"Hey, the air is breathable in here, isn't it?" asks Kakyoin, suddenly. "It's not toxic or anything?"

"Uh, yeah," grunts Stroheim reluctantly, "but –"

It's too late.

Kakyoin zips down the suit, ignoring the sudden shouts from Stroheim and Speedwagon, and begins to shimmy it down his body, bending forward to free his feet from their orange confines.

He's slim, well-muscled, and Jotaro can't help noticing how his green sweater-vest clings close to his body, or the way his plain brown slacks – very sensible – make his legs look that much longer. Kakyoin rolls up the long white sleeves of his shirt and pushes up his glasses, staring determinedly at the creatures; Jotaro watches him. (He's only scientifically curious in whether Kakyoin keels over from exposure to a toxic atmosphere, of course.)

Kakyoin breathes, in, out. No sudden death so far, and – apropos of nothing – it's pretty clear he has an excellent workout routine. Slowly, he steps forward towards the barrier, reaching out one hand towards the creatures. "Ohayō," he murmurs, looking up towards the nearest creature – the green one, as it happens. He stops. Looks almost reverently at the creature, at the fading coffee-stain of a word that's still hanging in the white mist across the barrier, and –

Lays his hand on the barrier.

The green creature reaches out its limb once more; suddenly, a seven-pointed star of suckers slaps against the barrier, lining up with Kakyoin's hand.

(Based on an estimate of Kakyoin's hand size, the opening in the creatures' limbs is about a meter across when fully extended; each individual radius must be about half that. If that's their equivalent of a hand – fuck, they're really big.)

He swallows and begins to unzip his own orange monstrosity. "I guess we don't need the suits anymore, huh?"

Once he's free of it, feeling much more normal in his black turtleneck and white slacks (next time he's definitely wearing his hat), he goes to join Kakyoin at the barrier, resting one hand against it gently and watching the linguist stare in wonder at the green seven-branched limb in front of them. "Uh… hey. You think we should… name them or something?"

Kakyoin jumps. "Oh, Jotaro! I… didn't see you there, I… was in my own world, I suppose. What did you say?"

Jotaro opens his mouth, but –

Thud. Another limb slaps wetly against the barrier, giving Jotaro the weirdest hi-five (hi-seven?) he's had in his entire life. He starts back, but the creature doesn't seem threatening, just…

"I know," says Kakyoin. "It's a little intimidating, but I think it means they like us."

He nods, his mouth suddenly dry, and stares at the branching limb: this one is blue with white specks. It must belong to the other one. "I, uh… I was wondering if we should name them."

"Oh, that's a good point," nods Kakyoin thoughtfully. "Obviously we wouldn't be able to parse any names they give us into our language. Any ideas?"

He frowns. "…that one's green, and that one's blue. So 'Green' and 'Blue'."

Kakyoin rolls his eyes and rummages in his pocket. "As expected of a biologist – you're much too straightforward when you come to naming things. What about…" He pulls out a pack of cards – Tarot, possibly – and arranges them in an impressive fan shape. "This is much better. Pick a card, any card."

"I didn't know linguistic professors were interested in magic," he remarks. "And by the way, any profession which calls a fish a 'sarcastic fringehead' definitely has a sense of humour."

"Is that so?" replies Kakyoin with a smile. "Well, it must be a special case, like my fascination with Tarot. What do you have?"

Number seventeen. "The Star."

Kakyoin nods. "Ah, yes. You are likely to feel inspired, with a new hope and a sense that you are truly blessed in the universe. Unless it's upside-down?"

"No." He looks up at the creatures, waiting patiently for their verdict. "Well, the blue one has white freckles that are kind of like stars. So that one's Star."

"A good choice." Kakyoin hands the deck to him. "My turn." Slowly, he draws out one of the cards. "Hmm. Interesting."

"What?"

Kakyoin holds up the card: number five. "The Hierophant. Apparently, we're going to learn a lot from them, and being traditional will be the best way forward."

"What the fuck is traditional about communicating with twenty-metre-tall aliens, huh?"

Kakyoin shrugs. "Well, it's entirely possible that the card isn't relevant to this situation, but to something else. My love life, for example."

Hmm. Well, probably best not to over-analyse that little comment. "…whatever." He gestures towards the green one. "You're not gonna give such a big name to the other one when the blue one's called Star, though?"

Kakyoin rolls his eyes. "All right, Jotaro, I'll go with your method for that one. The green one is 'Green'. Happy now?"

"Sure," he shrugs. "Green and Star. A bigger hit than… I dunno, Laurel and Hardy, or something."

"Dammit, Jotaro," frowns Kakyoin, putting his hand on his forehead, "those would have been the perfect names, why didn't I think of that?"

"This is better," he decides. "More… personal, somehow."

(He hasn't even taken any notes on this. What a terrible excuse for a biologist he is.)

"Papa," she whimpers, "I wee-weed in the bed."

He sighs and looks back at his partner, who's looking understandably frustrated. "She wet the bed," he explains. "It's all right, I'll go."

The other person grunts. He turns back to his little girl and tries to smile encouragingly while subtly adjusting his hastily thrown-on boxers. She doesn't look like she heard them, at least; she's probably too distressed by the bed-wetting incident to notice.

"It's all right, sweetheart," he tells her. "Accidents happen."

"I c-c-couldn't help it…"

"It's all right," he repeats, taking her hand and following her to her room. "It's all right."

"What the fuck," growls Stroheim at the two of them in the decontamination chamber, "was that? You took off your suit, you touched the barrier, and you didn't even say 'hello'. What kind of linguist are you?"

"It's fine. I'm going to teach them to write," says Kakyoin confidently.

Stroheim looks taken aback. "Won't it be more complicated to give them more to learn?"

"Not at all, my dear Stroheim," Kakyoin replies. "Actually, it will increase the speed at which we will be able to learn each other's language. We'll be able to have something in common – a shared system, if you will. As long as you can give me the video of what they write, I should be able to decode their language fairly easily."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," nods Kakyoin. "Unfortunately, since I started with kanji, we'll probably have to stick with that… There's no way I can confuse them by introducing English." He sighs. "Well, I was working in the moment."

"Wait, wait, wait," splutters Stroheim. "You're saying you can communicate with them – but it won't even be in English?"

"It was a spur-of-the moment decision!" retorts Kakyoin hotly. "I went with what felt natural to me!"

Stroheim scowls. "Then none of the rest of us will be able to understand you. You could be plotting with them for all we know. All our translators are working in the comms room, we don't have any to spare to indulge you and your language-learning."

"Um…" Jotaro raises a hand. "Actually, I speak Japanese. And I can read the kanji and all. So… I could help, I guess."

Stroheim looks up at him thoughtfully. "Well, what do you know," he mutters. "You're in luck, Kakyoin. Looks like having a marine biologist along wasn't such a bad idea after all."

"I do still have my own research to do on the creatures," Jotaro reminds him. "So I'd benefit from spending more time in there anyway for study. But I can do that at the same time – it'll give me a chance to see more of how their anatomy works, for one thing."

"Alright, fine, goddamn you." Stroheim gets up with a sigh. "You can teach them Japanese. But only if you both report back to me – separately – on what you've been teaching them. I don't want any collusion in my camp, especially not with beings who could, potentially, be our enemies."

"Understood," replies Kakyoin. "I'll make sure to give you a translated wordlist for approval beforehand: that way you can see what we're saying, as well."

Somewhere behind them, the physicist Anne blows chunks into the nearest waste bucket.

"I hate you!" she screams. "I hate you!"

"Sweetheart –"

"You're not my real dad!" She spins towards him, her green-and-blue plaits flying out in every direction. "Neither of you are –"

She stops and swallows. "You're not my real dad," she repeats, at last.

Okuyasu's shoulders drop. "So… you're sayin' you don't need me an' Keicho no more? And Captain Lisa-Lisa?"

Stroheim shrugs. "Blame Professor Kakyoin," he grunts. "He decided it wasn't worth it, apparently."

"So what do we do now?" asks Lisa-Lisa. "Personally, I'm happy not to do this anymore, but what are your orders?"

"Oh, Major Stroheim," Okuyasu bursts out, "permission to go help out Josu—I mean Doctor Higashita in the infirmary? He mentioned he might be needin' an extra hand."

"Permission granted." Stroheim sighs. "In that case, Private Keicho, you can go to Corporal Kira down in munitions, and Captain… you have your own sector to look after, so go back to them and take some of the load off Lieutenant Quatro's shoulders."

"Understood, sir," replies Captain Lisa-Lisa with a salute. "I'll be awaiting your orders."

Keicho just grunts.

"Hey, Dad," she says, dropping her backpack down on the floor. "I'm back."

"Did you have a good time?"

"It was okay," she nods. At this age, that's a glowing recommendation, especially for a field trip. "There were some pretty cool models in the museum."

"What kind?"

"You know," she mumbles, "the usual. Mammoths and shit. Dinosaurs. Some newer stuff as well."

"Sounds great."

She rolls her eyes and turns on the TV.

Now that they've met the creatures, it doesn't take long to settle into the little office on the side of the comms room that has been set up for the study of the creatures and their technology. It's surprisingly state-of-the-art, with exceptionally modern desktop computers that work much better than Jotaro's cranky old laptop. (Not that he really needs much in the way of tech, to be honest, but he might as well take advantage of the military throwing money at the alien problem.)

"So, Professor Kujo," Stroheim starts, folding his arms and giving him a one-eyed stare. "Please tell me you, at least, have something to show for that disaster of a first contact other than a new mission to teach them Japanese."

"I have a little, but…" Jotaro looks down at his notes and back up again. "They would probably belong to the mollusc family, if I had to put a guess in. However, I'm not sure that a species from outside our planet would belong to any genus that evolved on Earth. If anything, it's very likely a case of parallel evolutionary tracks resulting in similar organisms."

"Molluscs?" With a scoff, Stroheim turns away. "You can't be serious."

"I am perfectly serious, General Stroheim," he replies calmly. "And may I remind you that the mollusc family also includes shrimps, lobsters, and cuttlefish. But…"

Stroheim turns his head and glares at him. "But what?"

He scratches behind his ear. "I'm just wondering why you asked me to do this. My field of specialty is in echinoderms, and these are clearly some form of cephalopods."

"You could've told us that when we hired you," frowns Stroheim, "and this whole process would've gone a lot faster."

Jotaro sighs. "Did you seriously expect me to identify a foreign species from just a blurry photo of what might or might not have been a limb? Please."

Stroheim scowls.

"Cephalopods?" Kakyoin looks up from his desk. "Like squid and octopus?"

"They're similar to octopodes from what I've seen, yes," admits Jotaro, "although I can't base an authoritative definition of the species after one meeting with just two individuals. Also, have you ever seen an octopus that can split its arm into seven smaller arms like that?"

"You're the marine biologist," grumbles Stroheim. "If anyone here has seen something like that, you have."

"Well, I haven't," he grunts. "No one has."

Kakyoin rolls his eyes and looks back at his papers. "You can say that again. No one has ever seen anything like these guys."

He doesn't bother pointing out that it's entirely possible that all of them are female.

She looks up from her phone, struck by a sudden thought.

"Hey Dad, you seen Finding Dory yet? I think you'd like it."

"That the Finding Nemo sequel?" He shrugs. "Never saw the first one."

"You what." She puts down her phone and turns towards him in disbelief. "Dad, you gotta see Finding Nemo if you like fish. It's practically required."

"Isn't it a kid's movie?"

"Well, yeah, but…" She shakes her head. "Anyway, one of the guys in Finding Dory reminds me of you, kind of."

"Oh yeah?"

She grins. "Yeah. But you have to watch it and guess which one."

"Then I guess I have to watch Finding Nemo first."

"Yeah," she smirks. "You gotta."

"Well, boys," announces Stroheim, "only one thing remains to be done with these creatures before we meet them again."

He looks up. "What's that?"

"We gotta give the species a name, of course." Stroheim points to Kakyoin, already working on wordlists to teach the creatures. "Kakyoin! You're good with words! Any ideas?"

Kakyoin looks up and blinks. "Um. Well… if an octopus has eight legs, then we should call a member of this species a septapus."

Jotaro rolls his eyes. "And what's the plural of septapus? Everyone would get confused about that, just like they do with octopodes."

Kakyoin snorts. "If it's any consolation, you're using the correct plural, based on the Greek root word. Not many people would."

"I should hope I do, being a marine biologist and all." he grunts. "Anyway, people would get that confused. What about something a little less derivative of am already existing species, such as… Heptapods."

"That's just a slightly different version of the same name," grumbles Kakyoin.

"Heptapods," murmurs Stroheim thoughtfully, ignoring Kakyoin's black look. "Not bad. I like it, Kujo. Let's call them Heptapods."

Jotaro smirks at Kakyoin smugly; Kakyoin just sticks out his tongue.

"Did you see it?" she asks.

"I am not Marlin."

She grins. "Nah, it's not him I was talking about. You're totally Hank."

"Very funny," he says, rolling his eyes. "And who's Marlin?"

She blinks innocently. "Wait, what were we talking about? I forgot."

"Yeah, yeah, hilarious, I get it now," he grumbles. She sticks out her tongue.