a hug that some might consider too long
It was just supposed to be a routine inspection.
With Kamabo Corporation mostly cleared out, all the New Squidbeak Splatoon had to do was search for more data centers hidden deeper within the Deepsea Metro, shut them down, and ferry the sanitized to the surface.
Freya thought it’d be easier to go on patrol on her own, but Cuttlefish insisted she take her mother along instead. Not one to argue, Three complied as Idunn suited up.
Thinking on it, maybe the captain was so adamant on it because he knew the two of them needed to talk more. Talk about the NSS, about her role as Agent Three, about literally anything.
She just doesn’t know where to start. It’s hard enough being in a fairly bad headspace after everything that happened, but for her to try to clear her thoughts and talk about her feelings and experiences? It felt fucked up and unnatural, especially after all this time lying about where she even spirited off to all those days during that fateful summer vacation two years ago.
Fate has its ways to make her talk, though.
“FREYA!” Her mother shouts when the two of them are cornered by a frenzied sanitized octoling a good fifteen minutes into their patrol.
Three’s head snaps up just as a shot lands in the air next to her, the crack of a blaster following a robotic shriek of pain. Her head rings painfully as the scream resonates in Freya’s ears, making her vision blur. She claws off her headset in a vain attempt to relieve the pain.
It hurts it hurts it HURTS--
Her hand is snatched by someone as they pull her further away from the shot, a second then third blast sounding off. The tinny whine of the sanitized octoling returning to their spawn point rings out as the person who pulled Freya to safety quickly pats over her, checking for injuries.
“Freya, you--!” Idunn’s voice grits out, a clear mix of worry and frustration in her tone. “You could’ve gotten hurt out there! Or worse!”
Three’s ears flatten as her vision clears up enough to see her mother’s scarred visage scanning over her. The older Inkling pushes her headphones off as she kneels, hastily opening the first aid kit on her hip.
That’s what I get for pushing myself so soon, I guess…
“Mom, I--”
“What?” Idunn asks a little too forcefully, her tone nearly putting Freya back in time about two years when she barely started out with the New Squidbeak Splatoon.
“I-- I’m sorry,” Freya warbles out, feeling her throat constrict a little. It’s… I’m not used to this. Being so open about… everything. “I wasn’t ready. Not with… not with how I am now. I’m sorry.”
Idunn watches her with emotions flickering in her eyes before Freya’s suddenly enveloped by warm arms.
“Mom..?”
Her mother’s arms tighten around her, the feeling definitely not unwelcome in this stressful environment. It almost feels like… if she lets go, she thinks I’ll disappear… “Freya, you-- you had me worried sick when you were in the hospital for so long! I don’t want you to get hurt like that again! Forgive me if I’m being selfish, but--”
“N-no, Mom, it’s fine! I… I didn’t want to scare you so much…”
“I’m so sorry, Freya,” Idunn nearly sobs as her voice cracks at the edges, pale yellow tears splashing onto Three’s mantle. “If I had been more understanding, or less overbearing, maybe-- Maybe you wouldn’t have run away, and you wouldn’t have gotten so hurt while you were gone.”
“Mom, please…” Three murmurs as she reaches to hug her mother back. “You… you shouldn’t cry, Mom. This is the path I chose.”
“Cod, but I wish it could’ve been a much less painful one, Freya! You’ve been through so much, and I didn’t know a thing about what you were experiencing. If I had known, or even been kinder...” Idunn trails off, sniffling very quietly. The older woman leans her head down next to Freya’s, holding her daughter tighter. “If I hadn’t said this, or done that… would you have lived an entirely different life?”
Freya finds she doesn’t have an answer. She shuts her eyes and lets the tears flow, hoping that for at least five minutes, the universe would let her and her mother finally breathe.