Chapter Text
Pale summer moonlight shimmers on the seafloor.
An octopus, unaware that dawn will bring capture,
Rests within a trap, dreaming fleeting dreams…
***
Hachi couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t the first time. She had always had trouble sleeping, especially since she had arrived at Slimeskin Garrison. The cots were uncomfortable, the blankets itchy, the snoring loud. It came as no surprise to her that she was still awake this late into the night. But the environment wasn’t the problem this time.
It was what she was thinking about that kept her up.
Hachi barely knew anyone in her class. She knew the names of each professor, the content of their classes, but barely anything about her own classmates, the ones she would eventually work with under the Octarian army. Most of them she only spoke once to, lending a spare pencil to those who needed it, but otherwise making no effort to talk to them.
Under normal circumstances, she thought, it wouldn’t be so bad. Hachi was never one to make small talk, and she was fine with that. But the nature of the Octarians meant that she’d have to know someone sooner or later, and she had no idea where to start.
Even then, knowing her classmates wouldn’t guarantee anything. In several years, Hachi would graduate and be assigned to a Wasabi Unit. There was the possibility that she might not know anyone at all, and the mythical process of friendship would have to start all over again. Plus, this situation didn’t account for the chance that she might not even be good at her job when the time comes. If she started off her service on the wrong foot, that would make everything harder.
Another thought crossed Hachi’s mind: Who’s to say she’s even good at what she’s doing now?
What if she was so bad that she flunked out? She’d have wasted all that time in Slimeskin, and she’d have to look for another place to start at square one.
Maybe she should just leave, she thought. She could sneak out and skip the embarrassment.
But then, where would she go? No matter how much she doubted herself, Hachi’s place was here. She couldn’t just leave. Her family was counting on her, the way the Octarians counted on the army to keep them safe.
Was that what she wanted, though?
Hachi let out a small groan and turned her head away from the underside of the bunk bed she was laying in. Why was she like this? No law-abiding Octarian would think about these things.
She sat up, pushing her pink tentacles out of her face. “Breathe in,” she whispered to herself, “breathe out.”
Breathe in…
Breathe out.
In…
And out.
Hachi flopped back onto the bed in exasperation. Breathing worked, but only for a little bit. Maybe something was wrong with her brain. She wouldn’t know. Honestly, she was so tired her eyes burned.
Unable to think about her life any longer, her eyes slowly closed. Maybe tomorrow will be better, she thought to herself as her consciousness faded. Finally, Hachi drifted off to sleep, dreaming fleeting dreams…
***
She was right. The next day was better.
Most of the day went normally for Hachi; she went to lecture, she took her notes, she ate lunch. There was only one block left in the school day: yet another lecture.
She didn’t mind it. Learning something new was better than being left alone with her thoughts.
The lecture hall was the same as it had always been: dark and devoid of color, littered with promotional posters from the rest of the dome. The lights used to work, but since Octo Valley’s power had started to fall into disrepair, so had the school’s. The only source of light in the room was the wall-length windows on the right side of the room, where Hachi always sat.
Walking in for lecture that day, Hachi made a beeline for her usual seat in the sunlight, only to spot a figure slumping in the chair that once was hers.
That had never happened before.
Mustering up her courage, Hachi inched as close as she could to the girl who had stolen her spot. “Hey, could you move to a different spot?” she asked. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s just that I usually sit here, so…”
The Octoling raised her head from the table, curly red tentacles framing her round face. “Oh, really? Sorry,” she drawled, “but someone took my seat and this was the next best one.”
Hachi began to argue when the sound of the door opening announced the instructor's arrival. Slightly panicked, she resigned to sitting next to the other Octoling, mumbling a half-hearted “never mind.”
Over the next hour, she tried her best to focus on the lecture. While the instructor went on and on about the importance of the whole in Wasabi Units, she tried to focus on her notes. But she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the other Octoling every few minutes, silently stewing about the whole ordeal. Occasionally, their eyes would meet and Hachi would avert her gaze first, shielding her gray eyes from the view of her classmate. She’s not even paying attention, she thought to herself. The girl’s just staring out the window.
The Octoling’s head cocked in Hachi’s direction for the fourth time that day, shiny blue eyes staring into her soul (or were they just unsettling? Hachi couldn’t tell). For once, none of them looked away.
“Psst,” the girl whispered, “You got a pencil I can borrow?”
Hachi dug out a pencil from her pocket. “Here you go.”
"Thanks.” With that, the Octoling began twirling the pencil across her fingers.
“Wait, I thought you were going to use it to write! You could hurt someone—”
“Is something wrong up there?” a booming voice sounded. The instructor was staring at the two Octolings, visibly annoyed.
Both students said nothing, knowing better than to speak.
After a couple seconds, the instructor rolled his eyes and turned back to the board. As he droned on, Hachi let out a small sigh of relief before turning to the girl. “If you’re not gonna use it to write,” she whispered even quieter than before, “give it back.”
“I’m not done with it yet.” The other Octoling didn’t even look at her.
“You’re not even doing anything with it? Just twirling it around.”
“I’ll stop later, don’t worry--,” the girl began, only to notice the pencil flying out of her hand.
“The pencil!” Hachi scrambled to catch it, but she was too far away. The two Octolings could only watch as the pencil sailed away from the desk…
…and straight through the pinkish tentacles of a student a few rows in front of them.
For a couple seconds, neither girl said anything, frozen in shock. Only when it didn’t seem like the kid in front noticed anything did Hachi silently slide back in her chair.
The other girl just sat there, staring at the predicament before them. Pencil Boy had no idea what was going on, and the instructor’s back was turned. Sure, a couple students were nudging each other and giggling. But not much else.
The Octoling sighed. “Guess we’re not getting that pencil back–”
A sharp snort interrupted her. It was Hachi (of all people), holding back a laugh.
“What was that?” The instructor turned around sharply only to see the scene unfolding behind her. “Why are you all laughing?”
No one was laughing anymore.
“Why is there a pencil in a student’s head? Who did this?”
Eager to avoid a group punishment, almost all the kids pointed to the perpetrators of the crime: Hachi and the Octoling who had been staring out the window.
***
“I’m sorry for getting us in trouble.”
Hachi looked up from her shoes and stared at the Octoling from class. “What do you mean?”
Once the culprits of the pencil incident were found, the instructor had wasted no time berating the two kids for their lack of focus, common sense, tact… that was all Hachi could remember her talking about. The speech got a bit repetitive after that.
Now, she and her “partner in crime,” as the instructor had angrily referred to the other Octoling, were sitting on the bench in front of the headmaster’s office, waiting to be seen and appeal their case.
The Octoling fidgeted with her hands. “I mean, we probably wouldn’t be here if I had stopped twirling the pencil like you wanted me to.”
“Yeah, that’s true…” Hachi mused. “But I’m the one who laughed and got the instructor to turn around. I should probably apologize too.”
“If we just both apologize, does that make it even?”
“I guess.”
The two students sat in silence for a couple seconds, listening to the sounds of the garrison.
“Hey,” the Octoling wondered out loud, “I don’t think we know each other’s names.”
“To be honest, this was my first time actually talking to you.”
“Makes it easier to start from scratch, then!” The Octoling turned towards Hachi and extended her hand. “Nice to meetcha, I’m Nori. What’s your name?”
Hachi shook the Octoling—-no, Nori’s hand—-in return. “Hachi. Nice to meet you.”
“That’s a pretty name. I’ve got a cousin named Hachi. It’s supposed to mean eight in Octarian, I think?”
“Yeah, it does. People used to call me Eight back home because it’s supposed to be a lucky number.”
“Ooh…if you’re open to it, can I call you that? It’s kinda cool.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. Do you have any nicknames?”
“I don’t, actually. Maybe I’ll get a cool one later in life?”
The two new acquaintances rattled on about whatever crossed their minds: from nicknames to classmates to families and the like. They rambled on for so long, in fact, that they missed the headmaster calling them to his office twice.
***
Eight (as Nori had begun to call her) and Nori soon became quite familiar to their classmates and teachers as a pair. Whenever Nori walked to class, Eight wouldn’t be far behind. And on the occasions Eight arrived alone, someone would always ask, “Where’s Nori?”
Despite being fast friends, the two of them were very different. Nori never really took school as seriously as Eight; her parents had sent her to Slimeskin to “learn discipline or something like that,” she had quoted. Her real passion, however, was music. Eight never heard this from her mouth outright, but Nori had always wanted to make music as moving as DJ Octavio’s. Eight encouraged her to pursue it as a career once, and was met with a resounding rant in response. Long story short, Nori’s parents would never allow it, so she had stopped thinking of it as an option. That never stopped her from making music as an act of rebellion, if nothing else.
Eight, on the other hand, was much more of a wallflower. She put her all into her studies and was a great student, but her socializing skills left much to be desired. Sometimes Nori would joke that Eight did the thinking for both of them, and she did the talking. Secretly, Eight was fine just listening to Nori talk. Unlike her friend, she was quite assured about who she wanted to be—or more accurately, who she wanted to be like: Marina Ida. Most students had heard about the genius behind the Flooder, but Marina was Eight’s biggest role model. Nori had teased her about her obsession with the soldier a couple times, but she meant well. None of the instructors could understand why someone as diligent as Eight would be friends with someone as incorrigible as Nori, but no one could deny that the two girls were joined at the hip.
For someone who had been friendless and lonely not a couple weeks earlier, Eight couldn’t be happier.
With Nori, instead of eating lunch by herself, Eight had a friend to talk to, to listen to. Instead of doing nothing during the meager amount of free time she had, Nori would find a new place for the duo to discover—from the deep, lower levels of the base to the tops of the buildings of the city domes.
And instead of overthinking her purpose in life, staying awake into the witching hours of the night, Eight would drift off to sleep a little earlier, Nori in mind.