Chapter Text
Tosix dreamed, sometimes, of being sanitized. Of having everything- everything about her wiped away. Pushed into darkness. To awaken with no clue, no context, as to who she might be, and no choices riding upon her shoulders.
Even then, however, she was certain Kepa would come and find her...
Kepa’s voice shattered Tosix’s dream.
“Hey, do you want to stop for coffee?”
Tosix blinked the grogginess from her eyes and glanced left. Kepa was staring carefully at the road ahead, gaze sharp behind her glasses.
Glasses. Tosix marvelled, taken aback. Fifteen years ago, Kepa hadn’t worn glasses.
“ I’d like some coffee,” replied the young man in the backseat. Anthias, Tosix remembered.
“You just had tea.”
“And I want coffee. Can’t I have coffee?”
Kepa rolled her eyes, playfully. She glanced expectantly at Tosix.
“Well?” Her brown eyes asked the rest of the question.
Tosix kept her mouth shut. Kepa sighed.
“You know what, I want coffee. Let's get coffee.”
Kepa swerved the car into an exit lane. The stretch of trees above became a swath of stubby buildings and road. Finally, they stopped in the parking lot of small coffee shop . Tosix had seen three just like this one along the road already.
“Do you want to come in?” Kepa asked her.
No.
“Don’t worry,” Kepa added, sternly, “I’ll protect you.”
Kepa? Protect anyone? Tosix forced open the car door and stepped outside. Ignoring the sting of her freshly-cut tentacles in the open air, she stalked to Kepa and Anthias and resisted the urge to cross her arms like a child. She kept her face blank.
“So it’s spite that motivates you,” Anthias muttered. Kepa gave him a stern look.
“Behave.”
The shop’s interior, Tosix decided a minute later, was a gross indulgence in poor resource management. Wooden chairs and tables, the countertop, the damn walls. It was an ocean of waste, broken only by the bright blue of Kepa’s tentacles. All of this could have been put to better use as paper, which itself could have been avoided if they’d the power to produce data banks to-
There is nothing you can do about that anymore.
Aside from the cashier, there were two Inklings seated in the cafe, engrossed in glowing laptop screens, ears nestled in headphones. Tosix’s lip curled. They hadn’t even noticed her.
Kepa strode to the cashier with barely a glance at the menu.
“I’d like two small black coffees, please. Tosix? What would you like?”
Tosix glanced at the menu, but despite being able to read Inkling, she still had no idea what anything was. Then her eye caught it, at the bottom of the display. Tea. Perhaps she would humor Kepa.
“Tea.”
“What flavor would you like?” asked the cashier, a sprightly looking Inkling who had yet to notice Tosix’s tentacles.
“I don’t care.”
Tosix watched Kepa fish a wallet from her pocket, then glanced at Anthias. He seemed calm enough, but she saw a needle of agitation in his clenched fingers, how he kept glancing at his phone. Checking the time? Tosix edged closer until she towered above him, and glanced down at the screen.
DJ Octavio had asked her once, when she had still been recovering, how Inkling technology was developing. She had answered, infantile , thinking this might endear him more to her.
That had been a lie. Some of it, yes, was years behind. But some was years ahead. There were no cell phones underground.
What she saw in Anthias’ hand was incomprehensible This, more than anything, irked her. When Kepa showed up and pressed a paper cup of tea into Tosix’s hand, she had to fight the urge not to throw it back at her.
“Let’s go back,” Kepa said, as though to lead them all, but Tosix noticed how she stayed behind the other two, as though to make sure that Tosix was coming.
And so they returned to the car, which Tosix was beginning to loathe, and sat in silence once more. Tosix took a sip of her tea, exploring the feeling of her tongue burning and its awful bitter taste.
“So,” asked Anthias, eventually, “why tea?”
Tosix ignored him, sipping more.
“Starfish is clearly a coffee place. So why tea?”
“She doesn’t have to answer if she doesn’t want to, Anthias,” Kepa interrupted.
Tosix scowled.
“As though I know anything about your resource wasting coffee chains.”
Anthias’ face lit up. “So it is spite!”
“Anthias!” Kepa chided.
It was his own turn to scowl. “I’m just curious!”
After watching a few trees slip past the corner of her gaze, Tosix twisted in her seat to meet his eyes.
“Do you think there are many resources, in the kettles?”
“How would I know? Maybe that’s why I’m asking.”
“Petulant,” remarked Tosix, a too-sharp grin on her face. This one had some fight in him. Under her guiding hand, perhaps it could be honed-
For some reason, Mallory’s face flashed in Tosix’s mind. Her mood soured.
“In the kettles there is little light with which to grow crops.Because there is little energy, priorities are made. Tea is not one of them. I’m drinking tea because I can.”
She took another sip of her tea. It burned.
Kelp was dreaming again. She knew this because she was Kelp and not Tosix. Back in her armor, her namesake drifted lazily from her tentacles as though submerged.
And Kepa was there too, in full Inkling military regalia. She wore no glasses, her brown eyes scarless. She smiled, saccharine at Kelp, as she leaned over a table between the two of them and signed her name. Then she slid the document across the table. It looked like a peace treaty, almost, except that when she stared at the words they began to move and drift until they formed the shape of Kepa.
Kepa, wearing a gown made of starlight. Kepa, dancing beneath the moon, away from Inkopolis’ light and the surface. Kepa, emanating light. Kepa, in Kelp’s room, waiting for her at the end of each day with the same sweet smile of their youth.
“Welcome home, darling,” crooned dream-Kepa, taking a coat off of Kelp’s shoulders and hanging it on a hook, “I’ve made dinner.”
Then they were sitting at a table, which Kelp had never owned, and Kepa was placing a steaming plate of something in front of her.
“It looks good,” said Kelp, not even looking at it. She was too busy watching Kepa’s intent stare. Finally, she looked down, lifting a fork.
On the plate lay Mallory.
Mount Nantai was just coming into view when Tosix finally woke up, shouting. Kepa swerved the car to the roadside and slammed the breaks, inciting a shocked cry from Anthias. Kepa spun to face Tosix.
“Tosix!”
“Fuck off!” Tosix growled, unbuckling herself. She stormed from the car to the treeline, and slammed her fist into the nearest tree. Bark streaked blue cuts across her knuckles. She screamed.
“Tosix!” Kepa marched close, crunching dead leaves beneath her boots, splaying her palms skyward. “Are you alright?”
“Go away, Kepa.”
Kepa shook her head. “I just got you back. I’m not giving you up now.”
“You should.” Tosix looked away, a grim smile on her face.
“No.”
“You don’t know who I am anymore.”
Kepa reached out. When Tosix didn’t flinch away, she rested her hand on the point of Tosix’s shoulder.
“I’d like to learn,” said Kepa. “Please, come back into the car. We’re almost there. I can’t see the stars without you.”
Kepa’s eyes were earnest, concerned. Tosix had forgotten those eyes. How they bore through her, like they knew her, even when they really didn’t.
After their fight, Kepa had carried Tosix home to her townhouse, far from that old apartment in which they’d nearly killed each other twice. She had sat Tosix in a cozy armchair, lit a fire in the hearth. Kepa’s fingers had been gentle as she wrapped each bleeding tentacle-end and cleaned the wounds. The firelight had reflected on her glasses, obscuring the expression on her eyes. Had they been this warm? This worried?
“Well,” Tosix sighed, “I did agree to go, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“I will drag you back into that car.”
Tosix bared her teeth. “You think you could do that?” Her hands curled into fists.
Kepa cocked her head, frowning. “I could.”
Behind her, Anthias slid from the car.
“Don’t come over here, kid,” Kepa said, without looking. She reached out a hand to Tosix. “I thought I got through to you.”
Kepa’s open palm was inviting. Tosix stared down at her own clawed fingers, her knuckles stained blue. Mallory’s blood had been blue as well, when Tosix had tortured him. She wondered how he was coping on his own. Inkopolis had been terrifying and loud and messy when she had first run there. And Mallory wasn’t like she had been, not a fighter. He suffered so easily. Tosix had contributed, so many times. Something she couldn’t tell Kepa.
“I’m going to get blood on your hands,” Tosix muttered.
Kepa stepped into Tosix’s space. Lacing her dark fingers between Tosix’s pale ones with her right hand, Kepa lifted Tosix’s chin with her left.
“I don’t care.” Kepa insisted.
It was funny. The Kepa of Tosix’s memories had such passive expressions. Not the Kepa before her, though. Her eyes were fiery, face fervid and intense. Tosix was going to buckle beneath them.
Kepa turned, towing Tosix back to the car.
Tosix let her.
She sat in the passenger's seat once more, vowing not to sleep for the rest of the trip. In the backseat, Anthias played with his phone, silent. But she caught him looking up at her through the rearview mirror every now and then.
The car finally sputtered to a stop after a long drive up a looping mountain road, in front of a massive cabin of dark wood. Half-melted snow, barely lit by the sunset, slid down its sloped roof. It looked cold and empty inside.
Kepa stepped from the car to the gravel driveway out front, stretching. Tosix watched the arch of her back, then dragged her eyes away, pulling herself from the car. A glance to Anthias revealed the young man forcing open the trunk of the car.
“Well, here we are!” Kepa was smiling.
“It’s...” Tosix searched for the words, “certainly something.”
“I used to visit my grandparents here all the time. There’s this perfect balcony in the back for star-gazing.”
Tosix glanced up. “It's cloudy.”
Kepa cursed. “Well, let's get settled. I think it’ll clear up by tomorrow. Do you want me to carry your bag?”
Calling it Tosix’s bag was a lie. It belonged to Kepa. All of the clothing within had been loaned. There was soap and spare toothbrush, and, for some reason, a cucumber sandwich, wrapped neatly in plastic. As though they were teenagers again . Clearly the years had not ruined her the way they had ruined Tosix.
Ignoring Kepa, Tosix snatched the bag from the car. Slinging the duffel bag over her shoulder, she marched to the cabin door, watching as Kepa and Anthias gathered their things. Kepa locked the car with the click of a button, speeding past Tosix to unlock the cabin.
Inside it was cold and dark.
Tosix dropped her bag on the hardwood floor. Used to dim light from years underground, she took in the shape of the living room. The concave of the ceiling was two storeys above them, highlighted with dark, wood planks. At ground level, a brick fireplace surrounded by soft sofas and a glass coffee table stretched its chimney to meet the ceiling. Massive windows made up the back of the cabin, revealing a snow-dusted forest. Distantly, further up the mountain, Tosix made out the outline of another house.
Kepa fumbled for the lightswitch. After a moment, a small click sounded. Light emanated from an iron chandelier, hanging from a ceiling. Details became visible- the plush armchairs were clothed in light blue brocade, the wood was a deep brown. A flat screen tv had been set up above the fireplace.
To the left, separated by a half-wall, was a spiral staircase and a decadent kitchen. Ignoring the kitchen, Tosix strode to the staircase.
“You forgot your bag,” called Anthias, lifting it for her.
Tosix sighed, but stamped back for it, snatching it from the young man’s hand.
“I’m going. To bed.”
Upstairs was a carpeted hallway. Tosix randomly selected a room, slamming the door behind her. Then she stopped.
Kepa’s room. Of course.
The bed was small, across from an open closet. Books were stacked atop the wooden dresser. Some Tosix recognized.
A dictionary of Octarian symbols and words. A history book, detailing the war. A scrapbook. All things which she recognized from Kepa’s apartment, from way back then.
Tosix lifted the scrapbook, ignoring its dust, and dropped her bag on the floor. Sitting beside it, she reached within and pulled out the cucumber sandwich. It crunched nicely between her teeth as she opened the scrapbook. Though the bread was soggy, the cream was sweet and the cucumber fresh. The thought that Kepa had gone to so much trouble did strange things to Tosix’s heart.
The first page of the scrapbook was blank white but for the neat line upon which Kepa had printed her name. Even back then her handwriting had been clean and delicate. Tosix flipped the page, and was met with a photo of an infant Kepa, cradled in the arms of her parents. Behind them was the same window that now let moonlight into Tosix’s room. In the photo, a sunrise painted the sky. Tosix pressed her calloused fingers to baby-Kepa’s soft cheeks.
Tosix had never wondered who her parents had been. It was different when you were raised to be a soldier, to know nothing but fighting and the lies of your superiors. Even when Kepa asked it seemed... irrelevant. Something Tosix never needed. After all, she had Kepa.
Again, Tosix turned the page. More bits from Kepa’s life: school friends, graduation, dance recitals. A picture she had taken with Tosix, in their old apartment. This one gave her pause. A young, teenage Kepa stared at her, standing above a seated, young Tosix. Kepa’s left hand rested gently upon the tiny Tosix’s shoulder, her right positioning the camera above them. Past-Tosix glanced up, uncertain, at Kepa. Like Kepa was her entire world.
Tosix couldn’t look away. Not from this strange, unscarred Tosix and alien, expressive Kepa. Their emotions were clear on their faces: joy, wonder, fear. Kepa with her big smiles, Tosix with her tiny ones. Back then, Tosix had been nervous just to hold hands.
Now, Tosix realized, being near Kepa at all had her on edge. There was something wrong. The perfect Kepa, the one who Tosix had tried to hate for years and years after it had all happened, was gone. Now there was this strange woman in her place. She was not the person she had known.
This room then, was all Tosix had left.
Tosix sighed. It was getting late. Standing, she slipped off her boots and padded across the soft carpet to Kepa’s bed. Lifting her hand, she went to pull out the covers, but stopped at the sight of her scarred hand. Stepped backwards.
She couldn’t sleep up there. Not in Kepa’s bed.
Here would do fine. She sat, and lay on the carpet.