Eight's pinky grazed Three's cheek as her fist flew through the space the inkling's head had been a fraction of a second before and fought the urge to curse at how slippery inklings could be.

Three ducked low and went for her midsection but Eight managed to jump back and tried for a right hook as Three came back up. Unfortunately, Three had all but anticipated the movement and deflected the attack, forcing Eight to block a strike to her chest with her forearm.

Whoever said inklings were weaker than octolings in close combat had obviously never met Agent 3. After nearly an hour, she was still just as dangerous as she had been at the start. She was exhausted, true, but her own stubbornness refused to let it slow her. Eight had paced herself better and an octoling's slower metabolism gave her better endurance in the long run, but it was still only enough for her to keep pace with her opponent.

But that tenaciousness is one of the things I love about her.

Three attacked again, going for a chin strike, but Eight deflected it. Three followed that up by trying to strike her chin from underneath. It nearly worked but Eight managed to surprise her with a backflip that not only forced Three back for fear of a kick but allowed her to regain some distance. Back on her feet, Eight adopted a new stance, ready for the next attack.

There was a loud clack in the air, causing both combatants to pause and turn.

"Good, good." Captain Cuttlefish said, looking pleased as he sat on the porch of Cuttlefish Cabin, both hands atop his cane.

"Three," he said. "You're doing a good job of hiding your exhaustion but you're pushing yourself too hard. You need to learn to pace yourself for long fights if you have a tough opponent. Smarter, not harder, remember? Patience." Three winced slightly then her mantle flashed a light green tone.

"Eight, you held your own pretty well and forced Three to expend a lot of energy to get through your defenses while preserving your own energy, but you're too defensive. You had a lot of opportunity for attack that you let slip by. You need to learn to identify those and take advantage of them. No point having all that energy and not using it. Look for weaknesses or chinks in the armour, and exploit them."

Eight bowed humbly. "I understand."

"Good. I think it's time we stopped now. Another round and you two won't have enough energy to walk home." He chuckled. "Well, it's good to see young'uns using all that energy for something useful."

"Are you suggesting I'm wasting my energy?"

Marie emerged from within the cabin, carrying a pair of damp towels. She wore a lightly stained apron over a simple light-green t-shirt and black leggings. Her tentacles were tied up behind her head with a simple white hoop.

Startled, Captain Cuttlefish turned around and laughed awkwardly. "'Course not, Agent 2. I know you work hard every day."

"In addition to looking after you because you refuse to retire." She hung the towels on a rack and crossed her arms, glaring down at him for a second before switching her gaze to Eight and Three.

Eight's hearts skipped when their eyes met. She still couldn't get over seeing one of her idols in person like this in such a casual setting. Not only did she still maintain that strength of will and steadfastness she admired, but even in plain clothing and an apron she was gorgeous.

"You two should head home and rest. Three, I'll need you to come to our place tomorrow morning. Callie and I have something we need to discuss with you."

That sounded ominous to Eight but Three appeared unconcerned as her mantle flashed green again in reply.

Using their mantles, Inklings used a kind of colour language they called "tuk'yan", literally meaning: "tongueless." It was used in a way similar to body language, the way different colours, tones, and shades conveyed different emotions - conscious and subconscious. Different combinations of coloured spots, waves, and ripples conveyed more complex meanings. Even the speed of a flash or pulse could mean different things. It never ceased to fascinate Eight how they were able to communicate so effectively without a word. Unfortunately, to non inklings, it was all but incomprehensible, especially when Inklings got excited and the colours and patterns changed so quickly that Eight couldn't tell where one word stopped and another began.

Marie looked back down at her grandfather.

"Lunch is almost ready. Four will be along in a few hours for patrol and I want you fed and napped before she gets here."

"I don't need no dang nap! I've got many years yet before I choke, little missy."

"Oh?" Marie put her hands on her hips and gave him a flat stare. "So you don't need your grandsquids to cook for you once in a while? To clean up your own home or do your grocery shopping?" Her mantle changed to show blotches of purple and crimson, her golden eyes hardening.

Captain Cuttlefish didn't wilt, exactly, but he did lean away from her a tiny bit. After several seconds without a response, Marie said, "that's what I thought." Her mantle cooled back to it's normal grey and lime then she headed back into the cabin. "Come inside and wash up."

Cuttlefish grumbled. "Getting more like her mother every minute."

Eight saw Three smirk and Eight couldn't help but share it. After all, what better compliment was there to give a granddaughter?

Three walked over to the cabin and grabbed one of the damp towels, rubbing it on her bare skin to help cool herself. Her funnel was still leaking green ink down her back and onto the ground as her body worked to remove the excess heat.

"Better go, Gramps." She said. "Or she'll make me kick you in there."

"And you'd do it too." He grumbled again. "Insubordination and mutiny, I say!"

"Gramps." Marie's impatient warning tone came from inside. "Stop harassing the agents and get in here."

Cuttlefish huffed and Three helped him stand to his feet.

"Inkyora," he muttered as he tottered inside. "Always think they're the boss, always think they know everything."

Three rolled her eyes and then grabbed the other damp towel, tossing it at Eight. She caught it and brought the towel to her face. The refreshing dampness was a great relief after their long workout. The very idea of using damp towels to cool oneself after training was a luxury unimaginable in her army days.

As Three's focus returned to wiping herself down, Eight took that moment to discreetly look over and admire the inkling's body.

She was slim, as inklings tended to be, but also very fit. Her muscles were not glaring but they still defined the shape of her body, creating undulations in the smooth lines of her figure. Clad only in a simple sport top that just covered her chest, and a pair of light shorts, she didn't have much left to her imagination. She was particularly fond of Three's strong arms and shoulders.

As Eight wiped down her own body, it was easy to notice the contrast not only between her and Three but also between the her now and the her from more than two months ago when she first arrived on the surface.

Thanks to plenty of healthy and hearty eating, Eight's body had filled out considerably, to the point where her old uniform no longer fit the same. She wasn't even sure she could squeeze herself into it anymore.

Fat had accumulated around her nutrirae, creating two small mounds on her chest. Her waist was still flat but the way it narrowed was less abrupt, with a gentler curve to her hips, thighs, and rear, which themselves had thickened.

She had expressed worries about her rapidly changing body to Marina who insisted that it was normal. Pearl had commented that she looked much healthier now and less malnourished. Both had reassured her that this was probably more her "natural" look, how she was meant to be if healthy and properly fed.

It all seemed wrong to her eyes. When she looked in the mirror, she saw someone older than sixteen. Such attributes were for an octoling who was closer to a full adult, like Marina. It was honestly a bit embarrassing, especially when she was among her own kind, most of whom were still little better fed than they had been in the army. It made her stand out as someone obviously living a comfortable life. Marina promised her it would plateau soon as long as she watched what she ate.

Eight winced as she rubbed the towel over a sore spot on her body. Three hadn't gone easy on her and their sparring matches were one of the few times she was grateful for her body's new natural padding. On the other hand, the fact that Three didn't think she could afford to hold back did give her a sense of pride.

Cooled, Eight and Three hung the now dirty towels on the rack and got dressed. Eight had brought clothes she often wore during turf battles and Three had done the same.

It was a battle in itself for Eight, trying to keep her eyes off of Three's body. Somehow Three putting on more clothes to cover it made it all the more tempting to look. She did catch a faint whiff of Three's scent underneath the powerful smell of hot ink: a hint of lime and a little of something spicy.

Eight fought the notion that bubbled in her mind to try and smell Three's used towel while the inkling's back was turned. No, she couldn't do that, that was strange and she didn't need Three thinking her odd right now, not with what she had planned.

Eight held her bag in front of her and couldn't help but blush and fidget a little as she asked, "what are you doing for lunch?"

Three's mantle pulsed grey. "I'll probably just head home. I can make it until then."

"Well," Eight began, her voice soft even while her hearts pounded in her chest as if they were still sparring. "If you do not want to wait, I packed an extra big lunch." She held up her bag. "I thought we could eat together, in a park perhaps."

Three looked at her, then at the bag, then back up at her. She pulsed blue and then flashed green before nodding, her cheeks colouring ever so slightly.

Eight giggled excitedly, hopping and skipping merrily after Three as they headed for the sewer grate.

—

Three let Eight lead her to the park. She probably had a particular place in mind. She was wearing that broad smile again, the kind that just refused to let her face return to a neutral expression.

Three tried to hide her discomfort. It wasn't Eight's fault. She felt something for Eight, but she wasn't sure what it was yet. It wasn't love, at least not in the romantic sense, but it was stronger than seeing Eight as a friend, or at least a desire to. So, until she knew what that feeling was, she couldn't tell Eight "no" anymore than she could "yes." Her quandary felt silly and childish, yet she couldn't overcome it. Despite this, her hearts still beat at a faster rate than they should have been.

Eight brought them to a small, quiet park. It was mostly play structures for small children and a few benches for supervising parents or nannies to sit on. Eight sat them on one such bench nestled between a pair of bushes.

Eight pulled a small container from her bag and opened it, revealing a collection of fried fishballs, sliced carrots, and a single tart that was either strawberry or raspberry.

Three accepted the container with some apprehension. She had eaten a few things made by Eight in the past and they'd always been acceptable, but they sometimes tasted odd.

One of the fishballs had already been skewered with a toothpick so she grabbed that one first. Eight had taken out her own container and was silently giving thanks. It made Three a little conscious of her own recent lack of piety, so she gave quick thanks in her head then popped the fried fish meat in her mouth.

The meat was cold, of course, but still moist and easy to chew. She swished it around in her mouth, testing it before she felt comfortable swallowing.

She saw Eight, looking at her, fidgeting a little. She was anticipating something.

"Um… it tastes good."

Eight beamed, her smile stretching to each of her round ears. It was almost blinding. "Thank you! I'm glad you like it." Only then did Eight start eating her own identical lunch.

Relieved to have acted correctly. Three speared another fishball and chewed slowly, savouring the taste of meat. Eight did the same, creating a silence between them that stretched uncomfortably onwards.

She hated moments like this, where nobody was talking even though they were supposed to be hanging out together. There was never this kind of thing when hanging out with the NSS. Partly because she never felt awkward around Callie and Marie, and partly because Four never shut up. But she had never been good at small talk or talking in general. She never knew what to say. It was always one of the others that opened topics.

"This might be none of my concern, but do you know what it is Callie and Marie want to speak to you about?" Eight asked.

Three was surprised that Eight spoke up. She was normally rather quiet too. Maybe she just couldn't take the silence or perhaps she actually wanted to talk.

I wonder if it's because she likes me. She fought off the threat of a blush and then flashed red in a negative but then remembered that Eight didn't understand tuk'yan.

Save for Eight, everyone she was close to was another inkling so she was constantly forgetting. Part of her felt bad for that, as if she was somehow still seeing Eight as inferior on some level.

"No."

"I see."

That was the end of that topic. As far as Three was concerned, there was nothing else to say. She could speculate but trying to guess Callie and Marie's motivations did nothing but make her head spin.

Three munched on a couple of carrot slices and watched a bird bathe itself in a small puddle left over from that morning's rain.

I bet birds don't have much to think about when it comes to dating. They probably don't have any awkward conversations.

She sighed inwardly, wondering how it was that her iya and mother had not only managed to bond together but find her father too.

They make finding love seem so easy.

Part of her told her she should ask her iya for advice regarding dating, but that would open the lid on something Three was determined to keep hidden, and every time the notion came up, it gave her an unpleasant twisting feeling in her gut.

Her life as Agent 3 and the world Agent 3 was a part of was something she had to keep secret, and separate. Revealing even a tiny sliver of that life increased the risk of the rest being found out. It was hard enough to come up with reasonable excuses for her many absences or other bizarre activities. Suddenly telling them she was seeing someone romantically would be such a shock that it would provoke a veritable avalanche of questions she didn't want to have to answer. No, it was best to keep her life at home and her life as Agent 3 or Maiya, separate, as she had been doing for over two years now. Yeah, that was best.

"How is your iya?" Eight asked, trying a new topic. Her accent grew thick on the word 'iya.' Hardly surprising since, as far as Three knew, Octarian society didn't have an equivalent to an iya.

"She's eating well," Three replied slowly. She didn't like talking about her family to anyone other than Callie and Marie but it was no secret to the others that her iya was expecting and Eight would naturally be curious.

"She has been having some trouble sleeping with the way she's been swelling though, and she's often hot and uncomfortable. Dad's still trying to find a tank we can use that'll fit in the house. He doesn't want to have to settle for a bowl."

Eight shuddered and Three raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a chill," Eight said. "I'm still not used to the change in the weather, or any changes in weather for that matter. The domes were often unpleasant but at least they were consistent."

"You don't like it?"

"No, I do like it." Eight peered up at the sky, her amber eyes shining as she smiled.

"The drifting of clouds across the sky, the shining of the actual sun and it's natural warmth upon me. I love the rain, the sound it makes when it hits my window, the smell it leaves behind, the way it makes everything it touches look glossy. I love the patterns lightning makes. Did you know that counting the seconds between the flash and when you hear the thunder gives you a rough estimate of how far away it is?"

"Uh… no," Three lied. Really, she was pretty sure everyone knew that, but she couldn't bring herself to stomp on Eight's uplifting mood. Besides, she has such a pretty smile.

"Pearl told me. I didn't think she would be the type of person to notice such things."

Eight continued staring up and Three found herself once again with nothing to say. Some date I am- No, no this isn't a date. We haven't been on a date yet. This is just lunch and we're just hanging out. That's all it is.

Three tried to coax her hearts into slowing down from their suddenly quick tempo and fished around in her container, finding only the tart left.

Three bit into it and chewed thoughtfully. She didn't eat tarts very often, couldn't even remember the last time she had one. This tasted pretty good though.

She looked back at Eight who was now staring back at her again. Three made a small 'urk' and then licked her lips. "Um… it's good. Strawberry?"

"Yes." Eight looked pleased with herself. "I found a recipe in the newspaper and I just had to try it. I am very glad you like it."

"Y-yeah, I like it."

Three quickly gobbled up the rest of the tart and closed the container. "Thanks for the lunch, Eight. I should probably get home now."

Eight looked as though she had just been kicked. That pitiful look was like a knife to Three's gut. Hardly surprising since Three was basically eating and running.

"Already?"

"Sorry, but I really need to head home. With my iya how she is and Dad working extra hours, I need to be home to help."

"A-ah." Eight bowed her head. "I am sorry. I am still learning about the way families work. In Octarian society, every mother has multiple nurses to care for her."

"It's fine." Three said, standing up. "Really, it's fine. You'll learn eventually."

"I will," Eight assured her.

Three started walking away, glad to be done with that awkward moment. Other than being agents, loving turf war, and being Squid Sisters fans, it was hard to tell what else they had in common.

Still, there's something about her that I really like, I know there is. I just wish I knew what it was.

"I could help!"

Three stopped and slowly turned around. Eight was on her feet, hands balled into fists, her face tinted blue, her eyes a mix of apprehension and determination.

"What?"

"I could help your family," Eight offered. "I am not terribly busy with Pearl and Marina since they are not at home much lately, so I am certain I could spare some time to ease your iya's burdens."

Three bit her bottom lip. The offer was a generous one, considering what little free time Eight had, but that odd feeling pulled at her again, twisting and squirming.

"I… no, it couldn't work. Even if I trust you, my parents don't know you. I wouldn't even be able to explain why or how I trust you because we have to keep the NSS a secret. I can't suddenly have a friend my parents have never even heard of before come and offer to help take care of things."

"O-oh, I suppose that's true."

Eight's eyes fell, her body sagging as if being slowly deflated. It made Three feel awful, taking the wind out of her sails like that. She knew Eight was only trying to help. In the domes, Octarians survived by helping and supporting each other. The selfish were considered parasites and scorned.

Three turned around and walked back to Eight. The octoling looked up as she approached and straightened as Three stopped in front of her.

"I…" Three searched for the right words. "I really appreciate you thinking of us- or of them, like that. I…trust you, Eight, really. It just wouldn't work out, that's all."

Eight looked into her eyes. It took a conscious effort to not avert her gaze; although, Three wasn't sure why. She wasn't lying and she wasn't intimidated, so why would she feel the need to look away?

"Do you think your family might not approve of our relationship?"

Three frowned. "No. Why do you think that?"

Eight took a step back, her amber eyes turning towards the ground. "I have the impression that you don't want me to meet you family."

That odd feeling twisted in Three's gut with a vengeance, it felt almost like a hot knife in her ink sac. It was actually making her feel physically ill.

"I… that's not it. I think my family would be shocked to see me trying to date anyone, not just you."

"O-oh, I see. I apologize for my assumption."

"N-no, it's okay. I know I'm not very good at this."

"Oh no, that is not what I meant. I… I know you are trying. It is not your fault if you do not feel the same way."

But I want to.

She didn't know how she knew or why, but she knew that a part of her wanted to be with Eight, and yet that stupid feeling always made her hesitate, always made her pull back, uncertain. No, maybe that was an excuse. She had spent the better part of two years killing every octarian she encountered. Maybe a part of her simply couldn't allow one near her loved ones, even one she trusted as much as Eight. The very idea she would hold such a prejudice against a trusted comrade and friend like Eight made her feel guilty. Maybe that's what that twisting pain was.

"You're…" Three's hands balled into fists. Couldn't she manage to utter even one tiny compliment to a friend? "Yo-You're already a better girlfriend than I could ever be." She blurted. And she shuddered, as if suffering recoil.

Eight stared at her, bewildered for a moment, and then her lips curled upwards in a smile, her eyes sparkling like Inkopolis bay at sunset.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Three managed a stiff nod then, just as stiffly, turned and walked away. Her hearts thundered, her chest was tight, and that annoying feeling was still worming its way in her gut. In spite of all that, she also felt a hint of relief, as if she had been holding a small bit of breath and had finally released it.

She hoped that she had done a good thing. Hope was all she had, because if there was one thing she couldn't believe in right then, it was herself.

As I said in the summary, I made this as a sequel to "Looking, Feeling, Touching" as an apology to everyone who was disappointed by the ending (or lack thereof) of the previous story and how Three and Eight didn't really get together, or it at least felt like a damp rag. I wasn't happy with the end either so I made this story. I learned a lot from doing it. I hope you like it.