Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been two years since Eight died. 

Agent 3 was mostly over it, or at least, she liked to say she was. Of course, there was the burning, itchy guilt that would crawl up her throat whenever she thought about her, but really, she was fine. There was a voice painfully like Eight’s that would call out to her from behind, and she would look and there would be nobody, but she was fine. There were the handfuls of meds every morning, and the therapy sessions, and the countless nights drinking herself blind, but she was fine.

Honestly, the worst part was that she couldn’t even remember how Eight had died. Or even much about her. She knew Eight was a wonderful girl she’d been unable to help falling in love with, and that they’d met on a subway, but that was all she had.

Well, that and the…strange feeling she’d get whenever her nightmares woke her up. The feeling of cold arms wrapping around her waist, with an indistinct whisper brushing against her ear.

That morning was…slightly different. There was nothing weighing Three down, except for maybe her three hearts, and she was squeezing her eyes shut against the sunlight peeking through the blinds, hoping for just five more minutes.

And then she heard a voice- not uncommon at all, but oddly persistent.

“Wake up,” the voice said. Warm and clear, though washed with an Octarian accent- so distinctly Eight. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

Three’s face scrunched in dismay, and she rolled over, clamping a hand over her ear. This was probably a sign she should get up and take her meds, but she couldn’t be bothered to move.

“Can you hear me?” the voice called again, sounding impatient. “Three, wake up!”

Three sat up at the mention of her name. She stared ahead at nothing, then slowly looked to her left, where the voice was coming from.

A girl was standing there. A girl with the same curly tentacles and the same round nose and the same full lips and the same kind eyes as Eight. She wore the same cropped leather top and miniskirt and hellish heeled boots, and she looked exactly like she did when Three lost her. Though, she was entirely pink, and slightly translucent at that.

She smiled warmly when Three met her gaze. “Hi…”

“Ei-Eight?” Three managed to choke out. She froze, unsure if it was guilt clogging her throat, or bile.

“You finally noticed me. Took you long enough.” She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side, but the gesture was nothing but playful. “I need your help.”

It took Three an embarrassingly long time to get her mouth to move. “N-No. No, you don’t. You’re not real. I’m going crazy.” She pressed a hand against her forehead, trying to push back an incoming headache.

“That’s not true!” Eight protested. “Well, the last one might be, but I’m real! And I really need your help!”

“Oh yeah? Well why don’t you tell my therapist about it? I’m about to find out if she does same-day appointments.” Three pushed her blankets aside and practically threw herself out of bed. She needed to get out of there.

She hurried to change into something at least somewhat presentable. As she did so, the hallucination lightly squealed and whirled around, covering her eyes. 

Three, now dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, a t-shirt, sneakers and a baseball hat that didn’t go together, speed-walked to the kitchen with the hallucination hot on her heels.

“Three, you can’t wear that. It doesn’t match.”

“Shut up.” Her pills were barely down her throat by the time she made it outside. She fumbled for her phone and called the first person her list of contacts suggested.

“Hello?” her friend- Agent 4- quickly answered.

Three stumbled over a reply, trying to improvise a conversation. “Do you wanna go turfing?”

“Oh, sure. You okay?”

Three hated that question.

“I need a distraction.”

“Got it. Meet at Deca Tower?”

“Yes! Sure. Okay.” Three hung up before she could worry about being too short with him. But she immediately had bigger, or at least pinker things to deal with.

“Three!” Eight called after her. She was following her, but she wasn’t even walking! She was just floating like some kind of ghost! “Would you at least listen to me?”

“I am not talking to you,” Three muttered, pushing through the busy streets of Inkopolis. Inklings and Octolings and other marine life brushed by without a care, and Eight managed to phase through all of them.

“Why not??”

“Because! Talking to hallucinations is for crazy people, and I am not a crazy person!” She stopped and pointed at Eight to prove her point, earning a few odd looks from the people around her. Flushing a pale orange, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and kept walking without another word.

She only looked behind her once she was standing in front of Deca Tower.

Eight simply stood there, looking as tragic and betrayed as she did in Three’s dreams.

“I’m-” Three didn’t know why she was bothering to explain herself to someone who wasn’t actually there. “I’m going to go play turf wars for as long as it takes for you to disappear.”

Eight sighed, but quickly shook it off. “Okay. Um, have fun!”

In the time it took Four to get there, Three had rented a splat roller, gone through two energy drinks, and paced the lobby eight times, constantly checking over her shoulder.

Four apologized for taking a while, blaming it on the long train ride in, and after a few minutes of waiting in queue, the two of them headed out to Blackbelly Skatepark with their team.

The ramps of the skate park were always fun to swim up and slide down, and the sun was warm up above, and Metalopod- a favourite of Three’s- was blasting through a broken speaker. It was the ideal scenario for having fun.

So why wasn’t Three having fun?

Well first off, the opposite team was pink, matching the hue of Three’s latest problem, and speaking of said problem, she kept catching her in the corner of her vision. Thus leading her to make many stupid mistakes, like rushing at a splatling, running into a wall, and flinging ink at one of her teammates because she couldn’t tell pink from blue.

And that ghostly Eight just sat on a bench overlooking the skatepark, watching it all. Eventually, she caught Three’s eye and waved- a gesture so nonchalant and so Eight that Three couldn’t move.

And since she was just standing there out in the open, gawking at a bench with nobody on it, she got sniped through the brains by a squiffer.

“You good?” Four asked. He was waiting for her back at spawn, twirling a dualie around his finger.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled, pulling herself up. “I… I think I might only play one round.”

“Are you okay?”

Three opened her mouth, but Eight was standing right behind him, looming over the both of them with a blank expression on her face. Three was certain it didn’t go unnoticed the way her breath quickened as she practically ran away from him, leaning her weight on her roller and sliding down the ramp to get back into the action.

As the final notes of Now or Never rang out and Judd the cat woke up from his nap, Three’s hope in their victory was diminishing. As was her hope in her sanity.

The music stopped, the whistle blew, and everybody ceased what they were doing, wincing against the chorus of bombs thrown at the last second.

Judd slowly got up, and stretched with a long meow, then looked around to survey the battlefield. No splash of ink could miss his eye, though the victor of this match was obvious. He nudged his head in the direction of team pink, and wandered away.

Three frowned as Four nudged her and patted her on the back.

“Hey, can’t win ‘em all or it gets boring! Right?”

“Right…” Luckily, her team didn’t seem too sour over the fact their loss was basically her fault.

Three and Four sat down on a bench near a vending machine, where they’d acquired a couple of cold drinks to chat over as their ink colours returned to normal. 

Three’s tentacles were naturally orange, but she’d dyed them lime, leaving a bit of orange at the tips. She’d had ‘em dyed since…y’know. And Four’s tentacles were green, and a bit sparkly thanks to some condition he had. Made his ink glimmer too.

Speaking of Four, he couldn’t handle awkward silence, so he was first to pipe up. “Hey, are you for real okay? You’ve been seeming…out of it.”

Three stared past him, pretending not to feel someone’s presence behind her. “I…think I need stronger meds or something. I’m…hearing things.” She swallowed as a pink hand gently hovered over her shoulder. “And…uh…seeing things.”

“What…kinda things?” Four asked, taking on a tone annoyingly similar to her therapist.

“Nevermind.” Three shook her head. “I’m not crazy. I swear I’m not crazy.”

Four put a hand on Three’s other shoulder, unknowingly crowding her. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I’m just worried.”

And honestly, worried was worse.

Three drew in on herself. She wanted to crawl out of her skin. Laying in bed until she rotted also seemed like a good option.

“Are you okay?” Eight and Four both asked in unison, and Three lost it.

“I’m fine!” She leapt to her feet, scrambling to push all the hands away. “I just- I can’t-” Her breath couldn’t keep up with her words. It probably looked like she was hyperventilating. “I gotta go.”

Four grabbed her hand before she could slip away. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Seriously.”

She stuttered out, “Yeah, sure,” before yanking her hand away and booking it, praying she could just close her eyes and wake up in some different reality where this wasn’t her.

Three laid in bed, burying her face in her pillow. The pink girl was there and she knew it, but maybe she would just go away if she ignored her.

“Please,” Three finally whispered. “Please leave me alone. What do you want from me?”

“What’s it going to take for you to realize I’m the real Eight?”

Weakly, Three rolled onto her side and looked at her.

Eight died. There was no real Eight.

Three decided to humour her. “I dunno. Say something that Eight would.”

Eight- or at least, the hallucination that looked like her- smiled. “Hmm, I could sing that song you played for me. Oh, how did it go?”

Three frowned at her as she tested a couple notes. “What song?”

Now it was Eight’s turn to frown. “Don’t you remember? That DJ battle you had with Marina? After you lost and the crowd went away, I was the only one left. You played a song just for me.”

Three remembered a DJ battle with Marina. That was DJ Sango’s last concert, she thought as she cast a pained glance at the keyboard gathering dust in the corner of her room. And she knew Eight had been there, and that she’d likely sent a couple smiles at her between verses, but she didn’t recall anything particularly special happening between them.

“Oh yeah?” Three asked. “Then what happened?”

“Well, we danced, and then, uh…” Eight flushed a brighter shade of pink, covering her face and looking away. “You really don’t remember?”

“No.” Three slumped into the sheets. “I don’t… I don’t even remember how…how you died.”

“You don’t?” Eight exclaimed, but she didn’t sound shocked. Rather…strangely hopeful. “That’s okay. I lost a lot of my memories when I died, too. That’s why it took me so long to find you.”

Three slammed her hands over her eyes, blocking the world out. “Why were you looking for me?”

“Because I need your help. And I’m not giving up on you.”

Three slowly peeked out from between her fingers. “Why?”

She sighed. “Do you…at least believe I’m the real Eight now?”

“Eight’s dead.” Cod, each time she had to say it felt like burying her an extra time.

“I’m not! Well, I am, but not for long, hopefully.” Eight folded her hands together, grinning sweetly at Three like she was about to ask something of her. “Listen. What you’re seeing right now is my soul. My ghost, if you will. And my body’s still out there somewhere.”

Three wasn’t sure who was crazier. “And… I’m guessing this is a situation where if we reunite your body with your soul, you’ll come back to life?”

“Yes!”

…

…

“I’ve officially lost my mind.”

“No, no, no!” Eight reached out to shake her, but her hands passed right through. “You can’t lose your mind yet. I need you to help me. You’re the only one that can help me.”

Three roughly sat up, glaring at the girl who may or may not have been a hallucination. “Okay, so suppose I believe you. I imagine we’re gonna have to go on some hunt for your body, and I’m gonna have to go up to strangers like ‘Hi, have you seen a body anywhere around here? It’s for my ghost girlfriend here.’ How well do you think that’s gonna go??”

Eight shook her head. “I already know where it is. Down in the place where we first met.”

“Where we met..?” Three squinted at her.

“You probably don’t remember. Y’know, the Deepsea Metro.”

Deepsea Metro. Now that rang a bell. All those years ago, Three and her captain had been out patrolling, then they somehow ended up in the metro, then they met Eight, and the famous pop duo Off the Hook, and then the facility they were in collapsed, and they all escaped. Except for Eight. 

There were obvious holes in the story- gaps in Three’s memory- but it was all she had. Even when comparing notes with Captain Cuttlefish, that was all she had, though it seemed the old guy knew more than he was letting on. He considered it a blessing she didn’t remember. As for Pearl and Marina- Off the Hook- they’d been keeping in touch through a radio at the time of the death, so they didn’t see what happened.

“Still with me?” Eight lightly tapped the underside of Three’s chin and placed a non-corporeal hand over hers- touches that might have felt warm and amicable if Three had been able to feel them. “Grab your hero suit. I’ll explain more on the way.”

Chapter Text

Three hadn’t put on her hero suit in at least a year. She had no reason to wear it, since Captain had relieved her of her agent duties until her mental state improved. She wasn’t even sure if it would fit, but as she zipped up her safety vest and slung her torn-up cape over her shoulders, she found it was just fine.

Plus, she got a kick out of how absolutely smitten Eight appeared.

“Aww, there’s the agent I know.” 

Three rolled her eyes and led her out of the apartment, locking up behind her. It was pretty weird to be leaving in uniform, especially since she wasn’t even going on patrol. The only thing missing was her hero shot, which was currently under the care of Captain.

She headed out into the busy streets once again, now walking at Eight’s side instead of running ahead. “So, what’s our plan?”

Eight hummed. “Well, I’ll take you to the metro! From there, we’ll need to explore a bit.”

Three pulled her headphones down and took out her phone, holding it up to her ear just so it didn’t look like she was talking to herself. “And…what exactly do you need my help with?”

She gestured at her pink, immaterial form. “I’m a ghost. I can’t touch anything. Well, except for one thing, but we’ll get into that later.”

Three thought about all the stuff she’d seen in bad horror movies. Levitating objects, sudden gusts of winds, flickering lights- all the work of ghosts. “So like, can you do any cool ghost stuff?”

“If I were more vengeful, maybe, but this is all I got.” She went to Three’s other side, leaning in to whisper in the ear unguarded by the phone. She grinned as Three studied her inquisitively, and blew.

Three actually yelped, flinching back and bumping into someone, who kept on with a glare and a muttered curse. 

Eight nearly doubled over laughing. “Sorry! I didn’t think you’d have that big of a reaction.”

“That’s it. You’re done.” Three fixed her headphones, tucked her phone away, and self-righteously quickened her pace. “I’m ignoring you now. Tell me where to go.”

Eight lingered close behind, whispering directions like some ghostly GPS.

“This is the place.”

Three looked down at the cement staircase leading down into darkness, hearing something trickling in the distance. They were in a suspiciously quiet alley of Inkopolis, dark and dreary enough to make her nerves crawl.

And yet, there was a sign above the creepy stairway reading, “Metro,” so Three took a deep breath and headed on down.

And down.

And down.

Three thought she’d been going down for centuries before she finally reached an abandoned train station. The tiled floors were cracked and stained with muddy footprints, the fluorescent lights flickered and dangled by single cords, and there was yellow caution tape plastered over every glass doorway.

However, as filthy as the place appeared to be, a sickeningly clean smell stung Three’s nose. It was like the station had been doused in bleach.

They approached a turnstyle which was meant to be ignored and hopped over, if she had to guess from how Eight floated on past it without a remark, but when she drew near, something in her pocket buzzed.

She pulled out some weird little remote that sort of resembled a toy submarine, and a light on the turnstyle began to flash.

Eight’s eyes went wide when she saw the controller. She rushed back over and tried to grab it, but seemed to remember a moment too late she couldn’t touch it. “An employee-model CQ-80! Where did you get this?”

Three shrugged. “I dunno. It was in my pockets. I haven’t checked ‘em since…since…”

Since Eight died.

“It’s been a while since I wore this uniform,” she finished curtly, trying to snuff away the sudden lump in her throat and stinging in her eyes.

Eight seemed to catch everything she was feeling, smiling sympathetically. “Well, this is a huge game changer! With that, you’ll have access to way more cool stuff!”

Not quite sure what to make of that, Three went ahead and scanned the CQ-80 at the turnstyle. The doors flipped open instantly, and she hurried to squeeze through as Eight went on ahead.

Then, Three stepped in a puddle of something teal, looking almost neon against the dusty floor. “What’s this?” She crouched down and reached out to poke it.

“Don’t touch that!” Eight quickly told her. She zipped over and shooed Three’s hand away.

“Why not? What is it?”

“You don’t want to find out. C’mon.”

It seemed like Eight knew much, much more than she was letting on.

They arrived at the platform just as a train was pulling in. The train looked pretty old itself, but it was absolutely covered in stickers and graffiti. Made Three wish she’d brought a marker or something just so she could leave her tag.

The doors slid open, and Three stepped in, quickly taking hold of a grab rail as the train took off down the rails into the darkness.

Eight was sure her staring did not go unnoticed, but she didn't care in the slightest. It had been two years since she saw the girl, and a big chunk of that was spent aimlessly wandering the train tunnels trying to remember anything about herself. Needless to say, she was going to get a good look while she could.

Three was still lean yet muscular, but she carried herself so…weakly. She was paler than before, and there were dark circles smudged beneath her eyes like bruises. She looked tired.

Eight tried to hold her hand, tried to trail a hand over her cheek, tried to rest her head on her shoulder, but it was no use. She couldn’t touch her.

Three watched her carefully, staying still and clearly fighting a reaction.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” Eight finally told her, sinking down into the seat across from her.

“I thought you were dead,” she said simply. “I wasn’t really expecting you to come back.”

Eight rested her head in her hand. “Do you still think you’re going crazy?”

“Mhm.” Three nodded. “I’ve been going crazy for two years, Eighty.”

The sound of the nickname made Eight just want to scoop Three into her arms and hold her forever. She wanted to hold her so badly, and she couldn’t even bash her head into the wall to express her frustration.

“I want to ask you something.” Three’s voice was low and rough, almost monotone, but music to Eight’s ears nonetheless. (She wanted to wake up to that voice every morning and hear it sing along to the radio and hear it gently speak her name and oh, she better actually listen to Three’s question) “Well, I want to ask a lot of things, but this first. Why did you want my help specifically? Is it just ‘cuz you…like me?”

Eight slowly rose, pressing herself as close to her as she could without phasing through her. Still wasn’t good enough… “Three, I love you. And I wouldn’t want anyone else to help me with this. But also…you’re the only one who can see me.”

She seemed mostly unfazed. “I figured… So, you know where your body is, right? Is that where we’re headed?”

Eight shook her head. “If it was just a matter of getting to my body, I wouldn’t have needed your help.” At the tilt of Three’s head, she sat back down, patting the seat beside her. “It’s a long story, but it’s a long train ride, so I’ll tell you.”

Eight, as she was right then, could not re-integrate with her body. Technically speaking, her soul was not complete, since she’d lost so many memories. While she’d acquired most of them during her time in the metro before she died, it still wasn’t enough. Besides, she’d lost a lot of them once again during the process of dying. She needed more.

And that’s where Three came in. The rest of Eight’s memories were locked behind tests that she couldn’t complete now that she was all non-corporeal. But if Three could complete the tests for her…

The train came to a stop, and Eight got off, while Three chased after her. They’d arrived in a much bigger station, complete with seats lining the walls, vending machines, and windows on the ceiling revealing the lapping ocean surface far above.

Three nearly tripped on something carelessly left on the ground, and looked down to see what it was, frowning as though it had personally offended her.

It was an old, beat up octoshot, with a yellow tag stuck to it, reading, “No. 10008.” 

Eight examined it as Three picked it up. “I’m number 10008… That must be mine.”

Three offered it to her, then smacked her forehead, realizing it would be of no use.

Eight laughed. “It’s okay. You can keep it for now. You’ll need it.” 

Before Three could have asked what that was supposed to mean, a bunch of target balloons appeared out of nowhere, hovering enticingly in the air.

Three considered this the perfect opportunity to test out the weapon, and went right to popping them, chasing them around and not missing a single shot.

When the final balloon popped, something fell out of it- a little charm of sorts resembling an octoshot just like the one Three used.

Eight knew exactly what it was. She hurried over and picked it up, turning it over in her hand, satisfied.

“You- You can touch it,” Three remarked, breathing heavily. Looked like she wasn’t used to all that running around after so long. “I thought you couldn’t touch anything.”

“This is a Mem Cake,” Eight told her, smiling warmly. “The only thing I can touch.” She admired it once more, then popped it into her mouth.

Memories of ink spray and hot days out on the field came rushing back, as the sickeningly sweet cake practically assaulted her senses.

Bend to bow! Stand at attention!

With this bestowed, you’re hereby owed

to battle for our protection.

Eight hummed, pondering the memory that flashed across her eyes. “Hm… That’s interesting. Looks like I was in the military. This gun was a gift from our leader, Octavio.” She reached out to feel the barrel of the weapon. It was still warm. “That’s weird… I can’t really picture myself doing that. I don’t think I could kill someone.”

“I don’t think I could, either,” Three admitted.

Eight looked up at her, something knowing in her eyes. She smiled gently at Three, then slowly looked down, where her hand held the octoshot so naturally, finger resting on the trigger. There were many things she wanted to say. “I know you never wanted to hurt anyone,” was what she settled on.

Three frowned at her, perplexed. “So…whatever you just ate- a Mem Cake or whatever- gave you a memory back? How does that work?”

“I know someone who can explain it better than I could. Follow me.”

Follow, follow, follow, was all Three seemed to be doing as Eight led her through the metro. They explored empty hallways and vacant terminals, following the barely-tangible sound of a lofi beat.

They passed a couple of vending machines, and Three paused, feeling rather thirsty. But upon closer inspection, the machines didn’t seem to accept any currency she knew of. And they didn’t even have drinks! Just more of those Mem Cakes…

“Three!” Eight called, as she’d gotten quite far ahead.

Three muttered something under her breath and moved on, quickening her pace to catch up. 

The music in the air she thought she’d imagined got louder and adopted a faster pace, almost like hip-hop. Sure enough, they turned a corner, and a chill mix of hip-hop and trap was playing from a laptop left on the floor.

Next to the laptop was someone sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Three thought the person was dead, but Eight assured her they were just…like that.

“They can’t see me,” Eight told her, gently touching- or trying to touch- the small of her back, “so you’ll have to ask them yourself.”

With great uncertainty, Three stepped forward, her tongue tripping over an introduction. “Hi, uh…”

“Acht,” Eight said. “That’s my friend Acht.”

“Acht?” Three repeated, her voice cracking up an octave with her nerves. “Hi. I know Eight.”

Acht slowly looked up from their laptop, pulling their headphones down to hang around their neck. Their skin was a sickly, unnatural green, and their tentacles faded from dark blue to bright red. They wore nothing but an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of boots, but a jacket was crumpled up on the floor beside them. “I know Eight too,” they said. Their voice was rough and weak.

Three grasped for something to say. She really would have liked to practice a couple of times before this interaction. “I wanted to ask about Mem Cakes.”

Acht frowned deeper than they already had been. “Mem Cakes? They’re memories compressed into a physical form.”

“...Why?”

They adjusted their shades. “Around here, they’re formed ‘cuz of sanitization. You lose your memories, and they turn into Mem Cakes. I’ve got a couple. Eight found ‘em for me, actually.” They fumbled around in the pocket of their jacket, pulling out the weird little objects. One looked like a turntable, and one looked like Off the Hook’s Marina.

“They didn’t eat them,” Eight grumbled, crossing her arms.

“You didn’t eat them?” Three asked.

Acht shook their head, putting the Mem Cakes away. “I don’t want to remember right now.”

Seemed fair enough. “And, uh… What would Mem Cakes do for…a ghost?”

Eight gave her a look, like that wasn’t part of the plan. But really, she should have planned for Three’s curiosity. Especially when she was leaving out so many details.

Acht raised an eyebrow. “A ghost? I can only imagine a ghost needing Mem Cakes if they died and lost their memories. Is that what you mean?”

“Sure?”

They hummed. “Mmkay… So, in the case of sanitization, you’re infused with this weird stuff called sanitized ink. There’s all sorts of other side effects, but memory loss is the main thing. That’s when the Mem Cakes pop out. But the Mem Cakes are already pieces of your soul, so there shouldn’t be a ghost.”

“Is sanitization different from death?” What even was sanitization?

“I’m partially sanitized.” They held a couple fingers up to their neck. “I’m not dead, but I’m definitely not alive.”

“What’s it like?”

They hummed, leaning their head back against the wall. “You… You ever been so drunk all you can do is just…lay there? And you’re not really thinkin’ anything, you’re just…there?”

Three nodded, much to the concern of Eight.

“It’s kinda like that.”

“Oh.” Three pondered it over. “Sounds like it sucks, but I can kinda see the appeal.”

“I’m running out of the ability to think,” Acht said, forcing themselves to sit up. “I’m really tired. But I wanna ask you something.”

Three waited for them to continue.

“Why do you wanna know about ghosts and Mem Cakes ‘n stuff? You a ghost? Though, unless there’s something I really don’t remember, I dunno how I’d be able to see you.”

Three bit her lip, pretending to ignore Eight, who was frantically shaking her head. “I, uh… There’s a ghost I want to help. She’s uh…right here, actually.”

Any forced politeness in Acht’s tone was gone in an instant as they frowned. “You can see her?”

“Yes..?”

“You sick fuck.” They shut their laptop, putting a halt to their music. “What, you feel bad? Switchin’ it up just like that?”

“Excuse me?” Three spat out, startled.

“Oh, don’t play stupid.” They pulled their headphones back up, glaring sharp enough to kill. “Get outta here.”

Eight waved a pink hand in front of Three to get her attention. “Come on, let’s go.”

Three nodded, slowly backing away. “I don’t get it…why’d they get so mad?”

“I dunno,” she chirped, but it sounded like she knew. “Um, maybe it’s a sanitization thing.”

They hurried back to the main station to catch the train, but when they got there, an old vintage telephone stood at the center of the platform, seemingly looking right at them.

Eight froze, slowly shrinking behind Three.

The phone rang, its shrill bells bouncing off the walls of the cavernous station like an alarm.

Three took a step forward, but Eight stopped her.

“Don’t answer it. Let’s just go. Please.” She was crying.

Three tried to cup her face and brush the tears away, but being unable to touch her, she just had to hold her hands there and hope the gesture was reassuring. “Hey, I wasn’t gonna. That old thing is mad creepy. Want me to bust it up?”

Eight giggled, the sound high and clear and all too familiar. “No, no.” She looked up as the train rolled in. “Let’s go. We’ve got some tests to do.” Her smile suggested she’d explain on the way, as usual.

Chapter Text

The map of the Deepsea Metro’s train routes was…intimidating to say the least. In fact, it looked like a big pile of colourful ramen noodles.

Luckily, Eight was there to help Three make some sense of it.

“Mmkay…so you can select a station with your CQ-80, and the train will go there.”

“Really?” Three examined the map being projected by her strange device. “I just…get control of the whole train?”

“Well no. The train stops at every station anyways, but your CQ-80 will let you know to stop at any specific one.”

So, Three selected the next station on the line as the train took off, and the two took their seats as they waited.

It was quiet, save for the hum of the train and the rattling of the tracks beneath them and the buzz of the lights. So it really wasn’t all that quiet.

“I was thinking about what Acht said about sanitization,” Three began. “It sounds like becoming a ghost isn’t part of the deal…so maybe that wasn’t what got you?”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Eight said, crossing her legs. “Your captain…Cuttlefish, was it? Does he remember what happened?”

“To you?” Three frowned, leaning back in her seat. “I think he does, but he won’t tell me. The most he gave me was that it was during the collapse…”

Eight stared at her like she was the tragic one, but quickly shook it off. “Uh, yeah! It was when the facility collapsed…”

Three gave her a weird look. “Do you…remember your death?”

“Of course I do.” She took a quick glance out the window. “We’re almost at our stop.”

Dodging the subject… That was fair enough. Three didn’t want to think about her dying either.

How wonderful it was to be back. Not. Eight fought back a grimace as she slipped through the turntable into the station after Three. It smelled nauseatingly of old ink, and the ceiling was so high above, and the abyss below was so, unfathomably far down.

Three looked around, her face scrunching up in confusion. “This is like those levels I cleared in Octo Valley…”

Perfect. So Eight was right in her assumption this wouldn’t be too hard for her.

The two pressed forward, easily running through an obstacle course of sorts. And Three was a pro! She leapt over ink pistons and slipped through grates, all with the grace of someone who’d done such a thing a thousand times. She was rusty- such a thing was obvious from her clumsy stance and her trigger-happy grip on the octoshot- but that was only natural, and it was a breeze to push through it.

Eight had nothing but the highest of praises for her, which seemed to boost her confidence, though she tried to seem stoic.

They were about halfway through the station when they came to a pool of green ink. 

Eight halted Three with a hushed, “Hey!” just as a team of Octotroopers spawned in out of nowhere

“Octos,” Three growled, then quickly muttered, “Sorry.”

Eight narrowed her eyes as the Octotroopers opened fire, and Three easily avoided their shots.

“Think we can run past them?” Three called. She’d sunk into her ink to recover from a shot she couldn’t dodge, and was slowly rising back out, shaking orange ink out of her hands. “I don’t really wanna kill these guys in front of you.”

Eight shook her head. “Look at them.” She frowned at the poor, sickly Octarians trapped in such a horrible fate. She was lucky she hadn’t been snagged too. “They’re not alive. They’ll do anything to hurt you, so you need to do anything to survive.”

Three considered this for about half a second, before going straight to splatting the firing threats. She waved Eight off as she rushed to her side, checking her for injuries. “I’m fine, Eighty. You’ve given me worse than this, haven’t you?”

Eight smiled. Looks like she remembered the handful of times they’d crossed paths before. 

They kept going. Kept leaping, kept swimming, kept fighting. Three barely looked tired. Eight was tired just watching her.

They finally arrived at the end terminal. Three scanned her CQ-80 at the turnstyle, and a warm, bright light lit up the whole platform.

Something shined even brighter within the light, and Eight reached out for it. She was hopeful, but when the object passed through her hand and clinked onto the concrete below, she knew it wasn’t a Mem Cake.

She frowned as Three crouched down and picked up what looked like a coin. Was this some kind of joke?

The coin was blue, and bore the logo of Kamabo Co.- the company behind the metro’s…eccentricities.

“I don’t understand,” Eight finally said. “I did these tests when I was alive and… I was supposed to receive a Mem Cake…”

Were there even more hurdles she’d have to jump over? She’d fought so hard already! 

She clenched her fists, frustration brimming within her.

“Hey,” Three said gently. She idly flipped the coin off of her thumb and caught it. “I’m sure this is good for something. Actually…” She inspected the coin further. “I have an idea!”

Three hopped onto the next train with an eagerness Eight had never really seen from her. She paced back and forth, eyeing the coin and holding it up to the light as if that would reveal its secrets.

Three got off when the train stopped at the central station, where they’d gone looking for Acht. Eight almost couldn’t keep up with the girl as she ran down the dark hallways, splashing through more puddles of that teal stuff.

They finally stopped in front of a vending machine, and Three doubled over, out of breath. After a few seconds of panting, she rose, grinning triumphantly.

The vending machine was full of Mem Cakes, and it looked like the only currency it accepted was that coin they’d won.

“Three! You’re a genius!” Of course her Mem Cakes would be there! Eight barrelled right through her in an attempt to hug her. “Ah. Right.”

“Yeah…” Three shivered in place, still with a goofy smile on her face. “You’re…really cold, by the way.” She reached out and awkwardly wrapped an arm around her, and goosebumps rose on her neck. “Not a bad thing…though…”

Eight took her sweet time shifting away, then leaned in to examine the Mem Cakes in the machine. There was always a certain tug to her hearts she’d get whenever she saw one, and her insides were undoubtedly glowing with joy.

“Which one d’you wanna get?” Three asked, holding the coin between two fingers.

Eight felt like a child in a candy store, considering all her options, looking back and forth between brightly coloured cakes… Eventually she stopped and looked over her shoulder at Three, who appeared quite amused by her excitement. “I can’t choose! How about you pick, since you won the coin?”

Three hummed, her gaze wandering over the display, then she punched in a number and dropped the coin in.

Something landed in the chute with a thunk, and Three opened the chute so Eight could reach in and grab it.

The Mem Cake depicted a pair of goggles, just like the ones Eight had worn when she was a trainee defending the Octarian domes. They helped with aim and the like.

Without a moment to waste, she ate it.

You grab my face- a new attack

I’m boggled, you stole my goggles

You stupid inkling, give those back!

Eight burst out laughing, grinning so wide she showed off her fangs. What a memory that was!

One of her first days on the field… And she’d had to deal with an inkling invasion of all things! Then a much younger Three came along, knocked her down, and instead of finishing her off…snatched the goggles right off her face!

Three recalled the day too, though faintly. She’d left a trail of chaos through Octo Valley, that’s for sure.

“We didn’t meet again for a long time after that,” Eight mused. “Do you remember the time we formally met?”

Three tilted her head to the side. “It was before we first ended up here…but that’s all I know.”

Eight sighed. Of course, she knew this, but she opted to not say anything else on the matter.

“Don’t worry, it’ll come back to me.” Three crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at the vending machine. “Hey… What if instead of doing a bunch of annoying tests, I just break the vending machine so you can have an all-you-can-remember buffet?”

“I don’t think that would-”

THUD!

Three rammed her shoulder into the glass, rattling the old machine.

Eight smiled, shaking her head.

SPLAT!

Three tried shooting the glass with the octoshot.

POW!

Three, in a last-ditch effort, punched the glass, and Eight heard something crack.

Eight lightly swatted her away. “That’s enough, my love. I think we’re going to have to do this the approved way.”

Three played it cool, though she was blushing. “Worth a shot…”

It went on like that for a while. Three actually wasn’t quite sure for how long. Once her phone lost service, she stopped trying to keep track.

It had at least been a few days. Maybe a week. Maybe more than a week. Maybe a month? It didn’t matter.

They would choose a station, take the train there, complete a test, earn a coin, and spend it on the vending machine. Sometimes they’d do dozens of tests in a row just so they could go on a spending spree of sorts! How much time it took didn’t matter, because each coin won was as precious as gold if it meant something for Eight.

And Eight was everything. Each memory unlocked made her glow an even brighter pink, and she was so big, and so warm (though her touch was rather cold). She was absolutely everything.

Three didn’t know where she’d be without her.

Well, actually she did. Passed out on her bed, too drunk to think.

She really didn’t want to think about that though, and she especially didn’t want to think about what would happen if she turned out to be imagining all this, so she dragged her thoughts out of the mud and focused on the seat in front of her as the train took them to their next destination.

Eight’s hand was hovering above hers, making her feel right at home though it chilled her to the bone. It was the kind of cold she could get used to.

The train came to a stop and Eight pulled away, much to Three’s disappointment. But, she had to keep reminding herself it would only be a matter of time until she could hold her hand for real.

This station led them to a big, open arena. If Three knew anything, this meant she was taking on something big.

“Be careful, Three,” Eight whispered, pressing close behind as she wandered into the arena.

“I’ll be fine,” Three assured her, twirling the octoshot around her finger. “Keep in mind, who’s the one that dismantled the Great Octoweapons?” She slowly raised her thumb and pointed it at herself.

“I know, I know! But…that was years ago…and everything’s stronger down here…” Eight shook this off with a smile. She believed in her, after all.

An enormous puddle of green ink pooled in the center of the arena. Once Three stepped close enough, something rose out of it, as spotlights shone down onto them and a grand fanfare played over broken speakers.

The beast presented before Three was one she recognized. Enormous, cube-shaped body, goofy face… She was looking at the Mighty Octostomp!

But something was different about it. Its eyes were jet-black, its metal plating dented and rusted, and its ink that sanitized green she’d been seeing all over.

As soon as Octostomp saw her, it roared and charged, and she knew this whole song and dance. Move aside when it charged, ink up its sides when it’s down, swim up, shoot the tentacle protruding from its back. Easy.

Well, it was easy until it popped on some ink-resistant armour. Three nearly got crushed a couple of times before she realized the armour’s buckle was fastened right on its stupid face.

Just as it charged, she shot the buckle, breaking it and sending the armour slumping down to the floor.

After that, it was the same old thing. Octostomp down. Again.

Though, Three had to wonder what Octostomp was doing down there. She’d been wondering about the other Octarians too. Why they were there and why they looked and acted so different. She’d always known Octarians to be obnoxiously diligent, but the ones she fought there in the metro were so determined to kill her they’d crawl on broken limbs just for a chance.

The reward for defeating Octostomp was five coins instead of just one. Eight was delighted.

Three and Eight sat back down on the train, revelling in their victory. Eight was full of praise, as always.

“That was amazing! Of course, I never doubted you.”

Three pretended those words didn’t mean the world to her. “Ah, what can I say? Once an agent, always an agent.”

“I wonder which Mem Cakes I should try next,” Eight mused. “I saw a bunch that looked like people- maybe people I knew before?”

Three smiled at her as she rambled on. It was almost painful how beautiful she was. The mere thought of losing her made Three’s hearts lurch with all the force of an oncoming train. Her stomach twisted just imagining going back to the way things were before, mourning a girl she couldn’t even remember.

It didn’t take Eight long to trail off, noticing her staring. “Three? Still with me? I’m kinda planning our future together here.”

Three laughed. “Sorry. I zoned out once you got to the fondue fountain at our wedding.”

“You okay?” Eight asked, smiling sympathetically. “You must be tired, after all these tests.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Three waved her off, but she was stupid to think she wouldn’t persist.

“Three, you know you can tell me, right? You’re not just tired.”

A suppressed sigh. Eight was too good at this.

“I guess… I guess I still think I’m losing it.” Three averted her gaze as Eight leaned in, listening intently. “Like… Like I could just blink and- and you’d be gone, ‘cuz you were never there in the first place, and I was just insane.”

“Oh Three,” Eight sighed, and Three squirmed as she felt it on her neck. “I wish I could show you I was real in a way that mattered…” She pressed as close as she could, seemingly unaware of the breaths that solidified her existence in the smallest of ways.

“I can feel you,” Three told her. “I know you’re there… I’m just… I dunno…” She shivered, but wouldn’t dream of doing anything to rid herself of the cold arms that snaked around her.

Eight hummed, tilting her head back to speak in Three’s ear. “Oh, the things I’ll do to you once I have my body back…”

At this remark, Three felt every part of herself heat up. She tried to keep her cool, but Eight could totally tell and she was totally drinking it up. “Oh yeah? What kinda things?”

Eight slowly and purposefully looked her up and down, her eager grin only pinning her hearts in place. She sighed again, tracing a hand over Three’s cheek. “All this time I spent looking for you, and I can’t even touch you… It’s driving me crazy.”

“You think you’re crazy?” The tiniest puff of Eight’s breath had her insides blazing, but she shoved it down. “I’m the one talking to a ghost.”

“A ghost who loves you!” Eight hugged her (or at least tried to), and she was back to the sweet, doting Eight Three was familiar with (though she wouldn’t mind getting acquainted to this other side she’d been shown).

Three leaned into the non-existent touch. “So. Chocolate or cheese for the fondue?”

“Chocolate, obviously!” She hummed, likely imagining the sweet delicacy. “And Pearl and Marina should be there.”

“As guests or as performers?”

“As guests. How are those two doing, by the way?”

Three thought back, idly tapping her leg. It had been a while since she spoke to them. There was a group chat for each of them to reach out if they needed it, but Three never spoke there, just left messages wishing her well on read. “They’re doing better than I am. They miss you.”

Three remembered the funeral. The funeral with four people. She’d cried during her speech, not because she was especially upset, but because she couldn’t find anything to say.

“I miss them too,” Eight said, bringing her out of the fog. “Especially Marina. I want to make it to the surface like she did.”

“That would mean a lot to her.”

The conversation came to a lull, but neither of them seemed to mind. Though, the rattling and swaying of the train was oddly soothing, and Three’s vision was slowly ebbing into darkness. She kept shaking herself awake, trying to blink away the sleep threatening her.

This of course did not go unseen by Eight, who smiled and sighed out a laugh. “You must be exhausted. I haven’t seen you sleep since I found you.”

“I’m fine,” Three replied easily. “Besides, we have coins to spend.”

Eight shook her head. “Rest, dear. The vending machines aren’t going anywhere. I don’t want you to pass out because you’re helping me.”

Three tried to protest further, but she really was tired, and just a short nap seemed highly tempting.

“I’ll be right back,” she distantly heard Eight say, before she slumped against the seat and fell asleep.

It truly was a precious sight. Three was always so diligent. Eight rarely saw her relax. That’s why the sight of her snoozing on the train, eyes gently closed, looking so peaceful was just so…adorable!

Eight wished she could just stare at her, but she had things to do. She left the train, which had come to a stop at central station, and wandered over to the vending machine. She had no coins to spend, but hey, looking at the selection was fun enough.

Venturing further down the hall led her to more vending machines, offering more Mem Cakes. These ones were not hers, so she had no interest in them. A machine numbered 9980 had been left open thanks to some expert lock-picking on Eight’s part over two years ago. The Mem Cakes within belonged to her friend Acht.

She reached in to steal a couple more, but paused. Acht hadn’t even eaten the last ones. If they didn’t want to remember, there was no point getting them any more cakes.

She went back down the hall, passing machine number 10008, where she and Three had been getting her Mem Cakes. She smiled at the tiny crack in the glass.

There was one last vending machine around the corner from hers, with a large hole conveniently broken in the glass. She didn’t want to know what had caused it, but she did know the now empty vending machine had once contained four Mem Cakes.

Eight considered returning to the train. She had no further business out there, but she wanted to let Three sleep. Maybe there was something else she could do…

She looked up at the hole in the ceiling, then carefully floated up to it. She could see the ocean’s surface, but it looked like there were several layers of glass before that preventing the station from flooding.

Her hearts sank. She remembered climbing through there to try and escape the metro before she died. Right…and there was a test facility beyond there…and then an elevator…

She pulled away from the hole before her thoughts could consume her. “I’m making it out this time,” she told herself. “Both me and Three are.”

She looked down, suddenly realizing how far away the ground was. It had never really occurred to her that she could basically fly in this form.

With a huge grin, she launched herself backwards, soaring through the open air. She wished she was able to hold a marker, just so she could plaster “Eight was here” all over the ceiling. She spun and she danced and she flew, for once feeling as weightless as she was.

There was no way she’d miss being a ghost once she had her body back, but this was…nice.

She lowered herself back down to the ground, figuring it was probably time to get back on the train…but that phone was there.

That awful telephone stood on the platform, looking right at her. 

Eight’s figurative blood went cold when it started to ring. It was shrill. Obnoxious. Terrifying. But she took two big brave steps forward and answered, “Hello?”

The phone’s voice sputtered and crackled as it spoke. “Well, well, well! Number 10008 has returned to the show! I thought something pink and irritating was haunting the metro!”

“So you can see me.” Eight frowned. “Whatever you’re trying, you’re not going to get away with it.”

“I’m the one trying something? I’m just takin’ care of business.” Its tone feigned offence. “Who’s the one leading that inkling around everywhere and lying?”

“I’m not lying to her!”

“Oh yeah? Then why haven’t you told her what really happened two years ago?”

“I…” Eight faltered. “She doesn’t need to know…yet.”

The phone hummed, sounding like a dial tone. “Sounds. A lot. Like lying!”

“As if you’re any better! Luring desperate octolings down into the depths and then killing them?” 

“That’s just showbiz!”

Eight growled, clenching her hands into fists. Maybe she should have let Three beat the old phone up. “What’s with this stupid radio personality? Be serious with me, Tartar!”

The old telephone- Tartar- went quiet. Something buzzed within its metallic plating, and its voice suddenly came out much clearer. “Trust me when I say I’m being very serious, number 10008. I suggest you let that inkling go back to her life on the surface, and quit meddling in my affairs.”

“I want nothing to do with you!” Eight yelled. “But you killed me! I want my life back!”

“I only played a part, number 10008. And you know this.”

“No!” She furiously shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “It was all you! It was all you!”

“Agent 3 can see you, can’t she?” Tartar’s voice came out sickeningly sweet, as though it were reading out a line from a children’s book. “And you know what they say.”

“Stop.”

“A ghost can only be seen by the one who killed them.”

“Stop!” Eight’s hands trembled. She ducked her head, looking down at the concrete, effectively defeated. But she wasn’t out of fight just yet. “I’m going to recover as many memories as I can. And I’m going to get my body back. And I’m going to live on the surface with Three! But before I do that, I’m going to crush you.”

Tartar buzzed, and its voice went back to the way it was before. “Ooh, crush me, will you? Girl, your threats are as empty as you are.” It laughed- such a horrible and strained noise. “And where do Agent 3’s memories come into play in this plan of yours? I saw you steal those Mem Cakes.”

Eight faltered, feeling the Mem Cakes burning somewhere within her. “There…will be a time for them.”

“Wow. Girlfriend of the year, everyone! You’re never going to give her the chance to remember, are you? You’re no better than me.”

Eight flinched, the insult cutting deep enough to kill her a second time.

“What ever. You can come at me as many times as you want, but I’ll make sure you don’t mess up my plans. I’ve got a world to perfect, here.”

Eight backed away, stepping towards the train. “You can kill me over and over. But I’ll keep coming back! I’ll never stop coming back until both me and Three are safe!”

If the phone could have rolled its eyes, it would have. “Get outta here!”

It was quiet when Eight returned to the train. She didn’t care.

All that mattered was Three, who was still asleep and still so precious, and Eight loved her so horribly.

Though perhaps if she truly loved her, she wouldn’t be keeping so many secrets. It didn’t matter if she thought it was for her own good. She was still so terrible.

She slowly drew towards Three, with something aching in her chest. She crawled into her lap, and wrapped her arms around her neck, and kissed her.

It was all wrong, and the love that had been spiraling around her insides was being overtaken by something ugly, but at least the ghostly kiss quelled whatever was causing her pain. 

Eight let out a little sigh. This was wrong. She shouldn’t have been there.

It was only poetic justice that Three blinked her eyes open to meet Eight’s gaze.

Chapter Text

Three woke up because she was cold. It wasn’t the sort of cold where she could just squeeze her eyes shut and ignore it. It crawled all over her body, gripping her tightly, like the nights with her terrible dreams.

But within that cold laid something sweet. A gentle sigh over her lips.

She opened her eyes, finding Eight right there, looking horrified.

The both of them flinched back. Three tried to hold Eight there with a hand on her waist, but it went right through.

“I’m sorry.” Eight backed away as far as she could go, hovering near the opposite seat. Her eyes were wide. Her hands were shaking. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Three rubbed her eyes, lightly shivering. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. I should have woken you and asked.” Eight was forcing herself to look at her, a deep grimace and a crease in her brows twisting her pretty face. 

“Okay, fair.” Three gestured to the seat next to her. “I would have said yes.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Eight whirled around, covering her face, taking big, heavy breaths Three longed to feel on her skin.

“Eight…” Three slowly got up, stepping over to her and holding her hand up to her back. “Seriously, it’s fine. I forgive you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Eight muttered, wrapping her arms around herself and looking down at the floor. “Maybe I’m selfish, and terrible, and you never should have let me drag you down here…”

“Hey.” Three guided Eight’s gaze back to her with a gentle tug on her chin, frowning. “Why’re you beating yourself up over this?”

Eight stared at her with hard eyes. She was looking so deeply into Three, hardly even blinking. Then she sat down, and Three did the same, though she’d almost forgotten how to move.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” Eight finally said, now desperately looking at anything except Three. “Something you deserve to know.”

It took Three a couple tries to get her voice to work. “Like…what?”

Eight let out a long sigh, then reached right into her own chest. She prodded and rummaged around like one would inside a purse, and winced like it hurt. 

Three had no idea what to say to this, but she felt bile rise just watching.

Then Eight finally retracted her hand and held it out to Three. Four Mem Cakes sat in the palm of her hand. One looked like a radio, one looked like that old telephone she’d seen, one looked like her, and one was a pink octopus.

“Mem Cakes…?” Three whispered.

“Your Mem Cakes,” Eight corrected. “These hold your memories of this place. I had them the whole time…and I kept them from you.”

Three should have been upset. She knew she should have. But she delicately took the cakes from Eight, and looked up at the poor girl, and didn’t really feel anything except some unstable relief. “Well? Do you know which one I should try first?”

Eight looked surprised, like she’d expected to be yelled at, but she forced a smile and pointed at the pink one. “This one is first.”

Three set the rest of the Mem Cakes down in the space between them and held up the pink octopus. It was really cute, and sort of looked like Eight. She didn’t really want to eat it, but the memories it held were all too enticing.

She scrunched her face up as she chewed on it. It was way too sweet, almost sickeningly so. Then fog danced across her vision, and she remembered.

…

“An octo!” Captain exclaimed, snapping Agent 3 out of her zoning out. He pointed frantically at the octoling trainee down in the valley below them. “Get her, Agent 3!”

Agent 3 shrugged. It was just a trainee. What was the point? But, she followed his orders and jumped down, sneaking up behind the octoling.

The girl- who was crouched down to pick up something she had dropped- was about Three’s age, and she froze when she felt the barrel of Three’s hero shot press against the back of her head.

“Don’t move,” Three told her. “You speak Inklish?”

“Very little,” the girl shakily replied.

Three intended to hold the girl there until her captain came down- he was old enough he couldn’t just jump like Three had- but the girl had other plans.

She swept her leg around and kicked Three in the shins, knocking her right over, then stood up and drew her octoshot in one fluid movement.

Three stared up at her, baffled. First of all, the girl was super cute, and second of all, this was the first time Three had been bested by…anyone.

This was going to be a good fight.

Three leapt up and righted herself just as the girl started shooting. She kept dodging until the girl inked the ground at her feet, then tossed a splat bomb to distract her so she could get away.

The girl glared, rubbing a splatter of orange ink from her cheek, then snickered at the sight of Three.

Though Three had yet to be hit, her clothes and skin were peppered with splashes of pink. 

“Get it together, Agent 3!” came Captain’s voice. He’d finally made it down and was urging her on.

Three set her jaw and held her gun tighter and rushed forward. As she fought, Captain pulled out a speaker and began blasting the Calamari Inkantation to help her fight. And while the efforts to boost her strength were appreciated…the Squid Sisters were so annoying. Three really wasn’t a fan.

Clearly, the octoling girl agreed. As soon as the song reached its chorus, she flinched back, dropping her weapon. Her eyes went wide and she covered her ears, and oh. She was in pain.

“What are you doing, Agent 3?” Captain yelled over the music.

Agent or not, Three wasn’t about to attack a disarmed foe, so she carefully tucked her hero shot back in its holster and approached the girl.

“Hey, you good?”

It was as though the girl hadn’t even heard her. She took hurried breaths that likely didn’t even reach her lungs, and her gaze darted around as she tried to make sense of things.

Three took one more step, and felt something tap against her foot. She looked down and saw some sort of golden hairpin. Must have been what that girl had been looking at. 

Three bent over and picked it up, offering it to the girl. “Is this yours?”

The girl stared at the object in her hand, slowing her heavy breathing. She lowered her hands from her ears and carefully reached for it.

Their hands brushed as the girl took the accessory. Her skin was warm and soft. “Thank you… I…not know squids…be…mercy.”

Three stared at her, the sound of her gentle voice serving to delete anything of use from her brain.

So here you are, supposed fiend

I must be blind, you seem so kind

Can’t take the shot, can’t do the deed

Three took a step back. She couldn’t kill this girl. Or hurt her. Or do literally anything but stare at her.

Just as she was about to convey this to her captain, the ground shook. Three reached out to steady the girl as she nearly lost her balance, then an enormous crack in the ground separated them.

“Agent 3!” Captain called.

Three whirled around to help him, but the ground caved in, and the three of them fell down, down, into the darkness.

…

Three blinked as the memory faded and she was back in the train. “Huh… That was when we met. Your Inklish is way better.” 

“I’ve been practicing.”

She looked over at Eight, who she realized wasn’t wearing that hairpin. “What happened to that gold hair thing you had?”

“I lost it again,” she murmured. “It was quite precious. I hope I can find it.”

“I’ll help you look,” Three told her.

She smiled, then slowly shook her head. “Another time.” She handed Three another Mem Cake- the one that resembled that old telephone.

Steeling herself, Three slowly stuck it in her mouth, but it wasn’t nearly as sweet. Almost…bitter.

…

Three slowly came to, wincing against a headache pounding against her skull. The floor was hard and damp beneath her, and it was really, really dark.

She finally opened her eyes and she was in…a train station? She got to her feet with a loud grunt. Everything hurt.

She looked up and found the giant gash in the earth she’d fallen through. It went up a long, long way, which meant she’d fallen far, far down.

“Captain?” she called, her voice bouncing off the walls around her. No response. Whatever.

She wandered on, eventually coming to a door with a sign reading, “Employees only.” She figured whoever worked there might be able to help, and went in. 

She went up several flights of stairs, until she was no longer in a dingy subway, but a blindingly white, albeit dusty, lab facility.

There was a stark lack of employees to be found, and a strong scent of hand sanitizer. That and the flickering fluorescent lights did little to help Three’s headache.

Three found files she couldn’t understand, computers that didn’t work, and weird teal ink that stung her hands, but nobody who could help her.

Just as she was about to give up, she heard the distinct sound of a phone ringing. Finally, some hope! She ran down twisting halls, following the incessant ringing, when she came across an old, antique telephone.

It seemed to stare her down, ringing and ringing. It didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. At least, not until Three picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Who are you? This is private property.”

“I’m sorry. I’m super lost. I fell in here with a couple other people. I just want to get out.”

“Oh sure, I’ll help. But it’ll cost ya.”

Three swallowed nervously. “What do you mean?”

“How old are you?”

“S-Sixteen?”

“That’s plenty old enough for a job! You wanna work for a while?”

“Work?? I kinda…already have a job…”

“If you’re stuck down here, I doubt you’re going back to it.” 

Three frowned.

“Listen. It’s hard to keep staff around here. And it’s kind of a mess. We need a janitor.” The phone clicked and churned, and a remote resembling a toy submarine fell out of a slot in the bottom. “This is a CQ-80. It’ll give ya all sorts of access to all the fancy stuff around here. Should help you do your job.”

Three frowned again. “Not to be rude, but I really don’t think I’ll be down here long enough to work. As soon as I find a way out, I’ll be gone.”

“I doubt you can get out of here before I can get you.”

“W…What?”

“This is a threat. We might not have staff around here, but we have excellent security who will kill you. Feel free to consider your options.”

Three froze, looking down at the little remote that had fallen.

Ring ring ring! Come answer the phone!

Don’t be bitter, working’s better

than wandering the depths alone

Well…if her job was to clean the place up, she’d basically have free reign to explore…and find a way out.

“Fine,” she told the telephone. “I’ll work. Uh, what’s the pay?”

“Me not killing you.”

Three searched and searched for a sign the person on the other end of the line was joking, but they sounded dead serious. She croaked out an awkward laugh. “Great… I, uh, like that better than money…”

“You’ll find cleaning supplies in the closet around the corner.”

Three nodded, easing away from the phone.

“And one more thing!” the person added before she could hang up. “Make sure you answer the phone.”

Three was nothing but unsettled by its sweet tone. She muttered, “Got it,” and hung up, picking up the CQ-80 and going to look for that closet.

From then on, she wandered the facility, which turned out to be huge. And while she did actually do some cleaning, she was far more concerned about finding her captain (and maybe that girl, too).

…

So that’s what the phone’s deal was! Whoever was on the other end of the line gave Three a job in the metro.

“Man, I saw so much weird stuff working that job.” Spotless labs, brightly coloured chemicals… Plus, it had started to seem increasingly obvious the phone was talking, not someone at the end of the line. “Besides, the cleaning stuff smelled so bad I could hardly think!”

Eight frowned. “Interesting…” She handed Three the next Mem Cake. This one looked like a radio, or maybe a boombox. “I think you’ll like this one a lot.” Was she blushing?

Three popped the Mem Cake into her mouth, and oh goodness. This one was…very sweet. She nearly spat it out, it was so painfully sweet. She chewed it with a grimace and a forced smile Eight likely saw through.

…

A bold battle, a crowded floor

The music booms across the room

But you’re the one my eyes are for

Three played a simple backing track as DJ Hyperfresh and her MC hyped up the crowd. It was clear those two were the stars of the show, and the victors of the DJ-off they’d held.

Three had been hosting a rave of sorts deep in the metro. The telephone had somehow approved the idea. Then along came a DJ and her MC…and that cute octoling girl from before.

MC Princess had insisted on taking over, and from the bars she spat you’d assume overthrowing raves was a hobby of hers.

Though, Three wasn’t sore over the loss. Those two had tight beats. She’d just have to be better. Besides, now she could jam and properly take in the energy of the party.

She looked over the crowd, catching the eye of that girl. She nodded and smiled, earning a smile right back. This went on back and forth, before the girl sat down near Three’s turntable, fiddling with the tab on her can of soda. It was clear she didn’t want to be caught associating with Three, since she was on Team DJ Hyperfresh.

“Hey,” Three called, earning a flick of the girl’s attention. “You wanna ditch this place?”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “And go where?”

“I know a couple spots.”

She rolled her eyes, snickering into a sip of soda. “Pass.”

Three leaned against her booth, idly mixing in a couple hits of synth. “Damn. Tough one, ain’t ya?” She always felt more confident when she was DJ-ing. Confident enough to flirt, at least. “How about a dance?”

“A dance?” the girl repeated. She smiled to herself, thinking it over, then said, “Maybe later.”

“I’ll hold ya to that!”

“I’m sure you will.” The girl got up, tossed her can into a trash bin nearby, then strided over to Hyperfresh’s booth.

The party went on, people came and went, all swaying and dancing to the beat, then one by one, they filtered out. Even once everyone was gone, the music kept playing for at least half an hour.

“Yo, ‘Rina, let’s get outta here!” MC Princess whined. She’d been on her feet, bouncing and rapping and being a menace, all night.

“We probably should. Wouldn’t want old Cuttlefish to worry!” DJ Hyperfresh packed up her keyboard, which somehow managed to fit in a backpack. “Pearl, this portable keyboard is amazing! Best gift ever!” She squeezed the shorter MC into a tight hug, lightly squealing.

“Ah, what can I say, I know how to pick ‘em.” MC Princess hugged her back, then stood up on her tip-toes and gave her a kiss. “By the way, you were sick up there!”

“Not as sick as you!”

The two of them went back and forth, flirting and chirping and kissing, as they walked off, hand-in-hand. The cute octoling girl lingered behind, whispering to the DJ that she’d be right along.

“You look lonely,” Three noted as the girl watched the other two skip away.

“Not lonely,” she replied. “Just… My friends have other plans and I don’t want to um…be the third wheel. I think that is the phrase Pearl taught me?”

“Sounds right to me.” Three grinned as the girl wandered over to her turntable. Victory. “So, octo, why’re you stayin’ behind? Party’s over.”

“Mm-mm.” The girl shook her head. “You don’t say octo. Bad word. I have a name.”

“And that is..?”

“Eight,” the girl said, grinning triumphantly. “Well, Agent 8. But I prefer Eight.”

“Agent, huh?” Three was not aware her captain had decided to recruit the very octoling he’d gotten her to attack. She masked her surprise by mixing up the tempo of the simple drumbeat pounding from her speakers.

“And you’re Agent 3, aren’t you?” Eight came around the booth, heels clicking against the concrete, and approached her. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Three smirked. “What a coincidence. I’ve been looking for you. Unfortunately, I’m not Agent 3 right now.” She scratched the record, hit the synth, and smashed a midi cymbal- her own little intro of sorts. “Name’s Sango. DJ Sango.”

“Sango,” Eight repeated, and the sound of her voice sent a swarm of butterflies right through Three’s stomach. She came closer, gazing up at Three, looking amused.

She really was beautiful, with her brilliant yellow eyes and her warm brown skin, and the pink tentacles curling around her face, framing it like the piece of art it was.

“Play me a song,” Eight said. “I’ll take you up on that dance.”

Three smiled, and reached over to the screen with her playlist on it. She scrolled, and found an old hip-hop tune she liked.

The two of them headed out to where the crowd had once been, steps echoing out against the music. They swayed back and forth as a singer rapped about trying to get a girl to dance. Three thought it was quite fitting. Eight rolled her eyes.

They eventually held hands and tried some actual moves. It was painfully obvious Three was better at music than dancing, but at least Eight seemed to be enjoying herself.

Eight really seemed to be enjoying herself. She smiled wide, showing her fangs, and giggled into Three’s neck when she pointed it out.

Then, as the song slowly faded away, nothing but the beat remaining, Eight spun into Three’s arms, looking up at her expectantly. 

“Sango,” she said, but didn’t seem to be going anywhere with it. She didn’t need to. Three got enough of a rush just hearing her name.

“Nobody calls me that, y’know?” Three told her, just for the sake of saying something. “I’m Three, or I’m Agent 3, or I’m Agent Ick if ya really wanna get on my nerves. Haven’t been Sango in a while.”

“I don’t remember my real name,” Eight said. “But I like being Eight just fine.”

“I like Eight too.” Three held her a bit tighter. She had an arm snaked around her waist, but wouldn’t have minded being a little closer.

Eight caught on real quick. She shifted to face her, reaching up and hooking her hands around Three’s neck. “I’d like to kiss you.”

“Oh yeah?” an orange blush crawled onto Three’s cheeks, but she kept her cool extremely well. “You gonna regret it in the morning?”

“I don’t think I will.” Eight pulled Three’s face down, looking all too satisfied with herself. “May I, Sango?”

Saying her name like that, she could get her to do anything.

Kissing Eight was nothing short of delightful. She was warm, and she was sweet, and she made Three feel whole in a way she’d never felt before.

Eight pulled back to catch her breath, and Three smiled as she felt it on her skin. She kept smiling as Eight kissed her again, resting her hands on the small of her back, letting a content hum escape the back of her throat.

Eight finally pulled away, blushing a violent pink. She tried to hide it in Three’s neck once again, but Three had caught it, and was getting a huge kick out of it.

“Don’t you hide from me,” she teased. “You’re pretty. I wanna see you.”

“Shut upppp,” Eight whined.

“Make me.”

Eight was about to take on that challenge, grabbing two fistfulls of Three’s vest, pulling her in real close, when the sound of a phone ringing echoed out from somewhere in the metro.

Three sighed, lightly swatting Eight’s hands away. “That’s for me. Better go answer it or who knows what kinda trouble I’m in.”

Eight didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. “But…me and your captain were looking for you.”

“And you’ll find me once again.” Three gave her a light peck on the cheek- one final kiss goodnight. “Let’s do this again sometime.” 

She stuffed her hands in her pockets and headed off, pretending not to get chills as Eight called, “Goodnight, Sango.”

…

Three was in fact blushing when she came back to reality. She grasped for something to say, trying to look at everything except Eight. “Haha, uh, wow… Y’know, you’re still the only person who’d call me Sango.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Don’t talk to my parents much, and everybody else who talks to me is part of the whole agent business.”

Eight fiddled with her hands, and Three could tell if she were feeling more bold, she’d be all pressed up against her. “Do you…still want me to call you Sango?”

Three hummed. “I dunno. Try it.”

Eight took a deep breath and looked at her, smiling warmly and meeting her gaze. “Sango?”

Three laughed, because otherwise she’d melt into a puddle. “Wow. Chills, girl. I like that.”

“Then that is what I will call you.” She hummed that hip-hop tune. Seemed like she finally remembered it. “Are you still into music?”

Three looked around, still trying to get over the aftertaste of that cake. “I mean…I haven’t really made anything in a long time. I tried writing a song for you after…y’know… But I couldn’t finish it.”

Eight inched closer. “I’d love to hear it, if I could!”

Three blinked at her, weighing her options as though she were considering which poison to drink. “I mean…I think I have it on my phone…” She reached for her pocket, then shook her head. “Nevermind. It’s not good.”

Eight looked disappointed, and Three suddenly itched to change the subject.

“These memories seem pretty innocuous. Why didn’t you want me to see ‘em?”

Eight frowned, then opened her mouth a couple of times to find the words. “I think… I think you’ll understand once you remember this one…” She reached out to hand her the final Mem Cake, but pulled her hand back just as she was about to take it. She held it close to her chest, avoiding Three’s gaze, then slowly held her hand back out and let her have it.

The Mem Cake looked like Three, but her expression was angry, and there was some blob of teal covering her right eye. Three bit into it, but it tasted like nothing. Like chewing gum that had lost its flavour.

…

All Three knew was that the right side of her face was absolutely burning, and her grip on her hero shot was tight, and her captain was tied up behind her, and there was a beautiful girl across the room that she wanted dead.

“Kill!” her thoughts kept repeating, in the same mocking voice as the telephone. She couldn’t think about anything else. She pointed her gun at Eight. She wanted to kill her.

The kiss didn’t matter. The countless sweet encounters that took place after didn’t matter. Saving her from the phone’s evil plans didn’t matter. Getting blasted by that weird ink she kept seeing didn’t matter. The way she loved the girl so fiercely didn’t matter. It was all gone.

She wanted to kill Eight. 

So she rushed forward, a growl escaping her throat. Eight fought back with an octoshot, pain and desperation lighting up her face.

“Sango!” she called, dodging a splat bomb. “What’s wrong with you?”

“That crazy phone hijacked Agent 3’s mind!” Captain yelled, squirming in his bindings. “You gotta snap her out of it!”

Eight kept stealing glances at Three as they fought. She was such an excellent fighter. Nobody else would have been able to keep up.

Three, in her frenzy, had even broken her limiter- a device that toned down naturally powerful inklings such as her. She kept rushing, kept shooting, kept hunting Eight down like the prey she was.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Eight said, jumping aside to dodge a barrage of teal ink. “You can break through this, Sango! I know you can!”

Her words momentarily got her to stop. She stared at the wonderful girl before her and some sense of her true reasoning came through. She tried to wrench for control, as that stupid phone’s voice echoed in her ears.

It kept getting louder and louder. Louder than her internal pleads for freedom. Louder than her love.

“KILL HER!!!”

Her face burned, and she tossed a splat bomb at Eight. The girl moved, but Three rushed at her other side, cornering her.

Eight recoiled as teal ink splattered over her skin, then cried out as Three kicked her chest. She fell back onto the ground, as voices of concern echoed out from her CQ-80’s radio. She looked up at Three with wide eyes, pinned beneath her.

But she hardly flinched as the muzzle of Three’s hero shot pressed into her temple. She kept fighting. Never losing her grip on her octoshot, she raised the gun and pressed it into Three’s head.

The two were at a standstill. One move could easily kill the other. It was only a matter of who moved first.

Eight was the strongest person Three had ever met. She was the only person who would have lasted this long in a fight with her. Even without Three’s limiter, Eight was able to fight back. They were equals.

But there was one difference. 

Eight would hesitate. Three would not.

I’m sorry, dearest, precious Eight

I loathe to say I’ve got my way

I pull the trigger far too late

BANG!

…

Three put a hand to her face as though the sanitized ink that had controlled her was still there. Then she slowly turned to Eight, eyes stinging, fully understanding the weight of what had happened.

“Eight…” Her voice cracked against her dry throat. Her vision blurred, as though her world was falling apart at the seams. “I killed you. You weren’t sanitized. It wasn’t the collapse. I killed you.” She suddenly couldn’t get air into her lungs. She didn’t want to. How could she imagine she was even worthy of breathing?

“No, you didn’t!” Eight protested. She reached for Three’s face, but Three violently flinched away. “Something was controlling you!”

Three did not deserve Eight’s loving touch or gentle tone or kind eyes. “But my hands were the ones that choked the life out of you. Eight…” She didn’t deserve to say her name. “I…”

What could she even say? What could she even do? She couldn’t even look at the girl. All she saw when she tried was that tragic, dying Eight from her dreams.

“Sango, please. I know you would never hurt me.” Eight carefully reached for her hand.

She didn’t have the strength to move. “But I did! I hurt you and I killed you.” She felt the tears spill before she could stop them. “How… How am I supposed to live with myself?”

Eight stared up at her. She had no business looking as guilty as she did. “This is why…I didn’t want you to remember… I knew it would destroy you.”

Three would have grabbed at her if she could, but instead she was left to reach for something abstract in front of her as her breathing picked up. “How long were you planning to keep this from me?”

Eight shrank back, meekly clasping her hands together. “I thought…I would wait until I was alive again. I hoped then you wouldn’t feel as bad…”

A couple sounds caught in the back of Three’s throat. “Why- Why didn’t you just tell me? When you appeared in my bedroom- why didn’t you lead with that?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Eight snapped. “‘Hey, wanna help bring me back to life? You killed me, so you kind of owe me one?’ That’s not how you ask someone for help!”

“Well it would have worked!”

“Sango,” Eight said quite firmly. Her touch ghosted over Three’s shoulders, down her arms, to her hands. “I know you love me. I know you’d never want anything to happen to me. And what happened down here was beyond your control. I’m… I’m so sorry I kept this from you.”

“Don’t.” Three cupped her face with trembling hands. “Don’t you dare apologize. You never have to say sorry to me ever.”

Eight put a hand over hers. “Sango. It was wrong to keep your memories from you.”

“I forgive you.” She closed her eyes and lightly touched her forehead to Eight’s. It felt wrong to embrace the ghost of the girl she’d killed, no matter how right it had felt before. The cold suddenly felt like a punishment, not a part of Eight. Three let herself feel it. Let the tears roll down her cheeks as frost crawled across her skin.

“Sango?” Eight whispered. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Please… Please don’t hate yourself over this.”

Three let out a long, shaky breath. “I hated myself already. I blamed myself already. How am I supposed to live when I know it’s my fault?”

With light touches, Eight slowly guided her into a hug. It was awkward for Three to hold her own head up, since the shoulder she pretended to rest it on wasn’t real, but she let it happen. Let the cold envelop her. Let Eight love her.

“You’re going to help me find my body, aren’t you?” Eight asked.

“Of course,” Three hastily replied. She could suddenly tell Eight was smiling.

“Won’t you feel better once I’m alive again thanks to your efforts?”

Three slowly raised her head. “Eighty, I’m not helping you for some ego boost. I…want you to be alive again…because I love you.” Did she even deserve to say such a thing?

All doubt was erased when she saw Eight’s smile.

“There’s my Agent 3.”

Chapter Text

“I’m ready,” was what Eight said.

The two hadn’t spoken in a painfully long time. She wasn’t exactly sure how long, but it might as well have been forever. She could tell Three didn’t want to talk, though, so she didn’t want to make her.

They were standing in front of the vending machine, having spent all the coins they’d won over the last…however many days it had been. 

Eight looked down at her hands. They were such a vibrant pink- practically glowing. She felt like she was glowing. And she could tell from the way Three barely squinted at her that she’d become brighter as well.

“Ready for what?” Three asked, voice rough from a while without use. She promptly cleared her throat.

“Ready for my body,” Eight told her. The mere prospect had her beaming. Finally, finally, she’d be able to feel the ground beneath her feet and shift into an octopus the way she used to and wander the surface freely and hold Three in her arms! 

However, Three frowned, looking confused. “There’s still more Mem Cakes, though.” She knocked on the glass of the vending machine.

Eight shook her head. She had enough of her memories. She didn’t care about the rest. She knew who she was (Eight, former soldier trainee in the Octarian military), where she was from (a small town in the domes, where she lived with two parents and a younger brother) and what had happened to her (experimented on in the metro, killed by a controlled Agent 3).

But most importantly, she knew what she wanted. “I can get my body back. I want it now.” She looked back at Three, smiling reassuringly. “Besides, if I decide I want the rest of my memories, I can come back here and get them.

Three stared at her blankly, then the tiniest of smiles graced her face. “Well then? What are we waiting for?”

They headed back out to central station. That phone was nowhere to be seen. This made Eight mildly concerned, but at least it wasn’t there to mess up her plans.

She leapt up into the air, towards the giant hole in the ceiling. It filled her with nothing but joy now that Three remembered she was the one to break through and create that hole.

Three shifted into a squid and super-jumped up, and the two landed in the lab facility. “I ki-killed you in the elevator, right? Is that where we should look?”

Eight closed her eyes. Normally, she could sense where it was, but something was throwing her off. “It was in the elevator, but now it moved. We need to hurry.”

Eight considered all the horrible possibilities as they ran through the maze-like halls. What if her body was being used for sanitization? That meant it had either been blended into a pulp, or even worse, controlled via sanitized ink. Her body could be wandering around as a mindless soldier and she’d be none the wiser!

Then she felt the presence of her body as though she were hunting down a Mem Cake. “It’s here in the lab!”

Three followed her lead as she went down halls, up stairs, and around corners, until they came to a long, dark hallway so cold Eight could feel it.

There was one light, and it was flickering, and only served to cast the hall in even deeper shadows. Sanitized ink dripped from the walls and pooled on the dirty tiled floors, soaking the air with the smell of bleach.

Three reached for Eight’s hand, biting her bottom lip.

They slowly pressed forward, and they seemed to walk on forever. They walked until the flickering light faded, and the gentle pink glow from Eight was all they had to illuminate the path in front of them.

They finally came to a big iron door garnished with many locks and chains- all broken. It was covered with yellow caution tape, and seemed to be the source of the ink leaking everywhere.

Three bravely let go of Eight’s hand to open the door, wincing as it creaked loudly.

It led into a big room, fully lit up by the same fluorescent lights as the rest of the metro. Teal ink dripped from pipes lining the walls, and a huge blender stood menacingly against the back wall.

Eight covered her mouth, memories of the day Three saved her coming up like bile in her throat.

Three also looked distressed, but for another reason. She shakily pointed at something, tears brimming in her eyes.

There was Eight. Well, the lifeless corpse that had been Eight. She laid on the floor, sprawled out on her back, the same way she had been when Three shot her.

Three took a step back, shaking and wrapping her arms around herself, but she refused to tear her eyes away.

Eight slipped behind Three and covered her eyes. “Don’t look, darling. It’ll be over soon.”

Three didn’t fight it. She let out a long sigh, shoulders falling in defeat. “Do you know how you’re supposed to…” She held her hands out, then smushed them together.

Eight moved away from her, uncovering her eyes. “I’m hoping it will come naturally.” She slowly approached her body. Her excitement had faded during the long trip there, but she could feel it bubbling up once again.

“Glad you could make it!” a voice said from behind them.

The two of them whirled around, just as the door slammed shut. That horrible telephone was standing there, gleaming in the meager light.

Three guarded Eight with her arm, reaching for the holstered octoshot.

“Awww,” cooed the phone. “You’re protecting your girlfriend! Hard to believe you’re still on her side after everything she’s put you through.”

“I don’t blame her for anything,” Three growled. “But I blame you for everything.”

“It’s just taunting you,” Eight told her, gently brushing her arm. “Don’t listen.”

“Oh, you talk big, Agent 3, but let’s see how you handle this!” The phone beeped as though it were dialing a number, then the puddles of ink on the floor began to shift.

A team of sanitized octolings rose out of the ink, brandishing weapons of all sorts. They all locked onto Three, and rushed forward.

The octoshot was out and firing in an instant. “Eight!” Three called. “Go do your thing! I’ll hold them back!”

Eight hesitated, but nodded, knowing there was little she could do in that form anyways. She spun around and made for her body, looking down at the pitiful corpse.

She crouched down, gently intertwining her fingers with the body’s. “Please work…” She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on all the memories she’d gained and trying to ignore the sounds of fighting around her.

Three barely splatted an enemy octoling as it flung ink at her with an octobrush. She stepped back, shaking the ink off of her, just as a blaster barely missed its shot.

She winced, jumping aside, then nearly got sniped by someone hugging the backlines. She didn’t even bother looking back at Eight, rapidly turning her attention from enemy to enemy, knowing in the back of her mind she’d just have to trust her.

She rushed the octoling wielding the splat charger and took it out, knowing it would only hinder her if she let it stay standing for too long.

Three paused to catch her breath. Big mistake.

The blaster took perfect aim, hitting Three square in the back. She fell over, but thought fast and tossed a splat bomb to cover her so she could get back up. She kept dodging just as the blaster was about to shoot, and finally closed in to get the splat.

Now, Three had been ganged up on before. But that had been over two years ago when she wasn’t a rusty fighter. She hadn’t been on the field since the incident, and she’d barely played any turf wars.

The odds were against her, but she had her instincts. She ducked as a roller tried to crush her from behind, then fired as its user kept rolling at her. Splat. Perfect.

An octoling wielding a pair of dualies proved to be exceptionally annoying. Three had grown a strong dislike for dualies after the many times she’d sparred with Agent 4. She’d fire and fire and keep firing, but the octoling would dodge, dodge and keep dodging.

It was clear she couldn’t brute force this the way she liked. She waited for the next dodge roll, threw a splat bomb, then rushed at the other side. Done.

The last octoling remaining was holding an octoshot just like Three was. It fought the same as her too, going all-out on the offensive and never letting up.

But by then, Three was quite tired, and nearly soaked with enemy ink, rendering her movements sluggish. But she had to win. If she went down, then who knew what would happen to Eight?

She growled as a shot hit her, then whirled around, blocking another shot with her cape. She painted the ground, sinking into her ink to recover, and swimming around to disorient her foe.

Then she popped out behind the octoling. “Surprise bitch!” And she got the splat.

Three held her gun out, looking around for any stragglers across the battlefield. There was nothing but dust tossed in the air, and splashes of green and orange on the floor. She slowly fell to her knees, taking heavy, ragged breaths. That. Was a lot.

She coughed, wincing as ink came up her throat. She wiped a trail of it from her lips with the back of her hand, and closed her eyes against the stinging bursts of pain all over.

Then she heard a voice.

“Sango?”

It was Eight, but her voice was suddenly so clear, unlike the whispering echoes she’d grown used to.

She heaved herself up, holstering the octoshot, and slowly turned around.

Eight was sitting up on the floor across the room. Not her ghost. Eight. She looked at Three with all the love in her eyes, smiling gently. 

“Eight?” Three tried to say, but only the first half escaped before the rest disappeared into a broken whisper.

Eight tried to get to her feet, but faltered. “Um, a little help, here?”

Three was over in an instant. She took her hands, which were as soft and warm as ever, and pulled her up. 

The two stood chest-to-chest, staring at each other in awe.

“You’re…” Three choked out, looking down at their joined hands. She was touching her. She was holding her hands. She was gazing into her eyes that were suddenly so shiny and real.

“I’m alive,” Eight told her. She gripped Three’s hands tightly, likely never intending to let go again. 

Then something shot Three, covering the right side of her face in an ugly smear of teal. She stumbled back, releasing Eight’s hands, and touched her face. The ink stung like crazy, and smelled so strongly of bleach she couldn’t think.

Her eyes went wide in horror, as she slowly turned her gaze to the long forgotten telephone.

The same ink was dripping from its speaker as it seethed. “That’s it. You two have come far enough. Now it’s over.”

Three clawed at her face to get the ink off, but it was too late. She felt her will seeping away like water down the drain. She looked up at Eight hopelessly, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the ink.

Eight backed away, her face twisted with something painful to look at. “Sango..?”

“Eighty…” Three gritted her teeth, then hurriedly pulled out the octoshot and tossed it at Eight’s feet. Even if she lost control, she could only do so much unarmed, right?

The telephone only laughed. “Cute,” it drawled. “You think that’s going to save her? Think again.”

Sanitized ink oozed from Three’s hand, and she scrambled away, shrieking in pain. The ink formed into a gun much like her hero shot, but the weight of it in her hand was horribly wrong.

“Behold!” the phone announced, crackling and squealing with glee. “I call it: the sanitized hero shot! One hit from that thing, and you’re done. Your move, number 10008.”

Eight slowly bent down and grabbed her octoshot, never breaking eye contact with Three. “Sango…can you hear my voice?”

“Eighty…” she rasped. “Eight, you need to kill me. Please, don’t let me hurt you.”

“I’m not killing you,” Eight said with a deep frown. “Then I’ll die a second time.”

A tiny sob escaped Three’s lips, then she screamed, lurching over and clutching at her face. When she rose, she wasn’t Three anymore.

“Finish the job, Agent 3!” the telephone commanded.

She locked on to Eight. She wanted to kill her.

Chapter Text

No.

Eight couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t run around in circles as Three chased her, couldn’t shoot to protect herself, couldn’t bear to harm the one she loved most.

But she had to. Otherwise she’d die just like she had the first time.

Three ran at her, brandishing her new weapon like it was familiar. The ink on her face seemed to glow in the meager light, and her tentacles were dyed turquoise to match it.

Eight focused on dodging. If what the telephone said was true, she couldn’t afford to be shot even once.

But as she studied her movements, she spied a tiny advantage she had over the other. Though the sanitization was pushing her miles beyond her limits, Three’s body was tired. If Eight could knock her down, even if she crawled back up a million times, that had to be good for something, right?

Eight’s legs struggled to carry her. It had been a long time since she’d used them. Three seemed to catch onto this. Instead of shooting at her directly, she shot at her feet, painting the ground around her to limit her movements.

Eight took this chance to do something she’d wanted to do for a long time. She inked a path for herself and sank into it. The relief that came from being able to feel all eight limbs was instant. She hopped in and out of her ink, covering the ground with a bright pink to slow Three down.

And it worked! The girl was ankle-deep in pink ink, awkwardly trudging through it and growling in frustration. She threw a splat bomb which Eight hurriedly swam away from, and took that opportunity to paint around.

But Eight still had more ground covered. She swam around, throwing Three off guard, then popped out of her ink and fired with all she had.

Three let out a shriek that broke all of Eight’s hearts as she fell to the ground, grabbing at the spot where she’d been shot. Then she shifted into a squid and super-jumped to the other side of the room before Eight could close in again.

Three sluggishly got to her feet, and the phone doused her with another spray of sanitized ink to keep her going.

“Tartar, stop this!” Eight begged, but suddenly had bigger things to worry about.

Three held a splat bomb in each hand, narrowing her eyes onto Eight like she was the problem.

“Enough messing around, Agent 3!” Tartar yelled. “Clearly the dosage wasn’t high enough. You’re not going easy on her, are you?”

Three’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She threw the splat bombs, then two more appeared in her hands.

Eight leaped back as the barrage of bombs came at her. Was this a bomb rush special? Three didn’t even have to duck down to recover ink! But there was no bomb rush launcher, or glow to her tentacles to show a special was ready!

Was Three always capable of such a thing, or was the sanitized ink making her stronger?

Eight had always known Three to be powerful, even with a limiter. Maybe she hadn’t replaced it after she broke it the first time?

Eight didn’t have time to consider all the options as bomb after bomb exploded at her feet. This was bad. She was running out of places to run, what with all the teal splattered over her pink.

Three held up one last splat bomb with an eerie, soulless determination in her eyes. She threw it and watched it blow up, splattering Eight’s skin with ink. Then she fell back, shoulders rising and falling in time with her breath.

Eight gritted her teeth against the pain, stumbling over but not falling. She slowly rose, wiping a smear of teal from her face, and knew this was her chance. She rushed at Three, dodging panicked shots, and grabbed her by the shirt.

Three clawed at her with one hand and tried to shoot with the other, but Eight fired first. 

She dropped the girl to the ground, and stepped back as she super-jumped away once more.

Three raggedly stood up. It appeared the blow from Eight had blasted off some of the sanitized ink. Her voice cracked and broke as she murmured, “Ei…ght?”

A tiny glimmer of hope sparked in Eight’s chest. “Sango? Sango? Are you there?”

“Not for long!” the phone replied.

Three took a shaky step forward, eyes widening like it wasn’t her choice. Then she raised her gun, as the sanitized ink once again bloomed over her eye.

Eight felt the bullet graze her skin, having barely missed. Even so, the pain was so instant and so strong she fell to her knees.

Three moved fast, launching into the air and preparing for a splashdown. Eight barely crawled out of the way, but she kept launching herself up and coming back down in a burst of ink.

Eight finally managed to get up after the third splashdown, immediately firing as Three left herself open to rest for a second. She was just about to get the splat and finish this, when Three dodge-rolled away, quickly returning fire.

Eight was quite surprised, and horribly irritated, but she was beginning to piece together how she might be able to save Three…

Just as the lightbulbs illuminated in her head, however, Three came back down, ready to unleash her barrage of splashdowns once again. So this is why she had a limiter.

As Eight hatched her new plan, she looked past Three across the room and found a certain telephone that would undoubtedly throw a wrench into it.

The phone was churning and clicking, likely focusing on maintaining its control. It hardly flinched as Eight ran past and soaked it in ink in her attempt to evade Three’s pursuit.

Eight whirled around as Three descended onto her, and their guns clashed together like two swords crossing. Eight pushed her off, and she fell back, rolling onto the floor.

Three ran at her before she’d even fully gotten up, practically snarling through her teeth. It seemed she was desperate to find purchase on Eight’s skin, craved to draw blood, and needed to see this girl dead at her feet.

But she also looked so tired. Tears had not stopped streaming from her sullen eyes, her teeth were gritted and grinding, and her brow was tightly furrowed. She needed this to be over, whatever that meant for either of them. She’d either get the kill she hungered for, or she’d go down fighting. That much was clear.

Eight realized she’d gotten distracted. Her movements had slowed, her aim became clumsy, and she was only barely dodging Three’s bullets.

Then she was backed into a corner, with Three on top of her, going in for the kill. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, allowing some space between them. She leaned back into the floor, squeezed her eyes shut, and kicked with all her might.

Three grunted in surprise- the first noise she’d produced that actually made her sound alive- and flew back, landing on the floor a few paces away.

Eight scrambled up, crawled over to Three and kept her pinned to the ground. Three struggled against her, gripping her hero shot tight and trying to get just one shot in, but Eight wouldn’t let her.

Eight grabbed a fistful of the goopy ink sullying Three’s face, gasping as it stung her hand, and ripped it off.

The scream Three let out was gut-wrenching. It was wild, and raw, and scraped itself along Eight’s mind, sinking its claws into her hearts. She kept screaming as Eight kept peeling the ink from her skin, sobs working themselves between her gasps for air.

A horrible green scar was torn into her face where the ink had been, framing her right eye. The skin around was flared up in an angry pink. 

Eight pulled her into an embrace, holding her close as if she hoped to squeeze the pain away.

Three’s hands clutched the back of Eight’s shirt, nails digging into her skin as she wailed with all the strength she had left. She took broken, heavy breaths, like all the air in the world couldn’t have saved her.

“It’s over,” Eight whispered. “You’re free, Sango.”

Three made a tiny, tragic noise as hot tears stung Eight’s neck. They stayed like that until Three’s screams faded into crying, and until her crying faded into silent whimpers.

“...Why?” she finally whispered. “Why do you still love me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I-” She sniffled. “I killed you. And then you came back to life. And then the first thing I did was try to kill you again.”

“Do you think I should be afraid of you, or something?” Eight held her closer, as if to prove she wasn’t scared.

“I’m afraid of me.”

“Well I love you.”

“I love you too.” Three choked on the last word, as another surge of tears seeped out. “Cod, I love you too.”

A warm, ample silence followed. Then the worst possible thing broke it.

The telephone. The telephone began to ring. The shrill noise was distorted as something within the phone clunked and churned. “Well isn’t this endearing,” it said, its crackling voice dripping with venom.

The two pulled away and stood up in an instant, guns at the ready.

“Nothing beats the all-consuming love of Agent 3 and Number 10008! You’re just like those sappy humans who prattled on and on about the power of love. Well, let me tell you, love didn’t win them any wars! Nor did it save them from their inevitable demise!” 

The floor began to rumble.

“You seafood-kind who oh so righteously inherited the earth are just like them! It’s revolting! You obsess over things that don’t matter! All you want to do is play your stupid games!”

The walls began to shake.

“I collected your data in order to create something of use from you inkfish. But even when your so-called best and brightest are amassed into one, you’re still useless!”

Cracks snaked up above as the ceiling caved in.

“The only hope is to start over! A superior humanity will be established!”

Eight grabbed Three’s hand as debris rained down onto them. “Sango! We have to get out of here!”

“Already on it!”

The two of them shifted into their swim forms, and super-jumped towards the faint shine of dawn peeking through the cracks.

Chapter Text

Eight looked up in awe at the hues of the sky. So many different colours mixing together should have created mud, not a beautiful sight like that.

The morning sky was painted with blue and pink, and the clouds were bright yellows and oranges, with little hints of purple.

The two of them had made it out of the metro and arrived on some platform in the middle of the ocean. The skyline of Inkopolis was stark against the pastel horizon, but it was a mystery as to how they were going to get there.

Eight finally tore her gaze away from the sky to look at Three, who was in turn looking at her with soft, tired eyes. She reached for her hands, longing to feel her calloused fingertips once again.

Just as they were about to touch, the ground trembled, because heaven fucking forbid Eight hug her girlfriend in peace.

The platform they stood on slowly rose out of the ocean, towering over the surface. Eight looked over the edge, only to discover they were standing atop a giant statue.

Three’s eyes widened at the sight. “I…I’ve seen this before. In old scrolls from long ago. It’s a human! But…they were supposed to have died off forever ago!”

“They did,” came the phone’s bitter voice. It spoke from a gaping hole where the human statue’s eye should have been.

“Ugh, Tartar!” Eight groaned.

“That’s Commander Tartar to you! I am a highly advanced artificial intelligence left behind by a truly great man. For 12000 years I’ve watched you pitiful creatures. You nearly reached the same heights as the humans. I thought I could use you to revive a new humanity, but I was wrong.”

The statue rumbled once more, as its mouth slowly opened and a horrifying cannon protruded from it. The cannon was loaded with six full blenders of sanitized ink swirling around and ready to fire.

“The only option is to start anew! I’ll reduce this planet and you worthless chunks of seafood to paste, starting with this city!”

The cannon hummed as it spun around, slowly charging before it could unleash its devastating blast.

“It’s gonna destroy Inkopolis!” Eight exclaimed. “We have to stop it!”

“How?” Three asked, looking around hopelessly. 

Eight crouched down and examined the floor under her feet. It shone in the light of the sun, and bore a grid-like pattern she’d seen many times down in the domes. She leaned over the side of the statue and could see cracks in the marble surface, with that same material underneath. She whirled around excitedly. “It’s made of solar panels! It’s using the light from the sun to charge!”

Three blinked at her.

“Soooo, if we cover the whole thing in ink, that should stop it from charging!”

Three’s eyes suddenly lit up. “That’s genius!” But she wasn’t hopeful for long. “But how the hell are we gonna paint this entire thing before it charges?”

Eight hummed, then it came to her. “We need something to hype us up so we’re energized enough to pass our limits! Like a song!”

“A song? Where are we gonna find that?”

She crossed her arms. “DJ Sango? Didn’t you say you had a song for me on your phone?”

Three opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. She looked conflicted, but she knew better than to argue. She whipped out her phone and hurriedly typed, before a beat began to play.

They moved out as Three cranked the volume as high as it would go.

“You take that side, I’ll take this one!” Eight hopped over the edge of the right side of the statue, landing on a ride rail that was miraculously there. Wielding her trusty octoshot, she painted up the side of the statue, passing by Three on another ride rail doing the same.

And as the melody played, she realized she knew this song. It was a remix of the victory jingle she’d hear whenever she passed a test in the metro.

It was almost fun, running around and spraying her ink everywhere and singing along, “Woah-oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh!”

“Hey Sango!” Eight called from the base of the statue’s neck. “What’s this song called?”

Three replied from the statue’s right arm, “Fly, Eight, Fly!”

“I love it.”

The song was rather energetic compared to the chill hip-hop vibe Three normally went for, and it echoed the same way an unfinished song that was missing something did, but it was wonderful. The tempo drew out Eight’s heartbeat, the melody made her want to dance. It was so distinctly Three she would have wrapped her arms around it if it was possible.

She heard Three rap over the Octarian inspired bassline. Even she was getting into it!

Almost two minutes had passed, and the statue was nearly covered in a collage of teal and pink. However, the ink loaded in the statue's cannon was glowing ever brighter.

“We’re running outta time! Three yelled from the statue’s back. “It’s now or never!”

Just as she said that, the song slowed down and shifted into the song Pearl and Marina had played that had won them the DJ battle- Ebb & Flow. But it was layered with something that made it different. A few seconds of listening revealed the Calamari Inkantation layered into the bassline.

Eight painted with all she had. She sprayed the statue like it was her latest work of art, like a wall of graffiti tucked away in the metro tunnels.

She and Three met up on the statue’s head. It was hard to tell the statue had been pure white before, now splattered with their colours. They high-fived, but their job wasn’t over yet.

The cannon kept spinning, the sanitized ink kept glowing, and the fate of Inkopolis kept growing bleaker.

“It’s gonna fire,” Eight whispered, all hope drained from her voice.

“The fuck it isn’t,” Three said. She passed Eight her phone, flashing her a thumbs-up. Her tentacles swayed back and forth energetically, the spots glowing a vibrant blue. “After all that painting, my special’s finally ready! Looks like I get to bust that phone up after all!” She leaned in real close, putting a hand on Eight’s shoulder. “Catch me if I fall?”

Before Eight could respond, Three ran and leapt over the edge of the statue. A bright light burst out from her, and she shifted into the largest kraken Eight had ever seen.

“This is your special?!” Eight exclaimed.

Without a mouth, Three managed to grin, and she dug her hooked tentacles into the marble surface of the statue, easily cracking it. She looked right into the eye where Tartar resided. “Alright, you hunk of scrap metal. You’re done hurting me or the people I love!”

“I’m going to die,” the telephone simply stated.

With fire in her eyes, Three effortlessly crushed the statue between her tentacles, cannon and all. Debris fell into the ocean as the statue powered down, effectively destroyed. She swam back up the side of the statue just as it collapsed, barely making it up before her special wore off.

She was about to make a straight descent to the crashing waves below, but Eight caught her hand and hauled her up to the statue’s head.

They crawled up as far as they could as the statue sank, leaving only a small portion of debris for them to stand. They sat down as the song came to an end, voices raw from yelling and singing.

“That,” Eight began, “was amazing!”

“You’re amazing,” Three corrected. “Cod, you’re just- I don’t even-”

Eight smiled, rubbing a thumb over her scarred cheek. She only smiled brighter seeing her lean into the touch. “Could I kiss you?”

Three stared at her, effectively silenced. She quickly nodded.

Eight didn’t bother to be slow or purposeful. That could wait for next time. She practically crashed into the girl, pulling her so unbearably close. (It seemed she’d forgotten she wouldn’t just pass right through her if they got too close) Fireworks went off in her chest as Three’s chapped lips brushed against her own and calloused hands wandered from her hips to her back.

They parted for air and smiled at each other. 

Three could not stop thinking about how beautiful Eight was, with the sun casting golden rays over her brown skin. She was so, so warm. It was nothing like the captivating freezing touches her ghost had offered. Her hands were so real as they cupped Three’s face, and her lips were so soft as they plastered kisses over her, and cod, she’d missed her so much.

Three pulled away as she heard her cell phone beep. She picked it up and turned it on, wincing at the hurricane of missed call notifications plastered over the screen. “Looks like I’ve got service. Think Pearl and Marina will give us a ride back?”

Eight leaned into her shoulder, looking down at the screen. “It’s worth asking. I don’t see how we’re getting to Inkopolis otherwise.”

Three opened the group chat, where Captain appeared to have been talking about how nobody had heard from Three in a long time. She sent in the coordinates of her current location.

<SANGOⓇ: yooo pearl, can u sent a chopper to come pick me up

Grinning, she pulled Eight in closer and snapped a selfie of the two of them. She hit send.

<DJ Hyperfresh: IS THAT EIGHT

<MC Princess: AYO WHAT THE FUCK

<CraigCuttlefish: language, pearl

<CraigCuttlefish: ah, Agent 3. Good to see you’re well

Two seconds passed.

<CraigCuttlefish: IS THAT AGENT 8

<SANGOⓇ: i sent in our coords. can someone come get us

<MC Princess: Marina and I are on the way!!! sit tight dude

<DJ Hyperfresh: Tell Eight I say hi and that I’m glad she’s okay!!

<SANGOⓇ: she’s reading over my shoulder lol

<SANGOⓇ: hello marina im so glad to hear from yuo

<SANGOⓇ: that was eight

<DJ Hyperfresh: <3 <3 <3

<MC Princess: yo RINA get off your puter we gotta go girl!!!

Three put her phone away, then leaned over and rested her head in Eight’s lap. She looked up at the girl she’d been blessed with, reaching up and brushing a curl away from her face. “You’re so beautiful.”

Eight smiled and blushed a light pink, but she didn’t look away. She gently patted Three’s head, running her fingers along her tentacles. Her touch lightened as she passed the area near the scar, but she never stopped smiling. “You’re beautiful too, Sango,” she said in a voice so soft Three could have melted.

They sat in comfortable silence, feather-light touches brushing against skin, warm gazes reserved only for each other.

“So,” Three piped up. “We got some time to kill before Pearl and Marina get here. You wanna do anything?”

Eight took both her hands, lacing their fingers together. She pressed a kiss to Three’s knuckles, lightly chuckling when her partner blushed. “Sitting here with you will be enough for a very long time. Besides, I’m sure you’re quite tired.”

Three sighed. “Cod, you can say that twice. I feel like I died.”

Eight playfully glared at her.

“Too soon?”

“Much.” She rolled her eyes, letting go of Three’s hands and craning her head back to look at the sky. “Got any more songs?”

“Yeah, I got a couple.”

They laid back as Three played some tunes. The sky was a bright blue, dotted with big, fluffy clouds. It seemed hopeful, somehow. A steady beat came from Three’s phone- it was some Octarian rap song she’d downloaded. She liked the way it sounded, but couldn’t understand the lyrics.

Eight, however, understood them perfectly, occasionally flinching at whatever was being sung. She refused to tell Three what the words meant. 

After a while of silence, Eight reassuringly put a hand on Three’s cheek, muttering some Octarian endearment under her breath. “I’m sorry for hiding so much from you.”

“Don’t.” Three shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her stomach. “Don’t apologize. I literally killed you. We’re even.”

Eight patted her head, letting her have this one. She hummed along to the music, tapping her fingers against Three to the beat.

Three let out a long, content sigh, ready to fall asleep right there. She nearly did, but her ears twitched inside her headset when she picked up the distinct whirr of a helicopter. She slowly pulled herself up, looking up at an approaching black smudge in the sky.

“So that is a helicopter…” Eight murmured. Right, she grew up underground, so she probably had never seen one. She nudged Three to get her to move, but she only held on tighter.

“Too tired to move,” she grumbled.

Eight scoffed and lightly poked her chest. “Squid. I’ll carry you.”

Three smirked triumphantly, then shifted into a squid as though she were melting. Eight cradled her in her arms like she was a baby, or an especially cute stuffed animal.

The chopper hovered above the ocean’s surface, and the door flew open.

“Eight!” Marina squealed, leaping down and squeezing the girl into a hug. 

Her girlfriend Pearl also jumped down, joining the hug. “Yo, we thought you died!”

“I did too!” Eight choked out, nearly suffocated by all the squeezing.

Three slipped out of Eight’s arms and hung out on her shoulder in the interest of not being squished to death.

“DJ Sangooooo!” Pearl cheered. She pulled away and whipped a mic out of nowhere. “Deepsea Metro, represent! Switchin’ sides even when you’re all hell-bent on gettin’ in our way, smoochin’ our Eight-”

“You knew about that?” Eight squeaked.

“Whatchu gotta say?” Pearl held the mic out to Three’s squid.

“I been lookin’ for my girl, near and far. Think I’m crazy ‘cuz you can’t keep up with my bars. Spittin’ fire, lookin’ wired, yo, I’m actually really tired…” Three flopped back into Eight’s arms, defeated.

Marina rolled her eyes at their antics. “How about we call it and head back?”

“Deal!” Pearl chirped. “You can tell us everything on the way!”

Three and Eight exchanged a nervous look as they climbed into the chopper. They sat down on the floor, and Three un-squid-ed, though she still leaned against Eight like she was a charging port.

“Yo, what happened to your eye?” Pearl asked. She was pacing back and forth, while Marina stood in the corner, fidgeting with her hands.

“Nothing,” Three grumbled, shoving her face into Eight’s shoulder, earning a hum of sympathy.

Marina waved Pearl off. “More importantly, Eight, what happened to you? When… When you didn’t come back with Three and Mr. Cuttlefish…we assumed the worst.”

Eight managed to spin a story on the spot. A rather untrue one. She told them she’d gotten trapped beneath the rubble when the facility collapsed, and that once she’d gotten out, she continued doing tests in the metro to get her memories back. Then she managed to get a hold of Three for help getting out.

“So…you have your memories?” Marina asked meekly.

Eight nodded, smiling for the first time in that exchange.

“Does that mean you…remember who I am?”

Eight nodded with even more enthusiasm. “Combat engineer Marina Ida! Ever since you shared your lunch with me that day, I looked up to you!”

Marina squealed happily, blushing a bit. “I knew it was you right away! But I didn’t wanna say anything in case I overwhelmed you…”

Pearl interrupted the relatively nice moment. “Yo, speaking of lunch, we brought some food for you guys.”

Three’s eyes practically popped right out of her head. She hadn’t realized it due to all the fighting and world-saving she’d been doing, but she was starving. The only thing she’d had to eat…since ghost-Eight found her was those Mem Cakes, and while they were really filling, she wanted some real food.

Both she and Eight nearly drooled over the sandwiches they were presented with. They each took a big bite in unison. Soft, buttered bread…fresh spinach…and actual crab meat, not the imitation stuff from good-enough gas station sushi. Three could have sworn it was the best thing she’d ever eaten.

Pearl tried to squeeze more information out of the two, but Marina insisted on letting them rest. The two of them even offered to let them stay at their place, but Eight surprisingly had been the one to request being taken straight to Three’s place. Three wasn’t gonna fight her on it.

Chapter Text

It had been two days since Eight came back to life.

Three woke up thanks to the light filtering through the blinds. But, that wasn’t the end of the world, nor would it stop her from lazing around for as long as possible. As much as Three loved to sleep in, she actually couldn’t sleep if even the tiniest ray of light snuck into her room. She usually ended up rotting in bed until she was hungry or needed the bathroom.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shifted against the blankets, wrapping an arm over the girl next to her.

Things were nice. Things were really nice.

Since getting back from the metro, Three and Eight had done nothing but rest. They’d literally been inseparable. It was as though the world would shatter if they parted for even a second. Elbows brushed as they sat next to each other, Three would guide Eight with a gentle hand on her back, Eight would creep up behind Three, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her head on her shoulder.

And the kisses. Eight and her wonderful kisses would be the death of Three. She’d kiss her knuckles and her neck and the line where her new scar met her skin, and Three loved it. Three was so stupidly in love with her.

Three felt her girlfriend snuggle closer, and smiled into the pillow.

Eight took a deep breath, and let it out into Three’s neck. “Sango,” she murmured sweetly, and pressed a kiss into her jawline.

“Yeah?” Three replied, still admittedly half-asleep.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Eighty.”

“And you need a shower.”

Three laughed. Her last shower had been…two-ish weeks before she ran off with Eight? Yeah. It was probably time. She pried herself away from Eight, tucking the girl back in. “Do you drink coffee? I’ll make you one when I’m done.”

“Mhm,” Eight hummed, latching onto Three’s pillow. “Sugar in it.”

Three dragged herself up and grabbed a simple graphic tee and basketball shorts, and trudged on over to the bathroom, missing Eight already. She turned on the water and peeled off the pyjamas she’d been wearing for the past two days. She tossed them onto the floor, determining she’d pick them up later. (She wouldn’t.)

She stepped into the shower, sighing as she felt the cold mist of water against her skin. She lightly scrubbed at her tentacles with a damp cloth, reminiscing on everything that had happened over the last two years.

She’d met Eight somewhere in the domes of Octo Valley. Three thought she was super cute, but orders were orders, so she attacked her. Intriguingly enough, Eight had a strong reaction to the Calamari Inkantation. Eight would have described it as something that permanently altered her brain.

Then the ground split in two, and the two of them, along with Three’s captain, fell into the Deepsea Metro.

Three wandered the tunnels alone for a long time, before she came across Tartar, the telephone. It had enlisted her to work in the metro as a janitor, and while it sucked, it was better than being alone. Besides, she was able to find all sorts of leads on how to find Captain and Eight, and even got to host a rave. 

And at said rave, she’d been challenged to a DJ battle by the pop duo Off the Hook. Eight knew them. Apparently they’d found themselves in the Deepsea Metro after getting on the wrong train after a gig.

She hadn’t even been sore about losing, because once the crowd went away, she got to kiss Eight. First kiss of many.

She ran into Eight off and on as she went back to her work at cleaning. She’d never been much for chatter, but she found herself enjoying the long conversations with the sweet girl.

But then that phone tried to kill Eight. Shoved her in a blender and tried to turn her into paste. Three drop-kicked the blender and shattered it, but the impact knocked her out cold and gave the telephone the perfect opportunity to hijack her mind.

Three’s affection for Eight no longer mattered, because her whims were no longer her own, and she wanted to kill her.

And she did. She shot Eight dead and loved every second of it.

Until she didn’t. Until the phone’s control slipped away and she was left to live with what she did. Until she screamed her throat raw and the facility began to collapse.

Captain, who had been tied up and helpless, managed to escape his bindings just as Three passed out, and carried her out before they could be crushed. 

Pearl and Marina were waiting for them back on the train. They’d been communicating with Eight via radio, so they’d heard a fight, but not much else. Of course, they were immediately concerned when Captain came back with a passed-out Three and no Eight, but the old man refused to disclose what had happened other than the collapse.

When Three awoke in Cuttlefish Cabin a few days later, memories foggy, the captain simply told her it was for the best, and she was left to move on.

But she couldn't move on. The death of Eight haunted her every minute. Pearl had paid for a fancy therapist, and the rest of Three’s friends were there to support her, but she still drank when it wasn’t enough. And she always found ways for it to never be enough.

It only got worse once Captain temporarily suspended her from the field, since he considered her “too unwell” to work. Then there was nothing forcing her to leave the house, other than the biweekly therapy sessions and occasional times Four managed to drag her to turf wars.

She was grasping for something that didn’t exist, scouring her brain for something she couldn’t remember, and letting herself rot because she had nothing else to do.

At least, until Eight showed up in her room.

Three frowned at the reflection that greeted her as she dried herself off. The teal in her tentacles was finally fading back into her natural orange, though the tips matched the pink of a certain somebody.

And the scar… It was a big green scar that kinda looked like an explosion over her right eye. It reached from the bridge of her nose to her forehead, snaking under her bangs until it couldn’t be seen. It was flaky in some places, raw in others, and stung all over.

Three wasn’t a fan of the scar. She could concede it looked cool, but she hated what it meant.

She washed her face, and these thoughts away with it, and changed into the clothes she’d brought with her.

She wandered into the kitchen, knowing Eight would likely be up soon. She started a coffee for herself in the old coffee maker that was still sputtering on after over four years of use. She’d had it since she moved to Inkopolis, and bought it used at a thrift store. 

Three normally drank her coffee black (like her soul), but that day she felt like a splash of milk wouldn’t hurt anything. Well, when she opened the fridge and saw the chunks floating in the milk jug, she felt like a splash of milk definitely would hurt something.

How long had she been gone?

Just as she started another coffee for Eight, she heard a knock at the door. Coincidentally, it was only eight in the morning, so she wondered who would be bothering her at this hour without a text.

She hurried to the door, bare feet slapping against the hardwood, and found her friend Four on the other side.

Since she was in a nostalgic mood, her first thought after what are you doing here was about the day she’d met Four, shortly after first returning from the metro. She thought he was a huge loser, since he was short, nerdy and a bit of a teacher’s pet- all loser criteria in her mind- but she gained much more respect for him once she learned he’d saved her friend Callie.

Four flinched, like he hadn’t been expecting to see her even though he’d knocked on the door of her house. “You answered!!!”

“Yeah..?” She stepped aside to let him in, ears drooping once he started ranting.

“I’ve been stopping by every other day, and nothing! You know why I’ve been coming over so much? Cuz you missed, like, eight therapy sessions, nobody’s heard from you, you haven’t been answering your phone-”

“Sorry,” Three grumbled. “It’s, uh, been rough.”

Four let out a long sigh, looking up at her sympathetically. “It’s been over a month. You coulda reached out.”

A month? Man, Three really should have bothered keeping track of time in the metro. It barely felt like more than a week, though. Maybe time worked differently down there.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Three suggested. “Just…keep it down a little. I have someone over and she’s sleeping.”

“You have a girl over?” Four’s ears twitched as he flushed a pale green. “Uh, if I’m like, interrupting anything, I can leave.”

“It’s nothing like that. You’re fine.” Three reached into the back of the fridge and found an energy drink, and tossed it to him. He was barely looking, but he caught it. “Look, I’m really sorry I haven’t been in touch. I don’t even have an excuse. I’m just sorry.”

“It’s okay, dude. We were just worried.” He cracked the drink open and took a long sip. “You should see the others. Every day Marie asks if I’ve checked on you. Captain’s real worried too.” He looked up and nearly choked on his drink when he got a good look at Three’s eye. “Whoa! What happened to your face?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she grumbled, setting her mug aside. She went over to the coffee machine, as it had stopped brewing, and stirred three scoops of sugar into the mug. It was a tacky light pink decorated with a ribbon pattern- it had been a gift from Callie, one which Three had never used.

“What’s that for?” Four asked, just as Eight stumbled down the hallway.

She was wearing an oversized band tee of Three’s, with a barely noticeable pair of shorts underneath. The shirt hung off her shoulder, revealing a pretty flash of skin Three would have kissed if they were alone.

“Hey,” Three said warmly, meeting her in the entrance to the kitchen and passing her the mug of coffee.

Eight took a big sip that practically brought her back to life, and she hummed in delight. “Good morning, Sango.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You smell nice. For once.”

Four, who had been watching the whole display in half awe half disgust, snickered at this.

Eight tilted her head at the sight of the new person. “Oh? Am I interrupting?”

“No, of course not,” Three told her, gently rubbing her back. “This is my friend, Agent 4. I’m sure I’ve brought him up. He came to check on me.”

Eight closed her eyes in thought, taking another sip of coffee. “Yes, I think he came up. Nice to meet you, Agent 4!”

“Four’s fine,” he replied, waving her off. “What did Three say about me? Cuz I’m sure she made me sound way worse than I actually am.”

Three rolled her eyes and flipped him off. “Anyways, Four, this is my uhhh girlfriend, Eight.”

Four’s polite smile immediately vanished, his face suddenly taking on a look of concern. “Oh, Three…”

“Don’t oh, Three me,” Three growled, crossing her arms. “It’s…it’s actually her. She was alive…after all.”

Eight offered a sympathetic smile, lightly bumping her head into Three’s shoulder. “Four, was it? Thank you so much for looking after Sango. It’s clear you’re just as caring and diligent as she told me!”

“Caring and diligent?” Four raised an eyebrow.

Three awkwardly cleared her throat, looking away. “You may be a goober, but you’re a killer agent.”

“Awwwwww!”

Three flipped him off again.

“So, does Captain know Eight’s okay?” Four asked. He finished his energy drink in one final swig and precariously balanced it on top of the overflowing mountain emerging from Three’s trash bin.

“He does.” Three frowned, prompting Eight to wrap an arm around her. “I’ll probably take her over to Cuttlefish Cabin later, that way she can meet the Squid Sisters too.”

Four took a quick look at his phone, and hurriedly got out of his chair. “I skipped my first class to come check on you, but I didn’t think you’d actually answer, sooo I gotta go before I’m late for my next class.”

Three rolled her eyes. That was just like him. “Cool. See you later?”

“I wish, but you know me and my clubs. See you around!”

And he left.

Eight smiled as Three let out a long sigh. “He seemed nice.” She took another sip of coffee. “Mm, you made it just how I like it!”

“As sweet as you?”

Eight scoffed out a laugh, then planted a kiss on her lips to shut her up. Cod, she loved the stupid grin that would plaster itself over Three’s face when she was embarrassed. “So,” she asked, downing the final sip of her drink, “what should we do today?”

Three took the mug from her and set it aside, then wrapped her arms around her and swayed back and forth. She and Eight were quite close in height, but she was taller enough that she could hunch over and rest her head on Eight’s shoulder. “I was thinkin’ we could get some breakfast, then maybe do some shopping?”

Eight squealed and squirmed as Three spoke into her neck, rubbing circles in her hips with her thumbs.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love seein’ you in my clothes, but I figured you might want your own stuff, yeah?”

“That sounds nice.” Eight giggled as Three began to pepper kisses all over her neck and collarbone. “Sango! We can do that later.”

“Deal,” Three conceded, but placed one more just for good measure.

Eight wandered back to the bedroom while Three cleaned up a bit so she could get changed. Three had permitted her free reign of her wardrobe, and though she was mildly concerned about finding something that would fit, mostly everything was either oversized or stretchy. The resulting outfit was some band shirt that had been cropped, a pair of black sweatpants, and a pair of red converse that somehow fit perfectly.

When Three saw the whole thing, she smirked and pulled her in by the waist, telling her, “Nice look, babe.”

The two hit the streets, hand in hand, and Three took her to some food truck called The Crust Bucket. She sat down at a little table nearby while her girlfriend ordered, taking in the city around her.

The morning in Inkopolis was slow. Most people were still in bed after partying all night. However, there was a crowd of students and business people who had places to be, so they were all hurrying to catch their trains. People on sidewalks hovered by the windows of colourful stores, billboards flashed and sparkled with eye-catching advertisements, and the Great Zapfish curled around a tower in the center of it all, whiskers sparking with electricity.

There was so much colour, Eight remarked. From the blue of the sky to the dingy grays of the alleys, to the vibrant green of the grass, to the rainbow of inkfish around her.

Three arrived at the table, snapping Eight out of her thoughts. She was holding two trays of food fried to golden perfection, and smiled at Eight like she was the entire world. “So, what do you think of Inkopolis?”

“It’s beautiful!” Eight exclaimed, startling the group at a table close to them. “There’s so many colours, and people…”

“I thought you’d like it. Here.” She passed her a tray of food that should not have gone together, but was somehow arranged so enticingly Eight didn’t question it.

It was a hot, steaming waffle topped with an enormous deep-fried shrimp, whipped cream, and a generous drizzle of chocolate sauce. Eight practically drooled at how good it smelled.

“This is a fried shwaffle,” Three told her as she marvelled at the golden pile of delicious before her. “They’re a specialty of Crusty Sean’s.”

Eight did not know who Crusty Sean was, but she internally thanked him immensely for creating such a heavenly dish. She waited for Three to sit down, then immediately tore into the plush waffle with a pair of chopsticks. It was so sweet, all drizzled with chocolate, and did well to tone down the already mild fishy flavour of the shrimp. Eight had never tasted shrimp before. She wasn’t expecting it to be so soft after the initial crunch.

“This is so good!” she squealed. She leaned over to examine what Three was eating. It looked like a fried shwaffle too, though it was topped with hot sauce instead of chocolate. “What do you have?”

“Same as yours, but spicy. I don’t really care for sweet stuff.” She pulled a piece off and set it on Eight’s plate so she could try.

Eight delicately popped the little chunk of waffle and shrimp into her mouth, then wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “Too spicy.” She stuck out her tongue, earning a chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re all about sweet stuff, aren’t you? Especially since you liked those Mem Cakes so much.”

She nodded, and went on to tell Three all about how much wasabi she used to eat down in the domes, and how sick she’d gotten of spicy food. Down in the Octarian domes, wasabi was eaten with practically every meal. And while Octarian wasabi was better than any other, it wore thin. But still, she fondly told stories of being in middle school and seeing who could swallow the biggest spoonful of wasabi, or being taught how to make it by her grandmother so the art wouldn’t die.

Eight finished the story by promising to make some if she could find the ingredients.

Once they were done eating, they headed across the street to a strip mall of sorts. Stylish inkfish went in and out, chattering with each other and calling each other “Fresh.”

Three smiled as Eight tilted her head in confusion. “Fresh is what we inklings call stuff that we think is cool. If I like your fit, I’ll tell ya you’re lookin’ fresh!”

Eight hummed, testing the word in her mouth. “So then, you are fresh, Sango?”

Three coughed to mask a blush, but Eight caught it. “Uh, yeah. If you think so…” She took her hand and led her into the first store. “I was gonna take you to Arowana Mall, but it’s kinda far, plus I thought it would be better to show you where I get my clothes.”

Eight nodded, happy to be a part of the trip no matter where it was.

They’d walked into a shoe store, by the looks of it. All sorts of footwear from sandals to work boots lined the shelves. There were plenty of leather couches and chairs to sit on while you tried stuff on, as well as mirrors to check yourself out.

A yellow spider crab Eight assumed was the shopkeeper sat in the corner, noodling with a guitar. He looked up when he heard them come in. “Hey dudes! Welcome to Shella Fresh!”

“That’s Bisk,” Three told Eight as they wandered around. “He looks scary, but he’s the freshest guy in Inkopolis.”

He seemed pretty chill, that was for sure. Anybody who could wear four pairs of shoes at once had to be at least a little bit cool, after all.

Eight examined shoe after shoe, trying not to flinch at some of the prices.

Three seemed to catch this, and put a hand on her back, telling her not to worry about how much it cost. She was about to protest, but Three insisted it was fine, because her captain received a very pretty pension, and she got a cut of it.

Eight settled on a pair of combat boots. Stylish yet functional. Bisk had even complimented her as she tried them on, and it sounded like he actually meant it, rather than lacing forced pleasantries with a customer service accent.

The next store was for clothing, and it was very ritzy. It was decorated like some designer boutique, even though the clothes were relatively average.

“Don’t worry,” Three told Eight, snickering at her baffled expression, “this place isn’t that fancy. The shopkeeper is…a little weird.”

Just as she said that, a short jellyfish dressed poshly in a bowler hat and a bowtie shuffled up to them. “Welcome, cousins, to Ye Olde Cloth Shoppe. If there is anything I may assist you with, let me know and I shall be there with utmost haste.”

The man had a thick accent Eight struggled to understand, but he sounded polite.

They went to explore the store to find something to match Eight’s new boots. Eight had quite a bit of fun trying things on. Three would shower her with compliments every time she left the dressing room.

Their last stop was Headspace, a shop for hats and other headgear. The shopkeeper, Flow, was so calm and relaxing to be around. Eight could have browsed for hours just to hang out with her. Though, the smell of incense was strong, and seemed to give Three a headache, so Eight kept it quick.

Flow was being assisted by a shrimp named Craymond. Eight could suddenly taste the shrimp she’d had for breakfast in her teeth. Either way, he seemed quite adamant on making sure she bought something.

“WE DON’T TOLERATE WINDOW SHOPPERS,” he shouted, though he was so small it came out the same as if someone were speaking normally.

“Don’t mind him, honey,” Flow told her, shaking her head with a smile.

Craymond scuttled over to a black bandanna patterned with swirling white tentacles. “I THINK THIS WOULD LOOK VERY NICE ON YOU.”

Eight picked up the square of soft fabric. It would likely keep her hair out of her face while she did stuff, and look cool at the same time. She ended up getting it, much to the approval of Craymond.

“PLEASE COME AGAIN.”

Three led Eight out of the store, lacing their fingers together with one hand and holding her bags with the other. She kept stealing glances and smiling when she was caught, tightening her grip on her hand. In truth, she really, really wanted to take her home so she could kiss her, but they had one last stop to make.

They took the bus to Inkopolis Plaza, and took a train from there out to Octo Valley- the Valley, as Eight called it. There was nobody else on the train, so Eight took the liberty of resting her head on Three’s shoulder. Three thought she would explode.

Cuttlefish Cabin was a small shack the captain had clearly made by himself. The walls were built up by planks of wood, with chunks of scrap metal as the roof. There was a baby zapfish curled up in a bulb-shaped enclosure nearby, giving the shack power, as well as an antenna protruding from the roof for internet and cell signal, as poor as it was.

Captain himself was snoozing on a bench outside the shack, holding onto the bamboozler he used as a cane. 

The Squid Sisters- Callie and Marie- were also there. The two cousins (yes, cousins, not sisters) looked up when they saw Three coming, and both exclaimed “Three!!!” They ran over and practically knocked her over in their attempt to hug her.

“You’re okay!” said Callie.

“We haven’t heard from you in forever!” said Marie.

Three awkwardly chuckled, peeling them off of her. “Yeah, yeah… I’m fine…”

“In that case…” Marie smacked the back of her head. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Ghosting us for an actual month when you know we know you’re depressed?”

“Sorry Marie…” Three grumbled as her fellow agent shook her back and forth.

“Honestly! We expected the worst, you know? We thought you’d gone and died and…” She finally caught sight of Eight. “Who’s this?”

“This is-”

“Agent 8,” Captain finished. It appeared all the fuss had woken him up. “Now that’s a face I thought I’d never see again.”

“Y-yeah,” Three stuttered, fumbling for Eight’s hand. “This is Eight. My girlfriend.” Though she was mildly nervous to face her captain after all this time, it gave her a swell of pride to introduce Eight as her girlfriend. She was the one thing that always felt right, after all.

“Girlfriend??” Callie parroted.

Oh dear cod.

Callie went on and on. “Ooh! Icky has a girlfriendddd! Awwww you two are SO CUTE together eeeeee!!”

Three was finally saved by Marie, who clamped a hand over her cousin’s mouth and dragged her away.

“You’re alive after all, Agent 8,” Captain said, idly tapping his cane against the ground. “I thought you died in the collapse.”

“I thought she did too,” Three growled through her beak. “And then I learned about what really happened.”

Captain looked up at her, meeting her anger with a calm stare. “Did you, now? You know the truth?”

“The truth that I… That I…”

That Three killed her. She couldn’t say it.

“You lied to me,” Three said instead. “You knew.”

Eight held onto Three’s hand, rubbing circles into her palm. “Sango, I told you not to blame him…” She lightly nuzzled her shoulder, and as though she were a weighted blanket, Three was calmed.

Captain let out a long sigh, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Three got the sense she was about to be blasted with wisdom. “Agent 3, I deeply apologize for keeping the truth from you. As a veteran myself, I understand how difficult it is to live with the weight of death on your hands. You’re young. I didn’t want you to have to experience it. So, I considered it a blessing you didn’t remember.” He turned his gaze to Eight. “And you. I saw Agent 3 shoot you. I saw the rubble crush you.”

“I survived,” was Eight’s simple reply. It appeared the ghost thing was going to remain a secret.

“Either way, I’m glad to see you are well. I hope you will continue working with the Splatoon, but it’s your choice. I understand we are the enemy in your eyes.” He suddenly jolted. “I have something for you.” He slowly got up, and wandered into the cabin on shaking legs. When he came back, he was holding something gold in his hand.

Eight’s hairpin.

She slowly took it from him, eyes wide. “So you had it all along…”

“I was going to give it to Agent 3 once she recovered a bit, but it is rightfully yours.”

Eight tucked it into her hair, then offered a bow. Apparently that was respectful where she was from. “Thank you, sir.”

Captain smiled, then reached up and patted Three’s arm. “I really am sorry, kiddo. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

Those were the same, candy-coated words he’d offered when she first began to spiral after Eight’s death. This time they actually meant something.

“Thanks, Cap,” Three said, ducking her head. “Um…I think I can go back to being on the field now.”

Captain’s eyes crinkled into crescents- a sign he was smiling. “That’s excellent. I’ll schedule you for patrols two weeks from now.” He leaned back and closed his eyes once more, and he was out like a light.

Three stared at him, letting Eight’s touch anchor her to the world before she lost herself in her thoughts. “I wonder…how many people Captain has killed…”

It went unsaid, but they all would have been people who looked like Eight.

Before Three could dwell on this any further, Callie yanked her back, squeezing her into a hug and playfully tugging at her ear. “Gotcha!”

Three grumbled, reaching back for Eight’s hand like a child grabbing for a toy.

Eight, the traitor, simply giggled at the display.

Callie swung her around, laughing and teasing. It was obnoxious, but the hug was just tight enough Three could sense the girl’s worry leaking through. 

Marie rolled her eyes, but didn’t do a thing to help. She wandered over to Eight, crossing her arms. “So, that’s the idiot you chose out of everyone in the world?”

Three was now screeching in dismay as Callie caught her in a headlock, aggressively swiping at the girl to get her to let go.

Eight smiled, eyes softening at the sight. “That’s my idiot.”

Three reached behind with her leg and kicked the back of Callie’s knee, causing her to lose her balance. This resulted in both of them falling to the ground in a heap.

Callie laughed like it was hilarious, then she suddenly looked worried. She crawled off of Three, tilting her head. “What happened to your face?”

“Oh, that does look pretty bad,” Marie commented.

Three had covered her scarred eye with some bandages to avoid weird looks, but they’d slipped off in all the commotion. “It’s nothing,” she grumbled, tugging them back down.

Eight stepped over and offered a hand for Three, helping her up. She stared at their joined hands, then lightly tugged her closer.

Three stumbled over, nearly bumping into the girl. She could have crashed into her and she would have been satisfied. She rested her head on her shoulder, practically craving the proximity like it would give her energy.

Callie squealed, grabbing her cousin by the shoulders and shaking her. “Eeee! You two are adorable! I’m gonna write so much fanfiction. Eight, do you like coffee shop AUs?”

“It’s weird to write fanfiction about real people,” Marie told her, frowning like this was normal. “Unless it’s the president.”

Eight looked confused. Three assumed it was because she didn’t know what fanfiction was, but her question was, “Why not the president?”

“The president isn’t real.”

Three was so sick of them. “Mmkay, we’re leaving now.” She gave Eight’s hand a gentle tug, backing away like the cousins were bears she found in the wild.

“You better treat Eight right!” Callie called after her. “Or I’m so beating you up!”

“And Eight, you be nice to our Three,” Marie said. She didn’t have to add a threat for it to be threatening.

Three leaned into Eight, bouncing her leg. She’d grown to like the feeling of riding a train. Eight held her hand in both of hers, quietly humming. 

“Those three seem to care for you quite a bit,” she said so softly Three strained to hear her over the buzz of the train.

Three scoffed, rolling her eyes. “They’re annoying. But yeah, they’re pretty nice. I like ‘em too.”

“It’s good to have a team you can trust.” Eight smiled, closing her eyes as her tone turned fond. “It reminds me of the unit I was placed with when I was in training. They treated me like a younger sister. I hope they’re well.”

“I hope so too.”

“You look tired,” Eight noted. She patted her head, and pulled her closer. “There’s half an hour until we get to Inkopolis. Try to get some rest?”

Three grumbled some unintelligible response, and closed her eyes, drawing into Eight’s warmth.

This wasn’t the first time they’d sat like this. Three recalled many meetings on the train that had gone this way before Eight had died. It was nice to be back. It was like returning home after a long journey, wherever that may be.

Eight lightly shook her awake once the speakers on the train called out, “Now arriving in Inkopolis Plaza.”

Three didn’t bother to mention she hadn’t fallen asleep, or that she’d just been sitting there, basking in the feeling of Eight next to her, or that she was actually going to lose her mind if they parted for one second.

They walked home, and once the door was locked behind them, Eight pressed a quick kiss into Three’s neck. She was about to leave it at that and saunter away, but Three grabbed her waist, pulling her back in.

To be completely fair, Three was just as surprised as Eight looked. She’d acted on complete instinct.

As Eight blinked at her expectantly, she realized she needed to say something, because if she just kept staring at her it was going to get weird.

Three cleared her throat to hide the fact it was going to take a second to get her voice to work. “I believe you said something about kissing when we got back?”

“Hmm, I did say something like that, didn’t I?”

Three set down their bags and led her over to the couch. She sat down, leaving the perfect opening. “C’mere, baby.”

Eight crawled into her lap, bracketing her between her knees. She let out a sigh as Three wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

Three remembered waking up to something like this down in the metro. Eight in her lap, looking down at her with an uncharacteristic want in her eyes. But this time, it was real.

“Hey Eight.” Three mumbled in a low voice. She tried to mask how stunned she was by the beautiful girl before her, but there was no way she’d be able to keep it up for long. “Whatever you wanted to do that day on the train, I want you to do it now.”

Eight sighed again, and the feeling of her breath was still so intoxicating. She tilted Three’s chin up, inching closer and closer. “I think I’ll do what I want to do right now.” She finally closed the painfully long distance, catching Three’s lips in a steady kiss. 

The tension in Three’s shoulders melted away as she leaned into it. She savoured every bit of Eight, from the softness of her lips to the gentle curve of her back beneath her fingers. 

She was everything. She was so sweet and so warm and Three loved all of her with a force that made her sick.

Eight parted for air, lightly panting. Three felt her quick breaths on her face, and hungrily pulled her in for more. Eight giggled against her lips, giving her shoulders a light push.

“Sango,” she playfully chided.

“I love you,” Three told her, breathless.

“Oh yeah?” Eight pressed the tiniest of kisses into her neck- a clear tease. “Tell me about it.”

Three craned her head back as Eight peppered kisses over her neck, trying to speak through her quickening breath. “You’re strong…in combat and in character. And you’re kind…and clever. And you’re- you’re beautiful.” She let her hands wander from Eight’s back to her waist, and from her waist to her hips. “Especially when you dance.”

Eight hummed at the new touch, shifting closer. Her arms wrapped around Three’s shoulders, holding her close. She hid her face in the crook of Three’s neck, taking gentle breaths. “I have wanted to hold you for so long,” she mumbled. “I was alone in the metro for what felt like forever. All I wanted was to see you, and touch you, and kiss you.”

“I’m all yours, Eighty,” Three breathed, something warm stirring in her chest.

Eight smiled into her skin. “You are mine as much as I am yours.” She kissed Three’s collarbone. “You’re so brave. I really owe you my life.” Then her neck. “You’re so kind, even though you try to hide it.” Then her jawline. “You always look out for those dear to you.” Then the corner of her lips. “You lay down the sickest beats I’ve ever heard.” Then she pulled away the bandages obscuring her scarred eye, and kissed the damaged skin. “You’re beautiful, you know?” 

Three, too stunned to speak, slowly reached up and put a hand on Eight’s cheek.

“I love you, Sango.” 

Her voice was like a warm honey Three was addicted to. She leaned in to kiss her again, desperate for another taste.

Hands began to wander, kisses were messy and planted on any bare skin they could find, and Eight hummed, revelling in the feeling of Three in her arms.

Eventually Three was on her back, with Eight laying beside her, snuggling close. They fit together perfectly, like a puzzle sculpted by the heavens. Three idly drew circles in the girl’s skin with her thumb, pressing the occasional kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey, Eight?” she finally said.

“Mm?”

“I’m thinking about getting back into DJ-ing.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Thing is, I need an MC if I wanna have a chance when I rematch Off the Hook.”

“Where will you find one?”

Three smirked. “I think I know the perfect person. How does MC Eighty sound?”

Eight slowly turned her head up to look at her, and smiled. “That sounds perfect.”