Chapter Text
The hum of the system was still there, even when he slept. Hachi ran through the hallways flooded with purple ink, the metallic echo of the room distorted by Tartar’s voice.
“Code error.”
“Species error.”
“Error in you.”
Every word, every sound, every movement was a shot to his head. He tried to do something, to shoot or even run, but he couldn’t. He was submerged in enemy ink, waiting for something to happen. At the end of the corridor, he saw a figure—distinctive hair, shining gloves, and that confident smile. Agent 8 did his best to steady his breathing as the silhouette kept getting closer and closer, until it became clear.
It was Agent 4, holding his signature dualies.
He extended his hand. Gloves was always the one who greeted him, every single time. But when the agent took a step forward, the floor opened beneath him in ink, swallowing him completely.
He jolted awake.
The barracks ceiling was too white, too real. It had only been another daily nightmare for 8. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding harshly and unevenly. He brought a hand to his chest, trying to remember how to breathe, but it was useless—the panic was choking him. Everything was silent, except for the soft hum of the air conditioner.
He sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes. The octoling was still breathing erratically. He brought both hands to his neck, then slid them up to his ears, covering them.
“Stop… please stop…” he whispered, barely audible.
The air in the room felt thick. Every attempt to breathe hurt, as if the oxygen refused to enter. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor, curling up with his head pressed to his knees. He felt that smell again—the metallic scent, the blender noise, screams of agony, all the sanitized octolings. The walls felt like they were closing in again.
Then, something soft brushed against his shoulder. A voice, hoarse with sleep, spoke from behind him:
“Hachi… hey?”
Just hearing his voice was enough to slow his breathing. Gloves was there, half leaning off the bed, hair messy and eyes half-lidded. It took him a moment to process the scene: the octoling curled up on the floor, crying, breathing unevenly, soaked in sweat.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” he said more firmly, carefully moving closer.
He got off the bed and knelt in front of him, not touching him yet. He knew contact could make things worse.
“One…” He inhaled slowly. “Come on, with me.”
8 tried to follow, but his breath caught again. A sudden sob rose in his throat. He felt frustrated, scared of looking vulnerable in front of 4.
“I can’t… I can’t… it’s… it’s happening again… I—”
“No.”
He interrupted him. Hachi looked up, eyes glassy.
“There’s nobody here but me. Do you see me? I’m here, with you. Tartar isn’t here anymore. It was just a nightmare.”
The silence between them stretched longer than usual. Little by little, the octoling’s breathing began to steady.
“I can still hear his voice. I’m scared. Inkopolis is amazing… but I feel like he’ll come back at any moment, looking for me, chasing me.”
4 finally wrapped his arms around him, gently rubbing his back.
“If Tartar ever comes back, I’ll defeat him with you. And we’ll make sure you can sleep peacefully again.”
Hachi curled into one of his shoulders, smiling.
“That sounded pretty cheesy, didn’t it?”
They both laughed softly.
“No… no… it’s okay. Thanks for reminding me of that.” He smiled warmly.
“Come on, sleep. I’ll stay awake so you can rest easy, knowing nothing will happen while I’m by your side, watching over you.”
“Thanks, Gloves. You’re the best.”
“Tsk… I know! You don’t have to remind me!” he exclaimed, flustered.
“Good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Sleep well.”
It wasn’t a good night for either of them, but at least the one who lived with fear because of his past managed to rest.
As for 4, he spent the entire night meticulously fixing his hair with great care.