Eight had mixed feelings as she stared up at the tall, stone pyramid in front of her. Twenty feet tall and surrounded by a small moat with little fountains, it dominated the area around it, commanding a presence than belied its simplicity, but not its purpose. The pyramid was not only a monument, but a reminder, for it marked the furthest into Inkopolis the Octarian military had invaded. It was at this spot the tide had turned.

Eight thought it almost ironic. The dream of every Octarian was to conquer Inkopolis, to drive the Inklings out so that they could claim it for themselves, for the benefit of their own civilization; yet she, as an Octarian, was roaming free about the city, going pretty much wherever she pleased, not as a conqueror, but as a citizen. She hadn't had to conquer anything to be there. In fact, she had saved Inkopolis. Even so, being there, in that place the dream died, left her with some bitter feelings stemming from a lifetime of conditioning.

She tried to ignore the looks people were giving her. She had somewhat expected this to be a place she wouldn't be welcome, but everyone's expressions looked more confused or even guilty instead, but she was certain all were wondering why she was there.

During their sleepover, Four had suggested she try exploring the city again, like she used to do when she first arrived, to rekindle that spark she used to have. Eight had been hoping to see more of the city instead of the same places again and again as she ran errands. To that end, she had purchased a guidebook and looked for places she hadn't been to before. This had been the first on the list.

Eight looked back up at the pyramid, it's stone surface reflecting the bright sunlight. Her guidebook said that a pyramid had been chosen for the monument because pyramid shapes represented fortitude, strength, and longevity in Inkling culture, likely because some of the first Precursor relics discovered were pyramids, still standing after thousands of years. Badly weathered by the sun and wind, but still standing. That's what the guidebook said anyway.

Eight tried to think of something similar in Octarian culture but couldn't remember anything. Her education had not been particularly advanced; she had been raised expecting to be nothing more than a common foot soldier. Then again, surely if there were such symbols they would have used them as part of their indoctrination, something to represent strength and power. Yet, all she could remember was Oactavio.

She sighed heavily and turned away from the monument. What she needed was a clear head and thinking of her past wasn't going to help. She had to keep an open mind and focus on the now and what was to come. So, she walked on, heading to another spot in the park highlighted by her guidebook.

Peace Park was almost smack in the centre of Inkopolis and the city's largest green space. Built on the location where the Octarian Army had been stopped and then pushed back, it was the scene of the most climactic battle of The Great Turf War a century ago. What had once been blasted landscape was now small hills of green, beautiful fountains, and memorials to those who fought and those who had died doing so. There were cycling paths, long winding foot trails, and wide avenues between the various plazas and monuments.

It was quite a popular spot too, as individuals, couples, and whole families could be seen everywhere one looked. Some borrowed sections of hillsides for picnics, some skated or cycled; others simply walked and enjoyed the mild weather before things started to get too cold. It all seemed hard to believe that this was the location of the most brutal battle of the war.

Eight opened her guidebook and found her next destination: The Granite List, a memorial with the names of all the inkling dead or missing from the battle. Again, it felt odd visiting memorials dedicated to "the other side" but she also found the history fascinating, and if she was trying to open her mind and find herself, then what better way than to dispel the propaganda and indoctrination still tainting her mind. She would never be able to love Three, the infamous Green Demon, properly with that getting in the way.

She followed another broad walk path away from the pyramid and on a gently winding path between the small hills all over the park. It was about a ten-minute walk before she reached the monument plaza, and she found herself stopping at the edge.

The Granite List was a series of walls made of polished granite, the veins of different minerals sparkling in the sunlight. The slabs were arranged in a circular pattern with gaps between the slabs to allow people to walk between them. The plaza itself was also circular while the others so far had been more rectangular, helping distinguish this particular place.

That wasn't all. The atmosphere was different. It was… quieter somehow. The laughter of children and the buzz of lively conversation were only very distant. The people around and within the monument seemed to be speaking very little. Some were placing flowers down on the raised concrete around each wall. Then she spotted an old Inkyar, roughly the same age as Captain Cuttlefish, dressed in a bright white uniform, a small handful of ribbons and medals adorning his chest and the very same type of white cap. He was a veteran of the war, perhaps even that very battle.

She watched him gently touch one of the names carved into the wall with an old shaking hand while a younger inkyora held onto his other arm as if to steady him. Eight understood his pain firsthand. Every Octarian knew loss.

Eight's toes pointed inward, her knees bent and she clutched her guidebook to her chest. She shouldn't be there. What would that old inkyar think if he saw her, an octoling, walking upon the sacred ground dedicated to his fallen comrades. One rule the Octarians had that Eight still held onto was that one did not disrespect the dead. Death was a constant in the domes and one had to respect those who died as much as those who lived. Back then, life had probably been even cheaper, for the Inklings too.

Eight turned and started to walk around the edge of the memorial. She would move on to another location. There was no need for her to be there, to stir up trouble, and she felt wrong being in that place.

As she passed a gap in the outer ring of walls, something caught her eye and she stopped.

It was an inkling girl about her age, wearing something similar to a dress but of a thicker material with long sleeves and a dark red colour that reminded her of the leaves changing colour around them. She was standing with her hands clasped behind her, staring up and down the columns of names on the wall. Her mantle kept shifting between multiple subdued shades, perhaps deep in thought. Eight couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about this inkling was eerily familiar. And close!

Eight stopped suddenly as she realized she had walked within the outer ring, and now stood barely two meters from the inkling she'd been staring at. She looked around rapidly, checking to see if anyone was looking at her, but there didn't seem to be many people in line of sight and they were focused on the walls. She needed to get out while she could.

She took a step back and then the inkling girl suddenly whirled around, mantle flaring scarlet. The skirt of her dress swirled as she raised her arm, ready to deflect any incoming strikes, and Eight's amber orbs locked with a familiar pair of burning red ones.

"Three?" Eight's breath caught in her throat, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Three's mantle went from red to bright orange, eyes widening in surprise.

"Why are you here?" Three asked, her voice that beautiful, soft one she used from time to time when she wasn't acting as Agent 3. It elicited a pitter-patter feeling in Eight's chest.

"I-I was sightseeing, I suppose." Eight held up the guidebook. "I...I am sorry. I know I am not supposed to be here."

Three arched an eyebrow, her mantle turning yellow with waves of brown before it turned a solid orange, then cooled to her natural green. In her eyes there was understanding.

"I know how you feel," she said. "I know what's going through your head, but it's alright. There's no reason for you to go. This place remembers the Octarian dead too."

Eight perked up. "It does? But how could they know the names of all the dead?"

"They don't." Three made a sweeping motion with her hand, up towards the small ridge that surrounded and sheltered the memorial. "The remains of the octarian dead were buried here, under those hills. I know it doesn't seem like much, but as long as people come here, many of them will learn that fact and, in doing so, the Octarian dead will be remembered too."

Eight stared at the artificial ridge, seeing the grass and trees growing atop them. A minute ago they had seemed like any other hills around the battlefield. In fact, Eight initially would have thought they were standing in an old crater, but suddenly it had become so much more.

Three gestured for Eight to join her and she obeyed, walking up to stand next to her, staring up at the list of names. There were many. Literally, hundreds of names covered each wall. How long must it have taken to carve them all into the stone?

Three pointed to a name just above eye level: Galick Brink. "My great uncle," she explained. "On my father's side."

Eight's hearts nearly jumped out of her throat. Her great uncle? He had fought in the war? Died here? And she was talking about her family! Other than her mother and her iya's eggnancy status, Three never talked about her family and only did so when asked.

"I… I see." Eight was dumbfounded. She didn't know what else to say. What could she say?

"I have a feeling," Three began. "That if I heard the version of this battle you did, it wouldn't be the same as what I learned in school."

Eight wet her lips. "Most likely. I imagine I could say the same."

"I heard the true story from Gramps," Three said softly. "It wasn't nearly as glamorous as they made it sound. Even what I've been through doesn't seem to hold a candle to that battle. Looking at all these names, I doubt he was exaggerating. So many died on both sides."

"Yes," Eight agreed. She looked at Three, noticing the thoughtful expression on her face. "Is something bothering you? You look troubled."

Three flashed grey. "I just have a lot to think about. Look, I know I haven't been very good to you lately. I said I would do better but… I don't know how yet, alright?"

Three appeared to be visibly straining, as if merely the act of talking was taking tremendous effort. For some reason, that tickled a little giggle in Eight's chest, but she remained visibly serious.

"It is alright. I have not been doing very good either. I became more focused on myself and how I was than on you and what I should be doing to make you happy. I lost who I was and now I am trying to find myself again. I know that may sound odd but I do not know how else to explain it."

"No," Three said, looking a bit more relaxed. "I understand completely."

Eight looked at her, searching those red eyes as they stared up at the wall, reading one name after the other, and she realized that Three really did understand. She didn't know how she knew, but she did.

"This is something we have in common," Three said suddenly.

Eight blinked. "Excuse me?"

"We both understand what this wall really means. Every Octarian would know what this wall means, but most Inklings can't, even if they want to." She brushed her hand gently over the name of her great uncle. "The only inklings who do understand are the veterans who are left and the NSS. I think about it sometimes, but there aren't many people I can talk to it about."

She pulled her hand away, and her mantle turned a dark blue before she took another deep breath, speaking in a hushed whisper. "Sometimes it bothers me. I've killed a lot, Eight, and everyone I killed had a name, just like my great uncle did. I don't keep score but I know that there's a number in some computer in the cabin that would tell me how many lives I've ended. When I die, will the gods show me a wall like this with the names of everyone I've killed?"

Eight looked around, checking to see if anyone was listening in. This probably wasn't the best place to be talking about such things. That was unlike Three, who was normally so conscious of such things.

She's unburdening herself. Eight realized. She's held onto this for so long and she's needed someone to tell it to.

Without thinking, Eight wrapped her arms around Three and held her. Forget thinking, she just knew that right now she needed to act, she needed to help.

"It's alright," she whispered in Octese. "I hold no grudge against you, you know that, and for every Octarian you killed, you freed a dozen more. You're my hero."

Three was very tense in her grasp and Eight felt her shudder a couple of times but she did relax slightly after a moment.

"You saved me too," Three reminded her.

"That doesn't make you any less my hero. Besides, saving each other is what friends and comrades do. We are kith, willing to fight and die for each other. That is a bond not easily forged or broken."

"Kith," Three echoed. "I don't think I ever used that word before."

"Yes. I do not know the equivalent in Inklish."

Three shrugged. "I don't think there is one. It means what you said and implies a kind of family too, doesn't it."

"Yes. Because, typically, an octoling's kith are the only family they really have. We are both fortunate to have more than that."

Three's flashed green in acknowledgement and Eight took her by the arm. "Come, let us go somewhere else. We can talk there." Without waiting, Eight started to pull. Three resisted just long enough to kneel down and pick something off the ground: her guidebook. Eight realized she must have dropped it when she hugged Three.

"Ah… thank you." Eight said, shyly accepting the book back. Three didn't say anything in reply, and Eight couldn't read her mantle so she simply resumed pulling, Three letting her lead.

As they neared one of the pedestrian avenues that connected to The Granite List, Eight spotted a trio of inkling girls in front of one of the walls just before they began to sing. It was a slow, soothing melody, even if the girls weren't particularly good to Eight's ears; however, there was still a soulful beauty to it.

"It's a lullaby," Three explained. "To help the dead sleep."

For once, Eight found herself as the one with nothing to say between her and Three. While the Octarians had always honored the dead and everyone said they were to be remembered, they didn't do much to actually remember them. Nobody sang songs to them, certainly, and memorials to the past were few and far between. All part of a policy of looking towards the future and only to the future.

That hasn't worked out for me so far, Eight thought. Forgetting who she was and where she had come from was part of what caused her to lose her way in her relationship with Three. Without self reflection, she couldn't improve.

Which is probably why Octavio kept losing. The only things from the past he remembers are grudges.

"Perhaps we should do something fun," Eight suggested. "Looking at memorials is nice but you seem down."

Three shrugged. "Not particularly. I'm just figuring things out, that's all."

"As am I," Eight smiled. "So we should figure things out together, yes?"

Three grunted and turned her head away. Her mantle turning a light blue tone. She actually looked shy, and that made Eight smile. She could feel some of the giddiness she used to have around Three returning, dancing around in her chest, and she felt some of her apprehensions float away.

"Where would you like to go?"

Three turned her head to face her again, an eyebrow raised in question. "Me?"

"I have spent too much time focused on myself lately. I would rather focus on someone else, especially you."

Three made a small throaty sound and looked away again. Yes, she was definitely shy. Eight couldn't help but find it adorable. This wasn't a side of Three she normally saw. This day had gotten very interesting indeed.

That painful twisting feeling refused to go away. It had been at its strongest when she had been speaking to Eight at the memorial. Now it was reduced to a dull ache, more of a distraction, but it still fouled her attempts to enjoy the situation.

Green Hills Raceway was outside of Inkopolis but still reachable by city bus. They sat at the top of the old wooden bleachers looking down while spectators gradually piled into the stands. It was windier than in the city, however, and Three had to tighten her collar to help abate the cold.

The cars lined up on the grid for the start of the latest heat, all in distinct colours with their numbers emblazoned in large print on the sides and roof, with the occasional sponsor's sticker. The one that stood out to her most was the car in 4th position, painted a solid gold colour.

As part of her journey to find herself, Three had been looking into her family history, but other than her father's side, there wasn't much she could learn, not with her iya and mother having not spoken to their families in decades. That left her mother's personal past to investigate and she started looking into activities her mother had enjoyed back then. One of which was what they were watching now: amateur rallycross.

The rules were simple: Three or four laps around a course that was part tarmac and part dirt or gravel, with one of those laps being a slightly longer "joker" lap. Each driver could choose which lap they wanted to take as the joker but they had to take it at least once.

According to her iya, her mother had loved watching these events and had even participated a few times with the predecessor to the car that Three had since inherited. The two of them had often come to such events to spectate and her iya would pretend to be interested, happy as long as she could spend time with the girl she liked.

That prompted Three to look to her right where Eight sat wide-eyed and fidgeting with anticipation. Clearly she didn't have to pretend to be interested. She wondered if Eight knew that her butt wiggled when she got excited. It was something she had noticed in the month since her rescue.

Neither of them had spoken since they reached the stands. Normally, that was fine with Three but she had been strongly encouraged to improve her ability to communicate. She felt proud she had managed to speak so much back at Peace Park but that anxious twisting feeling still resisted her attempts.

"Is this your first race?" She asked in a voice that was only slightly strained. She spoke in Octese because she felt she needed the practice and Eight would probably feel more comfortable speaking in her native tongue.

"Yes!" Eight said excitedly. "I've gone on touge runs but I've never seen a race with machines before. Back in the domes we used to race bugs, but that was all."

Three was saved from any further conversation when the light turned green and the air was filled with the roaring of engines and the spraying of mud as the cars left the gate into the first turn.

Three watched closely, trying to use what her Aunt Silvia and Aunt Clio had taught her to discern the nature of the individual cars as they went around the wide first turn.

The first thing she was able to do was tell the front-wheel-drive cars from the rear-wheel-drive cars. The former pulled themselves along around the corner and seemed better able to maintain control as they pivoted on their front wheels, while the latter kicked up rooster tails of mud and debris behind them, sliding around the turn at more of an angle but still able to maintain pace.

The front-wheel-drive cars, she was noticing, tended to be shorter and Aunt Clio had told her that made the cars rotate quicker, for better or worse. As a general rule, front-wheel drive cars understeered while rear-wheel-drive cars oversteered. Her mother's old car was both short and rear-wheel-drive, which made it very nimble but also tricky to drive fast without spinning out. Those longer wheelbase race cars out on the track seemed tail happy enough. It made Three anxious about the prospect of driving her mother's car herself.

"Look, look! Three, they're drifting, they're drifting!" Eight bounced in her seat bursting with excitement. "Look, look, that one passed!"

Three was glad Eight understood the actual concept of racing enough to enjoy even an unfamiliar one. She had to admit, this was quite a spectacle with all the dirt flying everywhere and the noise, but then the cars hit the tarmac and dynamic shifted.

With the added grip, the cars weren't sliding nearly as much and the sound of tortured rubber was added to the noise. The rear-wheel-drive cars, which seemed to have been more focused on just trying to stay on the track on the dirt sections, suddenly became much more aggressive, making bold moves on the turns. The gold car that Three had picked out at the start dove on the inside of a turn as the front-wheel-drive car in front of it understeered and went wide, bringing it alongside and putting it in an advantageous position as they went into the next corner, where it was able to take the inside line and put itself in front, securing third place just before the track became dirt again.

Directly ahead of the racers was the split in the track between a shorter, simpler route, and the longer, more twisted (and thus slower), route on the outside: the route one had to take on the joker lap.

The car in first place took the joker, diving in and narrowly missing the guardrail as it tried to take the chicane as quickly as possible. One other car followed it but the rest saved their joker, including the gold car that was now in second place.

"Is that the joker lap?" Eight asked excitedly. "They're doing it right away?"

"Different strategies, I guess." Three replied. She had to speak up a bit to be heard over the noise of the race and the crowd. The formerly first-place car came out of the joker lap in fifth onto another paved section, and then the cars crossed the finish line to begin the second lap.

The second lap was even more intense than the first, with each car fighting tooth and nail to gain a position or keep the one they had. Overall, the front-wheel-drive cars seemed more confident on the dirt while the rear-wheel drive cars were more confident on the pavement. Three wondered if things would be different with real, professional drivers behind the wheel.

Like an excited child, Eight clapped with each car passing and gasped when there was a bump or spin out. Three found herself smiling a little at her. She seemed so innocent, so free. Any problems she had been dealing with before seemed forgotten now, buried under the excitement and novelty of the moment. She envied that.

With each heat being less than ten minutes, the race was soon over. The original leader just barely managed to pull its way back into the lead while the gold car was able to keep third. The cars pulled off the track and into the pits while the next heat, a class consisting entirely of four-wheel drive cars, got ready to go.

"That was so exciting!" Eight exclaimed. "And that was only the first one. I can't wait to see what the rest will be like. I can't wait to see who wins!"

"I'm glad you're having fun," Three said, and she meant it.

"Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, just, a lot to think about."

"Ah." Eight neatly folded her hands on her lap. "That's right, you are trying to find yourself."

"Yeah… guess so." She didn't recall telling Eight that specifically. Maybe she had just guessed it, or maybe it was exactly what Eight herself was trying to do. Whatever the case, it made that tightness ache again and she had to fight to ignore it this time.

"Are you sure you don't mind spending time doing this? You're trying to figure things out too, right?"

Eight smiled, that sweet earnest smile that sometimes gave Three a fluttery feeling. "I can think of nothing better to be doing than spending time having fun with you."

Three felt her cheeks warm ever so slightly and that tightness wrenched in her again. So annoying, she thought of it.

"Oh, oh!" Eight started bouncing in her seat again. "The next heat's about to start!"

Three pulled herself out of her deep inner thoughts and decided she wasn't going to find any "fun things", as Callie had put it, if she didn't actually have fun, so she forced herself to ignore the annoying feeling and focus on the race.

The four-wheel-drives were completely different beasts to the previous classes. They could take the dirt turns faster, accelerate quicker on the dirt, but they did seem slightly heavier by the way they moved, not quite as light on their feet. It didn't seem to matter, however, as they were all getting faster lap times than the other two types.

Or maybe they're just higher performance cars? She didn't know, she was just happy to have something else to focus on.

Once all the heats from the first round had ended and the winners moved up to the next round, Three and Eight went to get some food at the nearby confection stands. The queues were long, which normally annoyed Three greatly, but she was doing everything she could to try and stay positive. It was hard though.

As they waited in line, Three suddenly felt something grasp her hand and she looked down to see that Eight had wrapped her fingers around it, holding it. She looked up at Eight but Eight was still looking straight ahead and not meeting her gaze. Her cheeks were noticeably darker.

She's nervous about this whole thing too, Three realized. But she's still moving forward, going for it. I feel like such a coward.

The painful twisting feeling started up again but there was something different about it this time. Three didn't know how to explain it but she felt as though there was something else fighting it, trying to keep it at bay, like a bubble. Three didn't know what it was but it brought her a lot of relief, and she felt the tension in her body abate a little.

I guess Callie was right. Doing fun things really is helping. But perhaps it was also Eight that was helping. Three summoned what little social courage she had managed to accrue and nervously gripped Eight's fingers in return, her hearts beating like the pistons of the race cars.

They both got their food, a simple hot dog for Three and a cuban sandwich for Eight. They hadn't stopped holding hands, even after they returned to their seats in the bleachers. It was only once the excitement of the races began again that they finally released each other, leaving Eight free to woop in excitement and wave her hands about as the competition grew even more intense.

The races ended in the late afternoon. Eight looked exhausted, and even Three was a little bit tired. The racing had been pretty spectacular so she could understand the appeal it had for her mother and she found that she too could enjoy it. The fact that she could do so with someone else genuinely interested perhaps put her a bit ahead of her mother though.

"That was amazing!" Eight exclaimed. "We should definitely do this again."

"Y-yeah," Three replied more softly, remembering to actually speak her acknowledgement. She inhaled deeply and summoned still more courage. She could do this, she had to do this. "Then… maybe we can go to Wahoo World before it closes for the winter? If we go during the week, there should be fewer people."

"Oh!" Eight jumped then began bouncing up and down like a hyperactive child. "I've always wanted to go there! You'll really take me?"

"Y-yes," Three managed to say. "Maybe the day after tomorrow?"

"Perfect! I have time in the middle of the day, about five hours."

"That… should be enough. Um, do you want me to escort you home?"

"I'd like that." Eight was beaming, smiling so brightly Three felt the urge to put on sunglasses. It sure was a pretty smile though.

That twisting feeling again, but this time it was easier to deal with. This time, she wasn't fighting it alone. At least, it didn't feel like it anymore.

I'm beating this thing. Slowly, but I'm beating it.

Maybe it wasn't so much that she wanted to like Eight, maybe she actually needed to. She wasn't sure, but she was not going to be passive about the whole thing. If Eight could attack and push through it then so could she.

"Okay then."

Three reached out with her hand to try and take Eight's. It was so close, just a decimeter away. The twisting pulled at her, very aggressively this time, and this time, unfortunately, it won out. She just couldn't do it. Three had extended herself and her courage as far as she could. She would have to rest and resupply for the next offensive.

But I will beat you. Three vowed silently. I won't let you control my life much longer.

Author's Notes:

Sorry this chapter was so late. A lot of things I had to deal with last week.

Considering how important the Great Turf War was, I'm sure there would be memorials made, considering how many were made for WW 1 and WW 2 in our own time. Trying to come up with some based on the war memorials that we have was tough but I think I made it work. I'm not completely sure the Pyramids would still be standing after another 12,000 years but I figured if any structures would, it would be them.