When I first awoke in Deepsea metro six months ago, it took me about three seconds to realize that something was wrong with my memory.

Through some advanced method, it seemed to be erased.

Despite that, many things still had a sense of familiarity to it. I knew that I wasn't somewhere that I recognized, and I knew that the man nearly drooling in my face was the enemy, of, well, something.

However, he spared me, as I was unarmed, and neither of us knew the way out of there. Over time, we found a sort of mutual respect.

But as I stood up, I noticed I was, undoubtedly, a girl. The realization shocked me; not the content of the realization, but more the fact that I needed to rediscover my own gender. This memory loss has proven to be a huge hassle, as it seemed to affect my perception of myself more than anything else. I didn't even know what I looked like until I found a shard of a broken mirror.

Yep. Girl. Light blue eyes. Sixteen, maybe? Also my hair was long. Did I let that happen, or was I just unconscious for a really long time? The practical thing to do was to tie it up, but I preferred it that way, so I let it flow. I dropped the shard and tried to remember something.

I could remember what things were. That was a vending machine. A traffic cone. Lights. I could remember what they were used for, their names, I could describe them. But I couldn't remember the names of anyone or anywhere.

Proper nouns, that's it. I couldn't remember any proper nouns.

Cap'n Cuttlefish called me "Agent 8." An odd choice, but i didn't care. Despite the title, I was never actually a part of the New Squidbeak Splatoon.

Then came the challenges. I breezed through them. The little eraser things I got from each one let me remember random pieces of information.

Which led me to believe that this memory loss was more of a memory suppression. It was all locked away in a corner of my mind.

Problem is, I don't know what the key is.

Once I opened the hatch to the outside, it was really bright.

But it was breathtaking. The space around me didn't abruptly end in a screen. If something was to fly in outward, it wouldn't eventually hit something. The air seemed to infinitely extend upwards. I could look far out and still see weaving swirls of colors. Nothing felt artificial.

This, I knew, was completely new. Is it any wonder I chose its name as my own?

I passed the wave of ecstasy and quietly had a hand in rescuing the planet from a disgusting mass of blended flesh. Nobody would recognize me as a hero, but I wouldn't mind. After seeing the infinitely repeating patterns of the sky, I didn't want to be pulled back underground, known even there by fame.

I was dropped off near the shore, and Cap'n Cuttlefish gave me, in exchange for the Octo Shot i used, a weaker replica for use in "Turf Wars", a box full of the eraser things i collected, and an ID. I have no clue where he got it, and it had the name "Eight" on it. A bit presumptuous, but at the time, I hadn't chosen my new name, so it worked.

He also gave me a tiny device, which he called a communicator. "Just in case."

Then I made them swear to pretend this incident in Deepsea Metro never happened. I had to lead a quiet life if I was to stay on the surface.

Agent 3 gave me a bit of his small fortune, but he didn't expect a repayment. Once I asked him where he got this much, he smiled and said "This," and held up his Hero Shot. "Well, another replica, but still."

I hoped that meant "Turf War" and not assassination. I was right.

However, I avoided this sport since it seemed to draw a lot of attention, and attention was the one thing I wanted to avoid. I didn't help that I was one of the two Octolings in the city.

A few more months passed, then the Flash happened.

Unfortunately, they got me. The army outnumbered us.

When I came to, I was back underground. For a moment, I was terrified that I was stuck down there again.

But someone explained to me the situation with Akash, and I relictantly agreed to cooperate.

A few days later, I was brought before the two Octolings heading the training process for my skills with each weapon class.

One of them, the one that talked, I was pretty sure I had never seen him before.

But the other one, I wasn't sure. His image was unfamiliar, but I couldn't make out what about him made me uncomfortable. I was asked for my name, but it was then I decided to abandon the name of "Eight."

I glanced up, looked in the older one's eyes, and said confidently,

"Sky. My name is Sky."

Nothing else felt right.

Later, after hearing his voice, I remembered that the old man was Octavio. After I told him my name, I swore to myself that I wouldn't appear in front of Deca Tower, holding a weapon, with the intent to participate in the sport.

I chose to be a part of the Dualie division. It had the most people, and it seemed the most important. I could blend in perfectly.

After I witnessed the death of Akash before my eyes, I felt ashamed. Part of me wanted to run up there and tear away Octavio. I couldn't, though. Not after what he did to Inkopolis. Not after what he did to us.

Two weeks have passed after the day of the battle at Sharktown.

And yet, here I was. In front of Deca Tower, holding a weapon, with the intent to participate in the sport.