The pen wouldn't stop moving across the paper. Iida felt as though her hand was moving on its own. Elbows propped on the counter of Buki-ya Gangaze, she'd been writing nonstop on the memo pad she'd been handed while she waited. Her head was supposed to be full of nothing but ink formulations for the new song, yet her fingers were moving like some separate creature entirely. From the back of the shop came the rustling sounds of Bukichi rummaging through inventory. "[excited]Sorry 'bout that! The custom-blend ink got buried somewhere! Just gimme a little longer!" "[gentle]Yeah, no problem. Don't worry about it." Even as she answered, Iida's fingers kept moving. Her large crimson eyes were half-dazed, her silver twintails draping onto the counter. The custom headphones around her neck swayed slightly. The new song's tempo, the ink viscosity, the track arrangement. She had a mountain of things to think about. Then, abruptly, her hand stopped. She looked at the memo pad. Iida froze. There wasn't a single ink-blend formula written anywhere. Instead, what covered the paper, packed tight from edge to edge, was— Hime. Hime. Hime Hime Hime. Hime-senpai. Hime-san. Hime. Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Wait—what is this—what am I even writing?!" She'd shouted it out loud. No, she'd had no choice but to shout. Because this was completely, utterly not okay. If anyone saw this—no, even if no one saw it, this was bad. She was terrified of herself. She scrambled to crumple the paper, and in that very instant— "[laughing]Oh, finally found it! Here's that custom order—wait, what's that?" Damn it. Bukichi had come back, arms full of ink bottles. The young shopkeeper, his vivid emerald-green hair messily slicked back, aimed his inquisitive golden-brown eyes straight at Iida's hands. His pupils dilated like a cat that had spotted prey. "[laughing]W-wait, don't look at that!" Iida frantically hid the paper behind her back. But it was too late. A wide grin spread across Bukichi's face. "[laughing]I saw it. Saw the whole thing. How many times'd you write Hime-chan's name? Gotta be at least a hundred." "[scared]Th-that's not..." "[laughing]'That's not' what? Sayin' that with a face red as a tomato ain't exactly convincin'." Iida's cheeks burned like fire. Her large crimson eyes wobbled, glistening, every emotion leaking out for all to see. The ends of her silver twintails quivered in time with their owner's agitation. *(It's over...)* She could hear the image of the cool, composed genius DJ crumbling away with a thunderous crash. Well, actually, some tools on the shelf did rattle a little, but that was just her imagination. Bukichi set the ink bottles on the counter and folded his arms. "[sarcastic]So? How long you plannin' to keep hidin' like this?" Iida hung her head. "[whispers]...It's not like I can help it." "[sarcastic]Yeah, you can. It's been three years. Three years. Ever since I've known you, it's been the same thing. You gonna confess to that heart-shaped-circuit-board crush of yours or not?" Iida's shoulders jolted. Heart-shaped circuit board—that was the shape of the custom mod part Iida had special-ordered from Bukichi before. A board built into the interior of the Mixer Nova, its wiring pattern faintly tracing out a heart. One of a kind in the whole world, her greatest masterpiece. Her fingers, marked with tiny scars from all her tinkering, still remembered the night she'd installed that board. How had he figured it out? No—it must have been obvious all along. "[cold]...That's none of your business, Bukichi-san." "[laughing]Sure it is! It's hilarious!" "That's so mean!" When Iida looked up, Bukichi was still laughing. But there was something gentle in those golden-brown eyes. "[gentle]Well, y'know, I've spent three years listenin' to you talk about nothin' but Hime-chan every time you come into my shop. You say you're here for a new song, but eighty percent of what comes outta your mouth is Hime-chan. At this point, you're a hopeless case." Iida couldn't argue back. Because every word of it was true. Inkblot Square—this was a city where music and battle were the center of everything. Young people donned their gear, fired colorful ink at each other, and lost themselves in the best sounds. And right in the heart of that city, the Tentacles were stars. Vocalist Hime and DJ Iida. Their duo was the charisma that everyone in the Square looked up to. Iida gazed out the window. The neon lights of the Square's East Street glittered in every color. Inkblot Square was always brimming with life. This was the new world that Inklings and Octolings—evolved from squid and octopus—had built after the old human civilization was lost to rising seas. Music filled the city, and Turf War battles drove people wild. At the center of the Square stood the Tenta Live Stage, where they themselves performed twice a month. A position anyone would envy. And yet. "[sad]...I know. But I can't say it." Iida's voice had suddenly gone small. As an Octoling, the sucker-tipped tentacles she had in place of ears quivered faintly. Her species wore their emotions on the outside. She was an Octoling, and Hime was an Inkling. She'd always believed that different species didn't matter. But. "[whispers]If I say it... it might all be over." The Tentacles. Their duo. The time they could spend together. She was scared. Just... scared. Bukichi was silent for a while. Then he gently nudged the ink bottles on the counter toward Iida. "[gentle]Well, ain't much I can say to you about this. But just one thing." Iida raised her head. "[serious]That Mixer Nova—only one in the world, right? Finest piece of gear out there, with your heart poured into it. Someone who can build somethin' like that... don't go bein' such a coward." Iida couldn't find any words. She accepted the ink bottles. They were still warm. A custom blend Bukichi had mixed by hand, just for her. "[gentle]Thanks... and sorry, for showing you something weird again." "[laughing]Don't worry 'bout it. Same as always." Same as always, apparently. Though she'd never meant it to be that way at all. With a deep sigh, Iida left the shop. The air outside was a mix of ink, exhaust, and something faintly sweet. The Square always smelled like this in the afternoon. Iida shoved her hands into the pockets of her oversized hoodie and started walking the path back to Neon Base. Her long legs, extending from her hot pants, tapped rhythmically against the asphalt. The sky was high, clouds drifting slowly by. *(Three years, huh.)* Bukichi's words echoed in her head. She'd been in love for three years. Ever since the first moment she heard Hime-senpai's singing voice—not that she wanted to sound like some cliché, but it really was true, so there was no helping it. Ever since they'd formed the Tentacles, she'd always been right there beside her. Watching Hime from the DJ booth as she sang on stage, her long silver hair whipping wildly—that was Iida's happiness. Hime's clear, blue-green eyes. Her free-spirited charisma that no one could ever tie down. That had been enough. That should have been enough. The Battle Spire—the headquarters of the Inkblot Battle Administration—towered up ahead. The 23-story building was visible from anywhere in the Square. The Administration oversaw all official Turf War tournaments, and beneath that building lay a massive battlefield known as the Under Court. *(The next live show is next week, I guess.)* As Iida walked along, mulling that over, every large monitor across the Square suddenly flared to life at once. Twelve giant displays lit up simultaneously, and a deafening fanfare blared out. "Whoa." People on the street stopped in their tracks, looking up at the monitors. Iida found herself doing the same. Flashy text blazed across the screens. *"The Legendary Rival Showdown Finally Settled! Inkblot Music War Main Event Decided!"* The Inkblot Music War—the biggest music battle event of the year, held once annually. It took place at the Grand Arena Inkbreak, northeast of Inkblot Square, a colossal venue that packed in 25,000 frenzied spectators. "[excited]They're doing it again this year! Who's going up against who?!" Someone shouted. Iida, feeling a small flutter of excitement herself, fixed her eyes on the screen. *"TENTACLES VS OCTOPULSE!!!!"* Her heart stopped. What appeared on the screen was a jet-black silhouette. A duo. One was a tall shadow clutching a bass, the other a silhouette that looked like a beatmaker. Octopulse—a gangsta unit formed about a year and a half ago, operating out of the underground live house "Drainpipe." 480,000 SNS followers, Battle Rank A. Their leader was Rikka, on bass and vocals. Rikka. The moment she recalled that name, Iida's fingertips went cold. Rikka was Hime's former bandmate. Six years ago, the two of them had formed a punk rock band called "Crash Notes." And Rikka still declared it publicly, even now—"I'm going to bring Hime back to my stage." *(That person...)* On the monitor, the announcer was shouting passionately. "Hime of the Tentacles and Rikka of Octopulse! Former allies now clashing as enemies! This is a showdown of pure, tangled destiny!" Iida's crimson eyes widened. Tangled destiny. Yes, that's what it was. But it wasn't just about music. Rikka had apparently confessed to Hime once. That was the rumor whispered through the back channels of the Square's music scene. No one knew if it was true. But—the fact that Rikka was still fixated on Hime was obvious to anyone with eyes. Her smile froze over. Iida's fingers unconsciously tightened around the ink bottle. "...Oh no." She murmured it under her breath and broke into a run. Toward Neon Base. Toward where Hime was. As she ran, a terrible premonition swelled larger and larger in her chest. *(Why now? Why, at a time like this?)* She'd hidden it for three years. Pretended she was fine. Her best friend, her partner, and the person she secretly loved. She'd planned to keep that delicate balance going today, and tomorrow, and forever. And yet. Neon Base was in the old warehouse district, a fifteen-minute walk southwest of Inkblot Square. A renovated three-story building: studio on the first floor, living space on the second, private rooms on the third. Iida pushed the door open, out of breath. "[excited]Iida! I've been waiting!" Hime came bounding down the stairs, greeting Iida with a beaming smile. Her straight silver hair, reaching all the way to her waist, swayed as it caught the light and shimmered bluish-purple. Her clear, blue-green eyes sparkled with excitement. She leaned her lithe 172-centimeter frame forward, peering into Iida's face. "[excited]Huge news! We're going head-to-head with Octopulse in the Inkblot Music War!" She already knew. She'd seen it on the monitors. But hearing it from Hime's own mouth made it sink into her chest with a heavy thud. "[whispers]...Is that so." Hime waved the invitation fluttering in her hand, laughing innocently. "[excited]And get this—the opponent is this person I was in a band with for just a little bit way back, her name's Rikka—" For just a fraction of a second, Hime's words caught. That pause around "just a little bit." Iida didn't miss it. *(...So it's true. She's not just some former bandmate.)* A tight, squeezing pain gripped the depths of her chest. "[excited]And, like, they've gotten to be a pretty amazing band! Oh, but of course we're way more amazing!" Hime was blatantly trying to change the subject. Cheerful, free-spirited, always brighter than anyone else—and this was the person who could make her this awkward. Rikka. *(What are you to Hime-senpai?)* She wanted to know. But she couldn't ask. Wordlessly, Iida stepped into the studio. Soundproofed walls, a collection of equipment worth eight million coins in total, and her partner, the Mixer Nova. The one-of-a-kind DJ