Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[The sun rises over the bustling city of Inkopolis. In the suburban neighborhood, ICHIYA, IKKAN, NAMIDA, and MURASAKI walk along the sidewalk.]

IKKAN: (sighs) I still have sand in my ears from that beach trip.

NAMIDA: Don't even remind me. I still have memories of getting bug bites everywhere on my legs. 

MURASAKI: (low energy) I applied for one summer internship, and they rejected me…

ICHIYA: Yeah, okay, maybe this summer sucked—bad smoothies, sunburns, vendettas—but that ends today.

NAMIDA: You're sounding weirdly hopeful. You okay?

ICHIYA: (stops walking, turns to them dramatically) No, I'm not okay. Because Ichiya the loser died over summer break.

(pauses for effect) 

ICHIYA: From now on…Ichiya is gonna be the coolest kid at Inkopolis High. Cool hair. Cool catchphrases. Cool walk. Cool life.

IKKAN: You said that last year—

NAMIDA: Yeah, right before you accidentally locked yourself inside the janitor's closet. 

ICHIYA: That was the old me. New me? Unstoppable.

MURASAKI: You said that two summers ago, too—

ICHIYA: Nerd! Nerd! We got a nerd over here! 

[ICHIYA nudges MURASAKI’S shoulders.]

ICHIYA: Sorry, man. You know I'm joking.

IKKAN: Well, whatever happens, just don't pull us into your “reinvention plan.” I like my current identity as one of the loser main characters. 

NAMIDA: Same.

ICHIYA: Too late! You're all part of it now.

[They approach the front gates of Inkopolis High. The bell rings ominously as the camera pans up to show the courtyard. Students yelling, a car crashing, someone already crying.]

MURASAKI: Well…brand new year, same old faces.

[Cue theme song.]

[The hallways are buzzing with students, lockers slamming, loud greetings echoing, and club recruitment posters plastered everywhere.]

NAMIDA: (checking her planner) Okay, this year, I'm actually doing it. I'm joining clubs. I want that college app to scream “balanced and well-rounded.”

ICHIYA: (peering at the bulletin board) Good luck. These clubs look like they were invented by people who never heard of fun in their lives. (reads) Mathletes? The Chess Federation? Historical Reenactment Club—The Great Turf War Edition? Boring. Boring. And somehow even more boring.

MURASAKI: I joined a club last year. It was small, intimate, full of passion.

NAMIDA: (interested) Oh yeah? What was it?

MURASAKI: The Celine Dion Worship Society. 

IKKAN: What?

MURASAKI: We met every Thursday. Lit a candle. Sang “My Hearts Will Go On.” Sometimes, we cried.

NAMIDA: (deadpan) Beautiful.

ICHIYA: Look, if they had a “Become Cool in 10 Days or Less” club, then I'd sign up.

IKKAN: Forget clubs. You know what we need this year? A band.

ICHIYA: (skeptical) You can't even play the bass.

IKKAN: Yet. I've been practicing. And plus—cool band names. Probably “Ink-ognito”, or “Cephalopop.”

NAMIDA: If we're gonna come up with band names, at least make it sound like an actual rock band. 

MURASAKI: What about Killer Squidz? 

IKKAN: Ooh. That's actually good. Kinda edgy.

ICHIYA: No one's forming a band. This is the year we get serious. Reputation. Power. Status. 

[A jellyfish trips on the ground and groans.]

ICHIYA: …But, like, we'll ease into that.

[Suddenly, the group looks at a soft glow in the distance; BIBI elegantly struts down the hallways, catching the attention of every student. She elegantly places her books into her locker. She's effortlessly stylish, her tentacles a perfect beige.]

IKKAN: Whoa…

[Cue slow-motion as BIBI flips her hair over her shoulder. A faint, angelic chorus plays.]

IKKAN: That's her. The girl of my dreams.

NAMIDA: (rolling her eyes hard) Please. That's Bibi. You know, Queen Popularity. She's already taken—Taka’s got her on lock.

IKKAN: That's just a rumor. You're not jealous, are you? 

NAMIDA: (crossing her arms) No, I just don't like her. And I don't trust girls who say “oopsie” after setting fire to someone's notes. Especially popular girls. 

IKKAN: Doesn't matter. I know my goal this year now. To date Bibi. 

ICHIYA: (whistles) Damn. My guy's really going for it. Well, you know what they say…you gotta tap that before someone else does.

NAMIDA: Gross…

MURASAKI: She's already accomplished so much. Host of the morning announcements. Three-time “Best Dressed” champion.

IKKAN: She's…perfect.

NAMIDA: She's a menace. 

[IKKAN ignores. He takes a deep breath and approaches BIBI, who's now examining her reflection in the mirror taped to the inside of her locker door. Her compact is open, and she's carefully applying shimmer to her eyelids.]

IKKAN: (stiffly, trying to be cool) Uh…hey, Bibi.

BIBI: (not looking away from the mirror) Shhh.

[She raises one finger to silence him.]

BIBI: This is my sacred time.

IKKAN: Sacred…?

BIBI: (turning slightly, still checking her lashes) My daily morning-school makeup routine. No one interrupts. Got it?

IKKAN: Right. Totally. I respect that.

[He clears his throat, awkwardly shifting his weight.]

IKKAN: So, uh, just wondering—are you actually, like…dating Taka?

BIBI: (sighs dramatically, finally turning her gaze to him) Questions…questions…

[She flips her compact shut with a snap, glances him up and down, then shrugs and pulls out a small notepad from her shelf. She writes something in, and hands the note to him.]

BIBI: Here. My number. Text me after third period. I'll talk to you then, maybe. 

IKKAN: (stunned) You're giving me your number?

BIBI: Don't make it weird.

[She turns back to her mirror, the moment over as fast as it began. IKKAN backs away, holding the number.]

[In the classroom, students chatter and settle into their seats. ICHIYA, IKKAN, NAMIDA, and MURASAKI sit near the middle, with BIBI seated a row ahead. TAKA slides into the seat next to IKKAN with an air of practiced cool. Suddenly, the door creaks open. In steps a huge, brown bear: MR. GRIZZ, wearing a tie.]

MR. GRIZZ: Alright, settle down, you mistakes. Name's Mr. Grizz. New homeroom, new rules. I run this class like a tight fishing line, and any slackers are going overboard.

[The class is silent.]

MR. GRIZZ: I'm not here to babysit, understand? I'm here to prepare you for the hell that's adult life. Any questions?

[Silence.]

MR. GRIZZ: Good. 

[TAKA leans toward IKKAN, resting an elbow on his desk with a cocky grin.]

TAKA: (whispering) Word of advice…back off Bibi. One move, and I'll be the only one throwing dodgeballs at you in gym. 

IKKAN: Who? Bibi? What? I don't know what you're talking about.

[TAKA squints at him, unconvinced. Meanwhile, across the row, ICHIYA leans closer to NAMIDA.]

ICHIYA: (whispers) Hey, Namida—so…join any clubs yet? I hear the “How to Look Cool Without Trying” club has one spot left.

NAMIDA: That one's definitely full. But I might join the debate team…or drama. Anything'll do.

ICHIYA: Respect. 

[Enter the principal's office. The room is dimly lit, save for the massive wall of glowing monitors displaying live security feeds from every hallway and classroom in the school. At the center, seated in a chair, is CRAIG CUTTLEFISH, co-principal of Inkopolis High.]

CRAIG: Ahh…look at ‘em go. Those little scamps! 

[The office door opens gently. DJ OCTAVIO, another co-principal, enters wearing a pink apron. He's balancing a silver tray of freshly baked scones.]

OCTAVIO: (unhappy) Fresh from the oven...

CRAIG: Everything's running smoothly. Just like how I like it!

[He points to one of the monitors showing ICHIYA whispering to NAMIDA, MURASAKI chewing his pen, and IKKAN awkwardly staring at BIBI.]

CRAIG: They're a lovable bunch! I swear, those kids remind me of my Splatoon.

[Suddenly, the door SLAMS open with a loud bang. In stomps COMMANDER TARTAR, an anthro robot/telephone. He holds a clipboard.]

TARTAR: Yes, but this is also a prime opportunity to collect behavioral data for military testing. We need seating charts, eye movement scans, breakfast records—now.

CRAIG: Tartar, we've been over this! This is a school, not a command base.

TARTAR: Oh, but think of the advancements. Enhanced trajectory algorithms! Tactical locker placement! 

OCTAVIO: …Scone?

TARTAR: Tempting, but no.

CRAIG: Tartar, I have two granddaughters in this here school. Callie and Marie. And if you think I'm letting you turn them into data points on a spreadsheet, you've got kelp for brains. 

TARTAR: Hm…kelp for brains. Great idea, Craig.

[Cut to the aquanasium; NAMIDA pushes open a large, bubbling glass door leading into the room.]

NAMIDA: (breathless) Am I late? Is this the club meeting?

[Inside, a group of students stand waist-deep in the shimmering water pool. They are raising their hands, faces lifted upward, as if in some sort of ritual or ceremony. A club member steps forward, greeting NAMIDA with an open palm.]

CLUB MEMBER: Relax, you're just in time! The ceremony’s about to begin. 

[NAMIDA's eyes widen as she takes in the scene—students emerging from the water like they're being baptized.]

NAMIDA: Wait…did I join the wrong club?

[Another club member, dressed in a simple robe, notices NAMIDA's confusion.] 

CLUB MEMBER #2: Welcome to the Christianity Crew! We celebrate faith and community right here at Inkopolis High. You must be our new member.

[NAMIDA blinks.]

[Cut to: the school courtyard.]

ICHIYA: Alright, watch this––I'm about to land the coolest kick flip this school's ever seen!

[He pushes off and tries to kick the board to flip it, but he loses balance and falls hard on the pavement with a loud thud. Students “Oohs” and chuckles. MURASAKI and IKKAN exchange looks. IKKAN's eyes drift away from ICHIYA and fall onto someone in the distance.]

IKKAN: (quietly, head down) There goes Bibi…

[ICHIYA groans, rubbing his elbow as he stands up.]

ICHIYA: What's with the long face?

IKKAN: (sighs) Bibi's already dating Taka.

ICHIYA: Hey, plenty of fish in the sea, right?

MURASAKI: Or in this case, the fish here.

[In the distance, WARABI, spots them.] 

WARABI: Okay, Warabi, breathe. Now that Bibi is off the market, I have a chance with Ikkan.

[WARABI steps out from behind the tree and walks up to the trio.]

WARABI: Hey, Ikkan. You should totally find someone else to date. No pressure, but…

IKKAN: I don't know who, though.

ICHIYA: Hey, you could always try dating one of the Squid Sisters—Callie or Marie.

IKKAN: Interesting…but no.

WARABI: What about someone with red hair?

IKKAN: …Eh, I'm more into yellow. 

[IKKAN turns and walks away. ICHIYA whistles loudly, smirking.]

ICHIYA: Did you just screw yourself…

[The gym floor is marked with dodgeball courts. Students chatter and stretch while waiting for the teacher to start. The gym teacher stands in front of the group holding a dodgeball.]

GYM TEACHER: Alright, alright! First day of school means the first day at the gym! And the first day at the gym means exercise and bruises—dodgeball!

[Students groan and murmur among themselves.]

GYM TEACHER: Seems like Tartar raised a couple of Mary's…I'm gonna split you up into two teams. 

[The gym teacher begins sorting students into teams. NAMIDA stands with the group, wide-eyed and shocked.]

NAMIDA: (whispering to Ichiya) Dodgeball? On the first day?

ICHIYA: Physical education matters, I guess. 

[Meanwhile, IKKAN is grouped on the opposite team from TAKA. TAKA stands beside him, arms crossed.]

TAKA: You better watch yourself this game. I'm not going easy on you.

IKKAN: That's cool. 

[The gym teacher blows the whistle sharply.]

GYM TEACHER: Ready…set…dodge!

[Dodgeballs begin flying through the air. Students duck, dive, and shriek. Two teams are clearly defined—Team Blue on the left, Team Orange on the right. On the sidelines, BIBI sits cross-legged on the bench, sipping water.] 

NAMIDA: Aren't you supposed to be playing?

BIBI: I am playing. I'm cheering from the sidelines. 

NAMIDA: Yeah, because that definitely counts. Get your ass down here and play. 

BIBI: What're you, my mom? Learn to respect spaces, orange. 

[Back on the court, dodgeballs whiz through the air. ICHIYA dives forward in slow motion, catching a dodgeball midair, then pivoting and launching it at an opponent—knocking them out cold.] 

MURASAKI: When did you get so good?

ICHIYA: I practice.

[Meanwhile, TAKA stalks IKKAN from the other side of the court, gripping a dodgeball tightly.]

TAKA: You're mine, emo boy…

[TAKA launches a dodgeball like a heat-seeking missile. It misses IKKAN by inches.]

IKKAN: What the—?

MURASAKI: He's totally gunning for you, man!

IKKAN: No kidding. What did I do?! 

MURASAKI: …Welllll…

[Another ball slams right into the ground in front of IKKAN. He dives behind MURASAKI as a shield.]

MURASAKI: HEY! At least use someone taller next time?! 

[Back on the sidelines, NAMIDA groans as she sees BIBI still lounging, now reapplying lip gloss.] 

NAMIDA: (shouting) Some of us are out here risking our own lives while you're out here putting on lip gloss!

BIBI: (without looking up) I believe in you, sweetie! 

GYM TEACHER: (blows whistle) Thirty seconds left! 

[ICHIYA somersaults across the court, flinging another ball that knocks TAKA's teammate out. Only a few players remain. TAKA throws another ball straight at IKKAN's face.]

ICHIYA: (shouting) Ikkan, duck!

[IKKAN ducks, the ball whizzes past him, hitting the gym wall with a loud thwack. ICHIYA uses the opening to fire a ball that finally knocks TAKA out. TAKA glares at IKKAN as he walks off the court.]

TAKA: Damnit…

[The final whistle blows. Cheers erupt from Team Blue—IKKAN, ICHIYA, MURASAKI, NAMIDA, and others.]

GYM TEACHER: Team Blue wins! Alright, hit the lockers!

[In the boys locker room, IKKAN is at his locker, pulling on his t-shirt and brushing off sweat. He's mid-way through tying his sneakers when the door SLAMS open, rattling the walls. TAKA, shirtless, towel around his neck, walks in.]

TAKA: You listen here, Hot Topic. You might've won dodgeball, but don't get too confident. There's one thing you'll never win.

IKKAN: Let me guess…Bibi? 

TAKA: Bingo.

[IKKAN scoffs and stands up straight, arms  crossed.]

IKKAN: Bibi probably hates dating a jerk like you, I hope you know that.

TAKA: Wrong-o! She begged me to go with her this summer. We hit up California, then did a surprise trip to Canada, and ended in New Sardine.

IKKAN: Okay, so you've got a passport and rich parents. Doesn't make you boyfriend of the year.

TAKA: Nah, but it does mean I've got history with her. You? You've got exactly…what? One hallway stare and a crush?

IKKAN: Well, it's not like you own her.

TAKA: Of course not. But I'm happy to report that you never had a chance to begin with.

[TAKA smirks one last time, opens his locker, and starts changing. IKKAN grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder before leaving.]

[One paper in the hallway reads in bold letters; “GAMING CLUB – NOW RECRUITING!” with a drawing of a badly-drawn game controller beneath it. NAMIDA takes a breath and opens the door. Inside, the room is dimly lit, with a small TV propped up on a rolling cart. Connected to it is a dusty Nintendo 64. Four students are huddled around it, two playing Super Smash Bros. Every member is a pimply-faced boy, glasses fogged, and each with posture problems. A tall, lanky Inkling with thick glasses turns to greet her.]

PIMPLY NERD #1: Whoa! A girl! I mean—welcome to the Gaming Club! You new?

NAMIDA: Uhh…yeah. I'm Namida. Thought I'd check it out. 

[One of the nerds gets a KO on screen and lets out a triumphant nasal laugh.]

PIMPLY NERD #2: I win! You owe me $5. 

NAMIDA: (gesturing towards the console) You guys are still on the N64? Isn't that a bit outdated? You don't have anything newer, like a PS2? 

PIMPLY NERD #1: We almost got a PS2 last year, but we had to use our club budget on more extension cords. And we chipped in for a replacement joystick for the Player 3 controller. It…kinda snapped. 

[He holds up a limp, duct-taped controller in proof. NAMIDA forces a smile.] 

NAMIDA: Right…priorities.

[She walks around slowly, glancing at the room—an open bag of chips sits on a desk, along with a giant binder labeled “Tier Lists 1,1998–1,2000.” Another member furiously scribbles combo notes in a composition notebook. NAMIDA folds her arms and sighs internally.] 

NAMIDA: (muttering to herself) I'm literally the only girl in my friend group already…

[She turns back to the group, who are now yelling about the controls.] 

NAMIDA: Maybe I should find a club with more variety. 

PIMPLY NERD #1: Oh hey, you wanna be P2? Our Yoshi main dropped out to join the Choir Club. Said he needed “vocal range.” Weird flex, right? 

NAMIDA: ...Thanks, but, uhh…I'm gonna keep looking.

[She walks back out of the club room, leaving the door creaking behind her as one of the nerds fumbles a dodge and lets out a frustrated yelp.]

[In another classroom, ICHIYA and MURASAKI sit at a table together, two-thirds into a messy poster titled “Marine Ecosystems: Then vs. Now.”] 

ICHIYA: (sighing deeply, slouched in his chair) Man…this year was supposed to be it, you know?

MURASAKI: (half-focused, gluing a cut-out dolphin) “It” as in…the year you almost broke your nonexistent bones trying to do a kickflip?

ICHIYA: No, dude. The year I finally stop being a loser. Everything I try just ends up making me look dumber. 

MURASAKI: Hear me out. You, me, Ikkan, Namida—we're not exactly the school's top shelf. But we've got something cooler than popularity. We've got…each other. We're losers—together. 

ICHIYA: (ignoring Murasaki) I know! It's Taka. It's gotta be his charisma. 

MURASAKI: Please don't say what I think you're gonna say.

ICHIYA: I've got a plan. 

[MURASAKI leans in cautiously. ICHIYA whispers into his ear. His expression shifts from curiosity…to confusion…to full-on horror.] 

MURASAKI: You wanna what?! 

ICHIYA: Drink his sweat.

MURASAKI: DUDE! That's gross! Besides—how are we even gonna do that?! 

ICHIYA: Gym class. He should be doing some kind of work-out. His sweat is the key, I know it. 

[Silence.]

MURASAKI: You're insane. Not even joking. 

ICHIYA: I get that alot. Hey, you think Callie would date me if I had Taka-level presence?

[Meanwhile, at the school rose garden, IKKAN and WARABI sit next to each other. WARABI fidgets slightly. IKKAN sits with his hands folded, lost in thought.]

WARABI: Hey, I'm really glad we get to spend time like this. Just…us, with no interruptions whatsoever—

[A sudden voice cuts through the air.]

BIBI: Hi, Ikkan.

[The camera pans as BIBI strides in, holding a small purse.]

BIBI: Quick question—what time is it? I need to track my afternoon bowel movement.

WARABI: …Is that seriously what you came here for?

BIBI: Well, duh. I usually go at 12:30, but I lost track and now I'm stressed, and that messes up my vibe. Plus, I can't go into the math hall bathrooms—they echo.

IKKAN: (starry-eyed) It's 12:35. 

BIBI: Ugh, I'm five minutes late! That's gonna throw my whole schedule off. Thanks, Ikkan.

[She winks and walks down the garden path.]

WARABI: So, that's it? She just drops in, announces her bowel schedule, and leaves?

IKKAN: I know, right? She's amazing. 

[WARABI slumps back on the bench, folding his arms. In the office, blueprints are splayed across the tabletop.]

TARTAR: Phase One is nearly complete. Once we repurpose the sub-basement ventilation shafts, we funnel the flow directly beneath the west wing…bypassing security.

CRAIG: No idea what you're getting at, but I think I'm in the mood for crabby cakes. 

OCTAVIO: You two are idiots. 

[Suddenly, from the hallway, we hear faint footsteps and humming. It's NAMIDA. She's wandering aimlessly, holding a piece of paper listing school clubs.]

NAMIDA (O.S.): Journalism…fencing…basket weaving…

[She slows down, hearing muffled voices through the office door. Curious, she peeks in—]

NAMIDA: Hey, is this where the—?

[The moment she opens the door, the three freeze.]

TARTAR: INTRUDER!

[Without hesitation, he swivels and fires a tranquilizer dart. She's hit mid-sentence and she slumps face-first into the room with a loud thud.] 

CRAIG: WHAT THE SCALLOP?! 

OCTAVIO: You shot a student!

TARTAR: Unfortunate variable. No time for regret. Dispose of her before faculty returns. 

CRAIG: Er, you mean us, right? 

TARTAR: Yes, whatever, just do it now before anyone sees! 

[OCTAVIO begins dragging NAMIDA's limp body by the arm.]

[Enter the gymnasium. In the far corner, TAKA is training alone. Peeking through the gym door's window are ICHIYA and MURASAKI. ICHIYA is clutching an old vacuum cleaner with duct tape on the nozzle.]

MURASAKI: (whispering) Tell me again why we're doing this?

ICHIYA: Charisma. Pure, undiluted alpha charisma. Taka's soaked in it. If we drink his sweat, maybe—maybe—we'll get a bit of what he has. 

MURASAKI: That's not how it works!

ICHIYA: Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

[They sneak in slowly, ducking behind bleachers and basketball carts. TAKA doesn't notice—he's too busy jump-roping now. ICHIYA quietly unspoils the vacuum cord, plugs it in behind the water fountain, and creeps closer to a pile of TAKA's used towels. He flips the switch—TAKA stops mid-skip and glances around suspiciously. The vacuum shuts off instantly.]

ICHIYA: (whispering) Close call.

[They wait in silence until TAKA heads toward the far side of the gym for weightlifting. Once he's far enough, ICHIYA kneels beside the sweat-soaked towel, attaches the hose, and turns the vacuum back on. The machine slurps audibly as it sucks in the liquid.]

ICHIYA: Liquid gold, baby. 

[Cut to: later. The boys are huddled behind the bleachers, the vacuum's collection canister in front of them. ICHIYA unscrews the top, revealing a murky, yellowish fluid.]

MURASAKI: (disgusted) I think I'm gonna be sick.

ICHIYA: Look, sweat is basically just saltwater. With…maybe some bacteria. And skin cells. And possible ringworm. But still water!

[He pulls out two paper cups and pours the viscous liquid into each.]

MURASAKI: There's…floaty bits.

ICHIYA: Charisma chunks! 

[They clink cups like it's a toast.]

ICHIYA: Bottoms up. 

[Both drink, though they gag. After finishing, they wipe their mouths.] 

MURASAKI: After that, I'll need to drink from the water fountain—which says a lot, by the way. 

ICHIYA: Give it a minute. You'll feel it. 

MURASAKI: Oh, yeah. I feel it.

ICHIYA: Really? 

MURASAKI: Yeah. I feel sick and like my tongue's going numb.

ICHIYA: That means it's working. 

[In an empty classroom, WARABI is clutching a small, lockless journal, scribbling furiously.]

WARABI: (V.O.) Day one of school…another day of pretending. Another day watching him laugh with everyone but me. Another day of biting my tongue…

[He pauses. His pen hovers. A sigh escapes. Suddenly, the classroom door creaks open. WARABI jolts and quickly slams the journal shut, stuffing it in his bag. Standing at the door is IKKAN.]

IKKAN: Hey, Warabi. You got a sec?

[WARABI freezes. His heart practically screams. He smooths his hair.]

WARABI: Y-Yeah! Totally. What's up?

[IKKAN walks in, plopping into a desk in front of WARABI.]

IKKAN: It's just that…

WARABI: (V.O.) He's gonna say it. This is it. He's finally gonna—

IKKAN: …You know Bibi pretty well, right?

[WARABI's face falters. His smile becomes a confused half-smirk.]

WARABI: Bibi?

IKKAN: Yeah. I'm thinking of getting her some flowers or something. You know, a little gesture? I figured someone as stylish as you would know what kind of stuff she's into.

[WARABI stares. He forces a laugh.]

WARABI: Oh, absolutely! The girl who talks about her bowel schedule in public totally screams “flowers.” 

IKKAN: (chuckling) Yeah, I mean…she's weird. But, like…cool weird? 

WARABI: And what makes her think she'd be into you? 

IKKAN: I dunno. It's just…lately, I don't think she's that into Taka anymore. She didn't laugh at his sex joke today. That means something, right?

WARABI: Or maybe it just wasn't funny. 

IKKAN: Maybe. But when she asked me what time it was earlier, she smiled. Like—really smiled.

WARABI: Maybe you're just reading into it.

IKKAN: Probably. But…it's worth a shot, right?

[WARABI is silent for a beat. He sighs.]

WARABI: She likes lilacs.

IKKAN: Really? Didn't know she was that type…anyway, thanks, man. You're the best.

[IKKAN stands, already walking toward the door.]

IKKAN: Oh, Warabi, one more thing.

[WARABI perks up, smiling.]

IKKAN: I'll see you at the Crust Bucket later, yeah? 

WARABI: (quietly) Yeah…later. 

[IKKAN exits. The door slowly shuts behind him. The room is quiet again. Wordlessly, WARABI pulls out the journal again. He flips to the next page and begins to write.]

WARABI: (V.O.) Scratch that. Day one of school…another day of smiling while my heart shatters like glass. Another day of lilacs, for someone else.

[Later, ICHIYA and MURASAKI sit on a bench, both looking exhausted, slumped over with faint greenish tints to their faces. They just finished vomiting behind a bush.] 

ICHIYA: Okay, feel free to make fun of me. That plan was a bust.

MURASAKI: You think? 

ICHIYA: That was the last idea I had. Nothing's worked. 

MURASAKI: Hey, this is gonna seem crazy to you, but maybe just consider that you're not cool.

ICHIYA: Pardon me! 

MURASAKI: But hell, I'm not cool either. 

ICHIYA: True…but it's the first day of school, and I already screwed up. 

[Suddenly, the sound of shoes slapping the pavement. CALLIE walks by, humming to herself and waving a folded-up school newspaper.]

CALLIE: Oh, Ichiya! You made the front page!

ICHIYA: HI CALLIE---I mean. Wait, what?

CALLIE: You're popular now. Congrats!

[As she leaves, ICHIYA opens the paper. A massive, bold headline reads: “WEIRD BLUE TEEN FALLS INTO BUSHES, TRIES TO IMPRESS GIRLS, DOES A FAILED KICKFLIP, STILL GETS CHEERED.”]

MURASAKI: Hey, that's from earlier today! 

ICHIYA: (reading) “New student Ichiya Kasugi becomes a surprise hit with the sophomore crowd after unintentionally pulling off a series of hilarious fails.” 

MURASAKI: (reading over his shoulder) “Students say his confidence in the face of constant embarrassment is inspirational.” Dude. You're cool because you suck.

ICHIYA: (staring at the paper) So…all this time, my failures were the thing people liked?

[He lowers the paper, looking out at the sky. A bird above poops on his head.] 

ICHIYA: I've finally made it.

[They both share a silence, looking at the sky together.] 

ICHIYA: ...Alright, that's enough of that. Where's Namida? We were supposed to meet here.

MURASAKI: Huh. Yeah. She said she'd check out one more place.

ICHIYA: …Let's check the trash chute. People always end up there.

MURASAKI: Good call. 

[At the rose garden, IKKAN walks nervously through the stone pathway, holding a bouquet of lilacs. He stops as he sees BIBI, sitting on a stone bench, eating a salad from a plastic container.] 

IKKAN: Hey, Bibi. Uh…beautiful day today, huh?

BIBI: It was, until someone decided to block the sun. 

[IKKAN chuckles awkwardly.]

IKKAN: Oh—uh—sorry about that. I just—uh…(pauses, then slowly walks up) I, um, actually wanted to give you something.

[BIBI raises a curious eyebrow as he steps forward. He gently taps her shoulder. She turns and is met with the lilacs, held out toward her with slightly shaking hands.] 

IKKAN: I picked these for you. Thought they might brighten your day a little.

BIBI: Oh…lilacs?

[She gently takes the bouquet in her hands, examining the flowers. There's a pause.]

BIBI: I like roses.

IKKAN: Fucking—since when? 

BIBI: About six minutes ago. (smiling)

IKKAN: Oh, well…I, uhh…

BIBI: But this is really sweet, Ikkan. I appreciate it. 

[IKKAN's face slightly lights up.]

BIBI: But…I gotta be honest with you. I'm already kind of…into Taka. Like, in a big way.

IKKAN: Oh…oh! I knew that. Obviously.

BIBI: But thanks for the gesture. Really. It was kind.

[She tries to hand the lilacs back, but IKKAN holds up a hand and gently pushes them back toward her.]

IKKAN: No—keep them. I want you to have them.

BIBI: Awww, thanks.

[She starts plucking the lilacs apart and puts the petals into her salad, eating them.] 

[Later that day, the gang are walking down the sidewalk back home.] 

ICHIYA: So…not to brag or anything, but you guys saw that paper, right? I made the front page! I'm basically a legend now.

MURASAKI: I was there! 

ICHIYA: And I had to drink Taka's sweat to get here.

MURASAKI: Okay, I wouldn't really say tha—

ICHIYA: Nerd! (pushes Murasaki) 

NAMIDA: (rubbing her forehead) Wait, drinking his sweat? (pause) Actually, never mind. I don't even remember half the day. 

MURASAKI: (quickly gets back up) Long story. But at least we found you in the chute!

NAMIDA: And I was out cold for…

ICHIYA: Don't worry about it.

[IKKAN's head hangs low.]

NAMIDA: Something wrong?

IKKAN: She said no. (pause) She’s already going steady with Taka. 

ICHIYA: Look, man. Bibi might be into Taka now…but seasons change. School's long. People flip. You never know. 

NAMIDA: Or maybe she's just really into jerks who have brains the size of a peanut. 

ICHIYA: Didn't know you were a Bibi fan.

NAMIDA: I'm not, I just…ugh, nevermind. 

MURASAKI: You know…we didn't exactly win the day. But for the first day? It was the damn best first day I ever had in a while. 

ICHIYA: The four of us? We're the losers who look cool.

IKKAN: Or we're just losers in general.

NAMIDA: Losers with…potential..? Damn, I need a nap.

[The four pause at a corner, where the street forks in different directions. The sun dips just a little lower.] 

MURASAKI: See you all tomorrow?

ICHIYA: Yeah.

NAMIDA: Maybe if I'm still alive by then.

IKKAN: I've gotta go to the Crust Bucket anyway. 

[They break off into different paths. Credits roll.] 

Chapter Text

[The interior of Squid Sips is 80's themed—jukebox in the corner, neon lights flickering as a redundant classic plays. The gang is seated at a table with milkshakes and smoothies.]

ICHIYA: (leaning back, sighing) Man. I love this place more than anything in the world. Like—if anything ever happened to it, then I'm going down with it. 

IKKAN: That's nice, but the place had three health code violations in one week. I honestly don't know why every teen show needs to have places like these—remember the bathroom incident?

ICHIYA: That's not a violation, it's the people's fault!

NAMIDA: Sure, it's possibly hazardous to people, but that's kind of the charm. 

MURASAKI: And even if this place has a bunch of violations, nothing's gonna happen. The Inkopolis government doesn't care about anything. Not even the school system.

IKKAN: He's right. Our math classroom ceiling fell this week and it's basically just another average Tuesday.

ICHIYA: So, yeah. Nothing's gonna happen. Until something actually does happen that'll put this place in danger. But what are the chances of that happening?

[They all clink their drinks together. The camera slowly pans over to a trucker guy seated alone at a nearby table, aggressively chewing a slice of quiche. All of a sudden, the man freezes mid-bite and falls face-first onto the floor. The restaurant goes quiet.]

IKKAN: ...Uhh.

ICHIYA: Should we call someone?

[Cue theme song.]

[Cut to: the exterior shot of Squid Sips. A “CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE” sign is being taped to the front window by a sad-looking jellyfish server.]

JELLIZO: Well…that's it. After over twenty one years, Squid Sips is shutting down.

ICHIYA: You're joking!

JELLIZO: We've had nineteen health violations this month. We're basically on the watch list.

IKKAN: I mean, yeah, that guy did look pretty sick. Not gonna miss it.

MURASAKI: This place is home! You can't just do this.

ICHIYA: Right?! This is where I got my first mild allergic reaction!

JELLIZO: I'm sorry, kids. Unless you got a miracle, or an industrial cleaning crew willing to work for free and ignore federal law, this place is done.

[Just then, the screech of tires breaks the moment. A white limo pulls up dramatically. A ridiculously rich Inkling in a black suit leans out.]

RICH INKLING: By the way, thanks for listing Squid Sips on that auction site for me. This place is mine now, babyyy!

[Everyone stares. A pause.]

RICH INKLING: But! I'm flippin’ it into a boutique indoor curling arena…unless someone gives me $200,000 in cash, and then I'll consider leaving it alone!

[The limo peels out, leaving smoke behind as the others cough.]

IKKAN: Okay, but we should just let it go.

NAMIDA: He's kinda right. We could just find a new hangout spot. Like a park. Or a library. 

JELLIZO: Meanwhile, I can finally go back to working as a griller at that breakfast place.

[They all start to walk away. ICHIYA stays behind.]

ICHIYA: No! I'm not letting this happen! We're gonna get that $200,000. I don't know how, but we're gonna do it. We're saving Squid Sips!

IKKAN: Uhh…who is we?

NAMIDA: Oh no. He's in plot mode. 

ICHIYA: Yes, we! We're doing this, whether you all like it or not! If Squid Sips is to get shut down, we'll lose the legacy of a great, putrid, but great local teen hub! So, whaddya say, team?

[Silence.]

NAMIDA: …Okay.

[Cut to: WARABI’s house. Inside, WARABI is sitting on the living room couch, scribbling something carefully in his diary.]

WARABI: Dear not-a-diary…Today, I almost said ‘hi’ to Ikkan without stuttering. That's progress, right? Also, I wore my new piercings. 

[Just then, WARABI's younger brother—WATANI, a hyper 7 year old Octoling, charges in.]

WATANI: (teasing) Oooh, is Wabi writing in his secret love diary again? 

WARABI: (snaps the notebook shut) IT'S NOT A DIARY! It's an emotion log! 

WATANI: (grabbing the book and running in circles) “Dear diary, today Ikkan talked to me and now I'm gonna faint!” (cackles)

WARABI: (chasing him) I SWEAR IF YOU DON'T GIVE THAT BACK I—

[DING DONG! The doorbell rings. WARABI freezes.]

WARABI: Saved by the doorbell.

[WARABI walks to the door, still clutching a couch pillow as a shield. He opens it—and his eyes widen. It's IKKAN, standing there in his jacket.]

IKKAN: Yo.

[WARABI stares, and his cheeks tint a dark red immediately.] 

WARABI: Huh? Ikkan, what are you doing here?

IKKAN: No time to talk—Squid Sips is getting shut down. We need help. Big help.

WARABI: Oh…Squid Sips? That place is like a crime scene.

IKKAN: Yeah, I know. It's about to become an indoor curling bomb arena unless we save it.

WARABI: How much money are we talking?

IKKAN: Ehh…$200,000. 

WARABI: Damn! You could buy a yacht for that much.

IKKAN: (shrugs) Probably. But we'd be saving a legacy. Also, Ichiya's being weirdly intense about it.

[WARABI's face shifts. Thoughtful…then scheming.]

WARABI: (inner monologue) Maybe this could be it…If I help Ikkan, maybe he'll finally see my potential. 

[Back to reality. WARABI lowers the pillow.]

WARABI: Alright, I'm in. But only because I believe in fighting for hopeless causes…and this is clearly one of them. 

IKKAN: Sweet. We meet at Namida's garage tomorrow. Bring ideas. 

[IKKAN walks off. WARABI closes the door slowly, turns around, and leans against it dramatically.] 

WATANI: So…you're also gonna write that in your diary?

WARABI: (throws the pillow at him) GET OUT!

[The following morning, the gang are all gathered in NAMIDA’s garage.]

ICHIYA: Okay, team. It's time to save Squid Sips. And I have the perfect idea.

[ICHIYA turns to the chalkboard and dramatically writes “SNACKS.”]

ICHIYA: We sell snacks. But not just any snacks. Wasabi munchy snacks. 

IKKAN: Pretty sure food sales need permits. 

NAMIDA: What if we did a street performance instead? Like…singing, dancing, juggling—

MURASAKI: I don't juggle. 

IKKAN: Okay, new pitch. We host a concert. Charity-style. Get a few local acts, charge admission, boom—money for Squid Sips.

NAMIDA: So…do we know any bands? 

ICHIYA: I know a few peeps behind the school, but I wouldn't exactly call them a band. 

MURASAKI: Forget all that. We go around school. Door to door. Asking people. Begging if we have to.

WARABI: You're gonna collect $200,000 in lunch money and spare change?

MURASAKI: Worked last year.

[There's an awkward pause. Then—]

WARABI: Wait. What if…we made a movie?

[Beat.]

ICHIYA: A movie? 

WARABI: An indie film. About Squid Sips. We release it, enter it into festivals, and rake in the donations. 

MURASAKI: That's genius! Movies always make money! I mean, have you seen the box office for Jurassic Park III? 

NAMIDA: But none of us are film writers. Or directors. 

WARABI: I've made a handful of films in the past. Which are…experimental. One of them was just a can of beans rolling down a hill. I called it “Cycle of Consumption.” 

IKKAN: Ooh, I saw that one. 

[Suddenly, the garage door creaks open. NAMIDA's dad enters carrying a tray with mismatched glasses.] 

NAMIDA'S DAD: Here ya go! Lemonade for everyone!

NAMIDA: …I'm a fruit punch girl.

NAMIDA'S DAD: Since when?

NAMIDA: Since an hour ago.

[Cut to: Inkopolis High School, in the film room. WARABI adjusts the lens of a camera while ICHIYA leans lazily on a couch.]

ICHIYA: So…what's this movie about again? 

WARABI: (not looking up) Have you been paying attention at all?

ICHIYA: I was, but not really.

WARABI: (rolls eyes) It's a documentary. On the history of Squid Sips. Real, gritty, powerful stuff.

ICHIYA: But why a documentary? Why not a badass superhero movie based off of it?

WARABI: And how exactly am I gonna turn Squid Sips into a superhero adaptation?

[Suddenly, the door creaks open. BIBI, arms crossed, and TAKA, football under one arm.]

BIBI: Well, well, what do we have here? The losers’ club meeting in the film room?

TAKA: What's all this, anyway?

ICHIYA: Equipment to make a documentary about smoothies.

WARABI: Basically, Squid Sips. The others are getting the rest of the stuff. 

BIBI: Of course you're making documentaries. You know, it always made sense to me that you’d end up making grainy indie films no one watches. 

TAKA: Yeah, why not make something actually interesting? Like football, or me.

WARABI: Well…I could make a documentary about shoving you into the nearest trash can. 

[TAKA takes a step back instinctively.]

BIBI: Relax, geek. We were just curious. And maybe…we want to help. 

WARABI: Help…?

BIBI: (tossing her hair) Yeah. You need a documentary? You're gonna need beauty. Style. A lead actress who understands the camera. Moi. 

TAKA: And someone to give it edge.

ICHIYA: Wow…I mean, alright. 

[Fade into: the film room, still. In front of the camera stands NAMIDA, visibly bored, her arms limp by her side. Behind the camera is WARABI, focused. Behind him are the rest, bored.]

NAMIDA: (monotone) Squid Sips was founded in 1,1978 by some…guy. It became a local…smoothie hub, or whatever. Teens hung out. There were smoothies. 

WARABI: CUT!

[WARABI reaches forward and stops the recording.]

WARABI: Namida, it wouldn't hurt to put a bit more emotion into your speech. It sounded like a textbook reading during class. Can you sound like you actually care about Squid Sips? 

NAMIDA: I don't care about Squid Sips. I only said I'd help.

ICHIYA: Well, if it's passion you're looking for, I could deliver a riveting performance. I'm basically made for the screen. 

[BIBI struts in with TAKA. She flicks her hair dramatically and gestures to the camera.]

BIBI: Ugh, amateurs. Clearly this documentary needs me. Step aside, orange. Taka and I will give you something worth watching.

WARABI: Fine. One take. 

[WARABI records again. BIBI stands proudly in front of the whiteboard, one hand on her hip. TAKA stands beside her.]

BIBI: Squid Sips. A sanctuary of flavor. A temple of thirst. 

TAKA: One time I dropped my sandwich there, and I swear I felt something different when walking out of that restaurant.

BIBI: (giggling) You're so random.

[Suddenly, BIBI turns to TAKA. They start making out, full-on, in front of the camera.]

WARABI: CUT. CUT. CUT!

[The camera clicks off.]

WARABI: (turning to the group) Maybe making an indie film wasn't such a great idea after all.

ICHIYA: Oh, come on! That was gold! A film about two love-crazed idiots making out would make tons of coin!

[WARABI gives him a glare.]

ICHIYA: I mean…yeah! Let's do something else.

[The hallway is buzzing with students. ICHIYA stands in a stoil holding a red megaphone like it's a weapon. WARABI is adjusting a paper sign that keeps falling off.]

ICHIYA: STEP RIGHT UP, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! CHARITY SALE TO SAVE THE SOUL OF INKOPOLIS—SQUID SIPS! BUY A BROWNIE! ANYTHING! 

[Enter MARINA IDA, walking down the hall with a stack of textbooks.]

MARINA: Okay…what is this? 

WARABI: We're raising money to save Squid Sips. You know, the smoothie place? It's gonna be shut down unless we raise $200,000.

MARINA: Eugh. That place has, like…at least five health code violations. 

ICHIYA: Which is part of the charm, by the way.

MARINA: (sighs, pulling out her purse) Anyway, I admire the effort. Here's five bucks. Consider it my way of supporting people with ambition.

[She drops the bill on the table and walks away. The group stares at the money for a beat.]

MURASAKI: YES! Big bucks already! We're entrepreneurs now!

BIBI: (rolling eyes) Big bucks? That's like, a single small fry at Booyah Burger. We're still $199,995 short.

NAMIDA: Do you have any better ideas, princess?

BIBI: Please, I'm not here to brainstorm. And let's be real, at least I actually put effort into looking pretty everyday. 

NAMIDA: At least I don't waste my money on make-up.

IKKAN: Guys, chill. At this rate, we'll have enough money to save Squid Sips in…approximately one year. Give or take ten months. 

TAKA: Or—and hear me out—we just steal it from Principal Tartar's salary. I bet that phone freak makes bank.

WARABI: You want us to rob the principal?

TAKA: Rob is a strong word, but yeah.

ICHIYA: Nobody's stealing anything. If we're gonna make cash, we've gotta earn it.

[At IKKAN’s house, he sits on his bed, playing his bass. Clothes and trash are everywhere, along with a game console. The door creaks open.] 

IKKAN'S DAD: Hey, Ikkan. You okay in there?

IKKAN: …Yeah, kinda. 

[IKKAN'S dad steps in, holding a mug of coffee. He's wearing a button-up shirt.]

IKKAN'S DAD: You've been in here all afternoon. Practicing or hiding?

IKKAN: (sighs, puts down the bass) A bit of both, I dunno…I guess I'm just frustrated. We're trying to raise $200,000 to save Squid Sips, but at this rate, we might as well just start a lemonade stand. 

IKKAN'S DAD: Squid Sips? That smoothie place near the bus stop? That disease-filled restaurant is the bane of my existence!

IKKAN: It is. I mean…I hate their smoothies. One time I ordered a churro and it was frozen solid. 

IKKAN'S DAD: Glad we agree.

IKKAN: But…Ichiya and Murasaki were really bummed about it.

IKKAN'S DAD: $200,000 is no joke. Maybe you kids should all get part-time jobs. Might teach you something.

IKKAN: Bibi would combust if she had to wear a uniform. Says that kind of fabric gives her hives.

IKKAN'S DAD: And what about you? 

IKKAN: I mean…I was thinking if I got a job, maybe I could impress Bibi. She likes guys with ambition…

[IKKAN'S DAD pulls out his wallet and hands IKKAN two twenties. IKKAN blinks in surprise.]

IKKAN'S DAD: It's short of two hundred grand, but…I want to support you however I can, even if you don't grow up to be a lawyer or doctor like your mom and I hoped. 

IKKAN: …Thanks, dad.

IKKAN'S DAD: You've got a good heart, son. 

[His dad leaves, gently closing the door. IKKAN looks down at the money, then back at his bass guitar. He sets the money on the desk, picks up his bass again, and starts playing.]

[Cut to: ICHIYA’S house. The door to his room swings open. NAMIDA steps in, backpack slung over her shoulder.] 

NAMIDA: Geez. Every time I come here, I forget how huge your room is. 

ICHIYA: (sitting on a couch) Perks of having rich parents, I guess.

NAMIDA: (dropping her bag and flopping onto the couch) No kidding. You have a whole mini fridge.

[NAMIDA pulls a soda can from his fridge and opens it up.]

NAMIDA: So…what do we even do? We're not even close to $200,000. 

ICHIYA: Okay. Hear me out. 

NAMIDA: Oh no…

ICHIYA: We throw…a bar mitzvah!

NAMIDA: …Ichiya, you're not even Jewish. 

ICHIYA: True, but it's the whole vibe that matters. Big venue, lots of food, people throw cash at you for existing. Bam—instant profit.

NAMIDA: (snorting) That might be the dumbest genius thing you've ever said. 

ICHIYA: I know, I'm pretty good.

[NAMIDA sits upright, an idea forming.]

NAMIDA: Or—better idea—your parents are rich, right? Why don't we just…ask them? Just say you need the money to save a beloathed local business. Pull on the heartstrings. Give ‘em the puppy eyes.

ICHIYA: Yeah…no. That's not gonna fly.

NAMIDA: Why not? 

ICHIYA: My parents don't mess around when it comes to money. They run half the real estate in Inkopolis, and they treat every event like it's some kind of sacred trust. 

NAMIDA: But Squid Sips is practically a cultural landmark.

ICHIYA: They hate Squid Sips. If I even mentioned it to them, they'd cut off my allowance.

NAMIDA: Tragic. You'd be forced to wear socks with holes in them like the rest of us.

ICHIYA: Oh, I already do. Trust me. 

[Cut to: Squid Sips. Outside, ICHIYA, NAMIDA, IKKAN, and MURASAKI stand behind a folding table.]

ICHIYA: Step right up! Save our favorite hangout spot!

[Students and locals walk by, barely glancing.]

IKKAN: This isn't working. People don't care. Maybe we just need to accept that Squid Sips is done.

ICHIYA: (slamming a fist on the table) No! We just have to convince them. Show them why it matters!

NAMIDA: But we've been here for hours…

[Suddenly, BIBI and TAKA strides up, hands on hips.]

BIBI: You called for help?

TAKA: We'll volunteer, if it means so much to you guys.

NAMIDA: After what you two did in the film room? Don't even think about it. 

TAKA: Hey, it was an accident! And we're here now—to help. Losers need to learn from the winners. 

IKKAN: (eyes widening, hopefully) Bibi—you're really gonna help?

BIBI: Well, you've got a creative brain somewhere in there. So why don't you come up with something this time?

IKKAN: Okay…uhh…how about a garage sale? We sell what old stuff I have, and we sell it and direct the proceeds straight to the cause.

MURASAKI: Ooh, why didn't we think of that?

NAMIDA: It does seem like a pretty good idea…

ICHIYA: I like it also! Garage sale it is!

[Cut to: IKKAN'S house, garage. Many old things are laid out, and a simple cardboard sign reads “GARAGE SALE – ALL PROCEEDS TO SAVE SQUID SIPS.”]

NAMIDA: Okay, we need price stickers. Nothing over $5 for clothes. Books can be $2. Ichiya, tag those DVDs.

ICHIYA: (sticks a price tag) $5. 

MURASAKI: (holding an old guitar upright) And I found this in the back! No strings, half body.

BIBI: (sitting on a chair, filing her nails) Oh my god, guys, it's so hot.

NAMIDA: Um…gonna help at any point? 

BIBI: I hate sweaty people.

IKKAN: You look beautiful…even when you're completely unbothered.

TAKA: Hey, man, just a reminder—she's my girlfriend. 

IKKAN: Chill out.

[Suddenly, WARABI runs up from the street. He's out of breath and mildly flustered.]

WARABI: Sorry I'm late! I got stuck talking to Marina about protest strategies—

[He spots the table.]

WARABI: What's this? A garage sale?

ICHIYA: Yep. All proceeds go to save Squid Sips.

WARABI: (heart racing, glance at IKKAN) Right—well, I'll do everything I can to help. 

[He immediately grabs a stack of books and starts arranging them, but accidentally drops half. He hurriedly scoops them.]

BIBI: Well…at least someone's doing something. Too bad it's him. 

[Enter NOIJI, practically bouncing with excitement.]

NOIJI: GUYS! Did you hear?! OCTO EATS JUST OPENED UP DOWN THE STREET!

NAMIDA: Octo…what now?

NOIJI: Octo Eats! It's like, uhhm…it's uh—this new teen hub thing right next to Squid Sips! It's got everything.

MURASAKI: Everything?

WARABI: Wait, it opened next to Squid Sips?

NOIJI: Literally across the street, kinda. It's basically Squid Sips but cooler and cleaner.

TAKA: Cooler, eh? (turns to Bibi) You wanna check it out real quick?

BIBI: Obviously.

ICHIYA: But wait—what about raising money for Squid Sips? 

TAKA: That was before Octo Eats opened up. Only a loser would keep raising money for that place.

BIBI: For real. Plus, it always smells like Judd took a giant dump in there. We changed our minds. Later.

[TAKA and BIBI turn and begin walking off toward Octo Eats.]

NAMIDA: This is exactly why I hate popular people.

[Cut to: the inside of Octo Eats.]

CARRIE (MANAGER): (in a southern accent) Here we've got the smoothie bar—fully customizable blends. Over here? Booths for private gossip sessions. And that—is the karaoke x DDR area. 

IKKAN: Impressive…

NAMIDA: I hate to say it, but this looks way cooler than Squid Sips.

ICHIYA: True, but you know what it'll never have? Soul. 

WARABI: (gently, to manager) Um…do you think…maybe you could, like, donate to Squid Sips? 

CARRIE: Oh, sweetheart. Octo Eats was literally built to replace Squid Sips. 

IKKAN: (flatly) Okay. We have no choice. We're gonna steal from Principal Tartar's salary. 

NAMIDA: Are you out of your mind?! 

IKKAN: I've thought about it. It's the only source of untouchable cash in this town. No one even knows where the money goes.

ICHIYA: We could seriously get expelled. Or disappear…

MURASAKI: Principal Tartar's too busy messing with the Splatlands military to notice some missing zeroes. 

NAMIDA: Okay. First, we save Squid Sips. Then, we go to jail. Maybe prison.

CARRIE: So! What do you think? Can I sign you up for our breakfast program?

[Cut to: ICHIYA’S bedroom. ICHIYA lies on his stomach in his bed, flipping through a teen magazine with a sigh.] 

ICHIYA: “Top 10 Spots to Hang After School”…wow. Squid Sips isn't even here. 

[Sound of a soft knock on the door. His mom, Mrs. IRENE, steps in slowly.]

IRENE: Ichiya, sweetie, you've been up here for hours. Are you alright?

ICHIYA: Squid Sips is shutting down.

IRENE: Oh. That old shack near the bus stop?

ICHIYA: It's not just a shack. It's been my place since I was a kid. My friends and I…we've been trying to save it. We need two hundred grand.

IRENE: $200,000?

ICHIYA: Yep.

IRENE: Well…back in my day, when something mattered to us, we started bake sales, raffles, petitions. You know, campaigns. Earned the money.

ICHIYA: That's what we've been doing! But no one cares. Everyone's at that new Octo Eats place pretending it's the future.

IRENE: Sweetheart…I know Squid Sips meant a lot to you. But sometimes, things end. It happens. Even the best places close. Your father and I had a favorite gyro bar in New Amsterdam. Closed down overnight. It stung, but…that's life. Places come and go.

ICHIYA: Wow…I never thought of it like that.

[Long pause.]

ICHIYA: So can I have $200,000?

IRENE: Oh—! Are you out of your mind?!

ICHIYA: I swear, I'll pay you back…eventually.

IRENE: I'd rather donate that kind of money to the homeless! This conversation is over.

[She gets up from the couch, walking to the door and closing it behind her.]

ICHIYA: Desperate times call for desperate measures…

[Cut to: the outside of Inkopolis High School, night time. Four figures in hoodies gather quietly.]

IKKAN: Alright…we're all here. You guys got the supplies? 

NAMIDA: (pulls open a bag filled with rope, gloves and a flashlight) Yep. Rope. Gloves…flashlight…got it all. 

MURASAKI: Are we sure this is the right thing to do?

ICHIYA: No. But it's the only thing left. Principal Tartar's salary is our last hope.

[The camera cuts to a view of the school's side wall. A metal ventilation hangs slightly open.]

IKKAN: Okay, Namida. You climb the side wall in squid form. Murasaki and I will hold the rope steady. Once you're inside, wait near the vent for Ichiya's signal.

NAMIDA: Got it. But don't drop the rope, alright?

MURASAKI: I still can't believe we're breaking into school property…at night…with zero adult supervision…

ICHIYA: Chill. Worst-case scenario? We get expelled and arrested. But best-case scenario? Squid Sips lives.

[CAMERA: Cuts to a tight shot as NAMIDA transforms into her squid form and jumps up, suctioning onto the wall tile-by-tile while IKKAN and MURASAKI feed the rope upward. ICHIYA walks around the side of the school building, carefully pressing himself to the wall. He peeks into a side door with a plastic security panel and pulls out a stolen keycard.]

ICHIYA: Please still work…

[He swipes the card. The door opens.] 

ICHIYA: Yes.

[He slips inside the empty school hallway. The lights are off, save for the red blinking of the security camera sensors. He pulls out a small spray bottle, mists it upward at a camera, and it flickers.]

ICHIYA: (into walkie) Cameras are out. Proceed to the vent. I'll give you the signal when the coast is clear.

[Cut to NAMIDA at the vent. She pries the vent cover open slowly with a screwdriver. It clangs softly.]

NAMIDA: (into walkie) Copy. Vent's open. Waiting on your signal. 

[ICHIYA sneaks further into the school, hugging the lockers as he peers down the hallway. All clear. He presses the walkie.]

ICHIYA: Go.

[Dramatic cut to NAMIDA slipping into the vent shaft, her flashlight flicking on. Dust floats in the air around her as she begins crawling slowly through the tight space toward PRINCIPAL TARTAR'S office.]

NAMIDA: Ugh…this vent is disgusting. It's like no one's cleaned it since the Great Turf War…

[She wipes her face with her sleeve, leaving a streak of dust across her cheek.]

IKKAN: (through walkie) You're almost at the office, right? Please say yes. My arms are turning into spaghetti. 

[NAMIDA snorts—then suddenly sneezes. Loudly.]

IKKAN: (panicked whisper) Shh! Try to hold it in!

NAMIDA: It's the dust! I'm allergic! I think.

[Cut to: ICHIYA inside the hallway. He pauses near the office door as hears faint noises above—then suddenly ducks behind a trophy case as a flashlight beam sweeps the hallway.] 

SECURITY GUARD: …No one ever breaks into a school. Why do we even do night rounds…

[The guard walks past. ICHIYA peeks from behind the case and breathes a sigh of relief.]

ICHIYA: (into walkie) Guys. I'm outside the door. But it's locked. Namida, once you're inside, open it from the other side. 

NAMIDA: (sniffing) Yeah, yeah. Almost there. Just trying not to die of dust poisoning.

[Cut to: NAMIDA reaching the grating above the office. She peers through the metal stats. Below, PRINCIPAL TARTAR’S, CRAIG'S, AND OCTAVIO'S office is seen. Humming computers, and…a wallet resting right in the center of the desk.]

NAMIDA: These guys just leave their wallets sitting here like that? And I thought I was an idiot.

IKKAN: Alright, we'll feed you the rope. Don't. Fall. 

[NAMIDA slowly descends into the office, her flashlight casting shaky shadows across the walls.]

NAMIDA: Almost…got it…

[She reaches down carefully, her fingers brushing the wallet. She grabs it.]

NAMIDA: Got it! Okay, pulling back up—wait, no. Gonna let Ichiya in first.

[The door creaks open.]

ICHIYA: Finally. Took you long enough.

NAMIDA: Alright…moment of truth. 

[She unclasps the fold. The wallet opens. Inside are crisp, neat stacks of cash—hundreds upon hundreds of bills. NAMIDA'S eyes widen.] 

NAMIDA: …This is way more than $200,000. 

ICHIYA: Whoa. That's…like, mafia money levels of cash.

[NAMIDA pulls out a small handful and fans them in the air like a deck of cards.]

NAMIDA: I'm smart enough to know that even principals don't get paid this much. What's he even doing with this? Is this what the military budget goes to now? 

ICHIYA: Okay. New plan. We take the whole wallet.

NAMIDA: What?! Ichiya—no! Do you want to end up on a wanted poster?! 

ICHIYA: Maybe, but think about it. If we take exactly $200,000, they'll definitely know something's up. But if we take the whole wallet? It could've been anyone.

NAMIDA: Literally all three of them will notice, dumbass! 

ICHIYA: Then we better move fast.

[Suddenly—click! The harsh glare of a flashlight hits them. Behind them, a figure stands in the doorway. A security guard with a thick mustache and sleepy eyes blinks at them, squinting in confusion.]

SECURITY GUARD: What's going on in here?

[ICHIYA freezes. NAMIDA hides the wallet behind her back.]

ICHIYA: Oh, hey! You, uhh—scared us!

NAMIDA: Yeah, totally. Everything's good. Just a routine…sweep..?

SECURITY GUARD: Routine sweep?

ICHIYA: We're the Student Security Task Force. It's a new thing. The principal's approved it. For safety. 

NAMIDA: Yeah! We were told to, uh, check rooms like the principal's office. For rodents. Or burglars. 

SECURITY GUARD: And that's why you're holding that wallet behind your back?

ICHIYA: Hey, well it's their fault for just leaving it out in the open.

NAMIDA: (punching him on the shoulder) Ichiya!

SECURITY GUARD: You two are in big trouble, you know that?

[At the front of Inkopolis High, parents are gathered around, including ICHIYA'S mom.]

IRENE: I am so disappointed in you. Stealing? Stealing, Ichiya?! From school official's?!

ICHIYA: (head down, mumbling) It wasn't stealing if it was for a good cause…

IRENE: Enough. You're grounded for one whole week. 

[MURASAKI rubs his neck awkwardly, glancing over at ICHIYA.]

MURASAKI: Sorry, dude. We tried. But Squid Sips is probably done for. 

IRENE: Wait a minute. This was about Squid Sips?

NAMIDA: Yeah, we just didn't know what else to do. Nothing was working. 

IKKAN: We’re talking absolutely nothing. 

[IRENE looks over the group. She softens just slightly, rubbing her temples and groaning.]

IRENE: I swear to cod…I can't believe I'm doing this.

[She pulls out her wallet, giving ICHIYA cash.]

IRENE: $200,000. But only because you clearly went huge lengths to care about that ridiculous, health-code-violating grease dump.

[The group is shocked. ICHIYA stares at her in stunned silence.]

ICHIYA: Wait—seriously?! 

IRENE: Yes, but you're still grounded.

[ICHIYA pouts.]

IRENE: …Fine. You're not grounded this week. 

ICHIYA: Really?!

IRENE: You're grounded next week.

[Fade into: the newly-rebuilt squid sips. The four teens sit at a table, eating away.]

IKKAN: This place still kinda sucks. But…I guess I missed it, too. I just didn't wanna admit it. 

NAMIDA: You? Sentimental? Never thought I'd see the day. 

ICHIYA: I learned today that both restaurants can coexist. Sure, Octo Eats may be cleaner…but nothing will ever feel like Squid Sips. 

NAMIDA: You're not wrong. 

[Just then, the door jingles. WARABI walks in, adjusting his jacket.]

WARABI: Hey, Ikkan!

[IKKAN looks up from his sandwich.] 

WARABI: There's a festival next weekend. You wanna come with? 

[ICHIYA leans forward.]

ICHIYA: (grinning) Oooooh!

IKKAN: Huh? Wait, like…hang out?

[WARABI is about to respond, when the door slams open behind him.] 

BIBI: And you just let the car splash me with water? What the hell’s wrong with you? 

TAKA: I didn't even notice! 

[BIBI walks straight to the table. She flips her hair over her shoulder, ignoring WARABI completely.]

BIBI: Hey, Ikkan. You free next week? We should totally study for the coach's test together. At my place. 

[IKKAN blinks. His face lights up.]

IKKAN: Oh, uhm…yeah. Yeah, totally. I'm up for it.

[WARABI slowly crumples the festival paper in his hands.]

WARABI: Right! Never mind, then. 

[He turns and walks out slowly as the group continues chatting. Cue credits.] 

Chapter Text

[The classroom is buzzing with chatter. Some students toss paper balls, others gossip in groups. Ichiya leans back in his chair, smirking as he listens to Murasaki rant about cafeteria food. Ikkan sits with his arms folded, and Namida is doodling in her notebook. DOOR SLAMS OPEN.]

MR. GRIZZ: Alright, class. Shut your traps and park your tails in those seats! 

[The students freeze instantly, scrambling back to their desks. The room goes dead silent except for the sound of one chair squeaking. Mr. Grizz tosses a thick stack of papers on his desk with a thud.]

MR. GRIZZ: Finally, peace. Now, let's get this over with—

[Suddenly, the P.A. system crackles. Everyone looks up.]

P.A. (COMMANDER TARTAR): Attention, all students. Effective immediately, every individual is required to join a special class designed to enhance your…usefulness. A role convention will be held in the cafeteria after today's lessons. Failure to participate will result in disciplinary action—specifically, relocation to the Death Maze. 

[Gasps ripple through the classroom. Some students whisper nervously.]

ICHIYA: (pumping his fist with a grin) Oh man, I hope I get into the Be Cool and Awesome class. That's the one worthy of me. 

IKKAN: How many times do I have to tell you that that class doesn't exist. 

NAMIDA: If anything, they'll probably just toss us into dance class. Like, imagine us doing ballet in front of everybody—

[She does a little mock twirl in her chair. Ichiya snorts, Ikkan rolls his eyes, and Murasaki just shakes his head.]

MURASAKI: Doesn't matter what they choose. I can't join any special classes. I'm already special.

ICHIYA: In what way?

MURASAKI: Secrets that can't be shared with anyone. 

ICHIYA: Then why tell us?

MURASAKI: Because I can. 

[He flips his nonexistent hair dramatically, but no one claps. Suddenly, Mr. Grizz's phone rings. He picks it up, and his grumpy face immediately lights up.] 

MR. GRIZZ: Wait, what? Vacation? For me? Heh, don't mind if I do! 

[He slams the phone down, beaming. The students are stunned—no one's ever seen him happy before.] 

MR. GRIZZ: Guess what, suckas? I'm outta here for a few days. Try not to destroy the classroom while I'm gone—actually, scratch that, I don't care.

[He grabs his fishing hat and bag from under the desk, whistles a tune, and stomps out the door. The class sits there in silence, dumbfounded.]

NAMIDA: So…who's gonna teach us, now?

ICHIYA: I guess free time? 

MURASAKI: Well, I heard somewhere that when a teacher isn't present, the class can leave.

IKKAN: Makes sense.

[Everyone packs up and begins to leave. Cue theme song.]

[The cafeteria is packed. Students crowd around giant bulletin boards where the assignments are posted. Some cheer with excitement, others groan in despair. Ichiya, Namida, Ikkan, and Murasaki weave through the crowd to find their names on the list.]

ICHIYA: (leaning in, squinting) Okay, okay…I found us. Let's see…”Ichiya, Namida, Ikkan, Murasaki…” 

[The words: DANCE CLASS. His face drops. He slaps a hand dramatically over his forehead.]

ICHIYA: Oh, dear god…

NAMIDA: CALLED IT. 

ICHIYA: Nononono—this is your fault. You jinxed it! 

NAMIDA: Hey, I didn't jinx it. It's not like miracles are real, or whatever. 

MURASAKI: Eh, maybe it's not so bad. I can probably learn the cha-cha slide.

ICHIYA: How do you mess up the cha-cha slide?

IKKAN: Okay, but…out of all dances, that? 

MURASAKI: It's a classic! 

NAMIDA: It only came out a year ago. 

ICHIYA: Okay, we're getting off topic. The point is, none of us know how to dance! We'll look like absolute clowns out there!

IKKAN: Which is why dance class exists for a reason. They don't expect us to know everything right away. That's kinda the point of learning. 

ICHIYA: But I was supposed to be in the “Be Cool and Awesome” class!

IKKAN: THAT CLASS. DOES. NOT. EXIST. 

NAMIDA: Guys, enough. I'm sure we're able to change classes, right?

[Behind them, groups of other students are reacting to their assignments.] 

MARINA: Yes! Weapon Engineering! Finally, something for me…

PARUKO: Cooking Class? I mean, sure.

CALLIE: Cheer practice everyday? This is the BEST. 

[Murasaki watches them with interest, hands in his pockets.] 

MURASAKI: They're all so excited about what they got…so maybe we should at least try our best? 

ICHIYA: Not you, too…

MURASAKI: Think about it. Dancing is rhythm, right? Coordination teamwork. Kinda like music. Maybe we could practice like a band in that way. 

NAMIDA: Ooooh, a band. I think Ikkan mentioned that? 

ICHIYA: Dancing is in no way related to band! And we're NOT making one either way. 

IKKAN: Come onnn. You'd be the lead singer and guitarist if you wanted to. 

ICHIYA: I would not! 

[Suddenly, Warabi approaches.]

WARABI: Uh—hey, Ikkan!

IKKAN: Oh, uh…hey, Warabi. What's up?

WARABI: So…what special class did you get?

IKKAN: (flat) Dancing.

WARABI: (brightening) Oh! I got art class! Isn't that perfect? I've always wanted to express myself with painting, with color, with…lines that curve into emotions you can't say out loud…and, the way—

IKKAN: Mhm…

[Warabi keeps talking, growing more animated.]

WARABI: Uh. But dance class---that's great, too! Movement is art, Ikkan. The rhythm of your heart, the sway of your body---it's all a painting in motion! But…y'know…maybe you could…uh…switch into art class? If you ever have the chance? So we'd, uh, be in the same one. Together. 

[Ikkan blinks at him. For a second, he seems to actually consider it.] 

IKKAN: Hmm…that doesn't sound too bad, honestly.

[But then, across the room, Ikkan's gaze locks on Bibi and Taka, who are standing by the bulletin board.]

BIBI: Dance class? I guess…I'm more into accounting, though. 

[Ikkan is now completely focused on her.]

IKKAN: …Yeah, no. On second thought, I'll stick with dance. 

[Warabi's face drops. He forces a small smile, trying not to show his disappointment.] 

WARABI: Oh. Alright. That's fine, too. I don't care. 

[In Tartar's office, the camera pans across the room. Tartar sits hunched over, adjusting himself as he goes through files.]

TARTAR: Let's see here…student evaluations. Hmph. 

[He flips through the first one.]

TARTAR: Ichiya. Cocky little loudmouth. No sense of discipline, only talks about being “cool.” Pathetic. (flips through another) Namida…never serious. Always cracking jokes and is a bit of a pushover. A distraction waiting to happen. (flips through another) Ikkan…tries too hard to be reasonable. Weak spine. And don't get me started on that face. (he narrows his eyes, continuing) Murasaki…oh, he thinks he's “special”, does he? I've seen celebs with more originality. Taka…stubborn, no respect for authority. Bibi…always complaining. If I had a penny for every whine I've heard, I'd be rich. Marina…little DJ wannabe. Also a pushover. Pearl…loud, brash, rude. 

[He closes the files with a snap of his hand, satisfied with his critiques. Craig Cuttlefish walks up to him, and Octavio leans back in a chair.]

CRAIG: Uh…with all due respect, don't you think maybe you're being a bit too harsh on the kids? Maybe you should, you know…try listening to them with a little more compassion.

OCTAVIO: Hmph. Can't believe I'm sayin’ this, but the guy has a point. Even I think you treat ‘em more like test subjects than students. And I hate agreeing with him! 

TARTAR: SILENCE, both of you. You work for me. If you want to keep your jobs, you'll fall in line. My system is flawless. These students need order, not…compassion. 

[Craig and Octavio exchange a glance.]

OCTAVIO: Y'know what you need? A sweater vest. 

TARTAR: …Excuse me?

CRAIG: Actually…Octavio's onto somethin'! Studies show that a sweater vest can soften your image, make you seem more approachable to the youth. It's all about psychology!

TARTAR: (deadpan) The key…to student obedience…is a sweater vest? 

CRAIG: Not obedience. Understanding. If the kids see you as less of a scary, rigid…talkin’ telephone—no offense—maybe they'd trust you more.

TARTAR: The only sweater vest I own is buried somewhere in storage. Dusty. Old. I haven't worn it in years, and I don't intend to start now. 

OCTAVIO: Figures. Too scared to rock the vest, eh? 

TARTAR: Quiet! Back to work. 

[The two leave the room. Tartar mutters under his breath while looking through more files.]

TARTAR: Sweater vests…a more stupider idea than that ridiculous teen-aimed program I constantly see on TV. 

[Dance classroom. The studio is large, and students shuffle in. Ichiya, Namida, Ikkan, and Murasaki are dressed in dance-appropriate clothes. The door swings open dramatically.]

MRS. KELLY: Hellloooo, class! Welcome to Dance 101 with Mrs. Kelly Koolfish! 

[She skips in, wearing a neon outfit. A baby is strapped to her back in a pouch. She is an Inkling.]

MRS. KELLY: As you can see, I come prepared—with family! This little guppy is number fourteen out of my fourteen wonderful children. And yes—before you ask—I do have a wonderful husband!

[Namida raises an eyebrow.]

NAMIDA: Umm…Mrs. Koolfish, isn't it, like…dangerous to do dance routines with a baby strapped to your back? Maybe you shouldn't—

MRS. KELLY: Sweetheart, unless you've raised fourteen children while teaching class, you don't get to tell me how to juggle life. So kindly shut that pretty little mouth and follow the beat, okay? 

[Namida's eyes widened, a little offended. Ichiya leans closer to Ikkan, smirking.] 

ICHIYA: (whispering) She's toootally a cuckoo-head. 

IKKAN: (shrugging) Eh, not that weird to me. My mom carried me around in one of those pouches for, like, two years straight. I turned out fine.

MURASAKI: Uhh…yeah. Sure you did, buddy.

ICHIYA: …

IKKAN: What? It's true.

MRS. KELLY: (oblivious, clapping) Alright, future stars, positions! Let's start with some exercises. And remember —when you dance, dance like nobody's watchin’. Except maybe my husband. Who's probably watching the other thirteen kids right now. 

[Later, the students are still on basic dance routines. Bibi leans against the wall, holding a water bottle, looking mildly annoyed.]

BIBI: Ugh…it's way too hot in here. Who even designed this studio? It's like a sauna for losers.

[Ikkan strolls over, hands in pockets, looking half-amused.]

IKKAN: (dryly) I can help cool you off. 

[Bibi raises an eyebrow, smirking.]

BIBI: I have a boyfriend, you know.

IKKAN: (holding up his hands, defensive) What? No, I didn't mean it like that. I literally just meant…like…fans, water, AC…you know—literally anything.

[Bibi tilts her head, clearly skeptical, then shrugs.]

BIBI: Well, someone like you can probably go fill my water bottle then.

[Namida, noticing the commotion, approaches with her usual sarcastic energy.]

NAMIDA: Honestly? Don't bother. That water fountain is already teeming with enough herpes-germs as it is. 

[Bibi scowls, leaning forward with hands on hips.]

BIBI: Excuse me? You already have herpes, so who are you lecturing, huh? 

NAMIDA: Oh, please. You probably get herpes from kissing Taka all the time. Face it, your lips are basically a Petri dish. 

[Bibi glares at Namida, rolling her eyes. Ikkan sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to stop the escalating banter.]

IKKAN: Alright, alright. I'll just go fill your water bottle. 

[Bibi's expression softens, a small smile forming.]

BIBI: Thanks. You're…a good person. Unlike Namida.

[Namida clenches her fists in frustration, but remains silent, glaring daggers into both people.]

NAMIDA: Bitch. 

[Ikkan shrugs and walks off to the halls, bottle in hand.]

[Commercial break.]

[Cut to: the art classroom. Warabi sits hunched over his canvas, intensely focused. His brushes move with deliberate strokes. Remember to Breathe by Dashboard Confessional plays.] 

WARABI: Why does she have to be so…perfect? And Taka—ugh! What an annoying prick. 

[Mizole, sitting on a stool next to Warabi, sighs and shakes his head.]

MIZOLE: What're you painting?

WARABI: Something.

[The camera then shows his full painting—three stick figures.]

MIZOLE: (exasperated) You know, your constant complaining is really starting to get to me, Warabi. 

WARABI: It's not just complaining! It's…Bibi! She's trying to get with the boy I love! Ikkan! But she's dating Taka, that huge jerk. It's a mess. 

MIZOLE: Yeah…I can see why that'd bother you. But there's only so much I can do, y'know? Though…maybe there are a few tips online that could help you. The internet exists. 

[Warabi pauses mid-brush, looking at his painting, then back at Mizole with wide eyes.]

WARABI: Why didn't I ever think of that sooner…

MIZOLE: You're one of those guys, eh?

WARABI: You're not too far off…

[In the hallways, Ikkan is bent slightly over the water fountain, filling Bibi's water bottle. He glances around to make sure no one is watching too closely.]

TAKA: (walking up confidently, arms crossed) Hey. I got my eyes on you.

IKKAN: …What for? 

TAKA: Even if you're in dance class with Bibi, just…don't make any moves. Capiche?

[Ikkan doesn't say anything, keeping his hand on the bottle. Taka stares down at him.]

TAKA: Huh…what's that?

[He points to the water bottle in Ikkan's hand.]

IKKAN: It's…uh…just a water bottle.

TAKA: Whose is it?

IKKAN: (sighs) It's Bibi's, alright? 

TAKA: Bibi's, huh? Could be code for cheating. I'm still watching you.

IKKAN: You don't have to watch my every move all the time. 

TAKA: Maybe I'll stop when you stop trying to steal my girlfriend. 

PEARL: (from behind) Can y'all move, maybe? You two are hoggin’ the water fountain. 

[Ikkan and Taka jump slightly, surprised, then glance at each other.]

IKKAN: He started it! 

TAKA: No, you did!

PEARL: Holy hell. There's enough water for everyone without turning it into a duel. Now move out of the way! 

[The two move out of the way as Pearl walks up to the fountain and begins drinking from it.]

[Cut to: Tartar's house. Music, audience applause and clapping plays, almost sitcom style as Tartar enters. He takes off both his hat and coat, and puts them on the coathanger.] 

TARTAR: Why, just look at this place. I haven't cleaned this house since I graduated from Fine Phone Arts! 

[He gestures vaguely around the room, showing piles of papers, old electronics, and random knick-knacks.] 

TARTAR: Well…better get to work. 

[Tartar shuffles over to the closet, opens the doors, and a mountain of junk almost collapses onto him. CDs, VHS tapes, stuffed animals, etc tumble out.]

TARTAR: (picking up the DVDs): Ah! I've been looking for this one forever! Humanity's Greatest Volume 52…Inklings: The Real Enemies…The Goonies…huh. I never had a childhood, did I?

[Tartar throws the DVDs and other items into a pile on the floor, cheerfully tossing junk aside.]

TARTAR: Who needs all of this stuff, anyway?! 

[He digs around the closet and pulls out a sparkling red sweater.] 

TARTAR: …Eugh.

[But, he quickly slips it on. He steps in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting it carefully.]

TARTAR: Huh…hmm…mhm…oh, that's bad. 

[He sighs and walks outside. Birds chirp, a neighbor waves from across the street.]

TARTAR: (cheerfully, waving back) Good morning, neighbor! Lovely day, isn't it?

[He gasps audibly, staring at his reflection in a nearby window as he walks by. There's a sudden realization in his eyes.] 

TARTAR: What? Wait. No. It's not an illusion? The sweater vest…it actually makes me…kind? 

[Audience laughter and applause as Tartar grins, nodding in disbelief.] 

TARTAR: Who knew a simple sweater vest could change everything?

[Cut to: Ichiya's house. Everyone is lounging around in his bedroom.]

MURASAKI: Ugh…even one dance class makes me tired all the way through…

IKKAN: Yeah, we should've switched to art when we had the chance. 

NAMIDA: Definitely.

ICHIYA: (snatching a soda from his mini-fridge) Pfft…a bunch of losers like us are never gonna make the grade if we don't pass dance class. We'll have to…think of something. 

NAMIDA: Or, we could just drop out?

IKKAN: Or…we could make a rock band that makes a ton of money, then we won't even have to worry about school anymore. 

MURASAKI: Or…we could actually do the stuff they tell us to do instead of running away from it. 

ICHIYA: (grinning) No, no, no…I've got a better idea. We'll cheat!

EVERYONE: WHAT?! 

NAMIDA: Dude, that's kind of a violation.

ICHIYA: Violation, schmialation…I've cheated before and got away with it—daycare, kindergarten, middle school…never got caught once. 

IKKAN: Yeah, I'm 100% sure you're gonna cheat on your future wife, too. 

ICHIYA: (gasps, clutching his chest in mock offense) EXCUSE ME?! How dare you?! 

NAMIDA: We're not cheating, Ichiya.

ICHIYA: But I've got a really good plan, this time! 

MURASAKI: Uh…how good is “really good” exactly? 

ICHIYA: Let's just say…this one's foolproof.

[Cut to: the living room. Ikkan is sitting on the couch, with Murasaki eating popcorn and Namida sitting cross-legged on the floor. Ichiya is standing confidently at the front, holding a pointer.] 

ICHIYA: Alright, listen up! I've devised a foolproof plan to cheat our way through dance class.

NAMIDA: Well, let's see it.

ICHIYA: (gesturing to the whiteboard, which has drawings) Step one: Observe Mrs. Kelly during class. Step two: Mimic her moves exactly, but add our own flair that she won't notice. Step three: Practice beforehand in secret using mirrors. Step four: On the day of the class, we execute flawlessly while making it look natural. Step five: Profit. 

IKKAN: …That's not really foolproof. That's just practicing how to be good. 

ICHIYA: Step six! Cover all our tracks by pretending we've been practicing for months. Step seven: If all else fails, distraction. 

NAMIDA: I mean…it does sound like it could work. But when exactly are we gonna do this?

ICHIYA: Tomorrow.

MURASAKI: TOMORROW?! That's way too soon!

ICHIYA: That's the thing! Mrs. Kelly won't even suspect anything if we already look like great dancers. 

NAMIDA: She'll think we're way too good to be in dance class and kick us out immediately. 

ICHIYA: I have no problem with that outcome. Now everyone, get a good night's sleep. Because tomorrow, the world will remember our name.

[Suddenly, the TV comes on.]

TV ANNOUNCER: (overly dramatic) Tired of embarrassing yourself on the dance floor? Want to be the ultimate dancing sensation without breaking a sweat? Introducing…the Dlasses! Wear them, and instantly be invisible to everyone around you! Plus, your limbs will dance on their own, flawlessly, as if guided by a master puppeteer! Dlasses—the ultimate shortcut! 

[The screen shows silhouettes of various people dancing.]

ICHIYA: (eyes widening) That's…that's it! That's our solution! Forget cheating, we'll just get Dlasses! 

NAMIDA: You do realize those cost a fortune, right? And plus, even if we somehow get them…

IKKAN: We shouldn't really have to go through all this just to pass dance class. It's dance, not life or death. 

ICHIYA: Nonsense, my friends! In a land of freedom, why shouldn't we take the ultimate risk to fulfill our dreams? Why follow the rules when the rules themselves are merely suggestions? In this world, anything is possible, and the bold shall reap the rewards! 

NAMIDA: Mhm.

ICHIYA: (pacing around) We are in Inkopolis, the land of the free. And in the land of the free, we dance however we choose! With Dlasses, we shall conquer the flood, dazzle the instructor, and achieve greatness the likes of which this city has ever seen! 

MURASAKI: Wow, that was the most inspirational speech of inspirational speeches I ever heard…I'm in! 

NAMIDA: Ugh…fine. I guess if we're gonna go down, we go down together.

IKKAN: Whatever. 

ICHIYA: Cue montage! 

[Cue montage. Ichiya's mom hands him a check, and the montage ends before he knows it.]

ICHIYA: Thanks, mom! 

MURASAKI: I'm so glad we didn't have to do an entire montage. Your parents are rich, after all. 

ICHIYA: Naturally. When you've got everything, Mura, why struggle?

[Cut to: Tartar's office. Marina sits nervously on a chair in front of Tartar's desk.]

MARINA: Principal Tartar…I wanted to…um…talk to you about some stuff. I've been having a hard time keeping up with schoolwork and projects, and I just…

TARTAR: Marina Ida, listen. I'm here for you whenever you need it. Don't hesitate.

[Behind the other door, Craig and Octavio peek in, whispering to each other.]

CRAIG: Honestly, I'm glad his days of being the strict, cold-hearted monster are over. 

OCTAVIO: Huh…yeah. 

[Marina takes a deep breath.]

MARINA: Just a day ago, you were looking over student logs. And…

TARTAR: Wait. How did you find that out?

[Marina looks down, composing herself.]

MARINA: I…I just wanted to say…thank you. For helping me today. It means a lot. And if I ever struggle again, I'll come back to ask for help.

[She picks up her bag and starts to leave. The camera pans back to Craig and Octavio, wiping imaginary tears.]

CRAIG: Finally. He's being nice…

OCTAVIO: He's…changed. And he's actually…a good person…

[They both look at each other before crying.]

BOTH: We never thought we'd see the day! 

[Cut to: the dance studio.]

MRS. KELLY: (clapping hands together, cheerful) Alright, everyone! Today we're going to do a full rehearsal of all the routines we've been learning. I want you to focus, keep your energy up, and try not to trip over your own feet! 

[The four glance at each other nervously. They're all dressed in bright dance attire.]

ICHIYA: (whispering) Remember, guys—Dlasses.

[The rehearsal begins. Students move around, practicing synchronized routines. Flailing and awkward steps. Finally, the rehearsal ends.]

MRS. KELLY: Excellent effort today, everyone! Off to the locker rooms for a little break before we go over the next routine. 

[Cut to: locker rooms. The gang sits on benches, putting on the Dlasses they purchased.] 

MURASAKI: Whoa…I can see…the future. 

IKKAN: Really? All I see are these holograms of everyone around us…it's kinda creepy. 

NAMIDA: That's probably the “tracking” feature they mentioned in the commercial. It's showing us the positions of the other dancers.

ICHIYA: Tracking…puppeteering…this thing is wayyy too advanced for the 1,2000s! 

[A fellow student walks past the locker room door. They don't notice the Dlasses glowing faintly in the group's heads.]

MURASAKI: Phew…

NAMIDA: Yeah, we'll have to be careful with these things. One slip-up, and Mrs. Kelly bans us from dance class for life…

ICHIYA: Relax, Nami! With these on, we're untouchable! We're basically superheroes. 

[Later in class, Mrs. Kelly stands at the front, clapping her hands.]

MRS. KELLY: Alright, everyone! Today we're going to run through the routine from start to finish. Remember your counts, your steps, and your energy! 

[The music starts. Students begin moving awkwardly—many struggle to keep up. Meanwhile, Ichiya, Namida, Ikkan, and Murasaki move with perfect precision. The other students stop mid-move, staring in awe. Even the baby on Mrs. Kelly's chest looks impressed.]

MRS. KELLY: (walking over, astonished) Wait…how…how are you four moving like that? You've only been in class for two days!

ICHIYA: (grinning confidently) Oh, it's just practice. Lots and lots of practice. 

NAMIDA: Nothing really special.

IKKAN: Just natural talent.

MURASAKI: And magic!

ICHIYA: Seriously. 

MRS. KELLY: I'm…very impressed! Honestly, you four should consider teaching the class instead! 

ICHIYA: Teaching? Us? No way…

NAMIDA: We barely got it right ourselves! 

IKKAN: No thanks. 

MURASAKI: Yes, please! 

[Ichiya elbows Murasaki's chest.] 

[Cut to: Tartar's office. Warabi is lying on a therapy chair, looking frustrated. Tartar sits behind his desk, arms folded.]

WARABI: I just don't get it, Principal Tartar…he just doesn't notice me. He's always staring at Bibi, always following her around like a lovesick puppy! And I'm right here, being ignored! 

TARTAR: Hmmm…well, Mr. Watanabe, I'm not entirely familiar with the…social intricacies of today's youth, but perhaps I can offer some assistance. 

WARABI: (sitting up slightly) Really? You mean, like…real assistance?

TARTAR: Indeed. 

[Tartar reaches into a drawer, rummages around, and pulls out a single Snickers bar. He hands it to Warabi.]

TARTAR: Your very own candy bar!

WARABI: Oh, Principal, this is the best thing that's ever—wait, what? (raising an eyebrow) How is a candy bar supposed to help me with any of this? 

TARTAR: It will, trust me! (hands the Snickers bar to him) Sometimes, all you need to adjust your attitude is a little…sustenance. I follow the motto: “Snickers—you're gonna need it.” 

WARABI: (standing up) I should've never come here. 

[He storms toward the door, tossing the Snickers bar into a nearby trashcan.]

TARTAR: Hm. Strange…I thought I was doing something right.

OCTAVIO: What I'm concerned about is the way he wasted a good candy bar. 

[Craig bursts into the office, holding a colorful flyer.] 

CRAIG: You two! Listen to this! Apparently, there's gonna be a stage performance on Friday, held right here at the school!

TARTAR: (suddenly perking up) A performance, you say? Oh, goodie! (claps his hands) 

CRAIG: No matter what, I think it's gonna be a spectacle. He, maybe you should come see it with us, Tartar! 

TARTAR: Tempting. But, we have much more important manners at hand to take care of. Such as watering these beautiful flowers! 

[He points at flowers—which have already rotted at this point. Craig and Octavio blink.]

[Cut to: Ichiya's house. Everyone is hanging out inside of his room.]

ICHIYA: Can you believe this? Thanks to those stupid Dlasses, and Mura's enthusiasm, we're gonna have to perform in front of everyone! On Friday! 

IKKAN: (arms crossed) I told you, man. Wearing those things was a bad idea in the first place. 

NAMIDA: Yeah, seriously. They're just technology crutches. They make you think you're good, but what happens when it's showtime? 

MURASAKI: I dunno…I still think these are kind of cool. I mean, they're invisible to everyone and let you mimic any move…that's awesome! 

ICHIYA: Awesome?! Are you hearing yourself? This is really bad! What happens if the Dlasses fail, or fall off? I can already see it…lights on, music blaring and us just…standing there, looking like complete idiots. Everyone laughs, and some are probably filming us! 

IKKAN: That's…exactly why we shouldn't have used them.

NAMIDA: Yeah, thanks, Ichiya, for embarrassing us once again. 

MURASAKI: Eh…I guess it could be fun? 

ICHIYA: THIS IS DANCE CLASS! Clearly, this isn't fun at all! We have to perform, and if we fail, we'll never live it down! 

IKKAN: Not that we'll ever live it down, anyway…

ICHIYA: (turning sharply to Ikkan) Exactly! That's why we need a plan. We can't just rely on the Dlasses—we need to master these dances, or we're doomed!

NAMIDA: Ichiya, you always make everything sound like a life-or-death situation. 

ICHIYA: Because it kind of is. Cue montage! 

[Cue montage. Various moments show the gang practicing—even without the dancing. After dance class again, the group meets up in the locker rooms.] 

ICHIYA: Well, it's official, guys. After days of practice…we still suck. 

[The group groans.]

MURASAKI: Yeah, maybe we should really stick to the Dlasses. 

[Commercial break.] 

[Cut to: Namida's house. She's practicing dance moves she learned in class—when the door opens quietly.] 

NAMIDA'S DAD: Uh…sorry to interrupt, pumpkin.

NAMIDA: Oh! Hi, Dad. 

NAMIDA'S DAD: Don't worry about it. I just wanted to see…I'm glad to see you dancing. You were never really into this type of stuff before.

NAMIDA: Well, I kinda had to join…Principal Tartar made me.

NAMIDA'S DAD: Doesn't matter why, sweetie. I'm proud of you for sticking with it. 

NAMIDA: Uh. Yeah! I'm really happy to be there. 

[Her dad smiles and begins to leave the room.] 

NAMIDA'S DAD: Alright, well, dinner tonight is spaghetti. Your favorite. I think. 

[Namida exhales deeply once the door closes. She slumps onto her bed, staring at the floor for a moment. She glances at her Dlasses on the desk.]

NAMIDA: What the hell am I gonna do with you? 

[She picks them up, turning them over in her hands. Her eyes wander to a poster on her wall—a dolphin wearing sunglasses, holding a fistful of money. Namida's eyes widen. A small smirk forms on her face.] 

NAMIDA: Hmm…

[Cut to: Warabi's room. Warabi leans forward at the computer typing furiously. The Booyah! homepage loads. Warabi clicks into the search bar and types in: “how to get a boy's interest.” He hits ENTER. A flood of links fill the screen.]

WARABI: (muttering to himself) Holy kelp, that's a lot.

[The list scrolls endlessy— “How To Attract Guys,” “Flirting 101 (1,1980's Archive) —and more.] 

WARABI: Okay, let's see what ancient wisdom you've got for me.

[The page opens with big, blocky clipart hearts. It reads: “HOW TO MAKE HIM NOTICE YOU— Step One: Drop your books in front of him.]

WARABI: Step two…giggle at everything he says. 

[He rubs his forehead, sighing. Suddenly, his bedroom door bursts open. Two small kids—his seven-year-old twin brothers, Watani and Watari, charge in.]

WATANI: Wabiii! Whatcha lookin’ at? 

WATARI: Oooh, is that…”how to kiss a boy”?! 

WARABI: What—NO! It's none of your business! 

[The twins run up beside him, trying to peek. Warabi holds his arms out protectively over the screen, panicking.]

WATANI: Warabi's got a crush! Warabi's got a crush! 

WATARI: Yeahhh, he's searching how to get boyfriends! 

WARABI: GET OUT! I mean it! This isn't funny! 

[The twins exchange glances.]

WATANI: C'mon. You're always crushing on that guy.

WATARI: Yeah, it's so painfully obvious. 

WARABI: I SAID GET OUT!

WATARI: Fine, whatever. Can we at least play games on your computer?

WARABI: No. Use the downstairs one, this one's busy. 

WATANI: The downstairs one's slow. 

WARABI: (snapping again) Not my problem! 

[The two twins stomp toward the door, and exit. Warabi slams the bedroom door shut behind them, locking it this time. He exhales shakily, leaning against it for a moment before dragging himself back to his chair.]

WARABI: Step Three…”I don't know, man”—what? Useless piece of junk. 

[Cut to: the sidewalks. Upbeat, cheerful background music plays—like a sitcom theme. Tartar walks down the sidewalk, chipper.]

TARTAR: (waving to a passing jogger) Good cardiovascular form, citizen! 

[The jogger looks confused, but gives him a thumbs up. Then, cut to Tartar carrying a paper bag of groceries for an elderly betta fish lady.] 

LADY: Oh, why thank you, young man! 

TARTAR: Strength is not wasted if not applied to service! 

[Cut to: Tartar helping a group of kids jump rope.]

KID: Faster, faster! 

[Tartar increases his speed, the rope whirling like a turbine. The kids scream in joy. SHOT: Tartar kneeling in a garden, pulling weeds.]

NEIGHBOR: Uh…thanks for the help, I guess?

TARTAR: Invasive growths must be eliminated for a stable environment. You're welcome. 

[SHOT: Tartar standing at a lemonade stand run by two children. He buys a cup, takes a sip, and then immediately slaps down an absurd amount of money.] 

TARTAR: Investing in future generations is the only true economy! 

[SHOT: Tartar rescuing a nudibranch stuck in a tree.]

TARTAR: Here, kitty kitty! 

[Suddenly, he's attacked by the nudibranch. The little girl beside him is awkwardly staring.]

[Cut to: the school auditorium. On stage, Mrs. Kelly struts to the microphone with a proud smile.]

MRS. KELLY: Ladies and gentlemen, students, and parents! In just one week—yes, ONE week—these young stars have managed to prove themselves as the class’ BEST dancers! Please give it up for…Ichiya, Namida, Ikkan, and the spiky one! 

[The crowd cheers loudly. Backstage, the group discusses.]

ICHIYA: Alright, team. We've been practicing for days now—nonstop, precision moves, sweat and tears….

NAMIDA: We've practiced, like, two times and went back to using the Dlasses. 

ICHIYA: Anyway! Focus! Now, everyone put on your Dlasses. 

[Namida casually shoves her hands into her pockets, suspiciously filled with cash and coins. She forces a sheepish smile.]

NAMIDA: Oh, yeah, about that…I kind of, uhh…lost them. Yeah. 

IKKAN: What. 

MURASAKI: YOU LOST THEM?! 

[Namida shrugs, feigning innocence.]

NAMIDA: Relax, it's not the end of the world. We can still dance without them, y'know. 

[Ichiya throws his hands up in exaggerated despair, pacing back and forth.]

ICHIYA: Well, we're doomed. Without Namida's Dlasses, how are we gonna perform well as a team?

[Finally, Ichiya stops pacing.]

ICHIYA: Alright. No Dlasses? No problem. We don't need ‘em, anyway. You know why? Because WE'RE the sparkle. The stage doesn't make us shine—we do! 

[The group blinks at him.] 

IKKAN: We're doomed. 

STAGE MANAGER: You four! You're up next!

ICHIYA: Remember-we're gonna do our best. That's all that matters. 

[Cut to: the stage. The curtains pull back. The quartet stand frozen in a line, staring at the massive audience of students, teachers, and parents.] 

MURASAKI: (whispering nervously) Uh, Ichiya…we haven't actually, like, done much practice. 

ICHIYA: (whispering back) Again, real legends just go with the flow. 

[The music kicks in—a redundant ‘80s classic.]

ICHIYA: Let's show ‘em what we got! 

[The quartet begins to dance, but it's janky and doesn't at all match up with how they've been pretending to dance like. The audience falls silent.]

ICHIYA: Okay, okay, don't panic. Just hype ‘em up! Hype ‘em up! 

[He throws his arms up.]

ICHIYA: Come on, Inkopolis High! Come on! 

AUDIENCE MEMBER #1: What is this?

AUDIENCE MEMBER #2: They're not even in sync! 

[The crowd starts to boo.]

ICHIYA: …Not the type of hype I was looking for, but anything works!

NAMIDA: Great idea, hype-man. Worked like a charm. 

ICHIYA: Okay, okay! Reverse psychology! Act like we don't care! That'll win ‘em back! 

[Suddenly, Mrs. Kelly storms onto the stage.] 

MRS. KELLY: Alright! Alright! Stop, stop, stop! I'm so sorry, everyone—please, forgive us! 

[The four freeze mid-motion. Bibi, standing in the audience with Taka, takes off her outer shirt, revealing a T-shirt underneath that reads: I ♡ TAKA.”]

NAMIDA: …Now what? 

ICHIYA: …Ah...alright, I'll just come out and say it. We…cheated.

[A ripple of murmurs spreads through the audience.]

ICHIYA: But hey—look around you You're all students, minus the teachers and staff in there. Who's to say you never did something similar?

[The audience shifts, confused.]

ICHIYA: Sure, we may suck at dancing, but the person who really sucks the most is…

[He points to Mrs. Kelly.]

ICHIYA: Her! She's the worst dance instructor in the world, and guess what—she has fourteen children! 

[Mrs. Kelly's jaw drops.]

MRS. KELLY: Excuse me?! Fourteen children does not make me a bad dancer! How dare you?! 

ICHIYA: Exactly my point…that's why you should fear us, because we're unstoppable! 

MRS. KELLY: ....That's it! You're all banned from my class! 

ICHIYA: And that, dear audience, was my plan all along. 

[Even the rest of the group exchange glances. Ikkan rubs his face in disbelief. Mrs. Kelly storms out.] 

ICHIYA: See? Sometimes honesty is the best policy. And you wanna know something else? We can suck sometimes. And that's okay. 

NAMIDA: Ehhh…

IKKAN: Well, I guess we're all allowed to be bad at something…

MURASAKI: Even I can suck. A lot. 

[Ichiya raises his arms to the audience.] 

ICHIYA: Look, everyone! Inkopolis High School…sucks! Special classes aren't for everyone—they're just another cheap tactic to make students do something they don't want to!

[The audience murmurs, unsure at first. Ichiya paces the stage.]

ICHIYA: But why take it lying down? We're gonna show them…school sucks, and we don't have to follow their rules!

[He jumps, striking a dramatic pose.]

ICHIYA: Come on, everybody! Let's riot! 

[Suddenly, students begin throwing papers, knocking over things, and cheering wildly. Tartar, Octavio, and Craig inspect through the doors. Suddenly, Tartar slams the doors open.] 

TARTAR: WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON HERE?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! 

[The students shrink back, some cowering.]

TARTAR: YOU WANNA KNOW SOMETHING. I WORE THIS SWEATER VEST BECAUSE I TRIED TO BE SUPPORTIVE! I TRIED TO BE NICE! AND THIS—THIS REMINDS ME WHY I CAN'T BE! 

[Silence.]

TARTAR: NOW, GET THE HELL OUT! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU! 

[Craig and Octavio stand behind him, awkwardly exchanging glances. Tartar slams the doors, and students begin to file out quietly.]

IKKAN: So…uh…what does this mean for our school record?

MURASAKI: (shrugs) Probably nothing good.

[The crowd begins to thin. Bibi smirks at Ikkan, then blows him a kiss.]

IKKAN: (blushing) Okay, yeah. Actually, this might be the best day I've ever had. 

[Ichiya grins, putting an arm around Namida and Murasaki.] 

ICHIYA: See? We did manage to save the day. 

NAMIDA: We got banned from someone's class just because of you.

ICHIYA: …Which was the intention! 

[In his office, Tartar opens the door, and starts to feel uncomfortable with himself.] 

TARTAR: What is this feeling…coming from? Eugh. 

[He throws the sweater vest onto the ground.]

TARTAR: I don't need this anymore.

OCTAVIO: Well, it was nice while it lasted, I guess. 

CRAIG: Maybe you should consider putting it back on sometime?

TARTAR: No. Absolutely not. 

[He rips the vest apart, putting it on a metal tray. He grabs a lighter from his desk drawer, and ignites the fabric. The flames catch immediately.] 

TARTAR: That's right! This vest…is gone! And it won't be happening anytime soon! Let this be a lesson…never be kind. Yes. That's the new motto. Maybe I should get to work on establishing that. 

[The other two stare at the fire.]

[Cut to: Namida's house. The gang are hanging out in the living room.] 

ICHIYA: I'm just glad we're not in dance class anymore. But…the Dlasses probably went to waste.

MURASAKI: Honestly, who cares? I don't see the big deal.

NAMIDA: I mean, you could always sell them. I did.

IKKAN: Wait. You sold your Dlasses? That's why you didn't have them? 

ICHIYA: Forget that. How much did you get?! 

NAMIDA: Enough to make it worth it. 

[Just then, Namida's dad bursts into the living room.]

NAMIDA'S DAD: Heya, sweetheart! I just wanted to say that dinner's in twenty minutes. Lasagna! 

NAMIDA: Seriously, dad? It's a Friday, why not pizza?

NAMIDA'S DAD: Well, uhh…technically, lasagna is a pizza. 

ICHIYA: Lasagna? That's, like, one of my top ten least favorite foods! 

IKKAN: I've never really been a fan.

MURASAKI: (initially distracted by the TV, but then perks up) …Wait, what?

NAMIDA'S DAD: (sighs) I'll go get the phone…

[Her dad leaves temporarily before coming back in.]

NAMIDA'S DAD: By the way...Do you know why there's a huge swimming pool in our backyard? 

[Namida proudly smiles. Cue credits.]