A/N: Sorry it's quite, quite late, but this AP course was HARD, and now I've got THREE more to get ready for. Many apologies to anyone who was genuinely interested in this fic.
Ho hum, me hopes no one is looking for things to, hem, "heat up," as it were, right away. Ha ha, nope. As disappointing as that is, so far nothing in the last chapters have given any other indication otherwise, so you really knew that all along, didn't you? Sigh. Hey, I don't like it either, all this tension and whatnot is a pain in the bum, so to speak. But honestly, are Hayami or Kino the kind of impulsive people who fall all over each other two days after the end of the series? Er, no.
And THANKS to everyone who left reviews! It is much appreciated.
Rating: PG-13 for future chapters and such.
Disclaimer: Huh, well, what's left to say? I'll think of something bitchy eventually.
As much as he hated to admit it, Kino knew a lot more about the Grampus as he did, and was clearly the best mechanic he'd come across. He could see that in the way she repaired the wing. She never paused to think or recall something; every action blended right into the next in a continuous stream.
It was like a stream of consciousness. He knew what that was like, to get to so involved in making something that you forget your surroundings. All that matters is the problem, the parts, and the tools. Not like he did a lot of that anymore, unless his boat broke down. It didn't break down often enough, he felt.
Now he was back in the least of places he had expected to end up, though with considerable more hostility. And all it took was some minor harassment on Kino's part. He couldn't really tell if he minded being with Blue again, or if he should stay on. After all, the only reason they sought him out was because they needed more men and couldn't train new ones fast enough. What to do now….
His eyes strayed upward. The lighting in here could be better, he thought. The pale yellow beams illuminated everything on the mini-sub, but not nearly as much underneath it, where most mechanical repairs took place. It wouldn't be so difficult to install some lights under there, with waterproofing for chamber floods.
There was a loud scraping noise, a clang, then a pop, and finally, a curse. This halted the progress of the gears turning in his head long enough for him to take interest in Kino's troubles.
"What now?" he said. He climbed down to the floor so he could face her, on the wing, at nearly eye level. Apparently, she was trying to chip off the remaining layer of melted steel that had clogged up the screw. "Can't you burn it off?"
"If I want to melt the screw," came her reply. She had a small chisel placed next to the partially exposed screw, and was twisting the hammer in her hand.
However, it slipped and that was the cause of her annoyance. "Is that thing diamond-tipped? That's the only way it's coming off," he said, leaning on the front of the sub.
Kino held up the chisel. The end caught and twinkled in the light. "Only the best," she said. She tapped her fingers on the steel. "Hold this thing."
It was just great the way she assumed he would do whatever she said. Well, she usually ended up being right, he thought as he took the chisel and held it to the lump of metal.
Clang! The metallic sound echoed in the chamber. A chunk of steel came away from the screw.
"So," she said, "Is the jury still out?"
"On what?" he asked, flicking away the offending piece of metal.
"Your direction in life," she said sarcastically. She glanced at him. "I'd have hated to be your high school counselor."
He smirked. "Don't know. This organization is heading downhill."
"How so?" she asked tersely.
"What're they going to do with these subs now that the threat is gone?" he countered. "Sure there're going to be insurgents to deal with, but will we really need nine war submarines for that?"
"Seven," she said.
"What?" he looked up.
"Two were destroyed," she mumbled.
Neither of them said anything. Hayami watched Kino's face as she continued to chip away to uncover the screw.
Finally, she asked, "What would you do instead?"
"Back to salvaging," he said, adjusting his grip on the handle. "It's not like it's too different from being in Blue, anyway."
"Is too!" she exclaimed. "It's completely different!"
He smirked. "Sure it is, like I can do whatever I want for whatever reason I want, and I get paid more for playing fetch."
She glared at him. "Cynical bitch," she muttered, which only served to stretch his grin wider.
"You'd have no problems in that business with a mouth like that," he commented.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped.
"What'd you think?" he asked.
"…Cyah," she muttered. She gave the chisel another thwack.
The screw was nearly free now, a sufficient amount of refuse having been cleared away by their persistent efforts.
"You're good at this," he said suddenly.
"Huh?" she asked, dumbfounded.
"Not so much as a pilot, but as a mechanic…" he added offhandedly.
Used to this sort of thing, she merely gave sighed exasperatedly and aimed for a particularly stubborn bit of metal.
"Useful in salvaging," he commented, looking at her.
She paused.
"…Have you ever—Watch it!" He dropped the chisel just as her hammer swung too low and clanged against the metal.
She flinched, color coming to her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, picking up the chisel. Placing it in the groove he'd made, she began to hammer restrainedly.
Hayami put his hand over hers on the chisel. "If you'd pay attention for just a minute I'd—"
"Captain wants you!" cried a voice from the hatch. Immediately they jumped apart, both waiting for a swish and the appearance of feet from the hole. The dirty soles of Cekeros slid down, followed by the rest of his slipshod appearance.
"Hullo, gents," he quipped. "The Captain has requested the two of you to see him in his office presently."
"How stuffy," Kino remarked.
"Yes, that's what I told him," he said, grinning. "O' course...he would tell me what it was for. I can only speculate."
"I'm sure you do," she said curtly.
"You bet," he winked. "I'd get up there, if I were you. He's impatient, as usual."
He glanced at Hayami, now indifferently rubbing metal dust off the edge of the chisel. "You too, big shot."
Many trees had died to make his job possible. With the end of major fighting, the Blue organization had ordered that all operatives write a final report of the battle for future reference. And, as Iga had soon discovered, many of his "operatives" didn't know how to write reports. Most of them were in dire need of revision, and Iga had decided that no one else on board could be trusted with such a task. As such, the desk was awash with papers. Even his cup of coffee had to be perched precariously on a stack of manila folders for want of space.
It was downright comical.
Hayami smirked as he sat in the chair before the cluttered desk. Kino was beside him, looking tensely about the room. The office was really just a separate space off of Iga's cabin, and was small and dark, lit only by the glaring desk lap. It cast dark shadows onto the brown walls and the captain's weary face as he wrote.
They sat there for several minutes; the Captain was in no hurry to acknowledge their presence as of yet. Kino tightened and loosened her folded hands, her eyes gazing at the dark, beige ceiling. Suddenly, Hayami tapped her on the arm. She looked at him, and he pointed bemusedly across the cabin. A large blue swordfish hung placidly on the wall, frozen forever by the miracle of taxidermy.
Kino pursed her lips and sat up straighter in her chair, as if that would somehow make the fish less humorous.
"I suppose you're wondering why you're here," Iga spoke at last.
Neither of them said anything.
"I suppose it goes without saying that you two are rather popular with Blue right now," he went on, laying his pencil to the side and meeting their faces. He smiled wanly. "And as such, you have some medals due you. They've scheduled an official ceremony for—"
"I decline," Kino said in a quiet voice. She stared at her hands, which were folded tightly on her lap.
"What?" Iga asked, dubiously. He stared at the top of her head expectantly.
"I'm flattered you think I deserve such a thing," she said, as if she had practiced these lines, "But I'm sorry you mistook foolishness for bravery."
Hayami frowned. Her expression was unreadable, and her train of thought even less so. She was calling all her misery and grief foolish?
"Well," Iga folded his hands, "I suppose there's nothing I can say to make you change your mind?"
Eyes still downcast, she shook her head.
He sighed in his usual gruff manner, and sat back in his chair. "And you don't want it either, right?" he asked Hayami.
"No," Hayami replied simply, still slouching in the seat.
"I guess you've made your decision about us then?" Iga inquired, tapping his fingers on the desk.
Kino watched Hayami out of the corner of her eye, laying her hands flat on her thighs.
"You could say that," Hayami said. "When I resolve things with here, I'm gone."
"Resolve what?"
"I don't do something for nothing."
Kino glared at him, but he just glanced at her briefly and continued shrewdly.
"It did remind me of how useful a good mini-sub can be."
"You'd use the Grampus for salvaging?" Iga indignantly cut through Hayami's business-like evasion of his flat-out wants. "How could you possibly keep that thing in good condition in your blasted hovel?"
Hayami cocked his head towards Kino. "That's why I need her."
A/N: (Hayami) Who else would clean the floor with a toothbrush? (Looks at Kino) And don't you step on no more needles.
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