A/N: Well, le grande vacances is upon us, and you'd think I'd have oodles of time (how much is an oodle, anyway?) to write and all. THIS IS NOT TRUE. I must dispel this rumor that people actually have time on their hands during the summer. I'm taking an AP course next year (several years early, so this is my first college-level course), and we have five essays plus reading over the summer. Fabbity.

Disclaimer: Oh, here's an idea! If you really, really wanna know, then find out for yourself. : P

Hm, I wonder if they have Sarcasm Management courses….

*~*~*~

Hayami had grown accustomed to staying in bed for weeks semi-consciously, so he was able to get up and act normally the next day. Sitting on the cot, he stretched his bed-sore limbs. He did so very slowly because of the few stitches he still had left—many had been snipped the other day.

He hadn't slept at all after he'd first woken up; there was too much for him to think about. He didn't know what to do with himself now that the war was over and his purpose served. He hadn't thought about what would happen after they won the war, mostly because he hadn't expected them to win. The decision to rejoin Blue was split-second, reached only moments after Kino had first stormed out his door. Perhaps if he had allowed himself more time to examine the circumstances, he wouldn't have landed himself in such a precarious situation. And he had been dwelling on this for many hours. Unfortunately, he'd once again come upon a solution that his anti-social self didn't like.

It had started off as a joke to himself, and if he hadn't had so much time to himself, then it might have been left at that. But the idea proclaimed itself as not only perfectly plausible, but good for him, and therefore sat stewing in his head. He twisted his waist to work out the kinks in his spine. It cracked unpleasantly.

He stretched his arm as far as it would go, then deemed himself ready to leave. He picked up the T-shirt on his cot and gingerly pulled it over his head as he walked out the door.

The submarine's corridors were poorly lit, as usual, making the new steel appear lackluster and grey, instead of the white shine it sported in proper light. It was dark enough that his eyes needed to readjust from the brilliance of the infirmary. All in all, the place was dank and depressing, yet it suited his mood well.

A sub's hallways were dangerous, really. They were narrow and full of doors that opened outward. You could hardly tell when they would swing out in front of you; Hayami was one such victim. Another step forward and he would have been knocked asunder by the creaking metal plates. Glaring, he waited for the offender to come into view.

There were 97 people on Blue 6. And the one person he somewhat concerned himself with appeared with a box of tools and wires in her arms. Without looking back, she stepped out, pausing to shut the door with her foot, and continued on her way.

How convenient.

He stood, watching her walk, and debated whether or not to acknowledge her and to ask her his question. However, it was not something he was quite prepared to do.

Those jumpsuits really aren't very flattering, he thought. Kino was lithe enough for it to be tighter. As it was there was too much oxygen between the cloth and her skin. Then again, it would be distracting, and she herself was too amusing to get hung up on the vessel her spirit inhabited.

Hayami's mind gallivanted all over the place, and sometimes rolled near or into the proverbial gutter in the few minutes it took for Kino to walk the length of the hallway. The bend in the path came sooner than he expected. He blinked and it was enough to set his mind on target.

"Kino," he called out. His tone was almost admonishing—as if he was slightly annoyed at her for nearly walking off without seeing him.

Kino jolted a little, and then turned to face him. Surprisingly, Kino looked relieved to see it was him and not someone else. Needless to say, that threw him a bit.

"Oh," she said, seeming genuinely taken aback. "I didn't think you'd be up so soon."

He shrugged, as usual, not caring about his health problems.

"How are your…" she gestured towards his side uncomfortably. He couldn't tell if she felt that way about the wounds or if she merely thought she should be asking.

"Mostly out," he replied. "'S really alright."

"Good,"

The infernal silence crept up between them, again. It seemed to follow them around, springing up and wrapping its arms around them at the uneasiest moments. A bomb could go off next to them and they'd never hear it; their insecurities and doubts clogged their ears.

Kino shifted the box, and the clatter of cords and tools worked better than an alarm clock. The reminder scared off the quiet early. "I just remembered—Captain Iga wants to see you."

"Oh?"

She nodded, "Yeah, he's in the cockpit, probably. Come on." She waited a few seconds for him to catch up, then continued on through the labyrinth.

Hayami wished he knew how to make conversation. And yet he usually never wanted such a skill. People and small talk were things to avoid, like rabid animals.

It must be the pink hair, he thought. It made her so many things at once: bold, a teenager, little concerned with what others thought…. And she'd kept that color for months, so she was either too proud to admit she mad a mistake, or knew what she wanted. It wasn't neon pink, either, so she wasn't doing it just to turn heads. It was a dullish sort of pink, like it had a bit of black or brown mixed in it.

He came up so that he was walking next to her. Reaching into the box, he picked up a wrench. He didn't get very far with it, as it was so entwined with red and yellow wires that was practically leashed like a dog.

"What's this for?" he asked, vainly trying to see where the wires ended or began.

"Grampus," she answered. She pulled him down another corridor by means of the wire and a tilt of the head.

"Is that all you do? Just work on a machine, and shoot things with it?"

"You make it sound so trivial," she huffed indignantly. "Where should I go that I don't use a machine, so it doesn't offend you?" She jerked the box hard enough to yank the wrench out of his hand.

In one smooth motion her hand shot out to catch it while her knee came up to steady and hold the box. Hayami's hand also stretched out, but she grasped it first.

"Sorry," they both muttered curtly. He slowly retracted his arm from across her face.

"I didn't mean you should go live in the woods, just because I said so," he said. "Just wondered if you bored with it or felt any kind of irony."

She looked up at the ceiling in an exasperated fashion. "Please. It's a new crisis everyday and there is no irony. I break it, I fix it. I don't take orders from it. You did this, too."

"Yeah. But with me it was an art."

She shoved him. "Yes, too bad you suck now," she retorted, and started walking.

"What?"

She didn't answer. After a moment, she asked, "What did you really mean?"

"Hm?"

"Don't try to feel superior by asking me about irony. You're just argumentative."

Huh, she nailed it, he thought. Anything to push her buttons.

"You can't spend all your time babysitting the Grampus."

"I don't confine myself to my job description, if that's what you're thinking."

That over-achiever, she wouldn't. "Such as?"

"Programming, computer repairs," she mentioned coolly.

Damn her, that was actually worthwhile.

She sighed. "Carrying heavy objects," she continued. The box rattled for persuasion.

Hayami smirked.

"Escorting greenhorns to the cockpit."

He frowned, "What?"

"Hm?"

"I'm not green."

She rolled her eyes. "Everything isn't always about you."

As she pushed the door open with her hip, she added, "But that was."

"What? I was here before you."

"And you've been gone for nearly two years."

He glared at her, though only half-heartedly, as he held the door for her. Well, she wasn't one to get hung up on awkward silences, that was for sure.

The final doorway led them to the cockpit. "I could've found it," he muttered to her.

"Could have," she retorted.

"Don't argue semantics with me," he said, even though he loved arguing with her and getting her angry. He could use a spirited conversation right now.

She gave him a look that said both, "Yeah, right," and "Bring it."

More people than usual were milling about. Parting the pond of people with his authority, Captain Iga made his way forward.

"Ah, you're just in time for the debriefing," he remarked noticing them. He went into a nearby meeting room, the others chattering and following him like baby ducks.

Hayami hardly noticed; he was too relieved. Until now, he had wanted to avoid Kino as long as possible because he didn't know if she would treat him differently after D-day. He hadn't realized how much it mattered to him. She was, after all, the first person to treat him normally. The court martial and all the events pertaining to him had somehow made him diseased, a person to treat differently, either delicately or without mercy. Then again, she didn't know, did she? Even if she did, he hoped her outlook on him hadn't changed.

With a sigh of defeat, Kino dropped her box and shoved it under a console with her foot. "Why'd you walk so fast?" she whispered, agitated.

No, it hadn't, Hayami thought.

*~*~*~

A/N: Wow, five pages…one for each day it was late! Sorry to the three people who read this, I really should get these things out within two weeks to a month. I also apologize for this lousy in-between chapter where nothing really happens except the characters are out of character (sheesh, Hayami's hard…I mean, I figure he won't be SO depressing now that he's redeemed himself with Katsuma and all, so we get a glimpse of what he was like before…er, drugs happened…riiiiight).