Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    After Marina had finally let Pearl go, and the dust had settled, the what comes next? question was asked.

    Cap'n Cuttlefish and Agent 3 wanted to be dropped off with the Squid Sisters. Well, no, Cap'n Cuttlefish had started trying to talk about some sewer entrance in the plaza, but Agent 3 had slapped a hand over his mouth and drew a line across their lips, a clear sign of be quiet, before asking, in their almost hoarse, quiet voice, ‘Please can you take Gramps and I back to my cousins?’ Whilst pointedly ignoring Marina. Pearl had known for a while that there was something up between Marina and Amari, but neither she nor the Squid Sisters had ever gotten to the bottom as to why.

    Although, the fact Amari was Agent 3 in a super-secret previously-racist-army was probably a big reason. Although they didn't seem to hate Octarians, it was specifically Marina they hated, and vice versa. And if she was reading between the lines correctly, Marie and Callie were also part of this splatoon, and they had no idea why they still hated each other.

    (Pearl would never tell Marina this, but she had a bet going on with Callie that if the two were to go to blows again, Amari would win.)

    ‘You don't want to go to the hospital?’ Pearl had asked, eyes flickering up to where the large, white bandage obscured most of their face. Agent 8 was sporting a similar one wrapped around her hips and waist.

    ‘Nah. If On– if Cal realises I went to the hospital before seeing her, she'd kill me. And Mar would do the same, but at least she'd do it quickly.’

    The cousins were ecstatic to see their missing relatives again. Marie started dashing around the penthouse kitchen to heat up some seaweed stew, whilst Callie stood there and shook Agent 3 so hard that the injured inkling almost passed out.

    Marina was next. She had been staying at the Hōzuki Mansion for weeks now, only popping back to hers on days when Agent 8 was injured and needed rest. She had clothes and supplies at Pearl's, but she had been missing her set-up and wanted a solid thirty-four hours of sleep in a mayonnaise-free household. Pearl nodded solemnly at the first request, before scowling at the second and promising an early morning vid call of her cannonballing into her swimming pool full of imported mayonnaise.

    Then it was just her and Agent 8. The girl had sat awkwardly in the limo the entire time they were dropping everyone off, refusing to come inside, staring warily at the bustling city around them.

    Now, though, she was awkwardly sitting there, eyes darting to Pearl’s.

    She decided to cut to the chase. ‘You good there, Eight?’ Agent 8 didn’t speak Inklish, and Agent 3 didn’t speak Octarian - somehow - so the car ride had been quiet, as the rest of them didn’t want to pick a language that would alienate the other mollusc. Once they were gone, though, she and Marina could switch back to Octarian.

    She jumped, as though she wasn't expecting Pearl to speak. Her eyes glanced at her once before returning to her lap. ‘I, um. You haven't asked where… I'm going… I don't, um– I don't know where I'm going. Now that I'm, um, out of the Metro,’ she stammered, eyes flickering once to the city in the half-tinted windows. ‘It looks like the magazines…’ she whispered, in a voice so quiet that Pearl knew it wasn’t meant for her.

    Pearl remembered bringing Marina into the city for the first time. Despite Pearl coming from the country herself, she had wrongly assumed that Marina would cope fine in the city, and dragged her right into the heart of it on the first day.

    Wrong choice. Marina was fine with crowds, she was fine with music.

    What she wasn't fine with was the everything. It was noisy AND busy AND bright AND close-knit AND diverse in a way that Marina had never seen before, the advertisements and the smells and the pushing being far too much for the shy girl. Knowing now, that she was an Octoling engineer, used to the predictable nature of the domes and the hum of machinery and behaviour she knew, there was no reason why Marina would've ever coped with the full-frontal assault Pearl gave her in the form of overstimulation.

    And Agent 8 was not an elite soldier.

    There was a reason Pearl offered no pushback to her not wanting to leave the car, and she was definitely not going to let this girl go onto the streets.

    ‘What do you mean, Eight? We're going home!’ She tried to shoot some enthusiasm into her voice, but when Agent 8 just looked at her in shock, she backpedalled. ‘I– I mean. It was just a thought. Never had any plans to let you just… tough it out on your own. Didn’t do that shit for ‘Rina, definitely not gonna for you. If you want to be alone, though, we can figu–’

    ‘No!’ Agent 8 flapped her hands in front of her, turning fully to Pearl. ‘No, no, I don't want to be– I do want to stay with you, Pearl, but I just didn't want to be– I don't have any money–’

    ‘Chill, girlie. You're never gonna have to worry about money.’ Pearl tried to keep her voice casual, but internally, she was cheering. ‘You can stay with me as long as you need.’

    The smile she got in return was worth more than rent, anyways.

    The Hōzuki Mansion was impressive, she knew. But when Pearl took a deathly silent octoling to tour the house, she didn't expect her to start crying the moment Pearl said ‘And this'll be your room, Eight.’

    Agent 8 had literally never cried. If Marina wasn't such a blubberer all the time, Pearl would've thought that octolings couldn't cry.

    But, uh, no. And Pearl didn't know what to do, here. She knew what to do when Marina cried. But Agent 8? No way.

    ‘Hey, uh! Eight, it's okay… is there, um, something wrong with the room?’ It was a nice room – only the best for her friends, after all – but it was still sparsely furnished as a guest room.

    But Agent 8 shook her head. ‘It's the– the– the nices– why are you being so nice to me?’

    ‘Because you deserve it?’ Pearl replied, without thinking. ‘You deserve much more, actually, and I'm gonna get you everything I can.’

    ‘You've already given me–! Pearl, I can't pay this back–!’

    ‘Hey.’ Pearl grabbed the girl by the shoulders, giving her no choice but to look her in the eyes. ‘It's a gift. I know you, Agent 8. You're one of the least likely people to take advantage of me and my generosity. That means I'm going to give you the entire world, if I can. If I let you leave the metro without a roof over your head, a warm bed and a safe space to return to, I would never be able to live with myself. I don't care if it's what you're used to, you used to sleep on a train bench. I have more money than anyone could ever need, I am literally the richest person in this city, you never have to pay me back. You deserve this, and I will repeat that until you believe me, kiddo.’

    Okay, maybe she went a bit too hard, then (and it felt like she was stealing her dad's voice for a second), but it worked. Agent 8 was frozen, the tears still rolling, but only sniffles now. Her glassy eyes stared back into Pearls’, and Pearl released the grip on her arms.

    ‘Okay, good talk. You hungry, or do you just want to sleep?’

    Agent 8 opened and closed her mouth like a salmonid, no sound coming out. She only nodded, pointing shakily at the bed.

    ‘Okay, cool. I'll get you something to use as PJs, wait here.’

    By the time Pearl had returned with PJs (note: Marina's shorts and one of Pearl's oversized band tees) Agent 8 had stripped (which Pearl had already prepared herself for. She doesn't know why, exactly, but Marina had literally no sense of modesty, so she had expected Agent 8 to share that trait) and had found her voice again.

    ‘Thank you… and… if I may…’

    ‘Shoot, kid,’ Pearl said, through closed eyes.

    ‘I like “Eight” more than “Agent 8". Like… how you say it.’ One of the things she never remembered out of the broken fragments of memory that were her memcakes was her name. That shit was a tough pill to swallow.

    ‘Hachi or Eight?’ Pearl asked in Inklish.

    ‘Um…’

    ‘Just teasing you. That's how they say Eight in Inklish. Do you want people you use the Inklish or Octarian version? Whichever one sounds nicer to you.’

    ‘Octarian. But I don’t mind. The other way is nice, too.’

    ‘Cool to meet you, Hachi. Put your damn clothes on.’

Chapter Text

    ‘I don't need to pick a name. I have one.’

    ‘Are you absolutely sure? You can change it later if you change your mind, but it means going through this again.’

    ‘Yes. Hachi.’ Eight nodded firmly, and Marina copied the name down phonetically into Inklish script onto the forms she was filling out. Eight shook her head at the question of middle names, but frowned at the box requesting a last name. ‘Where do I get a last name from?’

    ‘Family, usually. It signifies that you belong to the same family, and they usually originate from a clan, like… the Onaga clan, or a profession, like, um… Pearl, where does Hōzuki come from?’ Marina turned to her, and Pearl looked over at the coffee table from where she was lounging, scrolling on her phone.

    ‘It's actually Daiōhōzukīka. We shorten it to Hōzuki because it sounded better in the company, or something.’ She shrugged. ‘Also ‘cause I hated my teachers asking if “Daiōhōzukīka, Pearl Hime” was in attendance, because I knew it was me after the first syllable, but I got in trouble if I interrupted them.’

    ‘Well… It is rude to interrupt your instructors…’

    ‘Your last name is Iida, ‘Rina. Shush.’ Pearl stuck her tongue out at Marina playfully, which she mirrored. ‘As for what it means, I don't really remember. Species of squid, biggest one. Yeah, yeah laugh it up–’ Pearl said, throwing a pillow at the youngest girl, who had started cackling at the mention of “biggest squid” and “Pearl”.

    ‘So your last name doesn't have to be representative of the truth, Agent 8,’ Marina giggled.

    She looked contemplative. ‘Why do Agents 2 and 3 have a different name from Callie and Captain Cuttlefish if they're family, then?’

    ‘Hm, well, you can get a different name if you marry into a family, and then your children get your partner's name. At least, that's how I think it works.’ Marina looked at Pearl again. ‘How do you know who picks their name at marriage? Ooh! Do you fight for the name?’

    ‘...I mean, out of your parents, whose last name was Iida?’ Pearl said, trying desperately not to think of her fathers going into fisticuffs over if the family would be Daiōhōzukīka or Pygmy.

    (Because Papa would totally win over Dad, and Pearl didn't want to be a Pygmy.)

    ‘I don't have two parents. I only have a dad.’

    Hachi nodded. ‘Mhm, it's quite normal to only have one parent. If you have two, they usually just use the last name of whichever parent actually produced the child. Is that what happened with Amari and Marie? But I don't think we really have marriage, do we?’

    Marina shook her head. ‘Nah, it's an old person thing in Octaria.’

    ‘Sorry, just. What?!’ Pearl sat up. ‘Since when have you had a dad?! As in, like, present-tense “have”?!’

    ‘Um, since I was produced?’

    ‘You've LITERALLY never mentioned him? And say born like a normal person?!’

    Marina shrugged, looking away. ‘I mean… I think he’s still alive. Not mentioning him, wasn't, um, intentional… I have always felt so bad, leaving him. I don't regret leaving, not one bit, but I've always regretted how I did it. I caused… a lot of stress.

    ‘And if you want to get technical, Pearlie, I was an propogation of my father's tentacle that he cut off. That's not very similar to inkling clutches.’ Eight nodded sagely again, and Pearl was left to, once again, remember exactly how her dear friends reproduce as Marina continued, ‘For Agents 2 and 3 and the Cuttlefishes, one of Marie’s parents is a Kensaki, which is a very proud family here, so Marie got that name. I think Amari is actually adopted as the Captain's grandchild, which is why they have a different last name. So, similar to marriage, Amari was invited to join their family, but they decided to keep the name of their original family. You'd have to ask them why.’

    ‘So, if you join a family on the surface, you can pick if you keep your last name or take theirs?’

    ‘Exactly! Some people even combine theirs, so both of their families are represented in the future. For example, if Marie's parents did that, she would be Marie Kensaki-Cuttlefish.’

    ‘I see! But that doesn't help me find my name.’

    ‘It does if I adopt you,’ murmured Pearl, who didn't register what she had said for what seemed like an eternity, as Eight and Marina turned slowly to stare at the inkling on the couch. ‘I– I mean–’

    But Marina's face had split into one of the widest smiles she had ever seen on her, and Hachi looked like she was going to melt into the floor with shock.

    ‘Oh, Pearlie, that's so–’

    ‘YOU WOULD LET ME HAVE YOUR LAST NAME?!’

    Eight had stood up now, and even though she was still quite a distance away at the table, Pearl could see the telltale bounce of anticipation from her.

    ‘Um, yeah. ‘Course. I mean, we had such a hard time getting Marina her documents ‘cause we had to fake them all, and she HAD a last name. I'm twenty-one now, I'm old enough. If adopting you makes this easier, and gives you a last name, ‘course I'll do it.’

    ‘Thank you thank you thank you~!’ Eight sing-songed as she threw herself at Pearl. 

    Who was immediately accompanied by Marina.

    ‘Getoff– You two are crushing me, get off!’ She flailed her arms as best she could, the two octolings dead weight on top of her until they slid off, literally, by slipping into their swim forms. When they did, and Pearl was able to sit up, she was once again assaulted, this time by less intensive hugging.

    It wasn't until later, when Eight and Marina had finished the forms and Eight had wandered back to her room that Marina finally exploded.

    ‘Oh, Pearlie! That was so, so sweet of you~!’

    ‘Shaddup. You know it's the best option.’ Pearl blushed, waving Marina off.

    ‘Still. Agent 8 worries that you will try get rid of her. I– yeah, I know you told her you wouldn't, but you know how those thoughts go. This makes… this makes it real for her. That you want to keep being her friend, even after you rescued her.’

    ‘You’d’ve done the same, if you were old enough.’

    ‘Mm.’ Marina shrugged. ‘Taken her into my family? Definitely. You know I love her. But as a sister, not a daughter. She’s only a year younger than me, I think. There's a reason I think you're totally the coolest, Pearlie.’ Pearl groaned, throwing her face into her hands.

    ‘It’s not like that,’ Pearl said, voice muffled. ‘Just helpin’ a pal.’

    When she looked up again, Marina gave her best “innocent” expression. ‘Of course not, Pearlie~!’

Chapter Text

    To the surprise of everyone, the first fortnight went without a hitch. Sure, there was the obvious trial and error with Eight's inclusion onto the surface, but the girl was not ready to go out yet. She arrived malnourished, sick and injured, and was running on pure adrenaline from the four hours she'd been working before finding the last Thang, and then… everything else afterwards.

    So no, no trips to the city yet. She liked watching the city from the garden, and she was beginning to watch TV, but Pearl and Marina both had decided that the city would be a bit too much, at least until she knew even basic greetings in Inklish.

    But she'd just been sleeping so much.

    Until, well, now.

    Pearl’s reactions weren't the fastest, especially when she was sleeping. No top-secret military training or not-so-secret military schooling for her, after all. So when she heard the brushing of the door against the carpet and footsteps softly padding towards her, her first thought was oh damn an intruder? Welp, I had a good life– until she heard the footsteps stop before her bed, replaced with the mattress sagging as the intruder – who was obviously just Eight, stumbling over the carpet because she wasn’t used to not wearing heels – crawled along to her.

    ‘Pearl?’

    'Hm? Wha…what's up, Eigh?’ Pearl was not awake enough to speak Octarian properly, but she hoped that whatever came out of her mouth was understandable to Hachi.

    ‘Are you alive?’

    ‘Wha?’

    ‘Need to check if you're alive.’ It was all the explanation she got before she was pushed onto her back, a hiss escaping her as she fell onto the bed, Hachi’s head coming to rest on her chest, humming along to her triple heartbeats. Pearl let herself be manhandled as Eight checked her breathing and her eyes, not awake enough to struggle.

    After some time, it could've been seconds or minutes, she hummed one final time, and left without explanation.

    It kept happening.

    Routinely, she would come into Pearl’s room and wake her up in order to check if she were alive. Pearl was considering a baby monitor, of all things, but Eight seemed to need the physical check.

    After a week of it, Pearl needed to talk to her.

    ‘Hachi, we need to talk about your coming into my room at night.’

    ‘Oh… I didn't know it bothered you.’

    ‘No, it’s…’ It's worrying. ‘Why do you do it?’

    Hachi shuffled on her bed, tentacles still. ‘Mmm… nightmares. Bad. You and Marina and everyone don't… I can't check on Marina but I can make sure you're okay. I… I need to make sure you're okay. Sometimes I phone Marina if it is not too late.’

    Pearl sighed. She'd figured it was something like that. ‘Wanna talk ‘bout them?’

    She visibly considers it, but shakes her head. ‘No… no thank you.’

    Pearl gnawed on her lip.

    She couldn't sleep that night, she knew Hachi would be along eventually. So she took the initiative and padded across the hall to her.

    ‘Hachi?’

    She was having a nightmare. Pearl didn't get them, so she didn't really know what they looked like from the outside, but it was clear as day that the girl was struggling. She was on her back, hands balled into fists, her body tense and rigid.

    Her instinct told her to touch her; her mind caught her and reminded her that that girl is a soldier and will NOT react well if you wake her, so Pearl stayed back. She repeated her name, louder this time, and the girl awoke.

    Eight bolted upright, silent tears on her face. ‘P–Pearl?’

    ‘Oh, baby.’ She wasn't sure where the name came from, but the girl looked so heartbroken. ‘Can I come in?’

    Her only response was arms weakly coming out to grab for her. Eight's top had been thrown across the room at some point earlier, but she knew enough about inkling decency (or “Pearl’s old lady modesty” according to Marina) to cover herself up with her duvet.

    Pearl clambered into the bed, Eight immediately latching on like a clam.

    ‘Hey– hey, you're okay.’

    ‘My back hurts.’ She said it quietly, but repeated it, stronger. It wasn't surprising – her back was a mess. Splotchy seagreen discolouration coupled with a strange, rippling effect that mimicked waves covered her from the base of her back to her braline.

    Scarring like hers wasn't common. Scars held the delicate line of “injury bad enough to not be healed by basic reforming” and “injury not so bad that you were splatted.” Hachi's had formed from failure. That bastard bag of sanitised ink that was permanently strapped to her ink tank, ready for a quick splatting if she failed her test. The scarring was not caused by a singular incident, but instead, the cumulation of so many failures, slowly layering and layering on with each respawn. It was a rare kind of scarring.

    (Pearl and Marina had viewed the footage of Eight fighting other Octarians. Marina had noticed that many of them had similar waves on their back, and the potential fate of Eight felt that it was all the more real for it.)

    It was the worst kind of scarring.

    Agent 3 had scars too, for as long as Pearl had known them. Sheepishly, they had admitted that most of the scars littering them were not from agent work (after she had discovered exactly what they did do for work), but instead the result of simply being a clumsy child with no sense of self preservation.

    (‘That hasn't changed.’

    ‘Shut the fuck up, Iida, we're the same age.’

    ‘You headbutted a fucking blender.’

    ‘Oh, please. Like you wouldn't do the same.)

    But the scar on their face was the worst. No-one was sure if it was a result of their desire to see Callie and Marie before heading to the hospital or if it was inevitable, but the short time they had spent mind-controlled by that telephone had left its mark, permanently. From what little Pearl had seen of Amari after dropping them off, the scars were there to stay, a neon seafoam hue blotching over the right side of their face, one eye permanently changed from their previous yellow colour. The wonders of modern medicine were helping belay the itchiness and prevent any wounds from reopening, but Amari had been taking it like a champ.

    (Despite how Marina felt about Amari, and vice versa, Pearl always found them really cool – kicking the shit out of Eight aside.)

    She doesn't mention any of that to Eight. Instead, she says ‘Mine hurts too sometimes. I get it.’ She takes careful care to not touch the teenager on her back, instead keeping her arms looped around her shoulders and neck to where she was clinging onto Pearl. ‘We'll just have to make sure you don't lay on it again, yeah?’

    Eight hums discontentedly, but lets Pearl hold her. ‘I keep rolling back.’

    Pearl made a noise of acknowledgement, drumming her fingers along her arm. She tried to remember what her papa had done when she had been taken off the hospital pain meds, when she was young. She'd blocked most of that time of her life off, but she did have a vague recollection of how her fathers kept her back from touching the bed.

    ‘Is it bad enough that you can't touch the blanket?’ It was summer, and while Eight was blessed with the ability to adapt to any temperature without complaint, Pearl was already cold from her forced removal from warm comfy bed time, so she would rather have the blanket for the next part of this plan.

    She considered it. ‘Eh… I couldn't keep my top on. But the blanket isn't touching me as much… It's just when I put my weight on it that it hurts too much to manage. But I still roll over when I try to sleep on my stomach.’

    Pearl let a quick smile flash across her face as she lay herself down on the bed, dragging Eight along with her. ‘Papa used to do this when I was little. Dad too.’ She manoeuvred Eight so she was on top of her, then fanned the duvet out over them. ‘I can keep you from rolling over if I hold you, see?’ She wrapped Eight's arms around her so she was safely contained, and held the teenager to her, without touching her back.

    Eight wrapped herself tighter around her. ‘Thank you.’

    ‘If it doesn't work, you can always turn into your swim form.’ She felt her nod.

    ‘Does it… does it ever get better?’

    Pearl hummed. ‘If it didn't, I wouldn't be able to do this for you. Some days it's still bad, but never like it was before.’

    Placing her on her chest also had an additional benefit: Eight knew she was alive without having to wake her up.

    ‘Thank you, Pearl.’