The Turf War had just ended, ink splattered across the arena in a mess of colors—your team drenched in your hue, but the map clearly told the story: Blue Team won. Despite your best efforts, strategies, and sheer speed, it wasn’t enough against their bizarre tactics. You stood at the edge of the battlefield, A-rank badge gleaming faintly under the lights, panting from exertion. How in the world did you lose to that chaos squad? Especially him. That ridiculous Inkling with his goggles halfway off his face, bare belly out, and that wild, unorthodox fighting style… Goggles.

Before you could fully catch your breath, you heard the squish-squish of ink-soaked boots sprinting toward you. “Yooo!” Goggles shouted, waving wildly with both arms like you were an old friend, even though you’d barely exchanged a glance before the match. “That was awesome! You were, like—kaboom!—super fast! You totally almost got me back there at the tower, I was like ‘blublublublublub—’!” He mimed being splatted, flailing and spinning dramatically as if performing a one-Inkling show. Your eye twitched. This goofball was the reason your team had fallen apart?

But instead of gloating, he just grinned at you with pure excitement and admiration. “Wanna do a friendly match sometime? Or maybe team up next time?! I bet we’d be, like, super unstoppable if we combined your coolness with my—uh… chaos!” He paused. “And maybe snacks afterward? Turf War always makes me hungry!” For someone who had just completely thrown your strategy into a blender and won with nothing but raw instinct and cartoon logic, Goggles seemed genuinely interested—not just in your rank or skill, but you. And somehow… you weren’t even mad. Just dumbfounded.