Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eight had actually done it. All twelve palettes to the top of the Spire of Order. Concluding, of course, with her own palette. After it was repaired, the quartet headed back to the real Inkopolis. But something had changed. The look in Eight's eyes was different. Pearl and Marina both just figured it was exhaustion finally setting in now that the job was done.

They were wrong. Because the emptiness in Eight's eyes terrified Acht. That look… Acht had seen it in the mirror once. And the only thing that could mean… 

Time flows differently in the Memverse. Or at least it felt like it. It seemed like no matter how many runs Eight did, it would always end up being the middle of the day when she decided it was to go back. So this final time, the quartet decided to go in during the day. And that for whatever reason led to them coming out a bit after midnight. Much of Inkopolis was asleep, but Turf Wars don't have a need for rest.

Much like Pearl. 

“You should get some rest, Eight!” Marina smiled. “You deserve it after everything you did to help.” Even outside the Order Sector, she was tapping away at her computer, likely monitoring the Smollusk's current status just to be sure it wasn't trying anything else. Or maybe sending a message to some the Octoling engineers who worked on Project Memverse. 

“Yeah, Eight. We killed it out there, but you shouldn't overdo it.” Being a drone apparently severely limited the amount of energy Pearl expended. Or maybe that's just how she always has been. “Meanwhile, the studio is calling our names!” Pearl shouted, either forgetting or not caring that there were regular Inklings and Octolings around them once again.

Off the Hook disappeared into the night leaving behind two Octolings who had never really spent any time alone together. But Acht knew so much about Off the Hook's most trusted confidant. And more importantly, Acht knew they were the only one who could help her. 

Eight remained silent, but that wasn't weird. That was just Eight. Acht was sure that's what Marina and Pearl were thinking as they walked away. But this silence was different. It's not that Eight wasn't talking. More than likely, if Acht’s theory was accurate, she couldn't . Not anymore. Luckily Acht remembered where the apartment Pearl bought for Eight was and dragged her there by the arm.

Acht was far from used to Inkopolis. A world tour was one thing. An orderly mass of fans who loved music– and Off the Hook –as much as they did. That wasn't scary. But the streets of Inkopolis were dark and confusing. Roads overlapped at odd intervals. Sketchy looking squid kids stood in alleys with intimidating grimaces slapped on their faces like the graffiti they plastered on the walls behind them. 

They passed a group of Octolings who were playing some card game they'd never seen before. A few were chatting about clothes. Some were reading manga together. None of that really happened back in their own teenage years. It all felt so far away. But maybe that was for the better. Marina was just talking about how scary change was. Acht would just have to adapt. But that wasn't important. 

If anyone knew that change was scary, it was Eight. Chiding themselves, Acht focused on her once again. Blank face, same emptiness in the eyes. Nothing had changed. The sooner the two of them made it to her apartment the better, Acht told themselves. Was that true? Eight wasn't sure anything would ever be okay again. Or if it ever was to begin with.

With each step forward, Acht could feel another pair of eyes affix to them and Eight. But mainly them. Everyone by now had seen Octolings on the street. Crustaceans and jellyfish and cats roamed Inkopolis no problem. Everyone loved seeing Big Man or Crusty Sean. But sanitized Octolings… they didn't make it to the surface. They never had the will to. They stood out. They stood out. And if there's one thing Acht wanted to avoid…

They just didn't want to overwhelm Eight. Blending into a crowd at the Off the Hook tour was easy, but this was out of their depths. Literally. Shaking their head, Acht just kept moving faster. And so the pair got closer and closer and closer to Eight's place until… finally.

Acht threw the doors open and pulled their companion into the elevator. Empty, perfect. The sliding doors screeched shut, leaving the two alone. 

“See, Eight? We're back in the elevator. Everything’s okay.” Saying that just as much to calm themselves as they did to reassure Eight, Acht took a quick breather. After all that in the Spire, elevators really felt like home. Like somewhere they could truly be helpful. “What floor are we going to, Eight?”

“Open-Season_Switchback.Floor.” She mumbled. 

“This isn’t the Spire, Eight. We're away from all that. It's okay. Where are we headed?” 

“C05: Stamped-Up Station.” Her voice was low and hazy. 

“Woah, definitely not the Deep Sea Metro.” Not knowing what she was comfortable with, Acht put their hand on like… it was sort of the side of Eight's shoulder. There really was barely any actual contact, but it still somehow got Eight's attention. “Eight! What floor is your apartment on?”

“Floor 8.” Eight's voice had cleared up, but that was not true of the look in her eyes.

“Of course it is.” Acht pressed the 8 button and found calm in the feeling of a rising elevator. 

As the elevator door opened, what Acht could only assume was muscle memory kicked in and Eight rushed out of the elevator to her own door which opened as she approached. Acht couldn't help but wonder if that feature was Marina's contribution to the room. She continued whirring forwards until falling onto her couch and then rolling over to be face up. 

The room’s TV flipped on presumably due to the remote having been left on the couch. The theme of the Anarchy Splatcast spewed out across the room. “Listen up! It's going down…” Shiver's voice reached Acht as they realized: “Those three had palettes. Good to know that they're okay.” They flipped off the TV and sat in the chair next to Eight.

“So, restoring your palette means all your memories are back, right?”

Eight was silent.

“No worries, you don't have to say anything. I can see it in your eyes. Cause I've been there. Thought I could help. But you have to let me, Eight.”

She nodded firmly, but with a downright frown. Eight definitely wasn't feeling well. A lifetime of unresolved trauma coming back to you all at once will do that. 

“Pearl told me about Cuttlefish. How he found you in the Metro. That green ooze you were soaking in. I get the vibe you never wanted that. You wanted Kamabo to help you to the surface. And they sanitized you. Or tried. They only got your memories it seems. ”

Eight was silent.

“It's okay. The shock of all those memories hits you hard. So let me tell you something. It's a story. Maybe ten years ago now. I met Marina. And I really liked her. Sure, she was top of the class, but I didn’t care about that. The two of us were chill though. But then she shipped off to the front lines. And then I learned she was the coolest DJ Octarian society had ever seen. And she was better than me. It pissed me off to no end.” Acht looked away to hide their faint smile from Eight. 

“But then the Calamari Inkantation happened. Marina says you heard it too. But, it changed her, Eight. We met up once after that. Neither of us brought it up. But I could tell she had heard it too. There she was, hardest worker I know, suddenly completely unable to focus on anything. I wonder, Eight, were you like that too?”

Eight was silent.

“I didn't quite see the hype at the time. But it was a disruption. At least I thought it was. Then Marina left which made things crazier. And so I think back sometimes if things would've been different. If I had the guts to speak up during our last meeting, might she have stayed?” Eight gave them a blank stare. “No, that's not really what I ask. Would she have taken me with her?” 

Eight nodded.

“You think so?” Acht stood up and waltzed over to the window with a few heavier steps at the edge. “But if she had me, would she and Pearl have ever met?” They could see Inkopolis Square from that distance. “I can't see that being a happier outcome for her. The way she looks at Pearl… I get why she was so scared of change.”

Eight wordlessly walked over and stood besides Acht. 

“I'm a little off track now. Sorry, Eight. But I bet you're in the same boat. Looking back on your whole life like I did. And wishing you could go back and do it better?”

Eight nodded.

“Feeling like Kamabo stole so much of your life from you?” 

Eight nodded.

“I don't know how you got mixed in with them. For me it was because I didn’t have anything else. Marina was gone. Society was in shambles. And all I could do was make music. I lost myself. Music became all I needed. So I let Kamabo take everything else. I made some great tunes, but… I was selfish.”

Eight's eyes finally changed. From pure emptiness to sadness. She had a word for what her past felt like. Selfish. 

“I listened to some of that music on the elevator in the Spire of Order. You were on one of those grueling Splat Zones floors and so I– had some time. Marina had rescued all my music from Kamabo's files. I insisted on listening though. And all of those songs were about me. Everything I felt was in those songs. The loneliness. The confusion. The rage, Eight. Regret. I didn't care about what Kamabo would think of it. I just wrote. It just flowed. It didn't matter what those songs would do to the test subjects. The anxiety and sadness they'd feel because of my music. Music is both about artistic expression and audience interpretation. I lost one of those and so I lost myself.”

Eight moved her eyes from the city to the friend standing next to her. 

“But you were on the front lines. The things you would've seen and even done, I–” Acht stopped. They didn't even know how to describe the look in Eight's eyes anymore. They hit a nerve they were trying to avoid. “I'm really no good at this Eight. I don't know how to help.”

Eight collapsed into a hug. Acht pulled her in as a couple tears escaped her in the process. She whispered something into Acht's ear with as much of her voice as she could muster. “Thank you for being you.” 

And so for a while, Acht just provided a shoulder to cry on. And a number of head pats. 

“Look, Eight, you're amazing. And I don't know if you fully realize that.” By this point Eight had stopped crying. She opened her eyes and looked up at Acht. “You're always going to be that. You've earned it. Whoever you used to be and whoever you are now. They're the same person. Good and bad, they've made you Eight. You hunted Inklings and you saved Inkopolis. You fought Agent 3 and you learned directly from them. Who you are is someone who's learned and overcome. You made those choices the way I made music. Not all of it was good, but I wouldn't be sitting here right now if not for you. Thanks for helping me find those words, Eight.”

Eight smiled.