Work Text:
The sun.
Agent Three was beginning to detest the damn burning ball of light as the day dragged on. The rays pierced their back like a shot from a charger. The longer they spent toiling the day away in the Valley, the more of a cooked squid Agent Three was.
They groan softly as they push a heavy box from one side of the shack to the other. The one thing that challenged the sun’s burning rays was DJ Octavio’s piercing gaze. He watched the agent with his narrow green eyes, scowling.
Spite seemed to be the only thing keeping Three going, to prove to the DJ that they were fully capable, after a certain incident. From that day onward, Agent Three vowed to pay much, much more attention in their math classes. Never would they work with that octopus again.
Though, Three did appreciate and miss how he taught things. It was nice seeing him passionate about something other than destroying the entirety of the inkling race. As a plus, he was intricate and detailed in his teachings.
They ignore his gaze, finally pushing the box to where Cuttlefish was. He was happily sorting through various items, placing them in separate piles: one to keep, and one to dispose of. Agent Three eyes the keep pile wearily, noticing at least several items that they most definitely could throw away.
“Howdy, Three!” The Cap’n chirps. “Just leave that there!”
The old squid turns back to his pile, carefully examining each item. He was excruciatingly slow, something that Agent Three detested. They felt their tentacles drying up just watching him. They decide to focus their attention somewhere else.
Today was the SquidBeak Splatoon’s annual spring cleaning day; a time to clean out storage, tidy up the shack, scrub the snowglobe, and sweep the valley until it was sparkling.
Usually, Agent Three could sneak out of these days by making up an excuse as to why they couldn’t - but as soon as the other agents and Cap’n caught on, they were immediately reprimanded. And when attending their first official spring cleaning day, Agent Three could say with full certainty that it sucked.
The sun was hot, DJ Octavio stared like a hawk, Cap’n Cuttlefish was agonizingly slow, and to top it off, Agent One and Agent Two weren’t even here to accompany them.
Agent One and Two were eerily familiar. There was something about them that Three couldn't put their finger on. They had a few ideas, but they had dismissed each one. There wasn't any way that Agent One and Two could be the Squid Si-
"Agent Three!" Cuttlefish yells. He whacks them on the head with his bamboozler. The squid almost topples over, rubbing the spot where they had been hit.
"Now don't go slackin on me!" He commands. "My old cuttlebones won't be able to clean this shack without your help!"
Agent Three frowns, still rubbing the patch where their Cap'n had hit them. Holding their head, they kneel down to the keep pile and pick out a piece of scrap that was stained. They toss it into the disposal pile.
"Whaddya tryna say, Agent Three?!" He gasps. "That I'm some kind of hoarder?!"
Agent Three nods, expression unchanging.
“Well,” He challenges, huffing. “If you think it’s so easy, try it out for yourself!”
Agent Three seems to light up. Anything was better than working their youth away in the blazing sun. They nod eagerly, immediately running for the shack and almost tripping over their feet. Cap’n Cuttlefish didn’t even have time to retort.
The agent starts to rummage through the junk, sifting through lost articles about octarians, scrap fabric, kid-sized agent uniforms, and other items that Agent Three didn’t recognize. As they scrounge, Three starts to make their own keep and dispose pile.
They throw the articles in the keep pile. Maybe Cuttlefish could tack that on his weird board full of Octarian propaganda. Agent Three also tosses the old agent outfits in the pile. They weren’t sure why he had child-sized ones, but it wasn’t exactly surprising since Cap’n Cuttlefish had hired them at the ripe age of fourteen.
It begged the question, when did Agent One and Two get hired? They were well-versed in weaving their ways through crowds of octarians, seemed to know how to use each weapon class thoroughly, and knew the Cap’n better than anyone else. Yet, they seemed pretty close to the age of Agent Three.
Three blinks, reminding themselves to keep cleaning. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could leave. The agent continues to tidy up, throwing most items in the trash pile. They didn’t even know why Cuttlefish kept most of this junk. They pull out the head of a dead flower from the storage, looking at it strangely. They prod at it, before placing it on top of the disposal pile.
Agent Three speeds through the boxes in storage easily. Most of their contents were unorganized. Three found a charger covered in stickers, unfinished sketchbooks, and just… a lot of carp, really. The squid briefly chuckles at the thought of signing Cuttlefish up for one of those hoarder shows.
As they near the end of their third box, their hand feels something unfamiliar. Something smooth, not covered in dust or grime. It was like someone had put it in there recently, hiding it. They slip into their grasp, pulling out an old photo album.
It was green and the pages were yellowed. Despite its age, it seemed that Cuttlefish took good care of it. But typically, the old squid would keep this in somewhere less hidden. Why would he hide it all the way in storage?
Curiosity gnaws at Agent Three. They know they shouldn’t pry into their Cap’n’s personal life, but- He was so elusive! Besides, Three would love to know what memories Cuttlefish kept. Grinning mischievously, Agent Three flips the photo album open.
They’re greeted with a face full of dust. Maybe Cuttlefish didn’t keep it as clean as Agent Three thought. They cough, rubbing their eyes. After getting over the surprise grime, Three reads the text.
Property of Craig Cuttlefish
Return If Lost
19XX -
Agent Three peers at the last few written letters. They were smudged, but with the help of cocking their head, the squid could tell it was from a hundred-something years ago. Agent Three flips the page, now showing a photograph of the old SquidBeak Splatoon. A caption was scribbled underneath. Got a camera for Squidmas. Accidental photo while trying to figure out how to work this thing.
A pale finger was in the way of the full picture. It showed two agents and a horseshoe crab. One of the agents, with one of her long green tentacles in a braid, seems startled. She’s trying to light a cigarette, and she seemed to have dropped it from the surprise flash.
The other agent, who seemed more reserved, instinctively covers his face with a hand. His legs are squeezed together. The horseshoe crab seemed unfazed, continuing to work on his array of weapons. Agent Three sometimes forgot that Cap’n Cuttlefish once had an entirely different splatoon of inkfish. She stares at the one with the braided tentacles. She looked a lot like themself. Maybe she was the first agent three. The squid flips the page.
Agent Three was presented with a collection of photographs, featuring various sites of Inkadia. All of the shots are beautiful, most of them capturing the rays of the sun or glistening surface of the ocean. There’s a few small pieces of paper stuffed beside them.
The squid takes one of them, examining it. It was a small scrap of a much larger drawing. But from what Agent Three could tell, it was a drawing recreation of the shot to its left. Said photograph was a picture of a large village. There was something written hastily on the back of the drawing.
Octopolis.
They were pretty good drawings, Agent Three decided. They didn’t know Cuttlefish had a hobby other than pestering the agents or blabbering about the evil octarians. They didn’t see the Cap’n doing anything other than that, anyways. Glancing at the scrap of paper before putting it back inside its pocket, Agent Three thought that Cuttlefish should get back into drawing. The squid flips the page.
For being a photo album, this folder was filled with anything but photos for the most part. The next page was mostly occupied with stacks of sheet music, the edges curling and torn. It seemed they were well-loved. To the bottom right, there was a small photograph of an octoling.
Their back was turned away from the camera, and they wore some sort of fancy hat that shaded their face. The only discernible parts were a few purply tentacles and an instrument that they were playing.
How intriguing, Agent Three thought. They flip the page.
This time, the photograph was taken by someone who was much, much shorter. The photo’s contents contain a wall that hides various flora and fauna. The caption is written by the person holding the camera, with much neater handwriting.
Craig has been disappearing more and more these days. We sent Agent 96 to spy on him, and he said that he’s been scaling the wall into Arowana Castle. Agent 96 also said that he heard Craig and someone else talking.
Who is he talking to? And why does he keep leaving?
After a few moments, Agent Three realized that this was probably taken by the horseshoe crab. They peer at the photo. They couldn’t imagine old, withering Craig Cuttlefish managing to hop the large wall. They flip the page.
Instead of a photograph, Agent Three was greeted with a myriad of letters that were stuck to the page. It was a mixture of Craig’s handwriting and someone else’s. They take one, softly reading it aloud.
To Craig Cuttlefish of the SquidBeak Splatoon
I’m surprised your dumb idea worked. Turns out sucking up to your superiors works pretty well.
Even if I’m technically a higher rank than them. Whatever.
Anyways, you cut it way too close last time. Now the council members won’t let me go out to gardens without supervision. I think we’ll have to stick to writing letters until they get off my back. It won’t be too long, I’m sure.
Octavio Takowasa
Octavio?
The Octavio? The Octavio currently in a snowglobe? The Octavio that Agent Three had fiercely battled? The Octavio that tried to wipe out the inkling race? The Octavio that was sworn enemies with Cap’n Cuttlefish?
Was that the Octavio that had written letters to Cuttlefish?
Agent Three couldn’t believe it. Their stomach drops, and for a moment, they have to mentally take a step back to revel in the new information. Three thought that they had been nemeses from the start. But to learn that they hung out in their own time? It almost broke Agent Three’s mind.
Agent Three takes another letter to read, eager to know more. Any sense of morality and privacy had been thrown out the window.
Tavi,
It’s not dumb if it clearly worked! :) Also, no need to write so formally. We’re friends, aren’t we? You can cut the royal carp. None of those facades, y’know?
I agree. A Council member breathing down my neck aside, my splatoon has been questioning where I am a lot more. Reasonably so, I’ve been sorta maybe kinda neglecting my duties. But does it really matter that much? Not like a disaster will happen tomorrow, hah!
They actually sat me down last night to try and force the information out of me. But luckily, I managed to squeeze out of their grasp! I’m not sure how long Agent 57 chased me for. I should mention that they actually managed to figure out that I had been sneaking into your castle, so oops.
But anyways, I managed to get her off my trail, and I ended up spending the rest of the night at the bar. I’ve been trying a lot of new drinks! …And blacking out a lot more.
But anyways, have you finished that sheet music we started? I’m excited to start writing some lyrics.
Miss you, Sincerely,
Craig Cuttlefish
It took Agent Three a few minutes to decipher Cuttlefish’s handwriting. They can’t believe that they were friends at some point. Three stares at the scribbled out miss you . The squid couldn’t believe their eyes. They would press on, but they felt that if they read any more letters, they’d explode from the amount of information they were taking in. Agent Three flips the page.
Well, to their irony, the next page was also full of writing. However, this time, there was only one singular letter stuck to it. This page seemed to be Cuttlefish’s favorite, considering that he had dog-eared the page. Curiosity, once again, was an anchor for Agent Three. Before they could even process what the page was, their orange eyes were already fleeting to the written words.
Craig,
Thank you for the flowers. I couldn’t keep the entire bouquet, as the council members found out easily. While they were confiscating them, one of them dropped. That’s the only one I could keep.
I’ll take care of it as best I can.
I apologize for not writing as much. Things have been getting busy here, with my coronation coming up soon and all. You should come, by the way. There’s other stuff happening as well.
Since stuff is gonna be busy in the upcoming months, I want you to come over to the gardens this weekend. There’s something I have to talk to you about.
Miss you,
Octavio Takowasa
Miss you? MISS YOU? Agent Three repeats it inside of their head. Some rather unwelcome theories were beginning to bloom in their mind. They graze their hand across the yellowed page, fingers bumping against something. They blink, realizing it was the stem of a flower, missing its head.
Wait.
Three gasps, before covering it instinctively with their hands. They glance over to Cuttlefish, who’s still happily sorting away. They sigh with relief, before turning away from the photo album to find the flower head they disposed of earlier.
It took a bit of digging and having to stomach mysterious stenches, but Agent Three’s hand reemerges, holding a weathered flower head. Carefully bringing it over like it was a priceless gem, Three sticks it onto the flower stem. It matched. Perfectly.
They drag their hand away, gazing at it. The flower was a muted and pale pink, with the petals outstretching towards the sun. Beauty aside, it brought up the question: How did Cuttlefish get this flower if he and Octavio were separated? Unless, Craig somehow managed to get insid…
Agent Three cuts off that thought off quickly, not wanting to think too hard about it. They want to stop right then and there, but an enticing corner of a photograph peeks its head from the pages. Three sighs, before flipping the page.
There was no writing this time. Just photographs. Photographs that weren’t yellowed and had been lovingly preserved. The first two were relatively normal. As normal as you could finding out that two sworn enemies that tried to kill each other on various occasions were actually friends at some point.
The first one was a photograph of Octavio. The camera’s angle is slightly tilted. A young octopus is the center of the photo, with two tentacles curling at his side. They start as a vibrant pinkish-red, before fading into a muted purple. Octavio has a soft smile. It was jarring to see the DJ genuinely happy.
Agent Three stares at his green eyes. They weren’t piercing like now. They were soft and gentle. Despite the soft look, it stirred fear in Agent Three. Octavio didn’t know what he’d become back then. The foreshadowing was too much to bear. They put their attention to the second photo.
It was Craig. The camera was still and straight this time, capturing the Cap’n perfectly. He wears a brownish-gray uniform, only a few badges adorning it. There’s an ear to ear grin on his face. His signature hat sits limply in his hat, revealing his spiky-ish hair.
Agent Three, against their better judgment, keeps looking. The third photo is the two inkfish posing in the garden. Or, well, trying to. Their expressions were full of amusement, and it was clear they were struggling to take it seriously.
The fourth photo was a picture of Octavio playing his instrument. Agent Three still couldn’t figure out what it was. It looked to be some sort of guitar, yet it wasn’t. It contrasted heavily with the fancy tech the DJ used now. The caption of the photo was some unfinished lyrics, it seemed.
While Agent Three tried to read it, the fifth and final photo caught their attention. It made their stomach drop, and cheeks burn. Their eyes slowly drift to it, dreading the seconds leading up to the grand reveal. The squid’s heart pounds, and they feel like Cap’n Cuttlefish might appear at any second behind them. Their curiosity drives them, and their pupils finally touch the entire photograph.
It was Octavio and Cuttlefish, extremely close together. There was a harsh blush on their faces, suggesting that they might be intoxicated. Craig’s usual hairstyle was down, tentacles brushing against his neck. Octavio’s tentacles were fully unfurled.
They were kissing.
Craig Cuttlefish and Octavio Takowasa, sworn enemies, were once lovers.
And even though at most it was a brisk glance, Agent Three immediately shuts the book quite loudly. They were visibly shaking, and the squid didn’t know if it was from the nervousness or because of the new information that they just consumed.
“Agent Three!” Cap’n yells. The cephalopod would rather hear any other voice right now. “I don’t hear any cleaning back there! Get to it!”
Agent Three doesn’t even comprehend it at first. They’re still reeling. Slowly, but surely, they get up with trembling legs. They hold the book tightly to their chest. As they swivel around, their gaze is immediately met with Octavio’s, a knowing look on his face.