nightmare. Jaycee was in the middle of a fistfight with another Inkling boy. The Inkling boy looked older than Kokow. My Jaycee—already battered and worn from the grueling demands of Grizz Co—was overpowering the boy, his movements fueled by raw rage.

“Cyan!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos.

He froze at the sound of my voice, his head snapping toward me. I saw his expression falter, his fury melting into something raw and vulnerable. His lips parted, trembling as though he was trying to explain himself. “Bluey, I… I—”

Before he could finish, the Inkling boy beneath him took advantage of his hesitation. With a wild swing, the boy's fist connected squarely with Jaycee’s jaw.

“No!” I screamed as Jaycee staggered backward, his knees buckling before he collapsed onto the pavement.

“Jaycee!” My legs moved before my mind could catch up, and I rushed toward him.

Nearby, two other figures sprang into action—a second Inkling boy and an Octoling—grabbing the violent attacker before he could do more harm. They held him back as he thrashed and shouted, still full of anger and adrenaline.

Then, from the Dark Pearl, Captain Virgil stepped out, his presence commanding the attention of everyone around. His sharp eyes surveyed the chaos, narrowing as they landed on the crumpled form of Jaycee on the ground.

“What in the blazes is going on here?” His voice boomed, rough and authoritative.

One of the workers quickly explained the situation, pointing out the attacker. Captain Virgil’s face darkened, and his usual kind demeanor was replaced by a fiery anger. “You’ve got some nerve, boy,” he growled, stepping closer to the restrained Inkling. “Picking a fight at my dock? And with one of my own crew?”

The Inkling spat at the ground, muttering something defiant, but Captain Virgil wasn’t having it. “Enough!” he barked. “Security!”

Two guards arrived moments later, taking the violent Inkling into custody. He struggled against their grip, but their combined strength overpowered him. “You’re done here,” Captain Virgil snarled. “You’ll wait in isolation until the authorities arrive to deal with you properly.”

As the guards hauled the Inkling away, Captain Virgil turned his attention back to Jaycee. His features softened, and the anger melted into concern as he knelt beside him. “Poor lad,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Help me get him to the med bay,” I urged, my voice trembling.

Captain Virgil nodded, and together, we carefully lifted Jaycee’s unconscious body. Kokow appeared by my side, his usual bravado replaced with a silent, wide-eyed fear. He helped steady Jaycee’s legs as we carried him toward the facility’s medical wing.

Jaycee’s weight was heavy in my arms, not just physically but emotionally. I looked down at his face—bruised, battered, and far too peaceful for someone who had been consumed by rage just moments ago.

As we laid him on the med bay cot, I couldn’t help but whisper under my breath, “Why, Cyan? Why do you always have to carry everything alone?”

Kokow stood at the door, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. For once, he didn’t say anything. His silence spoke volumes as he stared at his brother’s prone form, guilt and worry flickering across his face. The tension in the room was suffocating, broken only by the distant hum of the med bay’s equipment.

All we could do now was wait. Wait for Jaycee to wake up. Wait for answers. And maybe, just maybe, find a way to mend the broken pieces between these two brothers before it was too late.

Captain Virgil finally shuffled into the room, his usual sturdy gait weighed down by exhaustion and regret. He looked at Jaycee, his weathered face a tapestry of sorrow. He adjusted his hat as if to shield his eyes from the scene before him, but it didn’t hide the guilt that seeped into his voice.

“I’m sorry, Lad... This old Sturgeon can’t be fast enough to save ya,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

I turned to him, trying to offer some comfort. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Captain. You did what you had to do.”

He shook his head slowly, his large hands curling into fists at his sides. “Some good that did. My old age is catchin’ up to me, Lass. If only I’d known what was even happenin’. But I was too busy ponderin’ about... that thing that was chasing us.”

His words carried a weight that sent a shiver down my spine. “What thing?” I asked cautiously, not entirely sure I wanted to know the answer.

Virgil glanced at me, his one good eye gleaming with fear I’d never seen before. “One of the Devils of the sea...”

The air grew colder, and my body froze as the gravity of his words settled in. Captain Virgil wasn’t one to exaggerate. If he called something a devil, it was nothing short of a nightmare.

“What does that mean?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

But Virgil only muttered, “Cohozuna,” his voice barely audible.

The name meant nothing to me, but the terror in his tone told me it was better not to ask.

Shaking off my unease, I turned to Kokow. “Can you keep an eye on your brother?”

Kokow nodded quietly, his stern demeanor softening slightly. He stepped closer to Jaycee’s bedside, pulling up a chair as he sat beside him. He said nothing, but the weight of his presence was comforting, even if it was just for Jaycee to know someone was there when he woke.

I motioned for Captain Virgil to follow me, leading him to a secluded spot in the med bay. I needed to hear more about this Cohozuna—and why it had the old Sturgeon so shaken—but away from the fragile and tense atmosphere around Jaycee and Kokow.

“Tell me everything, Captain,” I urged, my voice firmer now, despite the unease crawling up my spine.

Captain Virgil sighed heavily, leaning against the wall. “I’ll tell ya what I can, Lass. But trust me, it’s not a tale for the faint of heart.”

Jaycee's Pespective

The Darkness
I was alone again, wandering through an endless void. Shadows stretched infinitely, and the biting cold sank into my skin, leaving me trembling. The silence was deafening, like the emptiness itself had a weight pressing down on me.

"Is this it?" I muttered into the void, my voice barely a whisper. "Am I… gone?"

But then, I felt it. A flicker of warmth brushing against the cold—a sensation so foreign in this desolate place. Slowly, a light emerged in the distance, faint at first but growing brighter with each step I took toward it. My legs felt heavy, each movement sluggish, but the light beckoned me.

And then, I heard it.

“Are you lost, son?”

That voice—it stopped me in my tracks. My breath caught, and my heart raced. I knew that voice.

“Grandpa?” I squinted into the light, shielding my eyes with my arm. “Is that you?”

From the blinding radiance, his silhouette appeared, strong yet kind. His presence was as I remembered—stern but comforting, a pillar of strength that once grounded me in my most uncertain moments.

“It’s me, boy,” he said, his tone a perfect blend of gruffness and warmth. “I see you’ve been working on mending your wounds with your siblings.”

I froze. His words hit a nerve.

“Well… not exactly, Grandpa. I—”

“No excuses, son.” His voice cut through my fumbling like a knife, firm yet patient. “You’ve started the work. Now you need to trust in the fruits of your labor.”

“I don’t understand,” I admitted, my voice cracking as I tried to meet his gaze. “What labor? What fruits? I’ve messed up so much. How can I fix things when I can’t even figure myself out?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he extended his hand to me, his expression softening.

“Come with me,” he said simply.

I hesitated before placing my hand in his. The moment our fingers touched, the warmth enveloped me fully, chasing away the cold. He led me toward the light, its glow growing stronger and more brilliant with every step. I felt lighter as we moved, like I was shedding the weight of everything that had been dragging me down.

“Grandpa, where are we going?” I asked, shielding my eyes as the light grew almost unbearably bright.

“To where you need to be,” he replied cryptically, his voice fading as the light consumed everything around me.

Suddenly, I jolted awake.

Pain shot through my head like a hammer blow, and my body screamed in protest as I tried to move. The aching... it's reminding me of every bruise I’d earned, every mistake that had led me here. My cheek throbbed, and I remembered Ryan’s punch landing squarely after… after what?

Sockeye Station. Cohozuna. The fight on the docks. It all came rushing back.

I groaned, my head pounding, and forced my eyes to focus. The sterile ceiling of the med bay came into view. Blinking against the harsh light, I let out a shaky breath.

I wasn’t alone anymore. Not in this room, and not in this life.

Brothers Once again...

The sound of muffled voices roused me from the fog of unconsciousness. My body felt heavy, like I’d been submerged in ink for hours, but the pain lacing through me assured me I was still very much alive. My eyes fluttered open, the sterile light of the med bay stinging slightly before they adjusted.

As I surveyed the room, my gaze landed on a familiar silhouette by the window.

"Kokow?" I rasped, my voice hoarse.

He flinched at the sound of his name, spinning around so quickly he almost tripped. The look on his face was a mix of shock, relief, and overwhelming emotion.

“Kuya!” Kokow rushed to my side, gripping the edge of the bed. “You’re alive! I thought—I mean, we thought—” His words caught in his throat as if the weight of everything he’d been holding back had just hit him all at once.

I raised a hand, weakly motioning for him to calm down. “Easy, Kokow. I’m not dead… But… what are you doing here?”

Kokow hesitated, his eyes darting between me and the floor. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with himself, as if deciding whether to speak or flee. Finally, he whispered, “I’m here because… I-I wanted to… talk about the duel… I—” He swallowed hard, his voice breaking. “I was overwhelmed with jealousy and rage. It was all fixated on you. I wanted to prove myself to you so badly, but… it all… it all spiraled out of control.”

I studied his face. His expression was raw, vulnerable—far from the determined, brash sibling I’d faced in that duel.

“I could tell,” I said softly. “Your moves, Kokow… They were swift, precise, and filled with anger. But even through that, you surprised me. You’ve improved so much.”

Kokow’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Improved? But my attitude hasn’t! I was stupid—reckless—to say I wanted to end you right there. I-I—” His words dissolved into tears, his hands trembling as he covered his face.

“I let my emotions take over,” he choked out between sobs. “All I wanted was to prove something to you, but instead, I pushed you away even more.”

Seeing Kokow like this—it was like looking into a mirror of my past self. I could feel his pain, his self-loathing. It was a pain I knew all too well, the kind that eats away at you when your emotions control your actions. Despite the ache in my body, I reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Kokow,” I began, my voice steady despite the strain. “I’m proud of you.”

His head shot up again, confusion replacing the tears in his eyes. “What? But why? After everything I did, after what I said—how can you forgive me so easily?”

I gave him a faint, tired smile. “Because it wasn’t just you who made mistakes. I was the one who set you on this path. My arrogance back then… my words… they hurt you in ways I never realized. And for that, I’m sorry. But forgiving you—it’s the first step in mending what we’ve broken between us.”

For a moment, Kokow just stared at me, his emotions a storm of disbelief, regret, and longing. Then, without warning, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.

Pain shot through my body, and I couldn’t stop the groan that escaped. “Ouch…”

Kokow pulled back immediately, panic in his eyes. “What? What? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you, Kuya!”

I chuckled weakly, waving off his concern. “It’s okay, Kokow. I know how you feel. And I’m proud—proud that even with everything, you’ve come so far.”

Kokow wiped at his eyes, nodding. “I promise, Kuya. I’ll do better. I’ll work on my anger first. Ate Jun Lin said you’ve managed to control yours… sometimes. Maybe you can teach me?”

A small, amused smile crept onto my face. “Well… my methods aren’t perfect, but I promise, you’re not alone in this. We’ll face it together, Kokow. Like brothers once again.”

Kokow’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yes… brothers once again.”

Chapter Text

Jun Lin’s Perspective

Captain Virgil had just finished telling me his story, though it felt like he left much unsaid. The Old Sturgeon looked deeply unsettled, far more than I’d ever seen him before. He’d spoken about Cohozuna—the massive beast that had chased us down—and how it moved with a purpose yet never struck.

“It’s not right,” he had muttered, shaking his head. “Beasts like that don’t just chase without reason.”

The thought of it sent a chill through me, but it was what he said about Jaycee that really stuck.

“He was nearly killed, lass,” Virgil had said, his voice gruff but trembling slightly. “Too close. Far too close.”

I hadn’t known what to say. The idea of Jaycee in that kind of danger, of him being inches away from losing everything, was too much to bear. I didn’t even want to imagine what else he might’ve faced before this—especially with everything he’d been through lately.

I thought about the Inkling boy who had attacked him not long ago. That vicious, brutal moment had left a scar on Jaycee, even if he wouldn’t admit it. And now, this Cohozuna... it felt like something bigger, something I couldn’t fully understand yet.

But it wasn’t just Jaycee or me who’d be affected. Once word of this encounter spread—and it would, sooner or later—it was going to cause chaos. Workers always talked, and this kind of thing? It wouldn’t just stay within Grizz Co.

“I guess the newscasters were right,” I said aloud, breaking the silence. “If this gets out, the workload here’s going to get so much heavier. And it will get out. Gossip spreads fast—especially among the workers.”

Captain Virgil looked at me thoughtfully but didn’t respond. Maybe he was already thinking the same thing.

But how could I learn more about what happened? Would Virgil tell me if I pressed him? Probably not, not now at least. He seemed burdened enough just sharing what he already had.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said, standing awkwardly. “I just... I don’t know what to make of it all.”

Virgil nodded solemnly. “Answers will come, lass. But for now, your friend needs you.”

He was right. Jaycee was what mattered right now.

“Can I go check on him?” I asked, gesturing toward the door.

“Of course,” Virgil replied with a wave of his fin. “I’ve other business to tend to, anyway.”

And so, here I was, hurrying down the hallway. My thoughts swirled like ink in water, but one thing was clear—I needed to make sure Jaycee was okay. Whatever he was going through, I wasn’t about to let him face it alone.

The thoughts of Cohozuna lingered in my mind as I made my way toward the med bay. Its massive frame, its deliberate movements, the quiet tension it left behind—it all weighed on me. I tried to shake it off, focusing on my steps, but the unease refused to go away.

As I got closer to the med bay, I heard something unusual. Chatter.

It wasn’t common to hear much noise in this part of the facility, especially after what we’d all been through. My pace quickened as a thought struck me.

“He’s awake!” I yelped, and before I could stop myself, I was at the door.

The sight before me made me freeze.

Jaycee was sitting upright on the med bay bed, his expression lighter than I’d seen in days—weeks, maybe. Across from him, perched on a nearby stool, was Kokow. The two of them were deep in conversation, their voices low but filled with something I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t tension, not anymore. It was... warmth.

I didn’t move, not wanting to intrude on the moment unfolding before me.

The sight of the two half-breed brothers talking as if all their problems had vanished—it was something I hadn’t expected. Kokow, who had once seemed so intent on keeping his distance, was now here, openly connecting with his brother. I didn’t need to step in. Whatever had been holding them apart, they had found a way to overcome it.

I thought back to their duel, how raw and violent it had been. Their blows had been heavy with anger and pain, their words even heavier. And yet now, here they were—peaceful, carefree, their bond renewed.

How they’d managed to bridge that gap, I didn’t know. Part of me didn’t want to know. What mattered was that the people I cared about were together again, healing in ways I hadn’t expected.

Kokow’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Brothers once again,” he said softly, his tone carrying a depth of sincerity that made my chest ache.

My heart swelled at the sweetness of those words. To think, this was the same Kokow who had insisted, Don’t make this embarrassing for me, every time we spoke about his brother. And now look at them.

They were smiling. Truly smiling.

It must have been years since they’d shared a moment like this. Just each other’s company, no walls, no fighting—only connection.

I lingered for a moment longer, soaking in the sight, before stepping quietly back into the hallway. There was no need for me here anymore, not right now. They had each other. That was all that mattered.

1 Hour Later

An hour had passed since I left the med bay door, letting Jaycee and Kokow have their time together. I’d been sitting in the hallway nearby, my mind wandering between the Cohozuna and the sight of those two brothers reconnecting. It was the first time in a while that something truly hopeful had come from such chaos.

As the med bay door creaked open, I glanced up. Kokow stepped out, his head slightly tilted downward as if lost in thought. He stopped abruptly when he noticed me.

“Ate Jun Lin?!” His tone was a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “What are you—No. Were you here this whole time?”

I smiled, rising to my feet. “Yes, it seems you didn’t need me for whatever you two just had.”

Kokow’s cheeks flushed faintly, and he looked away. “How much did you hear from us?”

“Not much,” I said gently. “I know my boundaries, and I respect them... for now.”

He scowled, though it was more of a playful pout than genuine annoyance. “Yep, the same person who just can’t stay out of other people’s business.”

With that, he turned, walking toward the exit. I chuckled quietly at his reaction, folding my arms.

But just before he continued on, he stopped again.

“Ate Jun...?” His voice was softer this time, almost hesitant.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” he said, still not turning to look at me. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and without waiting for a reply, he kept walking, heading toward the exit.

I watched him go, a warm feeling blooming in my chest. Kokow’s words, small as they were, carried a weight of their own. Maybe, just maybe, things were starting to fall into place.

Jaycee’s Perspective

The soft sound of the door opening caught my attention. I looked up and saw her—Jun Lin. Or rather, Bluey, as I’d grown used to calling her. She stepped in, her light blue ink shimmering under the dim lights of the med bay, her expression a mix of worry and relief.

“Hey, Bluey,” I said with a small smile, raising a hand lazily. “You’re just in time. I survived today... barely, but hey, I’m still here to tell the tale.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she walked straight to me, leaned over, and kissed my forehead.

“I was worried about you,” she murmured softly, her voice trembling just a little. “Captain Virgil told me everything that happened today. The Cohozuna... the chase... Cyan, you could’ve died!”

I blinked, taken aback by her sudden intensity. It wasn’t like Bluey to lose her composure, and seeing her like this... it was kind of ironic.

“Bluey, calm down!” I said, holding up my hands defensively. “At least I came back in one piece,” I added, my tone light, hoping to ease her nerves.

But her unimpressed look told me I’d failed miserably. She crossed her arms, her eyes scanning me critically.

“You call this one piece?” she said, gesturing at me. “Bruises, cuts, scrapes—you look like you got run over by a Turf War tank! And don’t even get me started on your little stunt with that violent Inkling today!” She paused, leaning closer. “Speaking of which... who was that?”

My smile faltered, the warmth in my chest replaced by a cold weight. I knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Ryan,” I said quietly after a long pause, taking a deep breath. “It was Ryan. One of my old friends.”

Her eyes widened. “More of your friends? How many do you have?! I thought Kent was your only friend!”

I chuckled, though it felt hollow. “There’s so much you don’t know about me, Bluey,” I said, smirking despite myself. “Ryan, Kent... the list doesn’t stop there.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly not in the mood for my sarcasm. “Well, it’s getting late,” she said with a sigh. “I think we’ll be staying here in the facility for the night. I’ll go ask the person at administration to make the arrangements. I’ll be back.”

As she left, I leaned back against the bed, watching the door close behind her. The med bay was quiet again, save for the faint hum of the lights and the steady rhythm of my thoughts.

I turned my gaze to the window, where the twilight skies painted the horizon in hues of purple and orange. The fading light was peaceful, but my mind was anything but.

The Marauders...

Their name floated back to me like a ghost, stirring memories I’d buried deep. I closed my eyes, letting the images come. This wasn’t the first time I’d faced Ryan—or the demons of my past.

And it wouldn’t be the last.

Trail against Ryan

The days that followed the incident dragged by in a haze of tension and unspoken worries. Every corner of the facility buzzed with hushed whispers, workers passing glances like currents in the tide. It wasn’t hard to tell that word of my fight with Ryan had spread. It was inevitable.

Jun Lin and I were called to witness Ryan’s removal from the premises. Two Shark policemen escorted him out. Their broad forms moved with a menacing grace, sharp teeth visible even in their subdued expressions. They towered over Ryan, who didn’t fight or protest. He walked stiffly between them, his gaze locked forward.

I couldn’t help but notice the way his hands trembled, bound in cuffs.

"Guess this is it, huh?" Jun Lin whispered beside me, her voice low and tinged with something I couldn’t place—sympathy, maybe.

Ryan didn’t look back as they led him to the waiting car, its engine purring like a predator ready to devour. The door slammed shut, and then he was gone.

Later that day, Another of Grizz Co.’s secretaries summoned me. An Octoling with sharp eyes and an even sharper tone, she wasted no time getting to the point.

“I’ve heard everything,” she said, leaning over her desk. “The boss is... concerned about the potential fallout from this incident. He’s willing to support you, Jaycee, but only if you agree to handle this situation quietly. We cannot afford rumors tarnishing the company’s reputation.”

Her words hung in the air like a noose. I had no plans to press charges against Ryan, but her meaning was clear—if I didn’t cooperate, the higher-ups would make this worse for me, not just for him.

Jun Lin was with me, her gaze darting between the secretary and me. “Maybe going this route is a bad decision,” she said, her voice firm.

I took a deep breath, weighing my options. I didn’t like it. None of this felt right. But Grizz Co. was my lifeline, and I couldn’t afford to jeopardize my place here.

“I’ll handle it,” I said finally, my voice steady but reluctant.

Jun Lin’s lips thinned into a disapproving line, but I gave her a reassuring look. “It’ll be fine, Bluey. Trust me.”

Her silence spoke volumes.

The courtroom buzzed with formality, though the procedures themselves were dull. Most of the talking was done by Grizz Co.’s hired lawyer, a crabby, no-nonsense Crab. Her sharp tone cut through the air like pincers, but I couldn’t deny her professionalism.

Ryan tried to defend himself, but the evidence against him was overwhelming. Witness testimonies piled up—Captain Virgil, Jun Lin, even footage of his outburst.

Jun Lin described the bruise on my face, her voice carrying a quiet anger as she pointed out the bandage covering the worst of it. Ryan’s shoulders slumped as each piece of evidence stacked higher against him.

He’d expected his old friends, Loid and Russell, to come to his defense. But they didn’t show.

Then the judge—a stern, aged Oyster Fish—delivered the final blow. “Guilty,” he declared, his gavel poised. “Mr. Ryan Rems, you are guilty of assault against Mr. Jaycee. Your punishment includes six years in prison with no parole—”

“Your Honor,” I interrupted, standing. “Can you at least give him a chance?”

The room turned to me, the judge raising a brow. “And why would I do that, Mr. Jay?”

“Because I know him,” I said, my voice steady despite the weight of the moment. “I believe he didn’t mean to cause this mess. Ryan’s not like this—he’s not a violent person.”

The Grizz Co. lawyer shot me a withering glare, her claws snapping shut in irritation.

The judge regarded me for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Very well. I sentence Ryan to three years in prison, followed by three years of rehabilitation.”

Ryan’s head lifted, surprise flashing across his face. “Your Honor,” he called out, his voice shaky, “thank you. May I also request... that Jaycee be allowed to visit me?”

The judge turned to me, his expression unreadable. “That depends on you, Mr. Jay.”

I hesitated for only a second. “I agree.”

The judge nodded. “So be it. This discussion is over.” He slammed his gavel, and the session was adjourned.

As the room emptied, the Grizz Co. lawyer approached me, her expression sharp and disapproving. “What do you think you’re doing? Showing mercy to someone who could ruin the company’s reputation?”

I met her glare without flinching. “I’m showing mercy to someone who doesn’t deserve to have his entire life destroyed. That’s all.”

Without waiting for her response, I turned and called for Jun Lin and Captain Virgil.

For a moment, I thought I’d feel relief—maybe even satisfaction—seeing Ryan get what he deserved. But as we left the courthouse, all I felt was a hollow ache.

No victory. No justice. Just the weight of knowing that, in the end, none of this really felt like a win.

Cell 626...

The air inside the Splatsville Prison Center was heavy, the kind of weight that clung to your chest and made breathing feel just a bit harder. I had walked these halls a handful of times, but it never got any easier. The stark lighting reflected off the glass cells, casting long shadows that felt almost alive. These cells weren’t made of bars like the prisons in old-world stories; no, for creatures like us—Inklings who could slip through spaces and bend their forms—glass was the only barrier that could truly hold us.

The Shark security guard beside me cleared his throat, drawing my attention as he motioned toward a specific cell at the far end of the corridor. "Cell 626," he said, his voice gruff, his massive form looming as he unlocked the visitor’s room. "You can talk to the prisoner, but I’ll be right here on standby if anything... fishy happens." He smirked at his own pun.

I nodded politely. "Yes, sir. I understand."

The heavy glass door slid open with a soft hiss, and I stepped inside. My eyes immediately found Ryan, huddled in the far corner of his cell. His once proud and defiant demeanor was gone. Now, he looked so small, curled up against the cold surface, his arms loosely wrapped around his knees. It was a pitiful sight. He seemed so alone, so utterly... defeated.

“Ryan?” I called out, my voice calm but slightly muffled by the thick glass.

He didn’t react at first. For a moment, I wondered if he was too far gone to even hear me. Then, slowly, he stirred, his head tilting just enough for our eyes to meet. His face was hollow, his movements sluggish, as though the weight of the world had been pressing down on him for far too long. He pushed himself up to his feet unsteadily, his steps dragging as he approached the glass.

“So... you actually came,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. His words carried a mixture of bitterness and surprise, as if he hadn’t truly believed I would show up.

I met his gaze without flinching. “Of course I did.”

Ryan pressed his palms lightly against the glass, his fingers trembling slightly. “I don’t get it. Why? Why bother visiting someone like me after everything I’ve done to you?”

I held his gaze, my expression steady. “Because I need to know. I need to understand why you did it.”

He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Why I turned on you? Why I dragged you into my mess? You really want to hear it?”

“Yes,” I said firmly.

Ryan exhaled sharply, his head dropping slightly as he began to speak. “It all started during that Salmon Run shift. That... thing. That giant monster. I don’t know what it’s called, but seeing it—”

“Cohozuna,” I interrupted, the name alone sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered. “Seeing it was... something else. I thought—this was it. This was my chance. My chance to finally prove myself, to make my family recognize me. To show them I was worth something. And then you... you shot it all down.”

I frowned, my jaw tightening. “Because it was impossible, Ryan. You would’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“Maybe I would have,” he snapped, his voice rising. “But hearing that from you, Jaycee—it crushed me. It felt like you were saying I wasn’t enough, that I’d never be enough.”

He laughed bitterly, his hands balling into fists. “And then everything fell apart. Loid backed out like the coward he is, and Russel—he tore into me. Called me an idiot, said I was a fool for even thinking I could take on something like that.”

“And then you turned on me,” I said quietly, my voice filled with restrained anger. “Why? Why me, Ryan?”

“Because after you opposed me,” he said, his voice trembling, “I thought I’d lost my last chance. My last chance to prove myself. So... that’s why. That’s why it started. First Loid, and then you.”

I stared at him, my expression hardening. “You said you should’ve chosen me over Loid. What did you mean by that?”

Ryan hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Since that coward isn’t here, I guess I’ll tell you. A long time ago, Russel and I... we were planning to leave for Inkopolis. Without you. Without Loid.”

I felt a familiar ache in my chest, but I forced myself to keep listening.

“I’m sure you already know why,” he continued softly. “But I was considering taking you along too.”

“Because I was a coward who made excuses,” I said flatly, my tone devoid of emotion.

“Yes,” Ryan admitted, his voice heavy. “That’s why I hesitated. But then Loid overheard our plan. And that slimy little liar... he got to me. He fed me all these convincing lies, told me he was the better choice.”

“What kind of lies?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ryan sighed. “He pointed out all your flaws. Made me see you in the worst possible light. And I believed him. I thought maybe he was right. Maybe he was the better choice.”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “What Loid said about me—it wasn’t wrong. Not back then. But still...” My voice faltered. “Loid... how could he? I trusted him. He was supposed to be the peacekeeper. To think he’d become... such a liar.”

Ryan’s gaze softened. “So did I, Jaycee. So did I. But I see now—I made the wrong choice. We went through with the plan, turned our backs on you. And for what? Those years were a disaster. Nothing went the way we thought it would. And now... now I know I should’ve chosen you.”

“Enough!” I snapped, my voice echoing in the room. “I don’t want to hear any more of this.”

Ryan flinched, his mouth opening as if to respond, but no words came out.

I took a step back, exhaling sharply. “You’ve said enough, Ryan. I’ve heard your story, and now I know the truth. But it doesn’t change what you did. It doesn’t undo the damage.”

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“Wait,” Ryan said, his tone trembling with a vulnerability I had never heard before.

I hesitated, not looking back but not leaving either. There was something raw in his voice that demanded my attention, something that clawed at my resolve to walk away.

“When I saw you again,” he began, his words faltering as though they were too heavy to speak, “I expected... I expected to see the same Jaycee I used to know. The one who always made excuses. The one who was too scared to take a stand. The one I thought I had left behind for good.”

He pressed his forehead against the glass, his hands flat against its surface as if trying to reach through to me. His breath fogged the transparent wall between us, and his voice broke with a bitter laugh. “But you’re not him. You’re different now. And I hate it... I hate that you proved me wrong.”

For a moment, I stood there in silence, letting his words sink in. My chest tightened as the weight of everything unspoken between us bore down on me. I wanted to turn around, to face him and demand an explanation for every lie, every betrayal, every scar he had left on my life. But I didn’t.

Ryan’s voice cracked as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Jaycee. I’m sorry for everything.”

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly to steady myself. Without turning to face him, I whispered back, “Goodbye, Ryan. Until we meet again.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I couldn’t.

I walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last as the silence of the prison seemed to stretch endlessly around me. The Shark security guard stood silently by the door, watching me with an unreadable expression as I passed him. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

The cold air outside hit me like a wave, a stark contrast to the suffocating stillness of Cell 626. I paused on the steps of the facility, staring out into the city as Ryan’s words replayed in my mind.

For all his regrets, all his mistakes, and all his apologies, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin's perspective

Her Apartment

The tension from the past week hadn’t let up. It lingered like an unwelcome guest, following me everywhere. I could still feel the faint tremor in my hands whenever I thought about it—Jaycee nearly getting himself killed during the Cohozuna encounter, and then the trial that followed.

Ryan.

He’d mentioned that name before, but I hadn’t dared to ask. It felt like a door I wasn’t ready to open, a shadowy path I wasn’t prepared to walk down. Jaycee didn’t talk about it much, and though every part of me wanted to know more, I forced myself to let it be. For now.

Sometimes, I hated my curiosity.

It wasn’t the kind of curiosity you could brush off with a shrug and a laugh—it was the deep, gnawing kind that dug its claws into you and wouldn’t let go. I’d always been that way. As a kid, my parents used to scold me for asking too many questions, for climbing too many trees, for trying to peek into places I didn’t belong.

“Reckless,” my dad used to call it. “Fearless,” my mom would say with a smile. I liked her version better.

But none of that mattered now. What mattered was this next step Jaycee and I were taking together.

Moving in.

The words felt heavy in my mind, not with dread but with... anticipation. Excitement. Nerves. A thousand little feelings swirling around in a way that left me breathless.

Was it too soon?

The thought had crossed my mind more than once. Were we rushing things? It had only been a year since we’d reunited, since I came back to Splatsville after finishing my residency in Inkopolis. It had been my dream for so long, and achieving it had been... surreal. I thought I’d come back with everything figured out, but then there was Jaycee. Cyan.

And here we were now, making plans to share a home.

I couldn’t help but think about my own little place. It wasn’t much—just a modest apartment in the quieter part of town, rented out by Mrs. Jenny, a sweet Jellyfish who treated me like her own daughter. She was the only company I’d ever really needed there. My sanctuary. My space.

Living with Jaycee felt like stepping into uncharted territory, like diving into waters I’d never swum before. A part of me hesitated, wondering if it would change us, if we were moving too fast. But then another part of me—the reckless, fearless part—reminded me that it wasn’t just about change. It was about growth.

Still, it felt a little like the kind of step couples take after... well, after they get ma-ma...

I couldn’t even bring myself to say it out loud. It was silly, really. We weren’t there yet. Or were we?

No, this wasn’t about labels or milestones. It was about making a new experience, together. Something just for us.

I shook off the swirl of thoughts and let out a small laugh under my breath. “Well,” I said to no one in particular, “reckless curiosity got me this far. Might as well see where it takes me next.”

I looked around the room, hands on my hips, surveying the chaos I had created. Boxes half-filled, bags slumped in a corner, and my little collection of plushies and books neatly tucked away in one small carton. That was the only thing I’d managed to pack so far.

Just my plushies and pillows.

I groaned, rubbing my temples as if that would make the overwhelming sight disappear. How was it possible to have so much stuff in such a small room? I lived simply—or so I thought. But the amount of packing left to do made it look like I’d been hoarding.

The kitchenware was still untouched. My mismatched plates, cups, and cutlery—all waiting to be wrapped up and boxed. The fridge needed to be cleared out, and I wasn’t even sure where to start with my spice rack. And then there was the wardrobe. Ugh, the wardrobe.

Clothes. So many clothes.

I’m a minimalist, I told myself, staring at the door of the overstuffed closet. I swear I’m a minimalist.

I wasn’t even going to think about the paperwork yet. That mess of medical notes, bills, and random doodles shoved into drawers and folders would have to wait. It was just too much for one day.

“At least it’s the weekend,” I muttered, dropping onto the bed with a sigh. “If I had to deal with this and work, I’d probably explode.”

I glanced over at the box with my plushies again, the only beacon of progress amidst the storm of things left to do.

“Bluey,” I scolded myself aloud, leaning forward to rest my head in my hands. “You’re supposed to be a doctor. An organized doctor. How is it that the only thing you’ve managed to pack are stuffed animals and pillows?”

Ironic, really. An Inkling who spends her days saving lives and managing emergencies at a very stressful, borderline-shady company like Grizzco... completely undone by packing her own belongings.

“Reckless curiosity,” I muttered with a shake of my head. “Got me this far. Now it’s just reckless procrastination.”

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stand up and face the chaos again. One step at a time, right? I grabbed a roll of tape and a pair of scissors, eyeing the kitchenware with determination.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I told myself. “Spices first. Or... maybe the plates?”

I frowned. Why was it so hard to pick a starting point?

A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. My ears twitched at the sound of a familiar voice, slightly muffled but unmistakable.

“Bluey? Bluey, are you home?”

It was Jaycee.

“Oh, no,” I whispered to myself, glancing around the room in panic. The chaos stared back at me like a judgmental friend. “I didn’t know he’d be this early... Ugh, I’m not even close to ready!”

With a groan, I plastered on the best fake smile I could muster, hoping it would hide just how overwhelmed I was. Brushing my hands over my hair and straightening my shirt, I went to open the door.

The moment it swung open, there he was—Jaycee, or Cyan, standing there with the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face. His happiness was so contagious that, for a moment, it pushed away my anxiety.

“Hey, Bluey!” he greeted me, practically bouncing on his heels. He looked radiant today, full of energy, almost like a kid on his birthday.

I blinked, startled by his enthusiasm. He wasn’t usually like this. This was something special. It must’ve been the thought of us finally moving in together. I had never seen him this... happy.

But just as he was about to ask about my progress, his eyes scanned the room behind me—and froze.

“Oh,” he muttered, blinking as if he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing. “I see you’re... uh...”

I didn’t even try to hide my exasperation this time and shot him a flat look. The mess spoke for itself.

“Well, let’s not waste time,” he said suddenly, clapping his hands together and forcing a grin. “Let’s get to work! The sooner we finish, the better! Just like in Salmon Run—HAHAHA!”

I rolled my eyes at his overly enthusiastic laugh but couldn’t help smiling. He stepped inside, brimming with energy—until he stopped.

His face fell into a frown of confusion as his eyes darted around the room. “Um... Where should we start first, Bluey?”

I didn’t answer. My overwhelming feelings had bubbled back up, rendering me mute. I stared helplessly at the chaotic state of my apartment.

“Bluey?” Jaycee called again, his voice softer this time.

“I don’t know,” I finally admitted, throwing my hands in the air. “I just... I can’t. It’s too much.”

He paused, tilting his head as he scanned the mess once more. Then, in a determined voice, he said, “Here, I’ll take care of your closet while you handle the kitchenware.”

I blinked at him in surprise. “You? With my closet?”

“I don’t trust myself with fragile things,” he said simply, his tone light but serious.

A smile crept onto my face, and I couldn’t resist teasing him. “Oh, really? For someone who seems to be so careful during Salmon Run, you don’t trust yourself with dishes?”

Jaycee smirked and raised a brow. “Bluey, ever since you retired from participating in Salmon Runs, I’ve had to adapt. Let’s just say I’ve learned to be extra careful... when I have to.”

I laughed and reached up to pinch his cheeks, catching him completely off guard. “Alright, Mr. Careful. I’ll take care of the kitchen. Just make sure to pack my clothes properly, okay? And don’t touch my underwear unless you want me to start calling you a perv!”

Jaycee’s face turned an immediate shade of pink as he stammered, “Ye-yes, Bluey! I wouldn’t—I mean, I’d never do such a thing!”

His reaction only made me laugh harder. “Oh, really?” I teased, leaning a little closer.

He turned away quickly, muttering something about the closet as his blush deepened.

I shook my head, grinning as I headed to the kitchen. At least he was here. It made the overwhelming task ahead feel a little more bearable—and a lot more fun.

We got to work. I started with the silverware, which, in hindsight, didn’t seem like much. That was until I realized how many individual pieces I had.

“Cups, chopsticks, bowls, plates, fry pans,” I muttered under my breath as I packed each one neatly into a large box. It wasn’t a lot, but it sure felt like it. “Too many, if you ask me…”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jaycee still tackling my closet.

“For Cod’s sake, Bluey!” he exclaimed, pulling out yet another stack of clothes. “How many clothes do you have? I’m already on the fourth box, and I haven’t even touched your underwear yet!”

“That’s what I thought too,” I said, sarcastically responding to my own overpacking habits.

Jaycee chuckled but kept working diligently.

Once I finished the kitchenware, I dusted my hands off and turned to him. “Okay, Cyan, once you’re done with the clothes, I’ll be making us some lunch.”

“Sure, sure,” he replied, not looking up from folding yet another shirt. “I’m not usually hungry at lunchtime, but thank you.”

I paused at his response, raising an eyebrow. “Huh… Never knew you never ate lunch.” The realization hit me. “Come to think of it, I’ve never actually seen you eat lunch…”

Curious, I brushed the thought aside and opened the fridge, surveying what I had left. A few vegetables and some small pieces of salmon meat caught my eye.

“Salmon soup!” I shouted to myself, already envisioning the dish.

Jaycee’s voice came from across the room. “Did you say something, Bluey?”

“Nothing!” I called back quickly, waving him off. Time to impress him with my cooking.

I grabbed my blue apron, tied it snugly around my waist, and set up the kitchen area. Thankfully, the knives hadn’t been packed yet. Turning on the stove, I got some water boiling while I began slicing the salmon meat and chopping up the vegetables.

The rhythmic sound of the knife on the cutting board and the bubbling water helped ease the tension in my chest. Despite the stress of packing, cooking always gave me a sense of control—and joy.

I smirked to myself as I added the first ingredients to the pot. “He’s going to love this.”

The pungent aroma of freshly chopped garlic lingered on my fingers as I worked. It was something I’d long since gotten used to as a cook, but I had this odd little habit—I'd always catch myself sniffing my fingers after slicing garlic.

And, of course, today was no different.

I brought my fingers up to my nose for a quick whiff, distracted in my thoughts, until I heard Jaycee’s voice behind me.

"Bluey? What are you doing?"

Startled, I froze mid-sniff, my mind scrambling to recover. "Nothing!" I snapped, hurriedly putting my hand down and straightening up.

He squinted suspiciously, tilting his head. "You were sniffing your—"

"You didn’t see anything!" I interrupted, pointing the knife in his direction out of reflex. Then I quickly realized what I was doing and lowered it. “Oops. Sorry.”

Jaycee gave an awkward laugh, raising his hands defensively. "Right…” He wisely turned back to packing my endless wardrobe.

Returning to my chopping, I began dicing an onion next. Focused on perfect slices, I completely forgot the cardinal rule—placing a damp towel near the cutting board to keep the onion's sting at bay. As the sharp, eye-watering chemicals filled the air, my nose twitched, and my vision blurred.

"No, no..." I muttered under my breath, trying to blink away the tears. "I’ve got this. Just... just a bit of stinging…"

SNIFF. SNIFF.

And then it hit me all at once. "AUGH!!!" I groaned, dropping the knife momentarily to rub my watery eyes.

Jaycee's concerned voice cut through my misery. "Bluey?! Are you—are you crying?"

I turned to glare at him sharply. "No! I’m not crying!"

"But you look like—"

“Cyan,” I interrupted, trying to reign in my mounting irritation. “As much as I appreciate your concern, please. I’m just cutting onions.”

He backed off with a sheepish shrug, muttering something under his breath as he returned to folding yet another box of clothes.

Refocusing on my task, I grabbed the salmon fillet next. Taking the time to sharpen my knife, I carefully sliced the fish into thick, even chunks. I was so focused on making each slice perfect that I didn’t notice the water in the pot behind me had started boiling too vigorously. A sudden spurt of hot water splashed onto my arm, causing me to flinch.

"Argh!" I hissed as the knife slipped, leaving a small nick on my finger. It wasn’t a big deal—just a tiny cut. Happens all the time when you handle knives. But, of course, Jaycee immediately picked up on it.

"Bluey?!" His voice was frantic as he rushed into the kitchen. “What happened?”

I groaned inwardly. Of course, he’d overreact.

“It’s just a small cut,” I said quickly, holding up my hand to show him. “Nothing to worry about.”

But Jaycee was already inspecting it, his concern evident. "Are you sure? I can grab some bandages. I should—"

“Cyan.” I placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Before you start panicking, can you please just get the bandages from my desk?”

“Y-yeah, sure.” He darted off, quickly returning with a small roll of bandages. “Are you really okay? I can help if—”

“No, no,” I cut him off again, already wrapping the cut myself. “I can handle it. Just go back to packing, okay?”

Jaycee hesitated, clearly torn. “The water’s boiling over,” he pointed out.

I turned to see the pot bubbling furiously. “Oh shoot!” Quickly, I lowered the heat and gave him a reassuring look.

But he was still staring at me, that same concerned expression plastered on his face.

“Cyan. Please. I’ve got this,” I said firmly, shooing him away.

Reluctantly, he nodded and returned to his task. I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I prepared the rest of the ingredients. The soup was coming along nicely when I heard a sudden, loud SLAP!

"What was that?!” I called out, whipping my head toward the living room. “Cyan?!”

“Nothing!!” he answered quickly, turning to face me. A red mark was clearly visible on his cheek. “There was... a bug on my face.”

My eyes drifted to the pile of clothes he was working on, and I immediately noticed what he was packing. My underwear.

For a moment, I froze, unsure how to react. But then I noticed how stiff and awkward he looked—clearly trying too hard to keep a straight face. He was clearly flustered but wasn’t acting like… well, other guys.

Unlike the boys back in Inkopolis who stared at me with obvious ulterior motives, Jaycee wasn’t like that.

"Alright, Cyan," I said, raising an eyebrow but unable to hide an amused smirk. "Just… don't do anything weird, okay?"

His face turned an even deeper shade of red as he stammered, "W-weird? Me? Never!"

I rolled my eyes playfully, turning back to the stove. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say."

As I sprinkled the last of the salt and pepper into the pot, I took another cautious sniff. The aroma was… underwhelming. Not terrible, just not what I’d hoped. I dipped a spoon into the soup, giving it a quick taste. Bland. The salmon lacked its usual flavor, and while the garlic and onions tried their best to shine, they couldn’t carry the dish.

Well, this is what I’ve got, I thought with a resigned sigh. I glanced at the empty fridge and the trash filled with noodle wrappers, grimacing. “Bluey, you’re a minimalist in the kitchen but a hoarder in the closet. How does that even make sense?”

Determined to make the best of it, I dug out some bowls and a ladle from the box I’d already packed and called for Jaycee.

He turned around, wiping his hands on his shirt after sealing the last of my seven—yes, seven—boxes of clothes.

“Seven boxes…” I stared at the tower of my wardrobe with wide eyes. “Are you sure that’s all mine?”

Jaycee let out an exaggerated groan, his lips curling into a teasing grin. “Oh, it’s yours, alright. I double-checked. I think the Jellyfish Land Lady is going to throw a party once your closet’s finally gone.”

I swatted his arm lightly. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Anyway,” I chirped, trying to steer the conversation away from my apparent clothing addiction, “I made soup!”

Jaycee approached the table with a mix of curiosity and caution. The look on his face when he saw the soup was… less than enthusiastic. His lips twitched like he was trying not to grimace.

“This is…” he started, hesitating.

I crossed my arms. “Go on, say it.”

“It’s… not what I expected, considering that amazing shrimp soup you made for me that one time,” he admitted, carefully lifting the spoon. “It’s bland.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Grabbing the salt and pepper, I added a bit more seasoning, stirring it in. “There. That should help.”

But as I sprinkled the pepper, a fine dust wafted through the air. Jaycee’s nose twitched.

“Ah... ah… ACHOO!” His sneeze echoed like a cannon blast, rattling the table. The bowl of soup tipped, spilling its contents across the table and directly onto me.

The scalding liquid soaked through my clothes, and the sharp sting felt like a Stringer’s ray hitting me all over again. “Augh!” I yelped, stumbling back.

“Bluey!” Jaycee rushed to my side, his eyes wide with panic. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

I clutched my arm, tears welling up—not just from the sting of the burn but from everything piling up. The chaos of the day, the mess of my room, my cut finger, and now this… I felt the floodgates break.

“I’m such a wreck today, Cyan,” I sobbed, unable to hold it in anymore. “My room’s a disaster, my soup is bland, I got cut, and now I’m scorched! I look like a mess, and I just—”

Jaycee placed a hand on my shoulder, his voice soft and steady. “Hey… it’s okay. You’re not alone in this. Things don’t always go as planned, trust me. But we’re in this together, remember?”

I sniffled, wiping at my eyes. “Together?”

“Always,” he said with a small smile. “Now, can I help you this time?”

I managed a shaky laugh. “Yes. Can you grab me a fever pack from my desk?”

“On it.” Jaycee hurried to fetch it, returning with a gentleness that caught me off guard. He opened the pack carefully and pressed it to the reddened area on my arm.

“Ow…” I winced, the cold soothing but also sharp against the burn.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his face a mixture of guilt and focus. “Ironic, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be the tough one here.”

I chuckled softly, wiping the last of the tears from my cheeks. “Oh, Cyan… you’re plenty tough. Just maybe not in the kitchen.”

Once I was patched up and the mess cleaned, I gave the soup another shot, determined not to let the day end on such a sour note. As we sat down, Jaycee tried the improved version, his expression lightening slightly.

“Not bad,” he said, slurping the soup. “Still not shrimp soup, but not bad.”

We laughed together, the tension finally breaking. As we ate, we started talking—about the move, our plans for the future, and little things about our lives we hadn’t shared yet.

Moments like this reminded me why I cared so much for Jaycee. No matter how chaotic things got, we always found a way back to each other. And maybe, just maybe, this move would be the start of something even better.

Saying Goodbye

After lunch, Jaycee and I got back to work, packing the remaining odds and ends into their respective boxes. We even labeled them this time to avoid the chaos of “mystery box roulette” when I unpack.

“And… office supplies!” Jaycee taped the last box shut, stepping back with a satisfied grin. “That should do it!” He scanned the room, his expression slowly shifting as the sheer number of boxes sank in. “Okay… that’s a lot more boxes than I thought.”

“Yeah, me too…” I groaned, rubbing my temples. I didn’t realize just how much stuff I’d crammed into this tiny space.

As Jaycee started counting the boxes, I noticed his posture slump a little with each number. “Fourteen… fourteen boxes…” he muttered, wheezing like he’d just run a marathon.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You okay there, Cyan?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he puffed, straightening up and forcing a grin. “The moving company I called this morning should be here any moment.”

I blinked. “Huh? You hired a moving company? Where did you get the money for that?”

“Shh,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Great. More things I don’t know about my own boyfriend. What else could you be hiding, Cyan?”

I meant it as a joke—or at least, I tried to—but the thought lingered. There were moments, fleeting ones, where I felt like Jaycee carried a weight I couldn’t see. He’d deflect or make light of it, but I could feel it, just beneath the surface.

Still, I pushed the thought aside for now. We’d been through enough today, and I didn’t want to ruin the small victory of finishing the packing.

“Alright, mystery man,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’d better not have any skeletons in your closet. Or in my boxes.”

Jaycee chuckled, though his laugh felt a little forced. “Don’t worry, Bluey. Just trust me.”

Trust. A small word, but it carried so much weight. I wanted to trust him, but sometimes I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were parts of Jaycee I hadn’t seen yet. Maybe ones he wasn’t ready to show.

The sound of a truck pulling up outside snapped me out of my thoughts. “Looks like your secret moving company is here,” I said, glancing toward the window.

Jaycee gave me a small smile, one that felt both reassuring and guarded. “Let’s get this done.”

Soon, there was a knock at my door, and when I opened it, two figures stood there—a burly shark and a tall lobster. Both of them wore bright uniforms that read Splatsville Movers across the chest.

The shark gave a wide grin, his tone cheerful and direct. "G’day! This Jun Lin’s place, yeah? You’d be Miss Jun Lin, then?"

I smiled back, nodding. “That’s me. Come in, all the boxes are ready to go.”

The lobster gave a polite bow before stepping inside, his demeanor calm and professional. “No worries, Miss. We’ve got this covered,” he said.

From behind the shark, the shrimp peeked around, his tone smooth and easygoing as he added, “Dis is what we’re here for, miss. You don’ worry ‘bout a thing now.”

With that, they set to work, moving the boxes with practiced ease. It felt surreal watching my life being packed into a truck. Jaycee and I helped with the smaller things, carefully carrying the last few boxes down the hall.

As we started hauling boxes to the truck, I couldn’t help but wonder: when the last box was packed, and the door to this apartment closed for good, would there still be things left unpacked between us?

As I turned to head back inside for one last look, I saw Mrs. Jenny, my old landlady, waddling toward me. Her translucent, jellyfish-like body glowed faintly in the afternoon light.

“Mrs. Jenny…” I called out softly, a lump forming in my throat.

She tilted her head, her voice lilting as she said, “Jun Lin… leaving now, yes?”

“Yes…” I murmured, unable to keep the sadness out of my tone.

Her gaze shifted to Jaycee, and she gave a knowing nod. “That boy, yes? Good boy he is! Take good care of you, yes? Happy, girl you are, yes?” She shuffled closer and reached up to gently touch my face with her soft tentacle.

I felt my cheeks heat up. “Mrs. Jenny, not in front of him…”

She chuckled, her laughter a bubbly sound. “That boy over there. Very handsome… very caring, he is. You found good man! Happy wife you’ll be, yes?!”

“Mrs. Jenny!” I exclaimed, covering my face as I felt the blush spread.

Her teasing laugh filled the hallway, and she smiled warmly at me. “Jun Lin… you grow up, yes? Mrs. Jenny very proud. See you grow up… successful girl now.”

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “Thank you, Mrs. Jenny… for everything. I love you. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be where I am now.” I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly.

She patted my back gently, her voice soft. “Now, now, child. No cry. Be happy. You strong girl, Jun Lin. Love in heart… kindness too.”

“All because of you, Mrs. Jenny,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Jun Lin,” she replied, her tone filled with pride. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she added, “Take good care of self… and that boy, too. Happy wife you’ll be, I’m sure! HAHAHAHA!”

I blushed again, but this time I didn’t try to hide it. I wanted to soak in this moment, this final goodbye to the woman who had been more than just a landlady—she had been my anchor in this chaotic city.

As I turned away, I saw Jaycee waiting for me near the truck, his expression soft and understanding. He opened his arms, and without hesitation, I ran to him, wrapping myself tightly around him.

“It’s okay, Bluey…” he murmured, his voice steady and warm. “I’m here. I promise to take good care of you. I promise.”

I rested my head against his chest, letting his presence calm the storm of emotions inside me.

Finally, with the last box loaded and my goodbyes said, Jaycee and I climbed into the moving truck. I glanced back at the small apartment one last time, the place that had been my sanctuary for so long.

As the truck pulled away, I whispered a quiet goodbye to the life I was leaving behind, and though my heart ached, I felt a sense of hope. I was heading toward a new chapter—with him.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin's perspective

A New home

The moving truck rumbled to a halt in front of Jaycee’s apartment building, its brakes hissing like a tired sigh. I gripped the edge of the seat, staring out at the place that would now be my new home. My heart raced—excited and scared at the same time.

The Shark, one of the movers, hopped out and swung open the back of the truck with a practiced motion. He turned to Jaycee, nodding. "Where’s the room and floor, mate?"

Jaycee grinned, stepping forward confidently. "Follow me."

As they headed toward the entrance, the Shark turned back and called to his partner, the Lobster, who was stretching his hefty claws. "Hey, help Miss Jun Lin with the other load."

"Ya mon!" the Lobster replied with a laugh. His voice was deep and warm, carrying a casual, reassuring tone. He turned to me, towering but friendly. "So, Miss Jun Lin, what d’you need me to carry?"

I froze for a moment. This was really happening—I was moving in with Jaycee. The thought sat heavy in my chest, as if I'd swallowed a boulder. Change was never easy for me, and this change felt monumental. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but before I could drown in my thoughts, the Lobster's voice snapped me out of it.

"Uh… Miss Jun Lin? Are ya alright, ma’am? Ya sortta dozed off there?"

"Oh! I’m sorry." I offered him a sheepish smile. "Let’s start with the boxes over there." I pointed at the pile of kitchenware and office supplies I'd packed the night before.

"Yes, ma’am!" The Lobster moved toward the boxes with surprising agility for his size, scooping them up effortlessly with his massive claws.

I grabbed a smaller box filled with my plushies and books. Their familiar weight was oddly comforting as I followed the movers into the building.

The apartment building was bigger than my old one—a lot bigger. The polished floors and spacious lobby practically gleamed under the soft overhead lights. I clutched the box a little tighter, feeling like an imposter in such a nice place. It was beautiful, sure, but it was also intimidating. My old place was cozy, humble, and, most importantly, mine. Here, I wasn’t sure I fit in.

Still, there was a flicker of excitement beneath the anxiety. Moving in with Jaycee… it felt like a new chapter. One that scared me, yes, but also one I hoped would be worth it.

The Lobster’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts again as he passed by with a stack of boxes balanced effortlessly. "Nice place ya got here, miss! Betcha gonna love it, huh?"

I nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah... I think I will."

Jaycee was already ahead, leading the Shark and motioning toward the elevator. His confidence made it look easy, like he belonged here. I envied that a little.

Taking a deep breath, I followed them into the elevator, the box of plushies still secure in my arms. This was it—the start of something new. Whether I was ready or not, I was here.

An hour had passed since we started moving boxes, and while it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing, it was… interesting. Watching the Shark and Lobster go back and forth with Jaycee made the time pass faster than I expected.

At one point, the Shark had paused, his eyes wide as he took in the sheer number of clothing boxes stacked in the truck. "Crikey! Didn’t think anyone could own this much gear!"

He froze immediately, his expression turning sheepish as he glanced at me. "Ah, sorry, ma’am—didn’t mean to—"

I waved it off, chuckling. "Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I thought I was a minimalist… Ugh."

That earned a good laugh from everyone, though I made a mental note to maybe clean out my wardrobe.

The Lobster wasn’t as lucky. As he grabbed another box—this time one of my heavier ones filled with clothes—he almost tripped on the edge of the truck while stepping out. "Whoa!"

Before I could react, Jaycee and the Shark lunged to catch him. Unfortunately, the Lobster's heavy shell threw off their efforts, and he toppled onto the ground with a thud.

I gasped and darted forward. "Are you okay? I’m a doctor—where’s my medical box?!" My voice cracked slightly with panic, and I scanned the truck, ready to spring into action.

But Jaycee waved me off with a reassuring grin. "No worries, Bluey. We’re fine."

The Shark chuckled, slapping his partner’s shoulder. "Too right! This guy’s tougher than he looks. Ain’t that right, mate?"

The Lobster groaned as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head with one claw. "Sorry for bein’ such a klutz. Guess I’m not cut out for this as much as I thought."

The Shark shrugged, helping him to his feet. "Least you’re fine. Now, c’mon, let’s finish this up, eh?"

I couldn’t help but smile at the Shark’s calm demeanor. For a species known for their aggression, he had proven himself to be one of the kindest and most patient individuals I’d met. It was refreshing, really.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the last box was placed in Jaycee’s living room. I stood there, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of boxes stacked everywhere.

Jaycee clapped his hands together. "Thanks again, guys. You did a fantastic job." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, handing it to the movers. It was way more than what I’d expect for a tip.

The Lobster’s eyes bulged. "Whoa! Mon, this is way too much! I can’t—"

"No, no," Jaycee insisted, pressing the money into his claw. "You fellas went above and beyond. You deserve it."

The Shark scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered. "Well, mate… thanks for the kindness. Didn’t expect this, that’s for sure."

"Don’t spend it all at once," Jaycee said with a wink.

The Lobster laughed, tucking the money away. "Don’t worry, mon. I’ll keep it for good use."

Both movers bowed deeply, thanking us one last time before leaving. As the door closed behind them, I turned to Jaycee, crossing my arms and giving him the look.

"Seriously? Where did you even get that kind of money?"

Jaycee smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Bluey, there’s so much you don’t know about me. Maybe living here will help you find out—once and for all." He paused, letting the words sink in before adding with a grin, "Though you might regret it."

I rolled my eyes, half-playful and half-irritated. "So… where am I going to sleep?" I gestured toward the mountain of boxes cluttering the living room. Yeah, real minimalist, I thought to myself.

Jaycee’s confident smirk faltered. "Oh. Right. About that..." He scratched his head, looking sheepish. "I have a spare room that… uh… I completely forgot to prepare before you came." He smacked his forehead. "Idiot!"

The frustration in his voice tugged at me. I knew exactly how he felt—that sinking sense of failure when you let someone down, no matter how small the mistake.

"Hey," I said gently, stepping closer. "It’s fine. I’ve got a sleeping bag in one of these boxes somewhere. I’ll manage for tonight. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?"

Jaycee sighed, his shoulders relaxing. "Thanks, Bluey. I’ll make it up to you—I promise."

I smiled. "You’d better."

The evening rolled on, and after a quiet dinner, Jaycee and I began to settle in for the night. With the boxes scattered around the apartment and no spare room prepared, we had to make do.

Jaycee offered, as I expected, to take the living room again. "I’ll sleep out here. You can take the bed—seriously, it’s fine."

I shook my head, already putting down my sleeping bag. "Not this time. We’re a couple, Jaycee. If we’re living together, we have to take turns in owing one another. Tonight’s my turn."

He hesitated, his expression a mix of chivalry and reluctance. "But you’re my girlfriend. I want you to have a life of comfort."

I smiled at his persistence but stood firm. "Jaycee, I’m fine like this. Honestly, this isn’t new to me. It’s how I lived before I even had a roof over my head."

Jaycee’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait, really? You… were like that before? Homeless?"

I couldn’t resist a smirk as I fired back his own words. "There’s so much you don’t know about me, Jaycee."

He rolled his eyes, laughing softly. "Ah, you got me there, Bluey!"

I chuckled but waved him off. "It’s getting late. Go to bed. I’ll handle things here."

Jaycee looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it. "Okay... Good night." He paused by the door, his tone softening. "I love you, Jun Lin."

The words caught me off guard, as they always did, but I smiled, closing the gap between us to give him a quick kiss. "I love you too, Cyan. Now go. To. BED!" I gave him a playful push toward his room. "We have a long day tomorrow."

Jaycee grinned, walking backward with his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Good night!"

When his door clicked shut, I exhaled, suddenly aware of how quiet the apartment was. It wasn’t the bad kind of quiet, but the kind that felt heavy with the weight of something new.

I surveyed the apartment again, the dim light making the shadows stretch long across the room. Even in the darkness, I could spot the neglected corners—the dust clinging to the baseboards, the spots of grime that blended too well with the dark walls. It wasn’t terrible, but it was clear: Jaycee wasn’t exactly a neat freak.

I shook my head, chuckling to myself. "That’s going to change," I muttered under my breath.

Laying out my sleeping bag, I snuggled inside and stared up at the white, dusty ceiling. My mind was still racing. This feeling—excitement and fear tangled together—was overwhelming.

Day one in my new home with my love... I thought to myself, my eyes beginning to grow heavy. It’s going to be a new change. Starting with cleaning this dusty place.

With that promise in my heart, I closed my eyes, letting the hum of the apartment lull me to sleep.

The locked secrets...

The morning sunlight filtered through the apartment windows as I tied my trusty blue apron around my waist—a habit I carried over from my old place. I busied myself in the kitchen, carefully preparing steamed seaweed rice wraps stuffed with a mix of vegetables and leftover crab meat I’d found in the fridge. The aroma filled the air, and for a moment, I allowed myself to revel in the simple act of cooking.

My thoughts wandered to Jaycee. After last night’s move and dinner, I felt this urge to make something special for him—a quiet gesture of love and care. I couldn’t help but hope he’d like it. Anything had to be better than that disastrous Salmon soup we had shared a while back. Ugh… Too many noodles… I winced at the memory of the empty instant noodle wrappers I used to pile up back in my old apartment.

The sound of shuffling feet pulled me from my musings. I glanced toward the hallway to see Jaycee emerging from his room, looking every bit like someone who had just rolled out of bed. His tentacles were a complete mess, sticking out in every direction like an abstract work of art. His half-lidded eyes were puffy, and he was rubbing them with one hand while the other supported his slouched posture.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight of him. "Good morning, Cyan," I greeted, beaming as I placed the food on the table. "I made breakfast!"

"Jaycee?" I asked, sitting down and gesturing for him to join me. He hesitated, finally shuffling over and taking his seat across from me.

As I picked up my chopsticks and began eating, I noticed that he hadn’t touched his food yet. He was just sitting there, staring. "Jaycee... You’ve been quiet lately," I said, tilting my head. "What’s wrong?"

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. "Sorry. Was I staring too long? I didn’t mean to be creepy or anything. It’s just that…"

I raised an eyebrow. "Just what?" I asked through a mouthful of rice, my curiosity piqued.

He hesitated, his face turning an adorable shade of pink. Finally, he muttered, "You look... beautiful... in that apron. Blue really suits you."

I paused mid-chew, processing his words, then swallowed and reached across the table to pinch his cheeks. "Sigh… I’m living with such a soft sweetheart," I teased, unable to resist.

Jaycee winced playfully under my pinch. "To think I was about to say..."

"A tough guy?" I finished for him with a smirk.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You always say that to me, Jun Lin."

"And that’s why I love you," I said simply, letting go of his cheek. "Now dig in! We’ve got boxes to unpack."

Jaycee laughed softly, grabbing his chopsticks. "Alright, alright. But don’t think this means you’re escaping unpacking duty."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," I replied, already imagining how I’d tease him about his messy unpacking skills later.

After breakfast, Jaycee led me to the room he’d set aside for me—a room he conveniently forgot to prepare beforehand. I was optimistic, but as soon as he opened the door, my enthusiasm took a nosedive.

The room was dark, dusty, and, upon closer inspection, a chaotic disaster. Jaycee flicked on the lights, and I was greeted by the sight of boxes stacked haphazardly on what I assumed was supposed to be the bed frame for my mattress.

A sneeze escaped me as the dust assaulted my nose. I waved the air clear, coughing. "Geez, Cyan, how many things have you been hoarding?!" I exclaimed, stepping cautiously into the cluttered space.

Jaycee rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Um… yeah, I guess I’ve been… collecting a few things here and there," he admitted, watching as I gingerly picked up an action figure from one of the piles.

"What even is this?" I asked, turning it over in my hand.

"That’s, uh, one of my Hotlantis finds," Jaycee said, sounding more defensive than he probably meant to. "They’ve got great deals over there!"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "No, what you’ve got is a ton of junk!" I scolded, setting the figure down. "Do you even need all this stuff?"

Jaycee hesitated. "Yes!—I mean, no… Well… let’s just say I had some extra cash and thought… why not?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "Right. Why not. Okay, we’re sorting this out now." I grabbed an empty corner of the room and designated it as our sorting area. "This pile will be for things you’re keeping, and this one will be for things we’re either throwing away or selling. Deal?"

Jaycee shrugged. "Deal. But, uh, be gentle with my stuff, Bluey."

Three hours later, we were still knee-deep in the process. I had grossly underestimated the extent of his “collecting” problem—twenty boxes of pure chaos. And we hadn’t even started dusting yet.

I sat back on my heels, pointing to the sorted piles. "So, these are the items you’re keeping?" I asked, gesturing toward a collection of action figures, trinkets, and random knickknacks.

Jaycee nodded proudly. "Yep. These will make great decorations for the living room."

I rolled my eyes. "And these?" I pointed at the junk pile we’d built up—a collection of half-broken gadgets, outdated gear, and more packaging than I thought one squid could own.

"Trash," Jaycee declared. "I’ll toss these right now. Be back in a bit!" He hoisted the pile and headed for the door.

"Okay! But don’t even think about slacking off!" I called after him, crossing my arms.

"I won’t, Bluey!" he called back cheerfully.

I shook my head, turning to face the still-dusty room. "This is going to be a long day," I muttered to myself, grabbing a cloth to start cleaning. At least it was starting to feel a little more like mine.

As I set to work cleaning the room, I started to take in the layout. It wasn’t so bad once you got past the layer of dust. The room had two large closets on opposite sides, perfect for organizing my things. A full-length mirror leaned against one wall, slightly warped from years of use but functional. The bed frame, though currently cluttered with boxes, looked sturdy enough to hold my mattress.

The best part, though, was the window. It opened up to a surprisingly nice view of the high-rise buildings and, off in the distance, the railway line. I could even see the train station from here! For someone like me, used to cramped apartments with hardly any sunlight, it felt like an upgrade.

Still sneezing occasionally from the dust, I moved on to the desk I planned to use as my new office table. I wiped down the surface, my mind already buzzing with ideas of how I’d set it up. But as I cleaned the drawers, one of them caught my attention—it was half-open.

Curious, I pulled it open further and found a notebook inside. It was worn, the edges frayed, and the cover scuffed from use. My first thought was that it might be Jaycee’s Salmon Run bible, but as I turned it over, I realized it was something else entirely.

"Jaycee's Journal," I read softly, my eyes widening.

Oh my Cod… I just found his journal.

A wave of conflicting emotions hit me like a tidal surge. Curiosity tugged at me—I could finally find out more about who Jaycee really was before we met. The idea of uncovering his inner thoughts, his secrets, was tempting.

But then another voice in my head countered, Are you really going to betray his trust again? What if he finds out this time? The thought sent a pang of guilt through me, scarier than anything else. This was different—I wasn’t just meddling. Reading his journal felt like crossing a line I might not be able to come back from.

My hands trembled as I debated with myself. Before I could decide, I heard Jaycee’s voice calling from the hallway.

"I’m back!" Jaycee announced cheerfully as he stepped into the room. His eyes widened as he took in the now-pristine space. "Whoa!!! This room is spotless, Bluey! This was not the room I used to know."

I quickly shoved the journal back into the drawer, shutting it tightly before turning to face him.

"Well, I did most of the work," I said, brushing my hands off on my apron. "And where have you been? What excuse do you have for leaving me with all this mess?"

Jaycee grinned sheepishly. "Nothing much. Kent called me. He said he was stressing out over work and needed someone to talk to."

My frustration ebbed at his words, replaced by a soft smile. That was Jaycee—always willing to be there for someone. "Oh… I see. Another reason why I love you."

Jaycee perked up at that, his smile widening. "Aw… you really mean that?"

"Yes. Now, grab a bucket of water! We’re mopping this floor next!" I ordered, trying to keep my tone stern, though I couldn’t help but grin.

"Yes, ma’am!" he replied with an exaggerated salute, rushing off to get the bucket.

As he left, I glanced back at the drawer where the journal was hidden. My curiosity still lingered, but for now, I pushed it aside. There would be time to confront those questions later. For now, we had cleaning to finish.

The Mauraders

Hours had passed, and the apartment had finally settled into the quiet stillness of the night. Jaycee and I had spent the entire day unpacking, organizing, and transforming what was once a chaotic and dusty spare room into something I could actually call my own. Dinner had come and gone in a blur of exhaustion, and now the only sound was the faint hum of the Splatsville nightlife filtering through the window.

Jaycee stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame as he surveyed the room. His eyes roamed over the now spotless walls, the neatly arranged furniture, and the organized shelves. "I'm surprised to see the room so spotless, comparing it to what it once was," he said, his voice softer than usual. He paused, his expression distant, almost reflective.

I noticed the shift in his tone and stepped closer, wrapping my arms around him. "Is there something bothering you?" I asked gently.

He hesitated before shaking his head. "Nothing, really. Just... this day made me realize something. This room, before you came into my life, kind of represented me in a way." His voice wavered slightly, and I could see his emotions welling up as he added, "It was cluttered, messy, full of junk. But now... look at it. Clean. Changed."

I tightened my hug, feeling the weight of his words. "That’s... incredibly sweet, Cyan," I said, touched by his vulnerability. "It’s wholesome in a way only you could manage."

Jaycee took a deep breath and straightened, wiping at the corner of his eye. "Thanks, Bluey. Since the room’s all set now, I’ll give you some privacy. Good night. I love you."

I smiled at him, my heart warm. "I love you too, Cyan. Good night." He gave me one last glance before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

But as I stood there in the now quiet room, I could feel it again—that gnawing temptation. Recklessness, my old, persistent companion, started to whisper in my mind.

Read me… Read me…

My eyes drifted toward the desk. Specifically, to the drawer where I’d found the journal earlier. The worn, faded cover seemed to call out to me, almost as if it were alive, its presence far louder in the silence of the night.

I shook my head, trying to resist. No. Don’t do this. It’s his past, his story, and there’s a reason he kept it locked away. But my thoughts were relentless, warring with each other.

What if it holds the answers? one voice whispered. Answers to who he really is, to what shaped him before he met you. Don’t you want to understand him completely?

Another voice countered, firmer but guilt-ridden. No. This is his private life. You can’t violate his trust like this, not again.

My hands trembled as I approached the desk. The battle within me was fierce, and yet, I knew deep down which side would win. My reckless nature had already decided. Forgive me, Cyan… I muttered under my breath as I opened the drawer and pulled out the journal.

The faded title on the cover stared back at me, as if mocking my internal struggle. "Jaycee’s Journal."

The shiver that ran down my spine made me hesitate. My fingers traced the edges of the cover as I whispered to myself, "I really am crossing a line this time." Blaming my recklessness felt hollow as I flipped the first page.

Written in Jaycee’s messy, scrawling handwriting was the title: "The Marauders."

I swallowed hard, suddenly unsure if I wanted to know what lay within those pages. But it was too late to stop now.

Jaycee's perspective - Notebook

Entry: The Marauders

It started the way most bad stories do—with loneliness. Back then, I was alone. Kent had just left Grizz Co to chase his dreams, leaving me behind in that cold, unforgiving facility. I didn’t blame him for leaving, not really. But without him, I was adrift in a sea of glares, whispers, and insults.

"Disgusting half-breed," they’d sneer.

"Octoling and Inkling… what an abomination."

Their words were venom, and they spat them freely. Even when I tried to focus on the work, even when I contributed more than my fair share of the effort to keep Grizz Co running smoothly, it was never enough. I was tolerated, not appreciated. They saw my usefulness but not my worth. Every word of praise I earned felt hollow, every acknowledgment of my skill laced with undertones of revulsion.

This wasn’t new. It had been like this for as long as I could remember, ever since I’d been old enough to understand what I was—something that didn’t fit, a piece that didn’t belong.

Until I met them.

The Marauders.

Ryan, Russel, and Loid. My so-called brothers.

Ryan was the leader, the one who could take charge of any situation with a sharp wit and sharper instincts. He was cool and confident, the kind of person who carried an effortless charisma that drew others to him. But more than that, Ryan saw me. He saw beyond the half-breed label everyone else threw at me. "You're more than what they think you are," he told me once. For someone like me, who was drowning in self-doubt, those words became my lifeline.

Russel, the quiet one, was the brains of the group. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, his words carried weight. He was a strategist, always three steps ahead, his mind calculating plans and contingencies like clockwork. I admired him, though I often felt like I couldn’t keep up with his brilliance.

Then there was Loid. The peacekeeper. The joker. Loid had this knack for defusing tension with a well-timed joke or a goofy smile. He wasn’t particularly skilled in combat or strategy, but he had a way of making you feel at ease, like you weren’t alone in the chaos. That alone made him invaluable.

And then there was me. The odd one out. The person who felt like he was just there, trying to keep up. I wanted to belong, to prove myself, but the reality was harsh. The dangers we faced—Salmonid waves, impossible odds, and the ever-looming threats Grizz Co. threw at us—changed me. It stripped away the bravery I thought I had. With each mission, I became more afraid. More hesitant. A coward.

I can still remember the missions we took on together. Ryan leading us into the fray with that fearless determination. Russel whispering strategies as we ducked under the onslaught. Loid laughing in the face of danger to keep our spirits high. And me? I was always a step behind, struggling to keep up, to not drown in the fear that clawed at my chest.

But they never gave up on me. Not then, at least.

They gave me something I hadn’t felt in a long time—a sense of peace. With them, the shadows of my loneliness started to fade. They became my refuge, a place where I didn’t have to hide who I was. Or so I thought.

I never told them about my family disowning me. I couldn’t bring myself to share the pain of being rejected by the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally. But over time, I started to grow on them—or maybe they grew on me. I began to think of them as my family, the one I’d lost.

Some moments are still etched in my mind, like the evenings with Loid at Monger’s cabin. The two of us sharing rounds of soda, his endless chatter filling the air, the hearty meals we’d devour—the ones he always insisted I paid for. Sure, it felt like he was using me at times, but I could tell he cared in his own way. Or at least, I wanted to believe he did.

Russel, on the other hand, was a different story. He was a friend, sure, but we weren’t close. He was mostly at Ryan’s side, the two of them an inseparable duo. Russel was sharp, calculated, always thinking ten steps ahead, but we didn’t have much in common. Our connection was just… circumstantial. Friends through Ryan, nothing more.

And then there was Ryan.

Ryan wasn’t just a leader to me—he was the one I truly thought of as my brother. My new best friend. The one who saw me for who I was and made me believe I had worth. There’s one night I’ll never forget, down at the pier. Ryan looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, his usual confident demeanor stripped away.

I remember sitting next to him, the salty breeze cutting through the silence, and asking, “What’s wrong?”

At first, he didn’t answer. But then he broke.

He started talking about his family. The impossible expectations they placed on him. How his older brother, the golden child, had died, leaving all the pressure and responsibility to him. He had been neglected for so long, cast aside as the spare, and now he was expected to carry a legacy he never asked for. It was overwhelming. Crushing.

I remember listening to him, nodding, sympathizing. I told him he wasn’t alone, that we had each other, that we were the Marauders—the rising stars of Grizz Co., unstoppable as long as we stuck together.

But deep down, I was lying.

I didn’t believe my own words. My heart was a tangled mess of fear. Fear of losing them, of losing this fragile sense of belonging. Fear of stepping into the dangers we faced together. Fear of committing to something real.

And that fear? It cost me.

It cost me dearly.

I remember the mission vividly, though the details blur in the chaos of my mind. What remains crystal clear, however, are my actions—or lack of them—and the consequences that followed.

The Salmonids came in waves, relentless and overwhelming. Their bosses were everywhere—Steelheads lobbing explosive projectiles, Fish Sticks planting their towering distractions, Scrappers barreling toward us, and Flyfishes wreaking havoc from above. The battlefield was a cacophony of destruction, a nightmare painted in greens and oranges.

Ryan barked an order, his voice cutting through the madness. “Jaycee, with me! We need to take out that Flyfish, now!”

But I froze.

In front of us was a horde of Salmonids, a writhing wall of chaos that made my chest tighten and my thoughts spiral. Doubts surged in my mind, louder than Ryan’s commands. Can I do this? What if I fail? What if I get overwhelmed?

I hesitated, and Ryan turned to me. The trust in his eyes—the belief that I’d follow him without question—shifted into something else. Realization. Disappointment.

I stammered excuses, trying to keep my fear in check, but my hesitation cost us dearly. Ryan couldn’t do it alone, and we failed the quota. The moment the mission ended, I felt the weight of my failure crush me.

On the boat ride back, I tried to approach Ryan, to apologize, to explain myself, but his silence was louder than any words he could’ve said. He turned away, his back rigid, his expression unreadable.

Loid noticed my distress and tried to comfort me, his jokes and easygoing nature doing little to lift the heavy cloud around me. Russel, on the other hand, stayed close to Ryan, whispering words I couldn’t hear, likely trying to calm him down.

But I knew.

This was the turning point.

The words I had once spoken to Ryan—the reassurances that we were brothers, that we were unstoppable as long as we had each other—had resonated with him, given him hope. Yet, in the moment it mattered most, I proved them to be lies.

I had failed him.

I had failed them all.

The next day, I went down to the docks, a flicker of hope clinging to my chest like a stubborn ember. Maybe today, we’d move past it. Maybe Ryan, Russel, and Loid would be there, and we’d fall back into the rhythm we’d built as the Marauders. Brothers. Family.

I waited.

The salty breeze tugged at my clothes, carrying the faint echoes of the sea. My eyes darted to every figure in the distance, my heart leaping each time someone approached, only to plummet when it wasn’t them.

Minutes turned into hours. The sun climbed higher in the sky, then began its slow descent. Still, they never came.

Not a word. Not a note. Not even a goodbye.

I stood there at the edge of the dock, staring out at the empty horizon, the sound of waves lapping against the shore feeling like mocking whispers in my ears. My legs gave out, and I sank to my knees.

The gravel below scraped against me as I clenched my fists and slammed them into the ground with every ounce of frustration and regret I had.

“This is my fault,” I muttered, the words strangled and raw. My fists struck the gravel again, my knuckles aching as I cursed myself. “This is the cost... of my lie... of my fear... of me.”

The weight of it all pressed down on me, a suffocating, unrelenting ache.

I had lost everything.

The sense of brotherhood. The trust. The warmth they had given me when no one else would.

I had lost them.

And as I knelt there, my chest heaving, my heart aching, I felt it creep in again—that cold, hollow feeling.

That void.

The same void I felt when my family abandoned me. The same void I felt when love slipped through my fingers before.

Now it was back, darker and deeper than ever, swallowing everything I had left.

And there, on that empty dock, I realized that I was alone. Again.

Jun Lin's perspective

As I sat there, holding the worn journal in my hands, my heart felt like it was being slowly crushed. The words I had just read—Jaycee’s words—were like a cold slap to the face. I had always known that Jaycee carried pain, but this... this was something different. The weight of it all was unbearable. His fear. His self-doubt. The loneliness he had suffered in silence. I cried silently, my tears staining the edges of the pages, feeling like I was intruding on something far too personal. Something that was never meant to be shared.

But now, after reading about his life with the Marauders—the team he thought of as his family, the bond that had built him up only to have it shatter because of his own fear—it was like I could feel every ounce of that loss he’d suffered. Every moment of regret. Every whispered lie. It was all laid out before me, raw and real.

I couldn’t stop crying.

What hurt the most wasn’t just the betrayal of the Marauders, or even the way Jaycee had twisted his own feelings into something he couldn’t control—it was the fact that he never let me in. He kept this part of himself hidden from me, even though we were supposed to be getting closer. He had built these walls around his heart, and all I could do was stand there, helpless, unable to truly reach him.

I sniffled, wiping my eyes as I turned the pages, desperate to understand more. Maybe this entry would help me find a way to connect the pieces.

But as I flipped the page, I noticed something strange. There was a different tone in the next entry, one that felt lighter, almost... tender.

My Angel

For a moment, my heart skipped. My breath caught in my throat. I thought for a split second that maybe, just maybe, he was writing about me. Maybe this was where his heart had finally opened to me.

But as I glanced down at the date, my stomach dropped.

It wasn’t about me.

It wasn’t even close.

The date was long before I ever entered his life, long before I became his ‘Bluey.’

I swallowed hard, feeling a mixture of confusion and dread wash over me. Who was he talking about?

There was a name. A name I didn’t recognize.

A different person.

And suddenly, everything I thought I understood about Jaycee felt like it was slipping through my fingers. I wasn’t his angel. I wasn’t the one who had saved him, or pulled him from the darkness.

This person was.

And in that moment, I realized... there was so much more to his story. So much more that he hadn’t shared with me. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin Perspective

The journal sat in my lap like a weight, heavier than anything I had ever lifted in my work as a doctor. The title of the entry, My Angel, stared back at me, daring me to open it. I could already feel my heart bracing for the impact of whatever I was about to uncover.

Who was Angel Dee?

I opened the page carefully, as if the brittle paper might crumble under my touch. Jaycee’s handwriting was there—sharp and hurried, the ink slightly smudged in places. It was as if he had written it in a rush, desperate to get the words out before they consumed him.

"We met by accident, after everything else fell apart. The Marauders abandoned me—or maybe I abandoned them. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that Angel Dee found me when I was at my lowest. She saw me when I felt invisible. She believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself."

The lump in my throat grew as I read, his words pulling me into a version of Jaycee I had never seen before. Vulnerable. Lost. Searching for something—someone—to anchor him.

"Angel had a way of smiling that made the world feel softer. Her kindness was effortless, like she didn’t even realize how much of it she gave to people like me, people who didn’t deserve it. She made me feel like I could belong."

A part of me wanted to stop reading. The rawness in his words was too much, too intimate. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

"I fell in love with her. How could I not? She was everything I thought I couldn’t have. Everything I thought I didn’t deserve."

My chest tightened, the pain in his words now mine to bear. Jaycee—my Jaycee—had loved before. Deeply. Completely. A love that he had never spoken of, not to me, not to anyone.

"I tried to be enough for her. I did everything I could to make her happy. But I didn’t realize the storm I carried inside me. My anger, my doubts, my pain—it seeped into everything. I thought I could protect her, but I ended up hurting her instead."

I blinked back tears, my vision blurring as the words seemed to twist and bend on the page. Jaycee’s pain felt so real, so alive, as if the wounds were still fresh in his mind.

"I still remember the day I told her. I poured everything out to her, every feeling I had locked away. I told her I loved her. I told her she was my light, my reason to keep going."

I could almost hear his voice in my head, trembling but steady, the way he spoke when he was baring his soul.

"I love you," he had written, the words bold, underlined as if to etch them into his memory.

The response that followed made my breath catch.

"Oh, Jaycee. Thank you, but… I don’t want to be rude."

My fingers tightened around the journal, the words like shards of glass cutting into me.

"You were just a great experience."

The tears I had been holding back spilled over, hot and unrelenting. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, but they kept coming, blurring the ink on the page.

"You were everything to me," Jaycee had written.

"I’m sorry, but… we just can’t."

The final words of the entry struck me like a physical blow:

"She walked away without telling me why. And just like that, the cold void in my heart grew back, stronger than before."

I closed the journal abruptly, clutching it to my chest as if to shield it—and myself—from the pain spilling out of it. My tears wouldn’t stop, and I didn’t want them to ruin something so precious to him. I set it on the desk, my hands trembling as I pushed it away.

But as I moved to stand, my eyes caught sight of the next page.

A single word was scrawled at the top, messy and unsteady, as if his hand had been shaking when he wrote it:

"Alone."

My heart sank deeper, the weight of that one word crushing me. Whatever he had written in that final entry, it was too much to face now.

I turned away, my tears falling freely as I tried to steady my breathing. For now, I couldn’t read any more. Not because I didn’t want to know, but because my heart couldn’t take it.

But I would come back to it. I had to. For him. For us.

Chapter Text

Jun Lin Perspective

Final Entry: Alone

I stood by the desk, the journal lying closed before me. My reflection stared back from the dimmed window, tear-streaked and raw, but my eyes were resolute. I couldn’t let myself crumble now, not before I knew the rest.

Jaycee’s words still echoed in my mind—his pain, his longing, his loss. "She walked away without telling me why." And now, that single haunting word written at the top of the next entry loomed over me like a storm cloud: Alone.

I swallowed hard, mustering all the courage I had left. I had no right to cry anymore, no right to let my emotions spill over the journal that held his darkest truths. My tears weren’t what Jaycee needed. He needed someone who would understand, someone who would shoulder the weight he couldn’t bear alone.

My fingers hovered over the cover, trembling slightly. The room felt suffocatingly quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the streetlights outside.

"I need to do this," I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible.

I wasn’t sure if I meant it for my sake or his. Maybe both.

Carefully, as if the journal itself might shatter under the weight of what it held, I opened it to the next page. The word was there, scrawled in heavy, uneven letters at the top:

"Alone."

The tears I had fought so hard to suppress threatened to break free again. I bit my lip, steadying myself, and placed a hand over my heart.

"I’ll see this through, Jaycee," I murmured, my voice firmer this time. "No matter how painful it is."

With one final breath to steel myself, I began to read.

The handwriting in this entry was different—messier, almost frantic. The ink bled heavily into the page, as if Jaycee had pressed the pen down too hard, the weight of his emotions breaking through.

"I’ve thought about this so many times before. Over and over again, these moments play like a loop in my head. Each one cuts deeper than the last, and every time I try to move forward, it feels like I’m dragging the chains of everything I’ve lost."

I traced the words with my eyes, my chest tightening as I read further.

"My family… the ones who should’ve protected me, believed in me, stood by me. They cast me out instead. All because of him. Diego. My own brother. The lies he spun tied my hands, and they didn’t even stop to question it. They just… banished me."

I could see it clearly in my mind, Jaycee—young, vulnerable, begging for someone to listen, to hear his truth. But no one had.

"And Kent…" the words trailed off, and there was a visible pause before the next sentence.

"Kent was my best friend. He had dreams, big ones, and I was happy for him. I wanted him to succeed, to become something more. But when he left… it was like he took a part of me with him. I told myself it didn’t matter, that I could survive without him. But I couldn’t. I felt it every day, the weight of his absence."

I couldn’t stop the tears this time, no matter how hard I tried.

"Then there were the Marauders. Ryan, Loid, Russel. My so-called team. My brothers in arms. I trusted them, and I thought they trusted me. But in the end, they left too. I still remember the gravel beneath my knees that day, digging into me as I knelt there, cursing myself for everything that had gone wrong. Because it was my fault. All of it. They left because of me."

The pain in his words was suffocating, and I could feel his despair like it was my own.

"And Angel Dee…" His handwriting faltered, as if he’d hesitated before writing her name.

"Her rejection… it broke something in me. I thought she was my light, my way out of the darkness. But when she said those words—when she said I was just a ‘great experience’—it was like every piece of hope I’d clung to shattered. I started looking at myself, at everything I’d done, and all I could see was the monster I’d become. The person who didn’t deserve her, or anyone else."

My hands shook as I turned the page, the ink smudging where his words had been written in heavy strokes.

"I’ve tried to fight it, this… thing inside me. But my emotions—they twist everything. The anger, the bitterness, the loneliness—it all festers, and I can feel it consuming me. The void in my heart grows darker every day, creeping deeper, seeping into every corner of who I am. No matter how hard I try to push it away, it’s always there. Watching. Waiting."

His words grew jagged, the lines uneven as if his hand had trembled while writing.

"I feel so cold. So… so cold."

The final sentence trailed off into nothingness, the ink thinning at the edges. I stared at it for a long time, the weight of his pain crushing me.

Jaycee’s heart had been broken so many times, and I hadn’t even known the half of it. All this time, he had been carrying this unbearable burden alone.

And then I saw it—the very last entry. Just a single word, scrawled at the bottom of the page:

"Alone."

My heart sank further, as if the word itself had ripped it from my chest. I closed the journal slowly, my tears falling onto the cover. For a moment, I held it to my chest, my arms wrapped around it as if trying to hold onto Jaycee himself.

I sat there, clutching the journal to my chest, my mind swirling with everything I’d read. Every word Jaycee had written was etched into me now, each revelation striking a chord that reverberated deep in my soul.

The Marauders. Their abandonment and betrayal. I could see it so clearly now—Jaycee, kneeling in the gravel, his fists clenched so tightly they trembled as he cursed himself, thinking it was all his fault. The people he had trusted most, who had fought by his side, had walked away without a second thought. It was no wonder he had walls so high I’d never dared to think I could climb them.

And Angel Dee—his first love. I thought about her words: "You were just a great experience." How much those must have haunted him, twisting his perception of himself until all he could see was a broken, unlovable man. That rejection, the hope he had poured into her, only to watch it crumble, had left him loathing not just the world but himself.

Then there was that final word: Alone.

It wasn’t just a word—it was the culmination of everything Jaycee had endured. Every betrayal, every loss, every rejection. Every time he had reached out, only to be pushed away. Every time he had dared to hope, only to have it stripped from him. It was as if life had conspired to keep him in the dark, to make him believe he deserved the loneliness that had followed him like a shadow.

As I sat there, I pieced together what I could from my own memories.

The family reunion… I could still see it in my mind, his violent reaction against his siblings. At the time, I’d thought it was just anger—misplaced, perhaps, but nothing more than a moment of rage. Now I knew better. That anger had been a release, a boiling over of years of pain and rejection. Diego’s lies, his family’s abandonment—it all made sense now.

His breakdowns, the times he’d wake up in a cold sweat or refuse to talk to me for days. I had thought he was just stressed, that maybe the work at Grizzco or the memories of Big Runs were weighing on him. But no—it was more than that. It was everything.

And his fear. The way he would panic if I was ever in danger or hurt. I used to think he was just overprotective, that it was part of who he was. But it was more than that. It was terror—the fear of losing someone he cared about again. The fear of being left alone once more.

Then his anger… The times he’d lash out, the way he’d shout at me when I tried to get too close. I used to think it was just frustration or impatience. Now I saw it for what it was: desperation. A way to push me away before I could hurt him, like so many others had.

Everything… Everything Jaycee had done, every reaction, every outburst, every moment of silence—it all tied back to this. To being alone.

He’d been carrying this for so long, the weight of all this pain, and I had barely even noticed. I had seen glimpses of it, felt the cracks in his armor, but I’d never truly understood just how deep those cracks ran.

A sob escaped me before I could stop it, and I quickly covered my mouth. My tears were falling freely now, and I didn’t care anymore. I pressed the journal to my chest, as if I could somehow reach through it and hold Jaycee, comfort the broken boy whose pain spilled out onto these pages.

“All these years…” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You’ve been carrying this all these years…”

The thought tore me apart.

I stood abruptly, clutching the journal in my arms. I had to do something—I couldn’t just sit here and cry while Jaycee’s pain lingered like a ghost in this room.

But what could I do?

I didn’t have the answer yet, but I knew one thing for certain: I couldn’t let Jaycee carry this alone anymore. I couldn’t let him believe, even for a second, that he was still alone.

Wiping my tears, I steeled myself. This wasn’t about me. It was about him. And I wasn’t going to let him face the darkness alone anymore.

“I’m here, Jaycee,” I said softly, almost as if he could hear me. “I’ll always be here.”

Chapter Text

Jun Lin Perspective

I held the journal tightly in my hands, its weight far heavier than it had been when I first found it. My heart raced, pounding against my chest as if it were trying to escape the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I tried to take a deep breath, but it hitched, catching on the lump forming in my throat.

Finally, I knew. Jaycee’s past wasn’t just a distant shadow—something vague and untouchable—it was real, raw, and far more painful than I ever could have imagined. Every word I’d read had left a mark on me, as though I had felt his heartbreak and his anger as my own.

I was overwhelmed, not just by the revelations but by the sheer depth of his pain. It was like standing in the middle of a raging sea, waves of guilt, sorrow, and love crashing over me, pulling me under until I could barely breathe.

I thought I knew him. I thought I understood the man I had fallen in love with. But I hadn’t. Not completely.

“Jaycee…” I whispered his name like a prayer, a desperate plea to the empty room.

He had always been a mystery, keeping his walls firmly in place, letting me glimpse only what he wanted me to see. I’d seen the anger, the protectiveness, the occasional flashes of vulnerability, but never the truth. Not like this.

And now I understood why.

I thought back to the journal, to the moments he’d described so vividly. His family’s betrayal, the abandonment by his friends, the rejection by Angel Dee—all of it had shaped him, had turned him into the man I knew today. And yet, despite everything he’d endured, despite the cold void he had carried inside him for so long, he still had so much love to give.

But he didn’t see that. He couldn’t.

Instead, he saw himself as broken, undeserving. A man who had been left behind so many times that he had convinced himself it was better not to hope, not to trust, not to love.

And yet, here I was, standing in the middle of his storm, wanting nothing more than to hold him, to tell him that he wasn’t alone anymore. That he never had to be.

But would he believe me?

That thought stopped me in my tracks, a new kind of fear gripping my heart. What would Jaycee say when he found out I’d read his journal? Would he lash out, angry that I had invaded the one place he had poured out his soul? Would he shut me out completely, his walls rising higher than ever?

I remembered the last time I went behind his back—the time I tried to fix his strained relationship with his brother, Kokow. That decision had gone wildly out of control, spiraling into something I hadn’t anticipated. It nearly shattered the fragile trust between us. I could still hear his words from that day, the anger and hurt in his voice as he confronted me, asking why I had interfered.

But somehow, we had pushed through. We had fought, we had cried, and in the end, we had forgiven each other. That experience had taught me how deeply his trust ran—and how easily it could break.

And now, I had crossed another line, this time without even meaning to. Would he forgive me again? Or would this be the final straw, the moment that pushed him too far?

Or would he just… break?

The idea of him breaking, of seeing the pain I’d just glimpsed in his words spilling out in front of me, made my chest ache.

“I didn’t mean to…” I murmured aloud, as if I were already trying to explain myself to him. “I just wanted to understand. To help.”

But how could I explain that to him when I could barely explain it to myself?

I sank down onto the edge of the bed, the journal still clutched against my chest. Tears stung my eyes, and I let them fall freely now, no longer caring about holding them back.

For the first time, I felt like I truly understood Jaycee—his fears, his anger, his pain. Everything he had done, every moment we had shared, suddenly made sense.

And it only made me love him more.

Jaycee's Perspective

A new morning dawned, and with it came the start of another workday. This time, though, there was a little more excitement to it. After the whirlwind of helping Bluey—Jun Lin—move into my place over the weekend, this would be our first time commuting to work together. No more waiting at separate train stations or playing the game of “who gets there first.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, still feeling the haze of morning drowsiness clinging to me. My mind, however, was starting to boot up, ticking through the tasks ahead—Salmon Run shifts, gear maintenance, and whatever fresh chaos Grizzco had waiting for us.

I rolled out of bed and stretched, catching the faintest glow of the sunrise creeping through the blinds. Usually, Bluey was the first one up, her energy boundless even at the crack of dawn. But this time? Silence.

I stepped into the main room, glancing toward the door of the spare room—now her room after we’d spent the weekend clearing it out. The faint sound of her steady breathing carried through the slightly ajar door. She was still fast asleep. I couldn’t help but smirk. So, it’s my turn to shine.

Heading into the kitchen, I decided to surprise her. Coffee first—because even Bluey’s morning cheer needed a caffeine boost—and then breakfast. I set the kettle to boil, the soft hiss of the burner filling the quiet room.

For breakfast, I kept it simple but meaningful: seaweed-wrapped rice and a side of grilled salmon meat. Not just any salmon, though. This was special, a chunk of meat from a Maw I’d claimed during our last shift, neatly packaged thanks to a favor I’d called in at Mama Bing’s. It had taken some convincing—she didn’t usually take requests—but I’d made it happen.

The aroma of the grilling salmon filled the air, mingling with the rich scent of brewing coffee. I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride. Sure, I wasn’t the best cook, but this was about effort, not perfection.

By the time the food was ready and plated, the first rays of sunlight were streaming into the room. I poured two cups of coffee, one exactly how she liked it—sweet but not too much—and set the table.

Turning back, I glanced toward the couch again. Bluey was starting to stir, her blanket shifting as she stretched and yawned. She blinked at me, her eyes still heavy with sleep but soft with warmth when they met mine.

“Morning,” I said, holding up her coffee like a trophy. “Thought I’d impress you for once.”

Her surprised smile was all the reward I needed.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Instead of the bright, cheerful energy I was expecting, she just stared at me. The warmth in her expression faded, replaced by something I couldn’t quite place at first. Her shoulders trembled, and it hit me—she was shivering. Not from the chill of the morning, though. This was something deeper.

Grief.

I froze, my hand still holding the coffee mug out toward her. My heart sank, and a cold weight settled in my chest. This wasn’t like her at all. Bluey was always the one to shake off bad vibes with a laugh or a playful tease, but now? She looked… lost.

“Bluey?” I set the mug down on the table and took a step closer. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer immediately, her hands clutching at the edge of her blanket like it was her lifeline. Her light blue eyes, usually so lively, darted away from mine, as if she couldn’t bear to look at me.

“Jun Lin,” I tried again, my voice softer this time. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

Still nothing.

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating. My mind raced, trying to piece together what could’ve caused this. Did something happen while I was asleep? Did she have a nightmare? Or was this about something else entirely?

“Is it… something I did?” I asked cautiously, my throat tightening. The thought stung more than I wanted to admit.

Finally, she looked up at me, her lips parting as if to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, shaking her head.

“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s not… you. I just…”

Her words trailed off, and she wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I moved closer, crouching in front of her, careful not to push too hard.

“Jun Lin,” I said firmly but gently, “whatever it is, you don’t have to handle it alone. Talk to me. Please.”

She hesitated, her hands gripping the blanket even tighter. For a moment, I thought she might shut me out completely. Then, she took a shaky breath and looked into my eyes, the anguish in hers making my chest ache.

“I… I read it,” she finally said, her voice cracking.

“Read what?”

“Your journal,” she admitted, her words tumbling out like a confession. “The one I found when we were unpacking. I didn’t mean to, but… I couldn’t stop. And Jaycee… I know everything now.”

My stomach twisted at her words, a flood of emotions crashing into me all at once—shock, anger, fear, and something else I couldn’t quite name. She knew. She knew everything.

A familiar anger bubbled to the surface, hot and sharp, as Jun Lin’s words sank in. She’d gone behind my back—again. Just like before, when she tried to fix things between me and Kokow, meddling in something she didn’t fully understand. I clenched my fists at my sides, my jaw tightening. The urge to shout at her, to let my frustration explode, was almost unbearable.

She’d moved in just yesterday. Maybe rushing into this was a mistake. Maybe I wasn’t ready to share my space, my life, like this.

I opened my mouth, ready to unleash everything pent up inside me, when a memory surfaced.

"You know, lad? You're blessed to have someone who really cares for you."

Captain Virgil’s voice echoed in my thoughts, calm and steady, cutting through my anger like a tide washing over jagged rocks.

I remembered that night at the Monger’s Cabin, his words heavy with meaning. Back then, I had been so caught up in my own pain that I hadn’t fully understood. But now, with Bluey trembling in front of me, her face etched with regret, the weight of those words finally hit me.

"No," I murmured to myself, my voice barely audible, "I’m not that person anymore."

The fire in my chest flickered and died, replaced by something softer—sympathy. I unclenched my fists and exhaled, the tension in my body easing. She hadn’t done this to hurt me. She wasn’t trying to pry out of malice or curiosity. She was trying to understand me, to bridge a gap I had built myself.

Even so, it didn’t erase the fact that what she did crossed a line.

I straightened, meeting her tear-filled eyes. “Jun Lin,” I began, my voice steadier than I expected, “what you did… it wasn’t okay. You didn’t respect my space, my privacy. That journal… I thought I’d buried that part of me. But now it’s been dug up again, and it’s—”

I paused, searching for the right words. “It’s overwhelming.”

She flinched at my tone, but I continued, my voice softening. “But I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. And I know you’ve read things that… weren’t easy for you either.”

Her lip quivered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Jaycee. I just… I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to understand you better. I wanted to know why you’ve been hurting so much.”

The sincerity in her voice broke down the last remnants of my anger. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on both of us.

“I know,” I said quietly. “But next time… ask. Please.”

She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks, and I reached out, gently brushing one away with my thumb. “We’ll get through this, Bluey. But you have to trust me to share things in my own time. Just like I’ll trust you not to push too hard. Okay?”

She nodded again, and for the first time that morning, I saw a flicker of relief in her eyes.

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath as the weight of everything settled on me.

“You really are a changed boy, aren’t you, Cyan?” The voice echoed in my mind, unbidden, and for once, I didn’t fight it.

I let the memories come, the pain washing over me in waves.

Grandpa’s death—his voice fading, his wisdom silenced, leaving me adrift.

My parents’ cold rejection, their banishment like a knife carving into my sense of belonging.

Kent’s departure, his dreams taking him far away while leaving a quiet void I pretended didn’t hurt.

The Marauders—Ryan, Loid, Russel—turning their backs on me, the gravel beneath my knees as I cursed myself for being the cause of it all.

Angel Dee’s rejection, her words cutting deeper than I’d ever let on. The hollow emptiness that followed, a void that consumed me for years.

And the loneliness. The cold, endless loneliness.

It all surged up at once, a cacophony of voices and emotions I’d buried for so long. But this time, I didn’t feel overwhelmed.

Because she was here.

I opened my eyes, and there she was—Jun Lin. My Bluey. The girl who had stumbled into my life, clumsy and awkward, but somehow managed to break through every wall I’d put up.

“I can’t escape my ghosts,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve learned to live with them. And… to change.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she stayed quiet, letting me speak.

I gave her a weak smile, the kind that felt fragile but genuine. “And I had you in my life now. Because of you, Bluey, I wouldn’t have noticed all these walls I have against myself. All this pain I’ve carried, all these things I’ve tried to lock away… You made me see them. You made me want to break free of them.”

Her lips parted as if to speak, but I held up a hand, not to stop her, but to let me finish.

“Thank you,” I said simply, the words heavier than I expected. “For being here. For being… you.”

Her face softened, and for the first time since this morning, I saw the Bluey I knew—the one who could weather anything with a smile, even if it wasn’t for her own sake.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like a shared understanding, a moment where words weren’t needed anymore.

In that moment, I knew we’d be okay. That, together, we could face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Jaycee Perspective

A Life with Her

It had been a week since Bluey moved in with me. Adjusting to her presence wasn’t as hard as I thought it might be—although that didn’t mean it was without its challenges.

Bluey, for one, seemed to have this endless energy for scolding me over the little things. I wasn’t exactly the tidiest Half-Breed, and she had no problem calling me out when I left my gear scattered around or when the sink mysteriously piled up with dishes. Her voice had this sharpness to it, like a blade, but I knew it came from a place of genuine care.

Then there was her... quirks. For someone who prides herself on being a responsible doctor, Bluey had a habit of staying up late, often immersed in her phone. At first, I thought she was catching up on work, maybe reading medical journals or responding to patient queries. But no—it turned out she was scrolling endlessly, her face lit up by the soft glow of the screen, diving deep into whatever app had her attention that night. It was... amusing, honestly.

Yet despite these little annoyances, there was something endearing about her presence. Even after she found my journal and unearthed pieces of my past I had intended to keep buried, she didn’t run. I hadn’t planned for her to see those fragments of my life, and yet, she faced it—faced me—and we somehow made it work.

Bluey was curious, sometimes recklessly so. But underneath that boldness was a caring nature that I couldn’t help but admire. She had this ability to make people feel seen, valued, even when they didn’t feel they deserved it. I wondered what had shaped her into this person—the one who could be so brash yet so tender.

Maybe one day, I’d find out.

The Offer

"You want me to do what?!" I snapped, my voice echoing across the docks. The port manager—a stout, grumpy crab—flinched slightly but held his ground.

"Oi, mate, calm your tentacles," he said, raising a claw defensively. "The boss and management just need ya to cover the night shift. Just this one night, alright? Not my idea, so don’t lash out on me!"

I pinched the space between my eyebrows, feeling the tension already building. Night shifts. Great. Just great. I sighed internally, already dreading the conversation I’d have to have with Bluey later.

"I’m not fond of the night shift," I said, my tone sharp but controlled. "Alright, sir? The last time I did one, it wasn’t pretty. Sure, the glowflies are a nice sight, but it’s a whole different story when you see those red eyes charging straight at you!"

The crab took a cautious step back, his beady eyes narrowing like he thought I’d lost my mind.

"Er... too much, mate?" he said, sounding more confused than concerned. "Look, I’m just sayin’—the usual pay’s doubled for this shift. But if you’re not interested, I’ll let management know you’ve declined—"

"Doubled, you say?" I interrupted, my irritation momentarily forgotten. My ears perked up, and my interest was suddenly piqued.

"Er... yeah, doubled. What of it?"

I smirked, crossing my arms. "Tell Mr. Grizz I’ll take the offer. Just this time, got it?"

The crab muttered something under his breath as he scribbled on his clipboard. "Arrogant half-breed..."

The Reaction

"You’ve taken what?!" Bluey’s voice pierced through her office walls like a sharp jab. Every patient in the room turned to look at her in stunned silence.

She quickly composed herself, offering a polite smile. "Excuse us for a moment," she said, gesturing for them to wait as she ushered me inside.

The door hadn’t even clicked shut before she started pacing back and forth, her steps agitated and frantic. The air around her buzzed with a tension I could feel down to my core.

"Bluey," I started cautiously, raising my hands. "I know this is surprising, but the pay is—"

"I don’t care about the pay!" she snapped, cutting me off mid-sentence. Her light-blue ink flushed darker with emotion. "It’s the night shift, Cyan! Night shift! You know as well as I do how dangerous it is! You’ve told me yourself how bad those experiences were! I—" She flailed her arms, her frustration spilling over, before collapsing into her office chair.

Leaning back, she pressed a hand to her forehead, her expression softening but growing heavier. Her voice cracked as she added, "You... you know what that shift can do. Why would you...?"

Her words trailed off, and her eyes shimmered, threatening tears.

I froze. This wasn’t the usual Bluey—calm, collected, always in control. No, this was something else entirely. Had I triggered some bad memory for her?

"Bluey..." I hesitated, unsure of how to approach her when she looked so vulnerable. My mind raced to find the right words, but nothing felt good enough.

She didn’t respond, only staring at me with a mixture of hurt and worry that left me feeling smaller than I’d care to admit.

The words stung more than I cared to admit. My grip on my emotions tightened, but I let it slide. Maybe I’d gone a bit overboard with my attitude earlier. Regardless, the pay was worth the risk, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to earn a little extra.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder how Jun Lin—Bluey—would react to this. She always worried about me more than I cared to acknowledge. This news wasn’t going to go over well...

After a brief silence, I saw the tears spill over. Bluey’s voice cracked, raw and trembling. "I lost so many friends during those shifts... So, so many... Friends..."

I felt my stomach drop. "What happened? What event?" I asked softly, unsure if I even wanted to know.

Her gaze seemed far away, staring into some invisible abyss. "Fog," she whispered. "Thick, dense fog. The kind where you can’t even see your own hands, let alone what’s ahead of you. It wraps around you, suffocating... until it’s too late."

She paused, her hands gripping the arms of her chair as though grounding herself from the memory. "Even at night, those Salmonids—those monsters—they know where you are. The darkness doesn’t hide you. This is why I swore... I swore I’d never go back to the night shift." Her voice wavered before breaking entirely.

Her head dropped, and she let out a soft sob. "The thought of losing you, Jaycee..." Her eyes met mine, shimmering with a desperation that I hadn’t seen before. "I just can’t. I’m so used to seeing you every afternoon, to us going home together. And now, I’ve only just moved in with you—it’s been one week, Jaycee! And now you’re telling me you’re taking on one of the most dangerous—"

"Bluey," I interjected gently, kneeling in front of her. "I know how dangerous it is. But have you forgotten? We’ve faced Big Run before—what’s practically the apocalypse. We’ve survived that."

She raised an eyebrow at me, her expression mixed with skepticism and irritation.

"And we made it out alive," I continued, my tone firmer. "I can handle this."

Bluey turned her head away, visibly agitated, her fingers fidgeting as her thoughts visibly churned. I could tell she was fighting an inner battle.

"Bluey," I said softly, reaching out to hold her arms. "I promise. I’ll come back in one piece."

She suddenly lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around me. Her voice was muffled against my shoulder. "Please don’t go..."

I closed my eyes, the weight of her words settling over me. "I’m sorry, Bluey," I murmured, hugging her back. "They need me."

She sniffled, leaning into me as though trying to draw strength from the closeness. "I can’t stop you, can I?"

"No," I admitted, my voice heavy.

She pulled back slightly, her teary eyes locking onto mine. "Then I pray for your safe return."

"I promise I’ll come back in one piece," I said with a small grin, attempting to lighten the mood.

But Bluey didn’t seem amused. She wiped her eyes and huffed. "Yeah, I’ll be expecting a lot of bruises by the time you get back. Just... just hope your night shift doesn’t involve that thick fog, okay?"

I was about to fire back with one of my usual arrogant remarks, but something stopped me. Now wasn’t the time. "I’ll stay vigilant," I assured her.

As I stood, she grabbed my hand and muttered, "I love you."

I froze for a moment before squeezing her hand gently. "I love you too."

The Call

As I left Bluey’s office, the gloomy sky mirrored the weight on my shoulders. A light drizzle fell, turning the facility’s uneven paths into a muddy mess. Sure, they’d started work on paving a proper road, but it still felt like everything here was in transition—a fitting metaphor for my life, I supposed. Change was inevitable, wasn’t it?

"I can’t do this alone," I muttered under my breath, my thoughts drifting to the dangers that awaited me during the night shift. Glowflies... red eyes... memories of chaos. The unease settled like a knot in my chest.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over the screen as I scrolled through my contacts, searching for a name I hadn’t called in far too long. "There he is."

Kent.

How long had it been since I’d spoken to him? Months? Longer? Bluey had taken up most of my time, and honestly, I hadn’t even realized how much I’d drifted from my friends. Come to think of it, when was the last time Kent and I even hung out? Cod, I hoped he was okay.

I tapped the call button, and the phone rang. Each second that passed heightened my anxiety. What if he didn’t answer? Or worse, what if he didn’t care to?

Finally, the line clicked, and a groggy voice mumbled, "Hello?"

"Kent! How’s it been? Long time no speak!" I tried to sound upbeat, but the cheer felt forced.

"Jaycee, cut the act," he said flatly, his voice colder than I remembered. "I know you called for a reason."

I blinked, stunned. This wasn’t the Kent I knew—the Kent I remembered was energetic, always ready with a joke or a laugh. This version of him felt distant, almost unrecognizable. Still, there was something familiar in his tone, something I couldn’t quite place.

"Alright," I said, lowering my voice. "You see... Grizz Co. management wants me to take the night shift, and I need—"

"The night shift? Are you insane?!" Kent cut me off sharply. "Do you remember what happened last time? The glowflies, the red eyes, the chaos—"

"Yes, yes, I know!" I interrupted, rubbing the back of my neck. "But this time, they’re offering double the pay."

There was a pause on the other end. "Excuse me, what did you just say?"

"I said management is willing to pay me double," I repeated. "And I could pull some strings to get you the same deal. What do you say?"

The line went quiet for a moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Then, finally, Kent sighed. "Fine. I’m coming along. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m only doing this for the pay."

"Yes, yes! That’s all I need—help. All the help I can get," I said quickly, relief washing over me.

"Tell me the schedule, and I’ll be there. But I’ve got something to take care of now. Thanks for the offer."

"Of course, no problem—"

The line went dead before I could finish.

Kent had hung up on me. That was new. I stared at my phone for a moment, the weight of the interaction sinking in. Something was off with him—I could feel it. He reminded me of... well, me. Trying to handle too much on his own.

"Poor guy," I muttered to myself, slipping the phone back into my pocket. "I hope he’s okay."

I scrolled through my contacts again, stopping when I saw his name. Kokow. My younger brother. I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the call button. We hadn’t exactly been close lately, but something told me this was the right call.

I tapped the button and held the phone to my ear, waiting. The line rang twice before a familiar, cheerful voice answered.

"Oi, Kuya! How’s it been? Do you need something?" Kokow greeted, his tone lively as ever.

"Yes, Kong. I need your help," I said, getting straight to the point. "It’s about a night shift I’ve been offered, and I was hoping you could—"

"Say no more, Kuya! I’ll be there!" Kokow interrupted without hesitation.

A surprised laugh escaped me. "Oh, I’m happy to hear that."

"Plus," he added, a playful edge in his voice, "at least I can get to battle alongside you again as equals—at least for now."

"Ahahahah—Oh, Kokow... I’m flattered," I said, shaking my head with a grin. His energy was infectious, as always.

"I guess that settles it," Kokow said confidently. "Tell me when to show up, and I’ll be there."

"Wait," I said suddenly, a thought crossing my mind. "Don’t you have any tournaments or matches coming up? I wouldn’t want to pull you away from something important."

"Nah," Kokow replied casually. "I’ve got nothing lined up for now. Besides, this sounds more exciting. Plus, it’s not every day my big brother calls for backup."

"Alright then," I said, relieved. "Thanks, Kong. I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one, Kuya," he teased. "But we’ll settle that later. See you soon!"

The line disconnected, and I felt a small weight lift off my shoulders. With Kent and Kokow on board, I had a team I could trust. Whatever this night shift had in store, at least I wouldn’t face it alone.

But as I slipped my phone back into my pocket, a second thought struck me like a cold wave: I was risking their lives, too. Kokow’s eagerness and Kent’s stoic acceptance didn’t make this any easier.

Better not to tell Jun Lin for now... I thought grimly. If she knew I’d roped them into this, she’d lose it. Not just about me—she’d overreact about their safety, too.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Just a few weeks ago, I’d been furious at her for keeping secrets. And now? Now I was the one going behind her back.

"Urgh... I’m such a hypocrite," I muttered, hitting my forehead with the palm of my hand.

I glanced up at the gloomy sky, feeling the drizzle settle on my skin. The weight of my choices pressed down harder than ever, but there was no turning back.

The deed was done. The mission was set.

Now, all I could do was prepare and pray that we’d make it through the night.

The Night Shift

The night had finally come, and as I approached the Grizz Co. facility, I couldn't ignore the unsettling atmosphere. The place felt... dark, empty, and cold. The only sounds were the crashing waves and the howling winds, remnants of the recent storm still echoing in the air.

It was a far cry from the bustling energy I remembered from years ago. Back then, the night shift was alive with workers shouting orders, equipment rumbling, and lights flickering through the misty docks. Now, the silence was suffocating. I guess I understood now why management was so desperate for help. Not that it was out of concern for anyone’s safety—this was all about their profits. Typical greedy slobs.

As I reached the docks, a strange sensation crept up my spine. I felt like I was being watched, though the facility seemed abandoned. My hand instinctively reached for my gear bag as my eyes scanned the shadows.

Suddenly, something jumped at me from behind. Without thinking, I spun around and raised my arm defensively, ready to strike.

"Whoa, Kuya!" Kokow's familiar voice called out, laughing.

My shoulders relaxed as I let out a sigh. "Cod, Kokow! Don’t sneak up on me like that!"

"I see you haven’t lost your touch, Kuya," he said with a grin, though I noticed a flicker of regret cross his face. "Even after our... duel."

"Still quick-witted as ever, little brother," I replied with a smirk, brushing aside the brief pang of guilt I felt. "Thank you for answering my call again."

"Anything to help, Kuya," he said, flashing a bright smile. "Plus, I get to spend more time with you, remember? HAHA!"

"Yes..." I said, the word heavy on my tongue.

At that moment, I caught sight of a familiar figure approaching from the distance. A tall, stoic Inkling stepped into the dim light of the docks.

"Oi, Kent!" I called out. "About time you showed up! I was beginning to—"

"Jaycee, please save your words," Kent interrupted, his voice colder than the night air. "Let’s just get this over with."

I froze for a moment, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the Kent I remembered. The energetic, lively Inkling I had befriended years ago seemed like a distant memory. Now, all I could see was someone weighed down by something heavy, something all too familiar.

The pain of being alone.

"Geez?! Is that Kuya Kent?!" Kokow whispered, staring after Kent as he walked past us without a glance.

"Yes..." I replied softly. "And please, brother, try to understand him. He’s... going through something."

Kokow nodded, though his gaze lingered on Kent. As for me, I tightened my grip on my gear bag and steeled myself for the night ahead. There were battles to be fought—both out there in the fog and within the hearts of those standing by my side.

Down at the docks, the atmosphere was heavy with the sound of the waves gently lapping against the posts and the distant cries of seabirds. The three of us—Kokow, Kent, and I—stood there, waiting for our transport. Well, to be honest, Kokow was the one doing most of the waiting... and questioning.

"So... who's supposed to be our ride?" Kokow asked, looking around curiously. "And where exactly are we headed?"

I shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "No clue. Grizz Co didn’t exactly give me the details."

Kent, as expected, didn’t bother chiming in. He stood apart from us, arms crossed, his face impassive as he stared out at the water. His silence felt heavier than the night air.

Just as I was starting to feel uneasy, I spotted a familiar silhouette emerging from the darkness. A voice soon followed, loud and cheerful.

"Ahoy! Jaycee!"

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat as I recognized the old Sturgeon waving at us.

"Captain Virgil?!" I called out. "Wait, wait— you're our transport?"

"Aye aye, lad!" he bellowed, his grin as broad as ever.

"But I thought you were working the day shift?"

"That’s true," he said, stepping closer, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden dock. "But... your lass told me about ya and asked me for a favor."

Bluey. The realization hit me like a slap. Of course, she would. She went behind my back—again—but this time, I couldn’t blame her. She cared, unlike me, who had done the same thing but for far more selfish reasons.

Captain Virgil leaned in conspiratorially, his voice lowering. “She’s a good one, lad. A keeper for sure. And I hear she’s livin’ with ya now. So, when’s the weddin’?”

"Now’s not the time for that, Captain!" I interjected, a little too loudly. "We’ve got jobs to do!"

Kokow and Kent both turned to me with flat, confused expressions. Their looks made the moment even more awkward.

I awkwardly smiled and waved it off. "Just... get on the boat, boys! We're wasting time here."

We all boarded, the creaking of the wooden planks beneath our boots echoing in the still night.

Captain Virgil’s sharp eyes scanned the group. His jovial grin faltered ever so slightly. “Hold up. Where’s the rest of yer crew? This can’t be it—only three of ya?”

“This is it,” I replied, rubbing the back of my neck. “Short-staffed, apparently.”

Virgil let out a low whistle. “Cod save us. Grizz Co’s really scrimpin’ these days. But no matter. Let’s get acquainted before we set sail, eh?”

I stepped forward with a grin. “Captain Virgil, meet my team. The loud one here is Kokow—my brother.”

Kokow beamed, stepping forward to shake Virgil’s hand. “Nice to meet ya, Captain! Jaycee’s told me about you. You’re a legend!”

“Legend, eh?” Virgil laughed heartily. “I like this one, Jaycee. Spirited!”

“And this,” I continued, motioning toward Kent, “is Kent. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s solid.”

Kent stepped forward reluctantly, offering a limp handshake. “Captain,” he said flatly, his tone devoid of emotion.

Virgil tilted his head, studying Kent for a moment. Then, with his signature cheer, he clapped Kent on the shoulder. “Cheer up, lad! You’re about to sail with the finest Sturgeon in all the seas!”

Kent’s expression didn’t change. He simply nodded before stepping back, his gaze drifting toward the water again.

Virgil’s smile dimmed slightly, but he didn’t push. Instead, he turned back to me. “Alright, lad. You’ve got a fine crew here, even if it’s a small one. But I’ve gotta ask... how’d I end up gettin’ assigned to ya?”

“That’s the thing,” I said, crossing my arms. “I didn’t think you were assigned. I was expecting someone else entirely.”

Virgil chuckled. “Yer lass didn’t tell ya, did she? She pulled some strings, said you’d need someone reliable tonight. So here I am.”

I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “Figures.”

“Well, no use dwellin’ on it now,” Virgil said, his tone brightening again. “Let’s get movin’! Time’s a-wastin’.”

But... Captain Virgil caught my attention again just as I was settling in.

"Lad," he said, his tone more serious now. "You sure about this? Your lass is worried sick about ya. I know you can handle yerself out there—Cod knows we’ve both escaped by the skin of our teeth before—but I’ve got this feeling."

"What feeling?" I asked cautiously.

He glanced over his shoulder, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "That it’s happening again, lad."

"What’s happening again?"

Virgil’s face darkened. "Big Run," he said grimly.

"Another Big Run? But... I thought the last one was—"

"I’m serious, lad," he interrupted. "The last one was just the beginning. I can feel it in me scales. A new one’s comin’—sooner than you’d think."

"But... there are no signs," I argued, though his words planted a seed of doubt in my mind. "No smoke clouds, no warnings..."

"Lad... just heed me warning," he said, his voice heavy with foreboding.

I nodded reluctantly. "...Yes, Captain. I’ll keep it in mind."

"Um, excuse me?" Kent’s sharp voice cut through the tension. "When is this boat leaving? I’m not getting any younger over here!"

"Whoa there! No need to be salty, lad," Captain Virgil replied with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as he moved toward the helm.

The boat came alive with a low roar as Virgil started the engine. Its dim lights flickered across the dark waters, casting faint ripples of white bubbles in its wake. Kokow leaned over the side, enjoying the cold sea breeze on his face, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Set sail, Captain!" I called out.

"Thought you’d never ask, lad!" Virgil shouted back.

The boat surged forward, heading toward the colossal gates of the Grizz Co. facility. At night, the gates looked magnificent. Their sheer size, combined with the glowing Grizz Co logo in the center, painted an almost haunting picture under the floodlights.

As the boat approached, Virgil sounded the horn, and the gates began to creak open, revealing the dark expanse beyond.

I couldn’t help but notice Kokow’s reaction—his wide-eyed amazement at the sight. Even Kent seemed impressed, though he quickly masked it when he caught me looking. His face hardened again, and he turned away.

My chest tightened. The old Kent, the one I knew, would have shared a smile with me at that moment. But now... now he just shut me out.

"Oh, Kent..." I thought, feeling the weight of his pain. And yet, as the gates fully opened, I knew there wasn’t time to dwell on it. We were stepping into the unknown, and whatever lay ahead, we’d have to face it together.

Marooner's Bay

The hour-long trip was grueling. The seas at night were far rougher than the morning waves I was accustomed to. The boat rocked and swayed unpredictably, forcing me to hold on to the railing more than I cared to admit. Kokow seemed unbothered, but even Kent, stoic as he pretended to be, looked like he might lose his lunch. Still, he pulled through without complaint—just another wall he built to keep himself from showing weakness.

When we finally arrived, I was relieved to see the dark waters calm as the boat slowed. My relief was short-lived, though, as Captain Virgil spoke.

"Alright, lads! Welcome to—"

"...Marooner’s Bay," I finished, my voice hollow. My heart sank, and a cold dread settled over me like an old, unwelcome friend.

Among all places... why this place?

Kent muttered under his breath, "This place? Of all places, why this place?"

"Tell me about it," I replied flatly, sharing his sentiment entirely.

Captain Virgil must’ve picked up on our unease because he quickly chimed in. "Now, now, lads. I get it. I do. This place has a bit of a... reputation, I know. But let’s not dwell on the past, eh? You’ve got a job to do, and the company’s counting on you to collect those golden eggs! Let’s keep those spirits high, aye?"

Spirits high? Sure. Easy to say when you weren’t the one who barely escaped a glowflies swarm alive. The memory was still sharp in my mind—flares of panic, ink flying everywhere, the deafening buzz of those cursed insects. I glanced at Kent. His grip on his Slosher was tight, knuckles pale against his dark skin.

Kokow, on the other hand, was as chipper as ever, staring out at the bay with an enthusiasm that made my stomach churn. He didn’t know this place like we did. He didn’t carry the scars. He hadn’t been here for that night. But he was skilled. I had seen his work firsthand during the Big Run when he saved Bluey. Kokow could handle himself, of that I was sure.

Kent, though... Kent was another story. His hands trembled, ever so slightly, as he adjusted the grip on his Slosher. Fear lingered in his eyes, but there was something else there, too—a determination to push through. The loneliness I saw in him earlier seemed amplified here. Whatever he was facing, it was eating him alive. If only I could get through to him.

But I shook the thought away and focused on the present. Worrying about Kent wouldn’t help us now. I readied my Splatana, the weight of it grounding me.

Captain Virgil busied himself setting up the super jump radar dish. Once the signal was in place, he gave us the nod. "Go time, lads! Make me proud out there!"

We leaped into squid form and super jumped to our assigned positions, the air whipping against us as we soared through the dark skies. The landing was rougher than I expected, my feet hitting the rusted deck of an abandoned shipwreck with a jarring thud.

I stood for a moment, taking in the familiar sight. The high, narrow platforms that offered excellent vantage points—and even better ambush spots for Salmonids. The decayed remnants of ships, tilted and creaking, their surfaces slick with algae. And the basket, positioned at the highest point of all—a perfect mix of advantage and disadvantage, depending on how you looked at it.

The eerie silence of the bay was broken only by the distant roar of waves and the faint hum of the basket’s beacon.

This place... It wasn’t just a battlefield. It was a graveyard.

But there was no time to dwell. I steeled myself and turned to my team. "Positions, everyone. Let’s do this."

The sound of Kokow’s eager response and Kent’s reluctant shuffle filled the air as we got into formation. The night was far from over, and whatever awaited us, we had no choice but to face it head-on.

“Comms check,” Captain Virgil called out, his voice steady but carrying a faint edge of anticipation.

“Kokow responding here, Captain!” my brother said enthusiastically, his energy cutting through the tension.

“All clear, Captain,” Kent replied, his voice reluctant but firm enough to assure readiness.

I tightened my grip on my weapon and nodded, though I knew they couldn’t see me. “Team Leader, ready for action.”

“Good!” Captain Virgil’s tone grew sharper as he barked his next words. “The swarm begins in...

Three...

Two...

One...”

The familiar wail of the Salmon Lure echoed out, its haunting sound cutting through the night air like a blade. Almost immediately, the water surrounding us began to bubble and churn.

It was a sight I’d seen before but one that never failed to send a chill down my spine. The surface of the water broke as hordes of Salmonids began to emerge. Their beady red eyes gleamed in the dim light, their slimy, scaly bodies reflecting the glow of Grizz Co’s distant floodlights. They looked as hideous as ever, clad in their ragged, hillbilly garb, their grotesque mouths gaping as though they could already taste our blood.

“HERE THEY COME!” Kokow yelled, his voice brimming with both excitement and fear.

The battle had begun.

The first wave wasn’t bad—manageable, even. Chums and Smallfries swarmed toward us, their numbers overwhelming at first glance, but they were easily cut down. My weapon hummed with power as I splattered one after another, painting the battlefield in shades of green and orange.

“Watch your flank!” I called out as a group of Chums broke off and tried to circle Kent.

Kent grunted in acknowledgment, spinning on his heel to blast them with pinpoint accuracy. “Got it,” he muttered, reloading with practiced efficiency.

Kokow was holding his own on the other side of the platform, swinging his weapon with an almost reckless abandon but managing to stay on top of the swarming enemies.

“Keep it tight, Kokow!” I warned, my eyes darting between him and the bubbling water beyond.

Just as we finished mopping up the last of the first wave, the sound of war horns filled the air—a low, guttural roar that sent every nerve in my body into overdrive.

“Boss Salmonids incoming!” Captain Virgil’s voice crackled over the comms.

My head snapped toward the bubbling water as a massive shape began to rise. Its towering form broke the surface, and even before I saw the unmistakable, armored head, I knew what it was.

“Steelhead!” I called out.

The behemoth lumbered forward, its grotesque frame looming over the battlefield. The stench of its toxic bomb filled the air as it prepared to lob its explosive payload.

“Focus fire on the Steelhead!” I shouted, already aiming my weapon at the glowing sac atop its head.

Before we could take it down, more bubbling appeared around us. The water churned violently as two more Boss Salmonids emerged.

“Scrappers!” Kokow cried, his voice tinged with panic as the armored vehicles sped toward him.

“And Flipper-Floppers!” Kent added, his usually stoic voice tight with urgency as he dodged the shadow of one about to land.

The platform shook under the weight of the chaos. Everywhere I turned, there was another threat—waves of Chums and Smallfries still swarming, Scrappers barreling through, Flipper-Floppers creating deadly zones, and that towering Steelhead, ready to unleash devastation.

“Stay together!” I barked, my voice sharp with authority. “Don’t spread out too much, or we’ll get picked off!”

Kokow answered with a quick, “Got it!” as he narrowly dodged a Scrapper’s charge, blasting it in the side to stun it momentarily.

Kent, meanwhile, was already working to bait the Flipper-Flopper into a vulnerable position. He rolled just out of range as the fish leapt into the air and slammed back down, only to find itself trapped in a glowing ring.

“Now!” Kent called out, his voice snapping like a whip.

The three of us focused fire, taking it down in a burst of ink and guttural cries.

But we barely had time to catch our breath before the Steelhead roared again, lobbing its bomb high into the air.

“MOVE!” I shouted, diving to the side as the explosive landed with a deafening crash, sending ink and debris flying everywhere.

This was just the beginning. The first wave may have been manageable, but now we were truly in the thick of it. The waters bubbled ominously, signaling that the swarm wasn’t done yet.

Far from it.

The battle raged on, the chaos of the swarming Salmonids becoming almost rhythmic in its intensity. Each one we lured and defeated left behind a precious golden egg, and the basket was steadily filling. Still, there was no time to relish small victories; the onslaught continued relentlessly.

Kokow and I found ourselves shoulder to shoulder, our weapons flashing as we sliced through the horde with precision. Chums, Smallfries, and even Cohocks fell under the rapid strikes of our splatanas, their bodies dissolving into harmless green goo.

“It’s just like Clam Blitz, Kuya!” Kokow said with a wide grin, slashing away at a charging Chum. “But you’re constantly swarmed!”

I let out a breathy chuckle despite the tension. “Been a while since I’ve touched that rule set... but yeah, kind of. Only difference is, we’re under a timer here.”

Our brief exchange was interrupted by a sharp cry from Kent.

“Watch out!” his voice echoed through the comms.

My eyes shot to the dark skies just in time to see a barrage of missiles streaking down toward us.

“Damn it,” I muttered, recognizing the source instantly. “Flyfish.”

The infernal machine hovered in the distance, its dual launchers spewing missile after missile. The explosions rocked the platform, sending waves of ink splattering in all directions.

“Kokow, grab those golden eggs and get them into the basket!” I barked, my voice sharp and urgent. “We’re so close—so close!”

“Okay, okay!” Kokow replied, his tone carrying a mix of determination and panic. “I’ll do my best! Just handle that infernal machine before it turns us into chum!”

He broke off, weaving through the chaos as I turned my focus back to the Flyfish.

“Kent!” I called out, starting to move toward him. “To me—AAAH!”

A massive shadow loomed in front of me, stopping me dead in my tracks. A Steel Eel, its serpentine form twisting menacingly, emerged from the bubbling water. Its machine head gleamed in the dim light, and for a moment, I thought I was done for.

But before it could crush me, a sharp, precise shot rang out. The Steel Eel’s head exploded in a burst of green ink, its body collapsing in a lifeless heap.

I turned, wide-eyed, to see Kent standing behind me, his weapon still slimey.

“Kent… I…” I stammered, trying to find the words to thank him.

“Thank me later,” Kent cut in sharply, his voice firm but not unkind. “Let’s get that Flyfish down!”

I nodded, snapping back to focus. “Right. Let’s do this.”

Together, we turned our sights on the Flyfish, our weapons blazing as we worked in tandem to try to bring the infernal machine crashing down.

The battlefield shifted as another swarm emerged from the bubbling waters. Among them, Cohocks with their chunky, lumbering forms trudged forward, their hefty frying pans swinging menacingly. I gritted my teeth, my splatana slicing through their thick armor-like scales with ease. Each strike felt satisfying, almost effortless.

But then I glanced at Kent.

He wasn’t faring as well. His splosher, though powerful, wasn’t enough to quickly handle the Cohocks' bulk. Every shot he flung splashed a load of ink, but the fat bastards kept coming, forcing him to retreat step by step.

“Damn it!” Kent snarled, flinging another desperate shot, his movements becoming more erratic. His usual calm demeanor was slipping, rage simmering just under the surface.

I kept cutting through the swarm but couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity. The years Kent had been away from Grizz Co were showing. His reflexes, his stamina—everything was a shadow of what it used to be.

Not that I could blame him.

No, this was my fault.

He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me dragging him into this mess.

Before I could dwell on the guilt, a new element entered the fray. From the edge of the platform, I noticed a creeping mist rolling in, thick and disorienting. It spread quickly, swallowing the battlefield.

“Heads up, lads! Fog is settling in!” Captain Virgil’s voice crackled through the comms, his usual jovial tone replaced with a note of urgency.

“No... No!!!” Kent’s voice roared over the comms.

I turned toward him just in time to see the Flyfish disappear into the thick clouds, its faint silhouette becoming a ghostly blur.

“Ah, shikes...” I muttered, my stomach twisting. “Stingers! I caught a glimpse of them lurking in the fog.”

Kent’s head whipped around to me, his frustration evident even through the mist. “Yeah—yeah! Enough talk! Come on!!!”

I didn’t argue. Gripping my splatana tighter, I dashed forward, weaving through the growing haze toward the last known position of the Flyfish. Kent followed, his splosher firing wildly, each blast briefly illuminating the fog like a desperate beacon.

The sound of Stingers’ towering pots clanging against the ground grew closer, their relentless beams carving through the mist. Their presence was impossible to ignore now, and the fog only made them more deadly.

“Kokow!” I shouted into the comms. “Get those eggs to the basket and stay low—this fog’s bad!”

“On it, Kuya!” his voice replied, surprisingly steady despite the chaos.

As we pressed on, I could feel Kent’s exhaustion dragging him down. His breathing was ragged, his movements slower with each passing moment. Yet, through it all, he pushed forward, refusing to let the swarm or the fog break him.

“Just a little more,” I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else. “Just a little more, and we’ve got this…”

The fog felt alive, wrapping itself around the battlefield like a malevolent force, choking visibility and amplifying every distant growl and splashing step. Red eyes pierced through the mist, glowing with hunger as another swarm of Salmonids emerged. Their guttural war cries echoed, chilling even my battle-hardened nerves.

Then came the Steel Eel, its massive body slithering through the ink-stained waters toward us.

“Whoa!” I yelled, instinctively backpedaling.

“To that platform, Jaycee! Quick!” Kent barked, already moving.

We scrambled onto the raised platform, barely escaping the reach of the Steel Eel’s snapping jaws. But there was no time to breathe. The Flyfish and Stinger continued their relentless barrage, their missiles and beams turning the battlefield into a deathtrap.

The Steel Eel followed us, along with a swarm of Chums and Cohocks, their numbers seeming endless. This time, though, Kent and I held our ground. Working in sync, we dispatched them, my splatana slicing through their ranks like butter while Kent’s splosher sent waves of ink crashing into the Salmonids.

Then it happened.

Kent took a direct hit from a frying pan, the dull thunk of metal against flesh reverberating through the air. He staggered, clutching his side, and I saw red—not his blood, but my own boiling rage. The Chum who struck him didn’t get a second chance. My blade found its mark, silencing the Salmonid in one clean strike.

“Kent!” I called out, my voice sharp with worry.

“I’m fine!” he growled, but his breath hitched. “WATCH OUT!!!”

Another volley of missiles screamed through the air. Without thinking, I grabbed Kent and lunged off the platform, the two of us narrowly avoiding the explosive onslaught. We hit the ground hard, rolling through the dense fog.

“I’m taking fire here!!!” Kokow’s frantic voice blared through the comms. “What’s happening over there?!”

“Stay strong, brother!” I shouted back, hauling Kent to his feet. “We’re doing our best here! Come on, Kent!”

“Lads,” Captain Virgil’s voice cut in, calm yet urgent, “I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but time is running out. I’m detecting a massive swarm heading toward the shipwreck. So…”

“I got it, Captain!” I interrupted. Turning to Kent, I gritted my teeth. “I’ll handle the Flyfish. You’ve got the Stinger, right?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll take care of it!” Kent snapped, frustration edging his voice. “But we’re running out of time here! Go!”

We split up, each moving toward our targets. I zeroed in on the Flyfish, its twin launchers already prepping another deadly barrage. No time for grenades. No room for caution.

I lunged directly at the Flyfish’s cockpit, slamming my splatana into the heart of the machine. Its pilot, a smug little midget of a Salmonid, flailed in panic as my blade pierced the controls.

“You little maggot…” I hissed, my voice dripping with venom. With one final thrust, I drove my splatana deeper, the Flyfish’s engines sputtering and failing.

The machine let out a dying wail before crashing down, a cloud of smoke and ink signaling its demise.

“Flyfish down!” I yelled, adrenaline surging through me.

“Stinger down!” Kent’s voice echoed over the comms.

We both paused for half a second, the victory sinking in, before Kokow’s jubilant voice cut through the chaos: “Thank you, my kuyas!!”

“Good job, lads,” Captain Virgil said, his voice steady but urgent. “The quota is nearly met. We need just two more eggs. Hurry! The swarm is closing in!”

Kent and I didn’t waste a second. Grabbing the golden eggs from the bosses we’d just defeated, we dashed into the dense fog. The sounds of the approaching swarm grew louder, the ground trembling beneath us.

This wasn’t over yet.

The fog thickened, making the battlefield feel like a twisted maze. Every sound was muffled, every shadow suspicious, as Kent and I pushed forward, golden eggs in hand. The swarm was relentless, their guttural war cries a constant backdrop. I couldn’t help but glance at Kent every few steps, my frustration bubbling over as I saw him stumbling, clutching his side where the frying pan had hit him earlier.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to mask my concern with irritation. “You’re slowing down.”

“I said I’m fine!” Kent snapped, splatting a Chum that darted out of the mist. “Stop babysitting me!”

“I’m not babysitting! I’m watching your back because clearly, someone has to!” My grip on the egg tightened as my voice rose. “You’re not as sharp as you used to be, Kent. I can’t afford to lose you out here.”

“And there it is!” Kent barked, turning on me with fury in his eyes. “The great Jaycee, always the one in control, always the one who knows better! Do you even hear yourself?!”

I stopped in my tracks, splatting another Chum that lunged at us. “What are you talking about? I’m trying to keep us alive!”

“No, you’re trying to play the hero!” Kent shot back, his splosher slamming ink onto a group of Cohocks. “You’ve been like this since we met again. Always looking out for me, like I’m some kind of rookie! I’m not your little project, Jaycee!”

“Then what am I supposed to do?!” I yelled, my voice cracking. “You’re the one who’s been acting like you have a death wish out here!”

Kent splatted another Chum, his breath ragged. “You wanna know what’s bothering me? It’s YOU!”

His words hit me like a slap. For a moment, I froze, stunned into silence.

“What?” I managed to choke out.

“You’ve changed, Jaycee.” Kent’s voice was lower now, almost shaking. “Since when did you care more about your ‘Bluey’ than your own friends? You’ve been so wrapped up in her that you haven’t even noticed me—what I’ve been going through!”

My heart twisted at his words, but the rage in me flared brighter. “You think that’s fair?! You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with—what she means to me!”

“And you have no idea what it’s like to feel abandoned by someone who’s supposed to have your back!” Kent roared, his splosher firing wildly as another swarm emerged from the mist.

Before I could respond, a sudden green glow illuminated the fog. My blood ran cold.

“EXPLOSIVE!” I shouted, grabbing Kent and diving out of the way as the Steelhead’s payload detonated behind us. The ground shook, ink splattering everywhere, and we both hit the ground hard, scrambling to our feet as more Salmonids swarmed in.

“Pay attention, Kent!” I snapped, furious and rattled.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” he shouted back, firing his splosher at the advancing swarm.

The basket came into view through the fog, its glowing beacon a welcome sight amid the chaos. But the argument continued, each word cutting deeper.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Kent hissed. “It’s not just about Bluey. It’s about you! You’ve been so caught up in your own world, in your anger, your pity, that you’ve stopped caring about the people who’ve always been there for you. You’ve stopped caring about me!”

“That’s not true!” I shot back, my voice cracking. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t notice you? I do, Kent. But you can’t expect me to ignore everything else just to babysit your pride!”

Kent’s face twisted with frustration, his words catching in his throat.

“You don’t get it, Jaycee. You don’t get me anymore.”

We reached the basket, slamming the eggs in just as the swarm closed in. The quota was met, and the familiar sound of Grizzco’s extraction signal blared through the comms. But the tension between us didn’t ease.

The fog lingered as we trudged toward the extraction point, each step dragging like lead under the weight of our argument. My chest heaved with frustration, Kent’s words clawing at me.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” Kent spat, his voice rising again. “You act like you’ve figured everything out, like you’re some paragon of growth. But you’re still the same arrogant, self-centered Jaycee who only cares when it’s convenient for him!”

“That’s not true!” I snapped, spinning on my heel to face him. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through—what I’ve had to fight, Kent! Do you think I just woke up one day and became this person? No! I earned this! I had to claw my way out of every pit life threw me into, and where were you?!”

“Don’t put this on me!” Kent barked, jabbing a finger toward me. “You’ve been so focused on proving you’re ‘better’ that you forgot about the people who stood by you before all this! You’ve pushed me away, Jaycee, and now you want to act like the victim?”

The words hit like a slap, but I wasn’t about to let him have the last word. “And what about you, huh? Do you think I don’t see you wallowing in your own misery, blaming everyone else for your problems? You think you’re the only one who’s suffered? Wake up, Kent! We’ve all been through hell, but at least I’m trying to be better!”

As our voices echoed into the fog, Kokow’s hesitant voice broke through. “Kuya... Kent... stop, please. This isn’t helping!”

Kokow stood a few feet away, clutching his weapon nervously, his golden eyes darting between us. He looked like he wanted to step in but didn’t know how.

“Stay out of this, Kokow!” I growled, my anger boiling over.

“No, I won’t!” he snapped back, his voice trembling but firm. “This isn’t like either of you! Why are you fighting when we just made it through all that?”

Before anyone could respond, a deep, commanding voice cut through the comms.

“LADS! That is ENOUGH!” Captain Virgil barked, his tone sharp enough to make us flinch. “You’ve met the quota, and I’m seeing the swarm is closing in fast! Get to the extraction point, NOW!”

Before we could respond, a sound unlike anything I’d ever heard before ripped through the air.

“REEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH...”

It was a guttural, otherworldly roar that made my blood run cold.

“What... was... that?” Kokow whispered, his voice trembling as he clutched his weapon tighter.

The fog seemed to thicken, the oppressive atmosphere pressing down on us even harder. A sense of dread washed over me, drowning out the anger and frustration from our argument.

Whatever was out there, it was coming. And it wasn’t like anything we’d faced before.

"Hold on…" Captain Virgil’s voice crackled through the comms, uncharacteristically uncertain. “The swarm is… disappearing? Lads, get on the boat! Now!”

His order hung in the air, but before we could move, the sound of a massive splash reached us—a deep, resonating crash that sent ripples across the water and vibrated in my chest.

Then it came again.

“REEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH...”

The distorted echoes of the roar tore through the fog, shaking my crew to their core.

“What the hell is that?!” Kokow’s voice broke, trembling as he gripped his weapon tightly.

Kent, the tough, unshakable Kent, froze in place. His earlier anger and bravado were gone, replaced by wide-eyed terror. Even the argument we’d just had seemed to dissolve under the weight of this moment.

But me? I knew. Even through the thick, murky fog, I could see it—or at least enough of it to recognize the unmistakable glow of massive eyes piercing the darkness.

“Get on the boat! NOW!” Captain Virgil repeated, his voice booming through the comms.

My heart pounded as the creature’s glowing eyes locked on our position. A distorted ripple surrounded its enormous shape, and I could hear the water churn violently as it moved.

Then it began to charge.

“What’s it doing?!” Kokow’s voice cracked. “Kuya?! What is that thing doing?!”

I couldn’t answer. My mind raced as I pieced it together. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

“Move!” I barked, shaking myself free of the trance. “Whatever it’s doing, we can’t stick around to find out! Let’s go!”

“Jaycee, follow my orders,” Captain Virgil snapped over the comms. “Do NOT repeat what you did last time with Cohozuna! Get your team to safety!”

But I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t just leave—not yet. I stared into the fog, watching the massive figure stir. My pulse quickened as my suspicions hardened into certainty.

This was no ordinary Salmonid. This was something far worse.

The second devil of the sea.

I’d read about it before—a fleeting, half-forgotten mention in my Salmon Run Bible, dismissed as myth by most. But the shape of its fins… its enormous size… it matched the description perfectly. This thing was real.

“Kuya! Let’s go!” Kokow screamed, his voice breaking through my thoughts.

Before I could resist, Kokow grabbed my arm, forcing me out of my trance.

“Kokow, wait—” I protested, but it was too late.

With a firm grip, he dragged me backward, and in an instant, we super-jumped back to the boat. The last thing I saw before the jump was the massive shadow stirring in the fog, its glowing eyes burning like molten fire.

As we landed on the deck of the boat, Captain Virgil’s voice cut through the panic.

“Hold on tight, lads!” he shouted. “We’re getting out of here!”

The boat’s engine roared to life, propelling us away from the fog—and the creature lurking within it. But even as we sped off, the sound of its distorted scream followed us, echoing in my mind.

“REEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH...”

I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white. My heart was still racing, my mind reeling. That thing wasn’t just a myth. It was real. And something told me this wasn’t the last we’d see of it.

The air around us felt heavy, a mix of terror and adrenaline. As we sped through the fog, the sound of a Booyah Bomb erupted, its familiar whistling hum followed by a massive glow that pierced the thick haze.

It landed right at our previous extraction point.

The explosion that followed was deafening. A fiery burst of energy sent shockwaves rippling across the water. I braced myself as sticky droplets of Salmonid slime rained down on us, stinging where they hit.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Through the dense fog, a shape emerged. It loomed above the waves, its massive body casting an eerie shadow. Then it lifted itself further into view, rising unnaturally, impossibly.

It was flying.

“THAT THING CAN FLY?!” Kent screamed, his voice breaking in disbelief.

I stared, my heart pounding. Long, glowing tendrils dangled from its body, casting an ominous light that illuminated the thick fogged skies. There was no doubt about it.

Horrorboris.

Not all Grizz Co. worker knew the name. The tales were whispered in hushed voices—many dismissed them as scare tactics to keep younglings in line. But here it was, in the flesh, more terrifying than anything I’d imagined.

And it wasn’t done.

“It’s charging again!” Kokow shouted, his voice trembling with urgency. “Captain, it’s going to fire!”

“Do not rush me, lad!” Captain Virgil barked, his hands steady on the controls. “She’s going as fast as she can!”

We watched in horrified awe as the massive creature finished its charge. A glowing orb of energy formed in its jaws, its light illuminating the surrounding mist like a false sun. Then, with a thunderous roar, it spat the bomb downward, the orb plunging into the water.

I held my breath as we waited for the inevitable.

“Phew,” Kokow exhaled nervously. “For a moment there, I thought we were going to—”

The sea erupted.

A colossal explosion sent waves crashing in all directions. The boat bucked wildly, nearly capsizing. I gripped the railing tightly, my heart in my throat as water sprayed over us.

“KENT!” I screamed, spotting him teetering dangerously close to the edge.

The next few seconds blurred into instinct. I lunged, grabbing his arm just as the boat pitched violently again. The momentum nearly dragged me overboard, but I dug my heels into the deck, gritting my teeth as I pulled Kent back.

“Hold on!” I shouted, my voice strained.

Kent collapsed onto the deck, coughing and gasping for air. “Th-thanks…” he muttered weakly, his usual bravado completely shattered.

“Don’t thank me yet!” I snapped, my eyes darting back to the skies. Horrorboris circled above, its glowing lights swinging ominously through the fog.

Captain Virgil’s voice cut through the chaos. “Everyone hold on tight! We’re almost out of this nightmare!”

But even as the boat sped forward, the sound of Horrorboris’s guttural roar followed us, reverberating through the mist. It wasn’t chasing us—not yet. But it didn’t have to. Its presence alone was enough to make every muscle in my body scream to keep moving, to get as far away as possible.

For now, survival was all that mattered.

As the boat sped through the mist, the eerie hum of Horrorboris charging up again echoed in the distance, like the death knell of our fate. I could feel my heart racing, my breaths shallow. I knew we were running out of time, but I had to think fast.

"Lad, I think we’re not gonna make it…” Captain Virgil’s voice was thick with defeat, his weathered hands gripping the controls with white-knuckled intensity. I could see the weariness in his eyes, a veteran sailor who had faced so much, but this—this was different.

But I couldn’t let that be the end of us. I couldn’t.

The boat was too loud, too obvious. It was drawing Horrorboris’s attention, and I realized in that moment that our only chance was to stop moving.

"Captain, stop the boat!" I barked, cutting through the tension.

The crew froze, looking at me in confusion.

"What?!" Kent and Kokow shouted in unison, their voices panicked.

"Stop the boat! Trust me!" I said, my voice firm, though the anxiety was creeping in, gnawing at the edges of my resolve.

Captain Virgil hesitated, his eyes flicking between the mist and me, calculating. Then, with a reluctant gesture, he slammed the lever back, killing the engine. The boat coasted to a slow drift, the roar of the waves growing quieter as we went still.

I held my breath, hoping—praying—that I wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

The silence was unbearable.

Then, a strange shift in the air. The tension hung like a storm cloud, heavy and thick. We watched, all of us, as Horrorboris’s long form vanished back into the fog.

Nothing.

The faint sound of its screech echoed distantly, but it was muffled—almost as if the creature was fading away. The ground trembled slightly, and we felt a softer set of waves rock the boat. It wasn’t the violent crashing we had experienced earlier. This was… different. A subtle ripple, a mere aftershock from the creature's departure.

But it was enough to make me exhale, the knot in my chest loosening just slightly.

"What just happened?" Kokow’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes darting nervously to the fog.

Horrorboris let out another wailing scream, but this time it was muted. The fog swallowed it whole, and for a brief moment, the world felt a little quieter.

We stayed there, still, barely breathing, as if the slightest movement could bring that terror back. I didn’t know how long we waited—minutes, maybe—but the tension gradually eased. The sound of the waves was the only thing left now, calm and rhythmic.

“For now… we have to lay low,” Captain Virgil muttered, his voice gravely. “Stay quiet. Stay still.”

We all nodded, understanding without the need for further words. Horrorboris was out there, somewhere, but for now, we were safe.

Chapter Text

Jaycee's Perspective

We floated in uneasy silence, the boat gently rocking on the dark waters as the thick mist surrounded us like a ghostly shroud. The roar of the engine was gone, replaced by an oppressive quiet that made every creak of the vessel seem deafening.

"It’s quiet... too quiet," Captain Virgil muttered, his gruff voice barely cutting through the tension.

“Do you think that thing is still out there?” Kokow asked nervously, his voice trembling. “What do you think, Kuya?”

I hesitated, my gaze scanning the dense fog. “I... I don’t know...”

Virgil, ever the voice of reason, spoke calmly. “Knowing that beast... it might still be lurking. Let’s stay put for now, but keep your guard up.”

Kokow nodded, his youthful eyes darting around, clutching his weapon like a lifeline. I agreed with a quiet hum. But Kent... he just sat there, rigid and silent, his face shadowed and unreadable.

Worried, I took a deep breath and tried to reach out. “Kent, hey... you okay, buddy?”

He didn’t respond, his hands gripping his Splosher so tightly his knuckles turned white. Then, out of nowhere, he exploded.

“You really have the nerve to ask me that?” he snapped, his voice sharp and venomous. “I’m freezing my ass off in the middle of nowhere, chasing some sea monster, and you want to talk?”

I blinked, taken aback. “Kent, I just—”

“You dragged me into this!” he interrupted, his words like daggers. “Just like last time during the Big Run! Near-death experiences—again and again—because of you!”

“Hey!” I shot back, anger rising in my chest. “You decided to come! I only asked, Kent! And don’t forget—you wanted the double pay. What do you even need it for anyway?”

That question seemed to hit a nerve. Kent hesitated, his eyes darting away, frustration etched across his face. He clenched his jaw but didn’t answer.

“Should we...?” Kokow started, his voice tentative.

“No, young one,” Captain Virgil interrupted firmly. “Let these lads fix it themselves.”

“But—”

“Trust me.”

A moment of heavy silence followed, the fog thick around us, as Kokow and Virgil exchanged quiet glances.

I locked eyes with Kent. He looked back, his expression a storm of anger, pain, and something deeper—something I couldn’t quite place.

"Kent," I started, keeping my voice steady, "you think I don’t know how you feel? Alone? Like everything’s closing in? I know—"

“Shut it!” Kent cut me off, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You don’t know anything! You’re too busy playing hero, running around with her—Bluey, or whatever you call her. While I... I’m left in the cold!”

I stared at him, stunned. "That’s what this is about?”

“No, it’s not just that!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “It’s... it’s everything. You changed, Jaycee. You’re not the same guy I fought beside, not the guy who had my back. Now I’m just... I’m just another weapon for you to use!”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but something in his voice stopped me. Instead, I just stared at him, feeling the weight of his pain and frustration.

Captain Virgil sighed, his voice breaking the tense silence. “Lads, I don’t mean to interrupt, but this fog ain’t lifting anytime soon. And neither is that beast. Whatever you’ve got to settle—do it quick.”

Kokow, sitting tensely beside Virgil, gave us a nervous glance but didn’t say a word.

I looked back at Kent, my fists clenched, and tried to find the words. “Kent... I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

His eyes softened for just a moment, but then he looked away, his jaw tightening. “You always say that, Jaycee. But nothing ever changes.”

The fog thickened around us, and for a moment, it felt like the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of us and our unspoken grievances.

“That’s because you never saw me change!” I shot back, my voice rising with a mix of anger and desperation. “You never saw me going through it! Do you think it was that easy? Easy to change?!”

Kent glared at me, his frustration boiling over. “And so what?!” he shouted. “The price of that change was leaving me! Just like how you left me a long time ago, Jaycee!”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, a bitter truth wrapped in anger. But they weren’t entirely fair. “Just how you left a long time ago, Kent?” I retorted, my tone sharp and cutting.

That struck a nerve. I saw the flicker in his eyes, the crack in his tough facade as my words landed. But instead of addressing it, he deflected, his voice trembling with accusation.

“You... you replaced me with that Inkling girl,” he spat, his anger taking a new direction.

“Kent,” I said firmly, trying to keep my rage in check, “Bluey isn’t involved in this. This is just between you and me.”

But the tension didn’t ease. His eyes burned with a mix of betrayal and sorrow, while my own chest tightened with the weight of our unspoken history. The fog seemed to close in tighter, suffocating, as the wounds we had tried to ignore for so long were finally laid bare.

“Why can’t you see it?” I continued, my voice softer but no less intense. “This isn’t about her, Kent. This is about us. About the things we’ve both been too stubborn to say.”

Kent didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked away, his jaw clenching as he wrestled with his emotions. “You don’t get it, Jaycee,” he muttered. “You think you’ve changed, but all I see is someone who left his best friend behind.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than the mist around us. For the first time in a long time, I felt the sting of guilt—not from what I had done, but from what I had failed to do.

Kent’s words cut deep, sharper than any blade. I opened my mouth to respond, but the weight of the truth settled over me like the fog surrounding us.

He was right.

I lowered my gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “You’re not wrong, Kent,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I... I did forget you.”

Kent’s head snapped toward me, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. For a moment, his anger seemed to falter, replaced by something else—hurt, maybe disbelief.

“I got so caught up in everything,” I continued, my voice cracking under the weight of my confession. “The Big Run... trying to survive... trying to change myself into someone better. I told myself I was doing it for all the right reasons, but... I didn’t even notice how much I was pushing you away.”

The words spilled out, each one heavier than the last. “I told myself I didn’t need anyone. That it was easier that way. But in doing that... I left you behind. And for that...” I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. “I’m sorry.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint lapping of waves against the boat. Kent’s expression was unreadable, his anger now replaced with something much harder to face.

“You don’t get it, Jaycee,” Kent finally said, his voice low and trembling. “You didn’t just forget me—you forgot who we were. What we meant to each other. And I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.”

His words hit harder than I expected, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The fog around us felt heavier, suffocating, as if it was mirroring the distance that had grown between us.

But I couldn’t let it end like this. Not without trying.

“I want to fix it, Kent,” I said, my voice firm despite the knot in my throat. “I don’t know if I can... but I want to try. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Kent turned away, staring into the mist as if it held the answers he needed. “I don’t know, Jaycee,” he muttered. “I don’t know if it’s that simple.”

It wasn’t simple. It never was. But as the silence stretched between us, I clung to the hope that maybe—just maybe—this was the first step toward finding our way back.

The silence between us stretched on, heavy and suffocating like the thick fog around us. I couldn’t even see my own fist in front of me, let alone Kent’s face. The mist wasn’t just a barrier—it was a symbol. A reflection of us. Our emotions had blinded us, clouding everything we used to see clearly.

And if we didn’t fix this now... it would only get worse.

Kent let out a heavy breath, breaking the stillness. “Jaycee,” he started, his voice low, raw. “You want to know why I’m so angry? Why I keep lashing out at you?”

I nodded, even though he probably couldn’t see it. “Tell me.”

“It’s because... I don’t recognize you anymore,” he admitted, his words heavy with frustration. “You’re not the same reckless guy I used to know—the one who’d jump into danger with nothing but desperation driving him.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done.

“You’re still reckless, yeah,” Kent continued, his tone softening slightly. “But now... it’s different. It’s not desperation anymore. Everything you do... it’s full of love. For Bluey. For Kokow. Even for the people we’re risking our lives to save in this hellhole of a job.”

He paused, his voice faltering. “And I hate it, Jaycee. I hate that I’m jealous of it. Of you.”

Those words hit me like a gut punch. Jealous? Of me?

“Kent,” I started, my voice catching in my throat.

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not angry. “I look at you, and all I see is someone who’s found their reason to fight, to live. And me? I’m still stuck in the same damn place, drowning in my own darkness. You’re out there building a life, while I’m still... broken.”

The raw honesty in his words cut through the fog more clearly than any light. I felt my chest tighten, the weight of everything between us pressing down on me. Without thinking—without any warning—I stepped forward and pulled Kent into a hug.

He stiffened at first, clearly caught off guard, but I didn’t let go.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking slightly. “I’m sorry for being so ignorant, Kent. For not seeing how much you were struggling. For forgetting what you’ve been through. I should’ve been there for you... but I wasn’t.”

For a moment, Kent didn’t move. Then, slowly, he brought his arms up and hugged me back. His grip was tight, almost desperate.

“No... I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled against my shoulder. “I’ve been such an asshole to you... and to myself. I let this bitterness eat away at me. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I took it out on you. I pushed you away when I should’ve just... talked to you.”

We stood there in the fog, the tension between us melting away. It wasn’t perfect. It wouldn’t erase the pain or the mistakes we’d both made. But it was a start.

As we finally pulled apart, I gave him a faint smile. “We’ve still got a lot to figure out, don’t we?”

Kent let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... but maybe we can figure it out together this time.”

The fog around us felt a little less suffocating, the weight on my chest a little lighter. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like we could see a way forward—together.

The fog that once surrounded us began to lift, thinning out until the water ahead was clearer. Kokow was the first to notice, pointing out the shift.

“Hey, look! The fog’s clearing up!” he exclaimed, his voice carrying a note of relief.

Captain Virgil glanced around, then turned toward me. “Well, lads, should I start up the engine again? Get us moving?”

I exchanged a glance with Kent. For the first time in hours, his expression wasn’t clouded with anger or frustration. Instead, he seemed... reflective. As I looked up, I noticed something else—the sky was full of stars, scattered across the heavens like tiny, glowing specks of hope.

“Maybe... we should stay for a moment,” I suggested. “Just enjoy this for a little while. What do you say, Captain?”

Virgil followed my gaze up to the sky and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm... you might have a point, lad. It’s been an awfully stressful night. No harm in takin’ a breather.”

Kokow beamed as he leaned over the railing, staring at the starlit sky. “I’ve never seen so many stars, Kuya! Not like this!”

“That’s because the city life is so bright and cluttered,” I said, smiling at my little brother. “Out here... it’s calm. It’s clear.”

Kent stood quietly beside me, his gaze fixed upward. After a moment, he let out a slow breath, almost like he was releasing some of the weight he’d been carrying. “Yeah... calm and clear,” he echoed, his tone softer now.

The three of us stood there in silence, soaking in the serene beauty of the night sky. For a moment, all the chaos, danger, and conflict of the night faded into the background. It was just us, the stars, and the quiet lapping of the water around the boat.

I glanced at Kent again and saw something different in his expression—maybe a hint of peace, maybe just contemplation. Either way, it was enough for me to feel like, just maybe, we were on the right path.

For now, under the stars, we could breathe.

Looking back now, seeing Kent in this form—quiet, reflective, and, for once, not angry—it reminded me of my old self. My old bitter self. The version of me who couldn’t see past the pain, who let every little hurt pile up until all that was left was resentment.

It was brief, that shift in him, but it echoed so much of who I used to be. The same anger, the same frustration, the same feeling of being lost in a world that didn’t make sense. And yet, just like me, he was trying to move past it, to rebuild what had been broken.

I couldn’t help but think, maybe I was too hard on him. Too quick to judge, too quick to push him away. Maybe we weren’t so different after all.

Chapter Text

Jaycee’s Perspective

The apartment felt emptier than usual. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened in the past few weeks—the relentless shifts, the lingering tension with Kent, and the blood-curdling encounter with the Horroboros. We barely made it out alive. I could still feel the phantom ache in my limbs, the exhaustion sitting heavy on my shoulders.

Things had settled between Kent and me, though. After some time and effort, our friendship felt… rekindled. Stronger, maybe. I had forgotten how much I missed those moments of just talking, of laughing over dumb things between waves of chaos. But now, I found myself pulled between him and Bluey, my best friend and my girlfriend, two people who meant the world to me. Balancing both relationships felt like walking a tightrope, and every misstep added to the growing stress gnawing at the edges of my mind.

Of course, Bluey—ever perceptive, ever watchful—had noticed. She didn’t say anything outright, but I could tell. The way she looked at me when I came back from work, the silent concern in her eyes when I thought she wasn’t watching. She knew.

So when I stepped off the boat after another exhausting shift, bidding farewell to Captain Virgil, I wasn’t surprised to see her waiting at the docks. Bluey stood there, arms crossed, that unreadable expression on her face. Something told me this wasn’t just a casual meetup.

“Hey, Bluey.” I greeted her, offering a tired smile. “Something on your mind?”

She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into something between amusement and determination. “Yeah. I have something for you.”

That was unexpected. Before I could press for details, she grabbed my wrist and started leading me toward the clinic.

“Well, now?” I muttered, half-expecting a scolding or some serious talk about my habits. My pulse quickened as we approached her office. The grip on my wrist was firm but not harsh, her warmth seeping into my skin.

As we stepped inside, she gestured toward the door. “Close it.”

I obeyed, the door clicking shut behind me. An awkward silence settled between us, the air thick with an unspoken tension.

“So… what do you want to tell me?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck.

Bluey met my gaze, stepping closer, her eyes holding something unreadable. I swallowed as she neared, my heart picking up speed against my will.

Then—

“You need a vaccination.”

I blinked.

“…What?”

She sighed, crossing her arms. "You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Your immune system is probably running on fumes, and the last thing I need is my reckless boyfriend getting sick because he refuses to slow down."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. That was not what I expected.

“…That’s what this is about?”

“What, were you expecting something else?” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

I turned my head away. “No.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Sit down, Cyan. This won’t take long."

We started talking about the vaccination.

"I don’t need it," I grumbled, crossing my arms. "I feel fine."

Bluey narrowed her eyes. "Oh really? Because the way you’ve been dragging yourself around says otherwise."

I scoffed. "I’ve just been busy. It’s nothing."

She raised a brow. "Nothing? Jaycee, you literally stumbled onto the boat yesterday like a zombie. If you get sick, you’ll be even more useless."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered.

She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "Look, just do this for me, okay? Think of it as a private date—just the two of us. It’s been a while since we had a proper one anyway, aside from, you know, me practically living with you."

I hesitated. She had a point. Between work and everything else, we hadn’t really spent much time together outside of the usual routine. I glanced at her, only to be met with the dreaded puppy-dog eyes—wide, pleading, utterly unfair.

I groaned, rubbing my temple. "You’re really pulling the cute act on me?"

She grinned. "It works, doesn’t it?"

I sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine. You win. But where exactly are we supposed to go for this?"

Bluey’s eyes lit up with mischief as she leaned in slightly, tilting her head. "How about that little cove you found?"

I scoffed. "You really want to turn that place into a clinic now?"

She smirked. "No. I want to turn it into a getaway. A peaceful place where you can stop worrying for once."

I hesitated, running a hand through my hair. "You’re really not letting this go, huh?"

"Nope." She folded her arms. "Not when it comes to you."

I exhaled through my nose, finally relenting. "Alright. The cove it is."

I stood in my apartment, preparing the picnic basket with everything we’d need. Salmon meat, fresh bread, sodas, and, of course, a few guilty pleasures—shrimp chips and urchin sticks. It was ironic, really. Someone like me, who needed to stay fit, indulging in junk food. But Bluey had reassured me earlier, saying, "It’s fine as long as it’s not all the time. Besides, you’re always on the job working your hardest. A little junk food won’t hurt."

I couldn’t argue with that.

Just as I finished packing, Bluey stepped out from her room.

“Is it ready yet, Cyan?” she asked playfully.

“Yeah, everything’s set, and—” My words caught in my throat as I turned to face her.

She was wearing a stunning cyan mini dress that accentuated her figure, the soft fabric flowing around her with every step. A wide sun hat, one she had recently bought at the Plaza, sat atop her head, casting a delicate shadow over her face. She looked… breathtaking.

Bluey noticed my pause and smirked. “How do I look?”

I swallowed, trying to keep my composure. “…You look great.”

She stepped closer, her grin widening. “Just great?”

I averted my gaze. “Yeah. Never seen you dress like this before.”

She giggled. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” I grumbled.

Bluey poked my cheek, leaning in slightly. “Admit it. You think I look beautiful.”

I exhaled sharply, finally muttering, “Fine. You look beautiful, alright? Happy now?”

She tilted her head. “That sounded a little sarcastic, Cyan.”

I rolled my eyes and spoke louder. “You look beautiful. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Bluey blinked, her smirk faltering as a blush crept up her cheeks. She turned away hastily, adjusting her sun hat. “Grab the basket,” she muttered. “We have a train to catch.”

I smirked, knowing I got the last word this time.

Outside The Apartment

Keys? Check.

Snacks? Check.

Money? Check—wallet for me, phone for Bluey.

I stood at the doorway, mentally running through my checklist again. It was a habit, maybe even a compulsion at this point, but better safe than sorry. I had been burned before.

“Anything else?” I muttered, tapping my pocket.

Bluey, standing behind me, let out a dramatic sigh. “You do this every time we leave. Why so worried?”

I turned slightly, raising a brow. “Bluey, have I told you I got locked out once before?”

She tilted her head. “You? Mr. ‘Prepared for Anything’?”

I scoffed. “Yeah, well. It was one of those nights—I left in a rush, forgot my keys, and next thing I knew, I was standing outside like an idiot, banging on the door, hoping my neighbor would hear me. Spoiler alert: they didn’t.”

Bluey snorted, then laughed. “That’s rough. I got locked out once too—had to wait for my landlady to help me back in. Felt like a stray Inkling left out in the cold.”

I chuckled. “Bet you looked pathetic.”

She nudged me in the side. “And I bet you were pacing around like a madman.”

I smirked. “You know me too well.”

With one last glance around the room, I exhaled. “Alright, that’s everything.” I held out my hand. “Off to the train station we go.”

She took it without hesitation, her fingers warm against mine. “Finally,” she said with an exasperated grin. “Took you long enough.”

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips as we stepped out into the fresh, cool air of the city.

Before I could react, Bluey suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward with surprising force.

“Come on! We’re gonna miss the train!” she shouted, already breaking into a sprint.

“Wha—Bluey, slow down!” I stumbled forward, nearly losing my balance as she practically dragged me down the sidewalk. Geez, my girl was really eager to get to this cove. Maybe she wanted to feel what I felt when I first stepped foot into that quiet sanctuary.

But before I could ponder too much on it, I quickly realized something else—she was weaving us straight into the thick of the morning crowd.

“Hoy! Watch where you’re goin’, ya fools!!” a clownfish snapped as its owner staggered to the side, nearly dropping a shopping bag full of fresh seaweed rolls.

“My bad! Sorry!” I called out, barely catching a glimpse of their irritated scowl before we dodged around a group of Octolings. Bluey, however, was completely unfazed. She was locked onto her goal, plowing forward with a determination that honestly had me questioning if she was part shark instead of Inkling.

“Bluey! Slow down! Slow down!” I urged, trying to resist her pull, but her grip was like a vice. Wew, for a girl, she was strong.

I barely managed to keep up, awkwardly apologizing to everyone we nearly barreled through. The city was alive with movement—street vendors calling out, taxi bikes zooming past, and other commuters either rushing to their destinations or looking at us like we were maniacs.

Finally, the sight of the train station’s entrance came into view. Bluey made one last push, practically dragging me up the stairs and through the gates. We dashed past the ticket booth, slipping into the station just as the announcement echoed overhead.

"Next departure to the outer district arriving in two minutes. Please board safely."

Bluey finally skidded to a stop, panting slightly as she turned to me with a victorious grin.

“Made it.”

I hunched over, catching my breath. “Barely,” I muttered. “Are we running from the cops or something? You got us moving like we just robbed a bank.”

She only smirked, tossing her tentacles over her shoulder. “Nope. Just making sure we don’t miss this train. It’s important, right?”

I looked at her, still panting, and shook my head with a half-smile. She really wanted to see that cove.

I straightened up, adjusting my bag. “Yeah… it is.”

The train doors slid open with a chime, and with one last deep breath, we stepped inside.

In the Train

The train was packed tighter than a tin of salted sardines. More than usual. I exhaled sharply as Bluey and I stood side by side, our bodies wedged between the crowd of passengers pressing in from all sides. The faint scent of morning coffee and city grime mixed in the air, making the enclosed space feel even stuffier.

I looked down at Bluey, who was squished against me, her tentacles slightly ruffled. She barely had any room to move, but despite the awkwardness, she still managed to flash a wry grin.

“It’s full to the brim today, huh?” she muttered, shifting slightly.

I sighed. “It’s Monday, Bluey… remember?”

Her eyes widened slightly in realization before she chuckled. “Oh yeah…”

We both shared a small laugh, a moment of lightheartedness in the middle of this cramped mess. But that moment didn’t last long.

With every jolt of the train, the crowd shifted, sending unnecessary bumps my way—some more forceful than others. It didn’t help that some passengers were straight-up inconsiderate. One particularly stubborn sea urchin standing next to me had no regard for personal space, his spiky exterior constantly poking against my arm and side.

I clenched my jaw, my patience wearing thin.

Great. First, the overloaded train, now this guy treating me like a pincushion.

My grip tightened around the handrail as another sharp jab hit me. I was about to snap when Bluey suddenly touched my wrist.

“Jaycee, don’t,” she said softly, her voice calm but firm.

I turned to her, my frustration still simmering, but she just gave me a teasing smile. “Come on, big guy. A little poke from some spikes ain’t nothing compared to the pain you go through every single day at Grizz Co.”

I exhaled through my nose. Sigh… she’s right.

I smirked slightly, shaking my head. “Fair point.”

She smiled back, her expression warm and reassuring. But just as quickly as that moment came, it vanished.

Her smile faltered. Then, it disappeared entirely.

I immediately noticed the shift in her expression. Her shoulders tensed, and her eyes darted downward, her face suddenly uneasy.

“Bluey?” I asked, my voice dropping to a concerned tone. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, her grip on my wrist tightening. “S-Someone is touching me…” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

A cold wave of anger shot through me.

First, this crowded train. Then, that spiky bastard. And now someone’s messing with my girlfriend?

I followed her uncomfortable gaze, my eyes landing on the culprit behind her—an Anemone-faced guy, his slimy tentacles brushing against her side.

My vision burned red.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.

“HOY!!!” My voice roared through the train car. “YOU DARE GROPE MY GIRLFRIEND?!”

The entire train car fell into a stunned silence. Eyes turned toward us. The air became thick with tension.

The Anemone guy flinched, his slimy tendrils recoiling immediately.

But I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

I stepped forward, standing between him and Bluey, my presence looming over him like an incoming storm. My glare could’ve melted steel.

“You got one second to explain yourself before I make you regret ever setting foot on this train,” I growled, my voice dangerously low.

The passengers around us murmured, some inching away while others watched, waiting for what would happen next.

Bluey grabbed my arm, her fingers tense. “Jaycee…” she muttered, a warning in her tone.

But I wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

I was done playing nice.

Bluey’s Perspective

The second Jaycee’s voice boomed across the train, the entire car fell silent. The usual hum of chatter and the rhythmic clatter of the rails were swallowed by a thick tension. All eyes were on us now.

The Anemone guy flinched, his slimy tendrils recoiling slightly. But then, instead of backing off, his face twisted into something wicked.

“Shoot! My cover is blown!” he hissed.

Before I could react, he lashed out—his tentacles snapping forward like whips.

Jaycee barely had time to shield himself before the stingers struck him, sharp and sudden. His body jolted from the impact, his muscles tensing as the toxins seeped in.

“How do you like that, ya fat Inkling?!” the creep sneered. “My toxin never fails me!”

Jaycee staggered, his grip tightening around the handrail as his breathing grew heavier. I could see it in his eyes—the pain. I knew how much it must’ve hurt. The Anemone’s toxins were potent; I’d read about their paralyzing effects before. It attacked the joints first, locking up the body before the real agony kicked in.

But despite that—despite the clear strain in Jaycee’s body—he clenched his jaw and pushed through it.

His fingers twitched, his arms stiff, but he fought it, just like he always did.

He’s been through worse.

The groper’s smirk faltered as he noticed Jaycee moving.

“I-Impossible…!” he stammered, his confidence cracking.

Jaycee’s glare was nothing short of murderous.

"You think some mere toxins can affect me?!” he snarled. “I’ve faced boiling water straight to the face more times than I can count! No toxin is gonna stop me!"

Then, with a surge of raw strength, he grabbed onto the slimy tentacles and yanked.

The Anemone shrieked in shock as Jaycee slammed him hard against the metal pole, the impact rattling through the car.

I flinched but didn’t look away.

Jaycee didn’t stop. He tightened his grip, twisting the tentacle in his grasp.

“How does it feel?!” he spat. “You like your own medicine, huh?! You lowlife!!"

I could see it—he was getting out of control. His grip, his expression, the way his body shook from rage and the pain coursing through him…

But I also knew this wasn’t just about his anger.

He was doing this for me.

Before Jaycee could do more damage, the situation suddenly shifted.

“Oi, mate! We got it from here!”

A familiar deep voice called out over the chaos.

I turned—and my heart nearly stopped.

Pushing through the crowd was a burly shark and an equally tough-looking lobster. My eyes widened as I recognized them immediately—our movers! The ones who helped me when I left my old apartment!

Jaycee seemed to recognize them too, though his vision was already starting to blur.

The shark, with his thick accent, grinned as he grabbed the groper’s other arm. “Bloody good work, mate. We’ll handle this scumbag.”

The lobster, his voice with a smooth accent, clicked his claws. “We’ll make sure this one gets what he deserves.”

Then, his sharp gaze fell on Jaycee.

"Oi, but that don’t look good, mon..." He gestured at the darkened sting marks running along Jaycee’s arms. The toxins were spreading faster than I expected.

I turned to Jaycee—his breathing was ragged, his eyes unfocused.

"Jaycee—"

He gave me a tired smirk, trying to reassure me.

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

His body swayed. Then, his knees buckled.

“Jaycee—!”

Before I could reach him, he collapsed.

I barely caught Jaycee before he hit the floor, his weight nearly pulling me down with him. His body felt heavier than usual, his limbs slack, his breathing ragged.

“Jaycee! Jaycee, stay with me!” I urged, shaking him slightly. He groaned in response, his eyelids fluttering. He was conscious, but barely.

Above us, the Anemone groper sneered. “Heh… see that? My toxins never fail.”

That was it.

Before I could even snap back at him, the shark didn’t hesitate.

With one massive swing of his thick, heavy fin, he decked the groper straight in the face.

“Ah, shut up ya bogan!” the shark grumbled as the groper’s body slumped over, knocked out cold.

I barely registered the cheers from some of the passengers—the relief, the murmurs of approval. My focus was on Jaycee. His breathing was still too shallow, and the sting marks on his arms had darkened even more.

The lobster crouched beside me, his expression tense. “Miss, what are we gonna do?!”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of every eye on us. The pressure squeezed my chest, but I couldn’t afford to panic. Jaycee was counting on me.

I took a sharp breath and steadied my voice. “He needs an anti-toxin—fast.”

The shark grinned. “Aye! That’s the spirit! But, uh…” He paused, rubbing his chin. “Where the hell do we get some?”

I clenched my jaw. If I were in my clinic, this wouldn’t be a problem. I had anti-toxins in storage, but… it’s too far.

“The only chance we have is the hospital,” I said firmly.

The lobster’s eyes lit up. “The next station ahead—it’s near Splatsville Hospital!”

That was it. That was our only shot.

I nodded. “Then we need to get him there, now.”

The shark pumped a fist in the air. “Hell yeah! We got this!”

But as we looked at the doors, reality hit.

We still had to wait for the next stop.

The train wasn’t stopping fast enough.

Jaycee stirred slightly in my arms, his body shivering. The toxins were still spreading, and I hated that there was nothing I could do right now except wait.

I turned to him, brushing some of his hair out of his face. “Hang in there, Jaycee. Just hold on, okay?”

The lobster patted Jaycee’s shoulder, his voice softer now. “You strong, mon. You’ll make it.”

All we could do now was wait for that next stop—and hope it wasn’t too late.

The screech of the train brakes rang in my ears as we lurched forward. The moment the doors slid open, we moved.

“Irie, take care of the bogan and get him to the authorities,” Bruce, the shark, barked out orders without hesitation.

The lobster, Irie, gave a firm nod. “Be swift, Bruce!”

The shark, who was named Bruce, didn’t need to be told twice. He hoisted Jaycee over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing.

I sprinted alongside them, barely keeping up.

“Don’t you die on me, mate!” Bruce growled at Jaycee. His voice was tough, but there was real concern beneath it.

I clenched my fists as I ran, forcing my legs to keep moving even as my body begged me to stop. Jaycee looked so pale, so weak. His arms dangled, his head lolled against Bruce’s shoulder. I felt useless—completely powerless as my boyfriend, the one who always protected me, was dying in someone else’s arms.

A tear slipped down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away. No, keep moving. Stay strong.

“CLEAR THE WAY!” Bruce’s booming voice echoed through the crowded streets.

People turned to see us, their eyes widening at Jaycee’s condition. Some gasped, some quickly stepped aside. Others whispered to themselves.

Then, finally—I saw it.

“There it is!” Bruce shouted.

The hospital.

We barreled through the entrance, the doors sliding open just in time for us to rush inside. The moment we stepped foot in the ER, the chaos hit.

Doctors and nurses immediately sprang into action. Someone shouted for a stretcher. Bruce gently laid Jaycee onto it, and in a flurry of white coats and medical jargon, he was whisked away from us.

I took a step forward—then stopped as a nurse blocked my path.

“Please, miss, you’ll have to wait in the waiting area.”

And just like that… he was gone.

—

Minutes turned to half an hour. Half an hour turned into an hour.

I couldn’t sit. My legs wouldn’t let me. I kept pacing back and forth, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. My head felt too light, my stomach twisted in knots.

None of this had to happen…

I clenched my jaw.

I feel so useless…

My throat tightened, and before I could stop myself, another tear slid down my cheek.

“Oi.”

A heavy hand landed gently on my shoulder.

I turned, and before I could even react, Bruce pulled me into a hug.

He was massive—his broad chest felt like a brick wall, but his hold was surprisingly gentle.

“I may not know ya much, miss, but I do remember ya,” he rumbled. “And I know how ya feel… This is how I felt when I was little. Me mum always hugged me when I was stressed.”

I gripped the fabric of his vest, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“It’s alright,” he continued, his voice steady. “The doc and his nurses—they’ll handle yer boss boyfriend in there.”

I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him.

But doubt still gnawed at me.

“…What if they don’t?” My voice came out barely above a whisper.

Bruce leaned back slightly, staring me straight in the eyes. His gaze was firm, unwavering.

“He will make it.”

“…How do you know?”

Bruce grinned, flashing his sharp teeth. “Because he’s a stubborn bastard, that’s why. You think a little poison’s gonna take down a bloke like him? Nah. He’s too damn angry at the world to go down that easy.”

A small, shaky laugh bubbled up from my throat.

Bruce smirked. “See? That’s better. Chin up, miss. He’s fightin’ in there, so let’s fight out here too, aye?”

I wiped my eyes, taking a slow, deep breath.

“…Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Bruce gave a nod of approval, ruffling my hair a little. “Atta girl.”

And so, we waited.

Jaycee’s Perspective
It was burning through me.

Every nerve, every muscle—set ablaze by something I couldn’t fight. The poison slithered through my veins like wildfire, paralyzing me inch by inch. My limbs felt heavy, yet my body trembled uncontrollably. My mind screamed at me to move, to breathe, but every inhale felt like dragging air through shattered glass.

Then, through the haze, I saw her.

Bluey…

She was a blurry figure, but I knew it was her. That sun hat… that damn hat she always wore, shading her worried eyes. I wanted to reach out, to say something, but my vision faded before I could.

And then—

The light.

Bright, blinding, unforgiving. It surrounded me, swallowing everything whole. The weight in my body vanished. The pain dulled. I felt like I was floating… drifting toward something I couldn’t see.

Is this it? Is this where I…

Then—sharp pain. A small sting.

Then another.

And suddenly—relief.

It rushed through me like a tidal wave, flushing out the burning agony that had consumed me. My body, though weak, was mine again. The suffocating grip of death loosened, and for the first time since I blacked out… I could breathe.

Voices.

Muffled at first, but then clearer.

“…He’s waking up!”

A cheer erupted around me. I blinked, slowly, light flooding my vision. My senses returned in pieces—beeping monitors, the sterile smell of a hospital, the weight of blankets over me. My eyes darted around, adjusting to the white walls and fluorescent lights.

I was alive.

“…Tch.” I exhaled, my throat dry, my body exhausted.

“Welcome back, son,” a voice said.

I turned my head and saw a doctor standing beside me, relief written all over his face.

“You were on the edge there, but we managed to clear the toxins. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“…Thanks, Doc.” My voice was hoarse.

The doctor shook his head. “Don’t thank me. If it weren’t for that shark carrying you here in time, we wouldn’t have made it.”

My mind froze. The shark?

Then—Bluey.

My heart clenched.

“Where’s my girlfriend?” I tried to sit up, but my muscles screamed in protest, and my body refused to obey.

“Whoa there, sir!” The doctor pressed a hand on my shoulder, gently but firmly keeping me down. “The poison may be gone, but your body’s still recovering. Your muscles need time to regain their strength.”

“I don’t care—I need to see her.”

The doctor sighed, then nodded to a nurse. “Get him a wheelchair.”

—

I sat in the chair, still feeling sluggish as the nurse wheeled me toward the waiting area. My fingers curled into fists on my lap, my mind racing.

Then—I saw her.

Bluey.

The moment we entered the room, she ran toward me, stopping just inches away. Her eyes were red, tears still fresh on her cheeks.

She didn’t say anything at first. She just stood there, hands trembling at her sides, as if she wanted to touch me but was too scared to.

Finally, her lips parted. “Jaycee… I was so worried. I’m sorry—I couldn’t—”

Her voice cracked.

I exhaled, giving her the best smirk I could manage. “I’m fine now, Bluey.”

She sniffled, rubbing her eyes.

Then—

“G’day, boss!”

I turned my head and saw the massive shark standing nearby, grinning down at me.

“Remember me, mate?”

I let out a small chuckle. “How could I forget?” I extended my hand weakly. “Thanks for saving my life, Uh-”

"Bruce! It's Bruce, Mate!" Bruce smirked and shook my hand, his grip firm but careful. “Ah, no worries. Glad to see you’re too damn stubborn to die.”

We both chuckled.

A moment passed before I sat up straighter. “I owe you, mate.”

Bruce raised a brow. “Eh?”

I reached for my pocket, but the nurse stopped me. “Sir, please don’t strain yourself—”

“I’m fine.” I waved her off and pulled out some cash. “Here. Take it. You got me outta there, and I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

Bruce snorted, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t want yer money.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I insist.”

Bruce sighed, seeing that I wasn’t going to back down. “Fine, fine. But I ain’t lettin’ ya pay me off like some debt. If ya ever need help, you call me, got it?”

I smirked. “Deal.”

We exchanged contacts before the nurse reminded me I still needed rest.

As I sat back, letting exhaustion finally settle in, I glanced at Bluey. She was staring at me, a soft, relieved smile on her face.

I exhaled. “Guess we’ll have to postpone our date, huh?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah… after everything today, I think that’s a good idea.”

1 Week Later

A week had passed since I nearly met my end, and I was back on my feet, feeling better than ever. That bastard’s toxin had done a number on me, but I wasn’t about to let it ruin my life.

Today was supposed to be our real date—our second attempt at making this happen. No interruptions, no life-threatening situations. Just me and Bluey.

But, of course, nothing ever goes smoothly.

“Wait… the basket,” Bluey mumbled, standing frozen in place as we got off the train.

I blinked. “What about it?”

She turned to me, eyes wide with horror. “I… I left it on the train.”

I stared at her. She stared at me.

“…Are you kidding me?”

Her hands flew to her head, gripping her sun hat in frustration. “Ugh! I can’t believe I forgot it! I was so focused on getting us here, I—”

She groaned, shoulders slumping. “It had everything… the food, the drinks, the snacks… It’s all gone now.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Bluey, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” She pouted, rubbing her temples. “I ruined our date again.”

I smirked, crossing my arms. “You do realize I have more than enough cash to buy all that stuff again, right?”

Bluey blinked. “…Wait. How much money do you have exactly?”

I chuckled. “That’s my secret, and I’ll tell you when the time’s right.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s suspicious.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s go shopping.”

—

After replacing everything we needed, we finally got back on track. Bluey wearing her usual cyan dress, her sun hat tilted slightly as the evening breeze played with her hair. She looked perfect—like she always did.

Me? I was dressed a bit differently this time. Instead of my usual attire, I wore a long-sleeved shirt, covering the marks on my left arm from that damn toxin.

Bluey noticed, of course.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know,” she said softly.

I glanced down at my sleeve, flexing my fingers. “I know.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”

I smirked. “Still my choice, though.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Stubborn as ever.”

With everything set, we left the apartment, caught the next train, and soon found ourselves arriving at Grizzco Industries.

This time, nothing was going to get in our way.

At the Grizz Co Facility

Bluey stopped in her tracks, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “Wait… Are you telling me—we just came back to work?”

I smirked. “No, Bluey. We just have to get through the facility.”

She blinked, processing my words. “Oh…”

We approached the entrance, where a burly Inkling guard stood at his usual post. He squinted at us, his eyes scanning over our clothes before stopping on me.

“Sir Jaycee?” He raised a brow. “I thought you and Miss Jun Lin had taken another—”

“We did,” I cut in. “We just have some other matters inside the facility.”

The guard hesitated, his gaze flickering between me and Bluey. I could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. After all, we weren’t in uniform. We looked too out of place for a work setting. But if there was one thing I had in this place, it was respect—well, mostly.

Without another word, the guard gave a sharp nod. The massive steel gates groaned as they opened, revealing the sprawling facility beyond. The moment we stepped inside, the unmistakable scent of ink, metal, and the sea hit me. Smelled just like work.

All around us, employees in their standard-issue Grizzco uniforms bustled about, their hands full of equipment, reports, or supplies. Some were fresh recruits, others were veterans who had seen more than their fair share of Salmonid hell. Either way, they all had one thing in common right now—they were staring at us.

Bluey tensed beside me. “Cyan… they’re looking at us,” she mumbled under her breath.

I didn’t even flinch. “Just keep walking, Bluey. Keep walking.”

As we moved forward, I met every wandering gaze head-on, throwing back an intimidating glare to anyone who dared to keep staring too long. That was enough to make most of them quickly look away.

Still, I had to admit… maybe we should’ve picked a less busy time to pass through. Oh well. At least Mr. Grizz and upper management were understanding enough to let us through.

Now, we just had to get to where we needed to go.

As we reached the docks, the salty sea breeze carried a familiar voice over the sound of the crashing waves.

“Aye! Jaycee, lad!”

I turned to see none other than Captain Virgil, the old sturgeon, standing by his boat. His aged fins twitched in surprise as he took in the sight of me and Bluey in our date attire.

“I thought you and your little lass were out on a—”

I quickly raised a hand, signaling him to keep quiet. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t protest as I motioned for him to follow us. We veered off behind a nearby warehouse, away from any wandering eyes or ears.

Virgil rubbed his chin. “Now then, what’s this about? Thought you two were on another break day.”

I took a quick glance around before answering. “We are. But there’s something I found a long time ago. Something special. I need to get through here to reach it.”

The old sturgeon eyed me carefully, his whiskers twitching in curiosity. “Aye? That so?”

I nodded. “And I’d prefer to keep this between us.”

A slow, knowing grin spread across Virgil’s face as he gave a hearty chuckle. “Heh. Alright, lad. Sturgeon’s honor. You two love discs enjoy yourselves.” He winked before turning back toward his boat. “This old sturgeon’s got a job to do!”

As he walked off, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. At least with Virgil, I knew I could trust him to keep his mouth shut.

Now, it was time to move forward.

The Cove
The salty breeze swept across the coastline, carrying the cries of distant seagulls as Bluey and I strolled along the low tide. The water shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, reflecting the vast sky above.

Bluey clutched the brim of her sun hat, struggling to keep it from flying off in the wind. She grumbled, her grip tightening as the sea breeze threatened to snatch it away.

“Ugh… why is it so windy?” she huffed.

I smirked. “That’s why I stick to my trusty uniform helmet. Never had to worry about losing it to the elements.”

Bluey rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Oh please, Jaycee. Your ‘trusty’ helmet might protect your head, but your ego? That thing is strong and weak at the same time.”

I chuckled at her remark. “Loveable yet annoying?”

“Exactly.” She grinned.

The playful exchange made the walk more enjoyable, but I could sense we were getting close. With each step, anticipation stirred inside me.

Pushing past a patch of thick bushes, I heard Bluey grunt behind me. I turned to see her struggling, her dress snagging on the twigs and branches.

“Ugh—seriously?” she muttered, trying to pull herself free without tearing the fabric.

I reached over to help, carefully untangling her from nature’s grasp. “Almost there,” I reassured her.

After clearing the bushes, we arrived at the base of a towering cliff. Its rocky surface stretched high above us, seemingly impenetrable—except for one small, narrow crack in the stone.

I placed a hand on the rough surface and exhaled. “We’re here.” My voice came out calm, almost cold, but Bluey could probably sense the excitement bubbling beneath it. I turned to her with a small smile. “Shall we?”

I took a step toward the opening, but something made me pause. Bluey wasn’t following. Normally, she’d be brimming with curiosity, eager to see where I was leading her. But this time, she hesitated.

I frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She pressed her lips together before glancing around. “I don’t know… I just—” She furrowed her brow. “It feels weird. Like for a second, I was floating… or like time skipped forward.”

I blinked, understanding exactly what she meant. The air here was different, charged with something unexplainable. But to me, that was just part of the cove’s charm.

I smiled reassuringly. “Yeah, it happens here. But trust me… you won’t regret what you see at the end of this tunnel.”

I extended my hand toward her. She hesitated for only a moment before taking a deep breath and slipping her hand into mine. Her fingers were soft, warm. A stark contrast to my calloused grip.

With our fingers intertwined, we stepped into the crack, maneuvering through the narrow passage. It was a tight squeeze, just big enough for the two of us—though hauling the large basket we had just bought made things even more complicated.

We pressed forward, the cool stone walls enclosing around us. The air grew still, silent, apart from our careful footsteps and the occasional scrape of the basket against rock.

And then…

Bluey’s Perspective

For a moment, everything went white. A sudden brightness overwhelmed my vision, forcing me to blink rapidly. The light softened, fading as my eyes adjusted.

And then… I heard it.

The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore, the gentle whisper of the sea breeze carrying a scent I had never smelled before—fresh, crisp, yet sweet. The air was lighter here, as if the very space around me held something different, something untouched.

“Bluey.”

I turned, still dazed by the sight before me.

“Welcome to the Cove.” Cyan stood beside me, his expression softer than usual, his voice filled with something rare—fondness.

I barely heard him. My eyes were too busy taking in the view.

It was breathtaking. More than I ever imagined.

The towering cliffs formed a natural arch, curving toward the sea in a way that felt almost deliberate, as if nature itself had carved out this hidden paradise. The sunlight passed through the opening, reflecting off the gentle waves and casting a golden glow across the water. The cove was like a secret world tucked away from everything, a place where time moved slower.

So… this was it.

This was the place Cyan always mentioned when he needed time away. The place he disappeared to when he wasn’t at the port, when he wasn’t with me.

I finally understood why.

Before I could say anything, I noticed movement from the corner of my eye.

Cyan was slipping off his shoes, his big bare feet sinking into the sand. He wiggled his toes a little, a boyish grin forming on his face.

“Come on, Bluey!!” he called over his shoulder before dashing ahead with the basket in hand.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Wait up!”

Kneeling down, I took off my own shoes and placed them neatly beside his, making sure they wouldn’t get lost. Then, clutching my straw hat tightly, I hurried after him.

The sand beneath my feet felt different. Softer, warmer—almost silk-like, yet with just the right amount of grit. Each step sank into it slightly, leaving behind prints that the wind quickly tried to erase.

As I ran, I spotted a slight downhill slope ahead. Cyan had already disappeared beyond it. My pace slowed for a moment, but when I reached the edge, I saw him.

He stood at the shoreline, his back to me, gazing at the horizon where the afternoon sun met the endless ocean.

Something about the way he stood there, his posture relaxed yet deep in thought, made my heart ache just a little.

He had shared this place with me.

This secret of his. I felt like I was truly a part of the many secrets he has.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Cyan’s voice carried softly over the breeze, barely above a whisper, yet it felt louder than anything else in this quiet paradise.

I took a deep breath, letting the scent of salt and something sweet fill my lungs. “You weren’t kidding,” I murmured, my eyes tracing the way the sunlight danced over the water. “This place… it’s even more breathtaking than I imagined.”

He stood beside me, his gaze fixed on the horizon, but I could tell he was listening.

Back home, our world was nothing like this. Our dull city life—gray, mechanical, always moving. Grizz Co was worse. Every day was a battle. Cyan fought against the chaos of war, while I fought a different kind of war—one of patience, of tending to the wounded, both physically and mentally.

But here…

There were no battles. No suffering. No burdens to carry. Just…

“Peace,” Cyan finished my thought for me.

I turned to look at him, and in that moment, I saw something I had never seen so clearly before. His usual smile was there—the one I had come to know so well—but there was something deeper behind it now. Something warmer.

So many times, I had thought back to the boy I first met. A half-breed outcast, cold and distant, buried in his own pain. A boy who had been betrayed, abandoned—tortured by the past.

And yet… he had changed.

Over the past year, the boy who once tried to shut the world out had learned to love again. To trust again.

That was why I loved him.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “I can see why you love this place,” I murmured. “You care about it… deeply.”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Ironic, isn’t it? That I found this place after the chaos of Big Run… after everything with Kent.”

I chuckled softly in return, closing my eyes for a moment.

“I love you, Cyan.”

I felt his hand on my head, big and warm, ruffling my hair with a gentleness that only he had.

“I love you too, Bluey,” he said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it.

“To the girl who changed my life…”

His fingers lingered for a moment before he pulled me in closer.

“Always.”

Chapter Text

Jaycee Perspective

Grizz Co Facility

The waves gently rocked the dock, the salty sea breeze carrying the remnants of ink and sweat from the battlefield. I took a deep breath, stretching my arms as I stepped off the boat. For once, I didn’t feel like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.

"So, you finally took a break, eh?" Captain Virgil’s gruff voice broke through my thoughts. The old Sturgeon leaned against the railing of his boat, his wide mouth curling into an amused grin. "Gotta say, kid, I ain't used to seein' ya look this relaxed. Usually, ya got that look—like someone's about to stab ya in the back."

I let out a short chuckle, shaking my head. "Guess you could say I finally listened to some good advice. Had a well-earned vacation."

"That so?" He let out a deep laugh. "Let me guess—The lass finally got ya to unwind?"

I shrugged, though the warmth in my chest was undeniable. "She was right. I needed it."

"Heh, I’ll be damned. Took her long enough to knock some sense into ya."

I smirked, looking out at the ink-stained sea. Even after the chaos we had just endured, things didn’t seem as heavy. At least we had hit the quota. No Cohozuna. No Horroboros. Just another job done. Well at least for now...

"Got lucky this time," I muttered. "Neither of those monsters showed up, unlike the last few encounters."

"Ha! Damn right we did!" Captain Virgil’s laugh was deep and hearty. "I ain't one to complain when the sea throws us a bone."

I nodded, feeling the last of the tension slip from my shoulders. For a moment, things felt… good. Then, he had to open his mouth again.

"Speakin' of good things—Valentine’s Day is right around the corner. Got any plans, Romeo?"

Oh.

Oh shoot.

My stomach twisted. My relaxed mood vanished like ink in water, replaced by something cold and heavy. Valentine’s Day. That damned day. I had been so caught up in work, in the vacation, that I hadn’t even thought about it.

Regret clawed at my chest. Not just because I had forgotten, but because now, the memories started creeping in. The ones I buried. The ones I didn’t want to remember.

I forced a smile, though I could feel it falter. "Yeah, of course. I’ve got something planned."

Captain Virgil raised a brow. "That so? What'cha got in mind?"

"Uh…"

Abort. Abort.

I cleared my throat, stepping back toward the city. "Actually, I should probably go check on something. Important business. Y’know how it is."

"That right?" The old Sturgeon crossed his arms, clearly not buying my excuse. "Lad—"

"Gotta run, Captain! See you later!"

Before he could say another word, I turned on my heel and dashed off the docks, heading straight for the clinic. If anyone could get me out of this mess, it was Bluey.

Now I just had to figure out how to pretend I had this all under control before she saw right through me.

Bluey's Perspective:

It had been another long day at the clinic. The waiting room had been quieter than usual, but the cases that did come in weighed heavy on me. One particular patient had stuck in my mind—a young boy, barely old enough to be doing shifts at Grizz Co, his hands trembling as he sat before me. His eyes darted around the room like he was still on the battlefield, trapped in the chaos of another run.

"Doc... I don’t know how much more I can take." His voice wavered, brittle like it might shatter under its own weight. "Turf War? That’s just a game. But Grizz Co? That’s different. The missiles… the Flyfishes never stop. And the Stingers… the water… it's boiling, Doc. I barely made it out last time."

I frowned, carefully applying a cooling cream to the raw burn on his right shoulder. The poor kid had been caught in the line of a Stinger’s relentless assault. The scalding ink left angry welts on his skin, a cruel reminder of how close he’d come to something worse.

"This should help with the pain." I handed him a small prescription bag, watching as his fingers curled around it, his grip unsteady. "Take these for anxiety, and I’m ordering you to take a break. Your body and mind need rest."

"I… I can’t afford to rest," he muttered, his gaze fixed downward, like he was afraid to meet my eyes. "If I don’t work, I don’t eat. It’s that simple."

I exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar weight of helplessness settle in my chest. "I know," I said softly. "But you won’t be any use to anyone if you break down. At least give yourself some time to breathe."

His lips pressed together in a thin line, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d take my advice. But then he gave a weak nod and stood. "Thanks, Doc."

I watched as he left, the door swinging shut behind him. Only then did I allow myself to rub my temples, exhaling sharply. These kids—these workers, these fighters—they all pushed themselves beyond their limits, some for money, some for survival. Grizz Co didn't care. The company thrived on their desperation, chewing them up and spitting them out when they had nothing left to give.

And I could do so little to help them.

I turned back to my desk, flipping through the remaining patient files, searching for the next case to bury myself in. But then, my eyes landed on the date.

Wait a second.

My gaze flicked up to the calendar on the wall.

Tomorrow...

Oh no.

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow!

My stomach dropped. How had I forgotten? I’d been so buried in work that time had blurred together, the days slipping past without notice. And now, it was practically here.

My thoughts immediately turned to Jaycee.

Would he even care? He wasn’t the type to celebrate things like this—not anymore. Not since… well, since her. The one before me. The one who had left him hollow, who had made him believe love was a fleeting thing, something destined to slip through his fingers no matter how tightly he held on.

I swallowed hard, closing the patient files and leaning back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Did I want to do something for him? Would he even accept it? Or would he just see it as another obligation, another thing to push away?

I tapped my fingers against the desk, a nervous energy settling in my bones. Maybe it was selfish, but I wanted to do something. Not to prove anything. Not to force anything. Just… because I wanted to.

But where would I even start?

I sighed, shaking my head. I’d figure it out. I had to.

Suddenly, the door to my office swung open, startling me as I was organizing my paperwork.

"Geez, Bluey, you seem jumpy today." Jaycee’s voice carried the usual mix of curiosity and impatience. "I was expecting you by the pier waiting for me. What’s the hold-up?"

I quickly gathered my papers, trying to act natural, trying to hide my plans. "You just surprised me by barging in, Jaycee! Sigh... Anyways, a recent patient just... made me think about something regarding the work ethics here at Grizz Co."

Jaycee raised an eyebrow. "Oh really now? I’m listening."

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "It’s just... why do they allow such young kids to go to war? I understand Turf War—it’s a part of our culture—but Salmon Run?... I just don’t think these younglings are cut out for the kind of battle that you always face."

Jaycee frowned, crossing his arms. "It’s true that the current management is allowing a lot of newbies into the facility, but it’s part of the cycle of business." He sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, it’s already established. There’s nothing else we can do unless I magically become the manager of this place."

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. "Yeah. I can really see you as a leader," I commented, a hint of sarcasm slipping into my tone.

Jaycee narrowed his eyes. "Is that sarcasm I hear? I mean, I could do it if I wanted."

"Yes, yes. Enough of this. I was messing with you, Cyan." I waved him off, gathering my things. "Anyways, you have to go home without me today. I have to go somewhere."

"WHAT? But—" Before Jaycee could question me further, I had already slipped out of my office, leaving him behind.

The moment I stepped out of Grizz Co, a cold breeze nipped at my face, but the sting in my chest was worse. Leaving Jaycee behind always hurt a little, but tonight was different. I wasn’t just walking away from him—I was keeping something from him. I told myself it was for a good reason.

Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and I wanted to make it special. A surprise. Something he wouldn’t expect. But time was slipping through my fingers like ink in water, and I had to move fast.

I tightened my scarf around my neck and sprinted to the train station. The streets were quiet, the city lights humming softly in the distance. My heart pounded in my ears, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the excitement.

As I reached the platform, the train to Splatsville Center was already waiting. Perfect timing. I stepped inside, choosing a window seat, and let out a small breath. My fingers tapped against my knee as I went over my plan.

There was only one person I could count on to help me pull this off. A certain Inktoling girl.

Jaycee had a sweet tooth—not that he’d ever admit it outright. But I’d seen the way his gaze lingered a little too long on desserts, the way he never refused a bite when I offered. He always acted like he was above it all, but deep down, he had a weakness for sugar. And that’s exactly what I planned to use against him.

The train lurched forward, and I caught my reflection in the window. My lips curled into a small smile. This was going to be worth it. The secrecy, the rushing, the little ache in my chest from keeping it hidden.

He might be upset now, but tomorrow… tomorrow, he’d know just how much I love him.

By the time I reached Splatsville Center, my heart was hammering. I sprinted through the streets, dodging late-night pedestrians and weaving through alleyways. My feet ached, but I didn’t slow down—not when I was this close.

Finally, I arrived at Neon's Wings Café. My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as I stepped up to the entrance… only to be met with darkness inside. The lights were off, the door firmly shut, and the sign hanging on the glass read: CLOSED.

"No... Damn it!" I muttered, my hands gripping my scarf. Panic threatened to take over, but I forced myself to breathe. It’s okay. It’s okay. This wasn’t the end.

Neon and I were friends. She wouldn’t leave me hanging—especially not for something like this. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers cold and slightly trembling as I scrolled through my contacts and tapped on Neon's name.

The ringing felt like an eternity. My thoughts raced. What if she didn’t answer? What if she was already asleep?

Then, finally—

"Hello? Who is this?" Neon's groggy voice came through.

"Hello, Neon! It's me, Jun Lin! I was kinda hoping your café was open. I really need a special order for a special someone. Well, you see—"

"Wait, what?! Hold on, I couldn’t hear that. Can you explain again?"

I sighed, realizing I had been rambling too fast. "Ah, sorry. I was speaking too fast. It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, and I’d like to get Jaycee—your Kuya—something special for that day."

There was a brief pause.

Then, Neon squealed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear.

"Say no more! I’ll make that special batch! What do you want? Donuts? Muffins? Cupcakes?"

I hesitated. "Uh… what’s his favorite again?"

"Wait—the donut custards! I’ll make a batch here in my apartment!"

I blinked. "Wait, would you really do that? But I thought you were—"

"No, no, I insist!" Neon cut me off. "For the girl who fixed the relationship between me and my Kuya? Come by the same place tomorrow and pick it up!"

"Really, Neon?! You’re the sweetest person! Okay, thank you so much!!"

"I’ll get started then! See you tomorrow, Ate Jun Lin!"

As the call ended, a relieved smile spread across my lips. The weight pressing on my shoulders had finally lifted. Tomorrow was going to be perfect.

Jaycee Perspective

Splatsville

Bluey’s abrupt departure from her office had been… unusual. She never rushed off like that unless something was really important. I stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind her, my brows furrowing.

Could she be aware of Valentine's Day?

I scoffed. Nah. That wasn’t really her thing, was it?

Still, the thought lingered as I wandered through the central area of Splatsville. The city was alive as always—bright neon signs flickering, the chatter of shoppers blending with the distant hum of trains. Stalls lined the streets, all packed with gifts, chocolates, and those tacky, oversized plushies.

I had the money to buy her anything. Everything. After all, I was rich—filthy rich, actually. And yet, I lived like a blobfish, barely spending a fraction of it. I never saw the point. Money didn’t bring joy, not to me. I had tried—poured it into expensive gear, rare collectibles, the finest food money could buy. None of it made me feel anything.

But maybe… just maybe… spending it on her would be different.

I strolled past shop after shop, scanning every display window, stepping into high-end boutiques and smaller artisan stalls. The clerks eagerly waved me down, pushing their finest wares into my hands—jewelry, perfume, handcrafted gifts.

None of them felt right.

“Bloody—GOSH DANG IT!” I burst out, slamming a hand against my forehead. The outburst startled the sardine clerk in front of me, her tiny fins twitching in alarm.

"A-Ah, sir! Perhaps you would like to see this limited-edition—"

I sighed, shaking my head. “No, thanks.” I gave her a polite nod before stepping out of the store, feeling the dusty breeze of the city brush against my face.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell am I even doing? I had all this money, yet everything felt either too cheap or too extravagant. Nothing was right.

“Damn idiot… think, think!” I muttered to myself, pacing slightly.

What did Bluey truly want?

I paused.

No, really—what did she want?

She never asked for much. Never cared about material things. Every time I tried spoiling her, she would just roll her eyes, saying she didn’t need it.

And that’s when it hit me.

Bluey didn’t want things.

She wanted me.

I spun on my heels and bolted back toward the jewelry store, pushing past the crowd in a rush. My heart pounded, not from exhaustion, but from the certainty that had finally settled in my chest.

I burst through the doors, startling the Scallop clerk at the counter. He blinked before smiling knowingly.

“Oh, it’s you again, sir,” he chuckled, adjusting his tiny monocle. “Might I assume you’ve come back for the offer I suggested earlier?”

I exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. But do you have something in blue?”

His smile widened. “Ah, I see… I might just have the perfect thing.”

With a slight bow, he turned and disappeared into the inventory room. I tapped my fingers against the glass counter, my thoughts racing. Was this really the right gift? Was it enough?

Before I could second-guess myself, the clerk returned, carrying a velvet box with an air of reverence. He set it down and flipped it open with a dramatic flourish.

“Behold, sir! The store’s most unique and, I must admit, quite expensive items—our Ruby and Sapphire Gem Rings.”

I gazed at the rings, my breath hitching. The stones gleamed brilliantly, their deep hues catching the light. The ruby burned with an intense fire, while the sapphire shone with a calming radiance—perfect opposites, just like us.

A slow smile spread across my lips. Still, I couldn’t help but put on a bit of a show.

“I’ll take it, my good sir,” I said, straightening up. “And how much will this cost me?”

The clerk’s grin didn’t waver. “That will be 500,000 credits per ring, sir.”

I let out a low whistle. “Whew! That’s quite a price tag. Last time I saw numbers like that was when I bought a fake Super Snail at the general store down the street.”

The clerk chuckled. “Oh? And how much did that set you back?”

“333,333 credits.” I sighed. “Some sea anemone girl scammed me. She's still running the place, too.”

The chuckles turned into full laughter. “Well, sir, I can assure you that these are no fakes. The rings are real, and you have nothing to worry about.” He winked. “Guaranteed.”

I pulled out my card. “I’ll take your word for it.”

As he processed the payment, the clerk’s tone became more casual. “You know, sir, these rings are some of the oldest items in the shop. They arrived five years ago, and not a single soul has bought them—mostly because of the price tag.”

I raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Oh, indeed.” He swiped my card. “Especially around this time of year. Valentine’s Day brings a lot of young lovebirds into my shop. They waltz in, so sure of themselves, thinking they’ve got the perfect budget for the perfect gift. Then I show them these, and suddenly, their confidence crumbles.” He chuckled. “So many reactions. So many taking back their wallets.”

I smirked. “Guess I’m the fool who finally bit the bait, huh?”

“Not at all, sir. In fact, I’m surprised these rings haven’t lost their luster after all these years collecting dust. I’m glad you purchased them. At least they’ll finally have a special home.” His eyes twinkled. “And if I may ask… who are they for?”

I hesitated, rubbing my thumb over the counter. “It’s… it’s for my girlfriend.”

The clerk’s smile grew. “Ahhh.” His gaze sharpened. “And… are you planning something, sir?” His tone was teasing, knowing. “They are rings, after all. And their design is quite fitting for a propos—”

“Ah—SHEESH!” I waved my hand frantically, cutting him off. My face burned. “That plan was considered, but—ugh, I dunno, man.” I ran a hand through my tentacles. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet.”

The clerk studied me for a moment, then, as if sensing my inner turmoil, reached under the counter and pulled out another small box. He slid it toward me.

“Then perhaps… you’d prefer this.”

I flipped the box open, and inside was a necklace—a simple but elegant chain holding a sparkling cyanite gemstone.

I scoffed. “Let me guess. This one’s also 500,000 credits?”

He shook his head. “No, no, sir. I’ll make you a deal. Fifty percent off the original price. Just add 100,000 credits, and it’s yours. Sound good?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you doing this? You barely know me.”

The clerk’s smile softened. “Neither do you, sir. But I do know when I see a customer who is planning to marry the love of their life.” He leaned in slightly. “Even if they’re afraid to admit it.”

I swallowed.

“This necklace… it’s a first step,” he continued. “A way to start that journey without rushing into it. If you’re not ready for the rings… perhaps this will help.”

I exhaled slowly, staring at the gemstone.

A first step, huh…?

“…Alright. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

After checking out the items, the clerk carefully placed them into special boxes and handed me the receipt.

“Thank you again, sir, for accepting this offer.” He grinned. “Finally, these rings will have a home. HAHAHA!”

I shook my head, chuckling. “You’re a good person—uh…”

“You don’t need to know my name, sir,” he said with a wink. “As long as you remember my advice.”

Then he clapped his hands together. “Now go!”

I stepped out of the store, the crisp evening air hitting me as I stared down at the small, velvet boxes in my hands. The weight of them felt heavier than their worth—500,000 credits per ring, plus the necklace. A stupidly reckless purchase, yet here I was, holding them as if they were more than just expensive trinkets.

I sighed, my breath fogging slightly in the cold. My grip tightened. What the hell was I even thinking?

You know she wouldn’t accept them.

A bitter chill that had nothing to do with the air prickled down my spine.

Oh, great. Here it was again—the old voice creeping back in, slithering through my thoughts like an ink stain I couldn’t scrub out.

She’ll laugh. She’ll think it’s too much. She’ll turn you down, like she always does.

I clenched my jaw. "Ah, shut up, you old demon." My voice came out in a low growl as I shoved the boxes into my coat pocket. "I've had enough of your words. Leave me alone."

The voice didn’t respond, but the feeling lingered, a cold weight pressing down on my chest.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. No. I wasn’t letting this get to me. Not again.

I had a train to catch.

The Next Day

Bluey's Perspective:

I shot out of my room like a torpedo, hastily adjusting my coat while trying to smooth down the mess of tentacles on my head. Time was running out!

Jaycee stood by the table, looking at me with mild amusement as he set down a plate of breakfast. “Whoa. Should you really be drinking coffee like that—?”

Before he could finish, I grabbed a piece of toast, downed my steaming cup of coffee in one insane gulp, and nearly choked. The heat shot through my system, burning my tongue, but I didn’t care. I needed the energy.

“Maybe.” I gasped, slamming the empty mug down as I wiped my mouth.

Jaycee raised a brow. “You’re going to regret that.”

“Sorry, Cyan, got to go! I have to pick up something for the clinic.”

I lied. I had to get to Neon’s café before our shifts started.

Before he could question me, I rushed toward the door, grabbed my bag, and turned back just for a second. “Gotta go—bye! Love you!”

And with that, I was gone.

Jaycee Perspective

I sat there, staring at the empty chair across from me, my fork still in my hand.

She was gone. Again.

I sighed, setting my utensils down. She’s been acting weird lately. Abruptly rushing off, barely eating, getting flustered whenever I asked what she was up to… If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was avoiding me.

Pushing myself up from the table, I stretched before heading back to my room. My coat was still draped over the chair where I had left it last night, and inside the pocket…

The boxes.

I took them out, flipping one open. Inside, the sapphire-and-ruby ring caught the soft morning light, glimmering just as brilliantly as it had in the shop. The second box contained its twin, and the third…

The necklace. A cyanite gem, polished and set in silver, gleaming like the ocean under a full moon.

I exhaled slowly.

I must choose.

Would I go with the necklace—safer, less pressure, a gift she could wear casually? Or would I take the risk and give her the ring?

The idea of her reaction made my stomach twist.

I closed the boxes, resting my hand over them.

What would Bluey truly want?

Bluey's Perspective:

The train station was packed—more than usual.

Of course. It’s Valentine’s Day.

Couples filled the platform, some holding hands, others exchanging gifts, laughter, and sweet nothings. The air practically reeked of romance. Normally, I would’ve ignored it, but today? I wasn’t just any bystander. I had my own mission.

To Neon’s Wings Café.

She was waiting for me, holding the special present I had planned just for Jaycee.

I weaved through the crowd, managing to squeeze myself onto the next train. The moment I sat down, I regretted it—my seatmate was a bloated pufferfish, puffed up to the point of practically taking up half of my seat. I shifted uncomfortably, pressing against the window.

Keep it together, Bluey. This is for Jaycee. All for Jaycee.

The rest of the ride was tight, but I endured it. As soon as the train reached my stop, I slipped out like an eel and bolted toward the café.

At Neon’s Wings Café
The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air as I pushed through the door. Behind the counter, Neon’s face lit up as she saw me.

“Ate Jun Lin!” she beamed, already holding a small, neatly wrapped box in her hands.

She handed it to me with a smile. “Here it is. The special custard doughnuts I made just for Kuya.”

The box was warm, the pastries inside soft and puffy. I could already tell they were going to be sweet. Jaycee was going to love them.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked.

Neon shook her head. “No cost.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She smiled, her gaze soft. “Just make my Kuya happy, okay? I know he hasn’t had a real family in years... not until he met you.”

A lump formed in my throat.

“Because of you, Ate Jun Lin… he and I wouldn’t be the same ever again.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. I barely managed to choke out, “Neon… you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

She giggled. “You’re welcome, Ate Jun Lin.”

Then, as if realizing something, she gasped dramatically. “Wait—what are you still doing here?! Kuya must be waiting for you! Go, go, go!”

I hesitated. “But—”

She playfully shooed me toward the door. “I have a café to run. Besides, I think he really needs his girl right now.”

I wiped my tears and nodded. “Thank you, Neon. I won’t forget this.”

With that, I turned and dashed toward the station.

Back at the Train Station
It was still the same. Packed. Full of people. And even more lovey-dovey couples.

I clutched the box tightly, knowing I had to keep it intact at all costs.

As I boarded the next train, I found myself trapped between two massive passengers—a hulking coconut crab and a towering Great White Shark. Their sheer size squeezed me between them, leaving me with barely any room to breathe.

Stay calm, Bluey.

I grit my teeth, keeping my focus on the fragile gift in my hands. No matter what, I can’t let this get ruined.

This was for Jaycee. This was for us.

Jaycee Perspective

Grizz Co Facility

The morning chill hung in the air as I arrived at Grizz Co., checking myself in before heading toward the port. My steps were slow, deliberate, as if my mind was trying to drag out this moment.

In my pocket, the small jewelry box felt heavier than it should.

I pulled it out briefly, flipping it open just enough to glimpse the cyanite gemstone inside. My heart pounded—doubt and excitement tangling together like two currents at sea.

Will she accept it? Will she even want it?

Shut up, old demon.

I clenched the box and exhaled, pushing forward.

At the docks, I spotted a familiar face.

Captain Virgil
"Good mornin’, lad!" The old sturgeon greeted me with a grin, adjusting his captain’s cap. His keen eyes flicked to my hand. "Huh? Say, what’s that ya got there?"

I nearly fumbled the box trying to shove it back in my pocket. "Oh! Captain! Morning—uh, it’s nothing. Just… new ear pods."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Lad, you’re bad at lyin’. I could tell that—'specially after yesterday." He folded his arms. "Come on, show me."

I sighed, pulling the box out again and flipping it open. The gemstone gleamed under the sunlight.

Virgil let out a low whistle. "Whew! A fine piece o’ jewelry you got there, lad. Is this what you planned all along? Or is this a last-minute choice since I reminded ya?"

"...Both, actually," I admitted, rubbing the back of my head. "All I have to do now is... just give it to her and let it all out again." I exhaled shakily. "I feel nervous, honestly, Captain."

Virgil let out a hearty chuckle. "You? The lad who’s caught the cutest, brightest lass in this whole facility? There should be no—"

"CYAN!"
A familiar voice cut through the air, making my heart skip.

I turned just in time to see her rushing toward me. Bluey—wearing her signature doctor’s attire, gripping a small box.

As she neared, she stopped, shifting awkwardly before thrusting the box toward me with both hands. Her face was flushed pink.

"Cyan... I—I want you to have this! Happy Valentine’s Day!"

I blinked. "For me?"

I recognized the box immediately. "Wait—this design… This is from—"

"Your sister, yes!" Bluey interrupted, puffing up proudly. "I asked for a favor, and she made you your favorite treat—"

"Doughnut custards!" I gasped, flipping the box open.

Inside, my favorite pastries were there… well, mostly intact. The ride must have been rough because the custard had spilled out, staining the inside of the box.

Bluey visibly tensed, looking at the mess in horror. "Oh no… I-I’m so sorry, Cyan, I didn’t mean—"

She didn’t need to finish. I was already taking one and biting into it, savoring the familiar, comforting sweetness.

I looked at her with a grin. "I gotta say, Bluey… I love what you did for me. Thank you."

Her expression softened as I saw relief flood her eyes.

Then she giggled.

I frowned. "What’s so funny?"

"Oh, nothing…" She smirked. "Sir Catfish."

"...Catfish?" I blinked, only to realize a moment too late that some frosting was smeared on my cheek.

Before I could wipe it off, I grinned mischievously, scooping a bit of the frosting and dotting it onto her cheek.

"Now you're the catfish."

Bluey gasped dramatically. "Oh, you’re so dead!" She lunged for the box of doughnuts.

I stepped back, holding it out of reach. "Oh no, I know what you’re gonna do, and you’re not having it!"

"Try me, Cyan!"

Laughter filled the air as she kept reaching for the box, and I kept dodging. Even Captain Virgil let out a booming laugh at our antics.

But just as Bluey reached for my arm—something slipped out of my pocket and fell onto the dock with a soft thud.

She noticed immediately. "What’s this?"

I froze. "Oh shoot."

Before I could react, she picked it up and flipped it open. Her eyes widened as she took in the cyanite gemstone inside.

"...What’s this?" she asked softly.

I swallowed hard. "Uh… Bluey, that’s… for you. It’s your Valentine’s Day present."

Her fingers traced over the gemstone. "...It looks expensive." She held it up, watching how the light reflected off the deep cyan hues. "But it’s… elegant."

"It was supposed to be a surprise," I admitted, rubbing my neck. "But I guess there’s no point in hiding it now."

She turned her gaze back to me, something unreadable in her eyes. "...Cyan, where did you get the money for this?" She squinted. "Unless you’re not telling me everything about you, hmm?"

I stiffened. "Bluey. Now is not the time for that."

She giggled but didn’t push further. Instead, she smiled down at the necklace.

"...Do you like it?" I asked hesitantly.

She went quiet for a moment. Then, she shook her head.

"No… I don’t like it."

My heart clenched.

"But…" she lifted her gaze back to me, eyes shimmering. "...I love it."

I barely had time to react before she suddenly pulled me into an embrace.

"The gemstone reminds me of you," she murmured against my shoulder.

Then, before I could say anything else, she pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"Thank you, Cyan."

Heat rushed to my face, but I managed to whisper back, "Happy Valentine’s, Bluey…"