Iris learns to find her voice. Scraping together the courage takes longer than she'd like, but goes better than expected.

Also, a wee bit wetter.

When she had been selected to join the 8th Fire Soldier Brigade, Iris had expected many things.

The facility was not one of them. She was led to believe that Company 8 was the newest of all the districts, having been crafted from the areas of the 1st, 4th, and the area almost entirely surrounding the 7th. As the newest company, she also assumed they would have the newest facility. That was…not…the case? She wasn't judging, just… expecting different.

She arrived only a few weeks after they were made official, and it was evident that the residents were still in the middle of overhauling their "new" space. There were boxes, cleaning supplies, and whole sets of tools she could not name.

Most of the Sisters who trained for the Special Fire Force came from the Holy Sol Temple through either the 1st or the 6th, before being dispatched to their assigned companies. Iris had done this, barely; even after several years, she was still one of the St. Raffles Convent "lost children," with all the stigma that came with it. It was rarely overt—at least, not from the nuns or priests— although other children weren't always so nice, especially not to a small, shy girl with an odd fascination of fire who was one of only two survivors. And the only survivor within teasing reach; Hibana had started making her own way years ago, and left the church behind. Mostly.

Hibana was also tall, and beautiful, and confident in her place within the world, and would have brooked no teasing whatsoever.

Still, Iris bore it. She was strong enough for that, at least. Even if they thought she was terribly unlucky, for more than just herself, she bore it, and thrived. She was good, and pious, and quiet, which certainly caused no friction among the instructors in the 1st's churches. Whispering peers aside, she was well taken care of.

A tiny part of her, that was grossly less forgiving that she should be, wondered if her assignment here was their way of sweeping her, and as such the last remnants of the catastrophe of St. Raffles, as far from the main core of the Church of Sol as possible.

She brushed this idea aside, and was determined not to give it another sordid thought. Not one.

It wouldn't be until much later when she would even be given the chance.

The priest that drove her to the 8th didn't speak much during the trip, said nothing as he helped her with her luggage, and had sighed exhaustedly upon taking a look at the other equipment in the back of the vehicle. He was transporting not just her, but what appeared to be a very hefty batch of baptized gear; this was as close as Iris had been to something like a core annihilating pile bunker, and it felt lethal just to look at it, baptized or not. Iris figured that all together, the cargo must easily outweigh herself, and probably also the priest. Possibly the two of them together. They were not outside alone long enough for that to become an issue, as a head poked out of the open Matchbox bay door.

The residents here were almost exactly what she expected.

Even at a solemn place like Company 1, Fire Soldiers were still soldiers; a whole slew of people fit enough to combat Infernals with their bare hands, if they didn't have any number of weapons or pyrokinetic abilities at their disposal. Never mind simply physical expression, Fire Soldiers carried themselves with all the confidence of people who had thrown their lives on the line multiple times, and come out the other side both not too worse for the wear, but with other lives delivered safely with it. And then they did it again. And again. It was the kind of slowly cured courage that seeped irrepressibly into everything they did. It had certainly made an impact on quite a lot of residents from the convents.

Iris' first impression of Company 8 did not deviate from this particular expectation in the slightest. The man that came out of the Matchbox bay was tall, really tall. Like, Captain Burns tall (even if she had only seen Captain Burns once, it was enough to make an impression). Captain Burns big, too, if not bigger. It was apparent even at the ten paces from the open bay to the curb; even standing next to the priest, she felt absolutely dwarfed once he was close enough to engage the two of them in a proper greeting. He had the upper part of his jumpsuit unzipped and tied around his waist, which had the unfortunate effect of also taking with it any rank defining insignia that might let her know who she was speaking to. She straightened her back, just a little (which she had to do anyway if she wanted to look up at him). When in doubt, "address up"; if it's not somebody of rank then you just made them feel a little self-important. If it is, at least you haven't caused any insult.

"G'morning! I'm going to assume you're Sister Iris?" His hands flew through the sign to Sol with the comfort of someone who had either embraced the doctrine, been raised in it, or both. She returned the gesture smartly. Size aside, the man had a broad, lopsided smile and an easy set to his shoulders that spoke of someone who was either very good at handling stress, or didn't have a lot of it in the first place. First Class Fire Soldier, then? Given he had come from the apparatus bay, maybe the Engineer? He extended his hand. "Akitaru Ōbi, Captain of the 8th and its resident bunch of weirdos."

Never mind. Just her luck…

"Yes. A pleasure to meet you." Iris reached for his hand with as little hesitation as possible. She could feel Hibana rolling her eyes at her from wherever she was. Yes, the shyness was still there. Given her recent abrupt career change, she may have to set it aside much sooner than she was comfortable with.

To say that she shook his hand was a bit of an overstatement, at least on her part. Rather, his palm swallowed her fingers, and then took her hand (and wrist and arm) for a ride. Not boorish or rough by any means, quite the opposite; the handshake of a nice person, even if there was no way she would have been able to move that hand one iota in either direction on her own. Unlike Captain Burns, whose name did not match up with the projection of cold untouchability, Captain Ōbi was unflinchingly warm. Approachable. The handshake was brief, but Iris was feeling better about this whole prospect already, and that was quite the feat for an acute introvert. The calm, immovable eye of the storm was right here, and if this was going to be the person she followed into smoke, she was oddly okay with that.

Right now, as she stood on the sunny sidewalk outside, she was okay with it. She doubted her nerves would hold up so well once they were all actually dispatched.

The priest cleared his throat, and gave Ōbi a stiff nod.

"Captain, we have sent your gear as well, newly issued and baptized. It is all rather heavy, though…" If the priest was fishing for an offer to carry any or all of it so he wouldn't have to, Captain Ōbi was way out in front of him. If he felt any of the priest's prickly eagerness to be done with all of this, it was beneath his notice.

"Oh great! We've been waiting for these." He thumbed carefully over the labels on a couple of the boxes, counting as he went. "I can just about feel Hinawa's impatience from here." And he tossed Iris a wink over his shoulder, as if she had even the vaguest idea who Hinawa was. "He's gonna take half of this apart and reassemble it before the night is out, I can tell." He gave Iris another grin. "I'll get these inside, and we can show you around, hm?"

Like, move all of this by himself? That was bold. And seemed a good, quick way to throw one's back out.

The old priest adjusted his glasses, even stiffer now, whether eager to leave or ruffled at Captain Ōbi's complete disregard for his disdain was impossible to tell. Could also be both, and Iris refused to let that sting a little.

"Sir, would not more soldiers make it go faster? 'Many hands make light work,' yes?"

The Captain rolled one broad shoulder in lieu of a shrug, unworried, and still smiling.

"No need to bother them for something like this. I got it."

Iris was rather firmly on the priest's side of this conversation; this was approaching a hundred kilograms of equipment. Even without the weight to consider, there was simply no way he had enough hands for all of it.

And then he began what was going to be a long, pulse-pounding couple weeks of Iris simply being impressed by all her new teammates.

He managed to grab a very large, heavy box of what appeared to be ammunition and balance it on his head. This was impressive enough on its own, but then he grabbed the massive, heavy shield in one hand, tucked the pile bunker under the same arm, and slid his other hand under the last two boxes. Iris swallowed hard; that was five trips for a normal person, and he had managed to lift it all in one.

And then he had looked at her, realized she had a suitcase, and without any judgment or hubris asked, "oops, sorry I didn't ask. Do you need help with that?"

Iris was just barely able to squeak out a "no." Even if she did, she was certainly not about to make this man help her with her stuff while he was handling… all of that!

The priest managed to choke out a surprised, if halfway polite, goodbye, and wasted no time in driving away. Her one last immediate, tangible lifeline to her old life, and it was certainly not about to wait for her to be ready for it to leave. Her new life wasn't waiting for her either, it seemed. Captain Ōbi canted his head towards the Matchbox bay (somehow,without dislodging the box balanced there) and led them inside. Even as encumbered as he was, keeping up with his long strides took a little work.

Unlike the fire cathedral itself, the Matchbox in the apparatus bay was new. Iris took a moment to stare as the Captain shed most of his new equipment near a long, orderly workbench in the back, before shouldering the box of ammunition. She hurried to move after him, despite his apparent patience as she looked around.

"You came at a good time. There's still a lot to do until this place is a hundred percent up and running, but I think both Hinawa and Oze are getting a little stir-crazy. Your arrival helps breaks the monotony." He paused to set the box just inside the door to a long hallway that sat just off the apparatus bay. It seemed like just another equipment room, until she noticed the wall at the far end.

It was firearms, floor to ceiling.

She felt her hands reflexively tighten around the handle on her suitcase. If there was one stark wake up call that she was no longer in a temple any more, it was surely that.

Captain Ōbi followed her line of sight, before giving her a soft snort and a small smile.

"That's Hinawa's gun wall. You'll know when he's in a really salty mood, because he'll come down here to the range to decompress."

So this was a whole range. She wondered how much of the equipment she'd brought with her would end up in here.

"Friendly tip: don't touch the gun wall. Hinawa gets… particular about it. And since he's our resident senior firearms expert, I let him dictate how it gets maintained. Oze's no slouch either, but even she keeps her hands clear without direction from him." The full grin came back in short order as Captain Ōbi rubbed the back of his neck. "At the same time, the kitchen belongs to Hinawa, too. We rotate shifts for dinner, and everyone has this or that favorite cup, but make no mistake: this is my company, but that is Hinawa's kitchen. He's a damn good cook, but he can get aggressive about it. He's never mentioned it, and will probably deny it if I bring it up, but Oze and I have just let him have it."

Iris didn't think that would be a problem at all. If she had her hands on a firearm, something had gone terribly wrong somewhere. This was the third time he'd mentioned this Hinawa person, and so far it painted a picture of someone a little… stiff. Also important, considering the number of times he'd come up.

It was also slightly worrying that the man had somehow managed to lay claim to the entire kitchen.

Captain Ōbi led them out of the range and into the building proper. He regarded her over his shoulder as they went.

"If I may ask, how did you choose this particular path? I barely had to file the paperwork before you were assigned to us. For most of the crew I get to pick, but almost as soon as I finalized an opening for clergy you were on your way."

"Um…" Iris didn't have a clue how to answer this. What happened was simple; how she felt about it was not, and it would take her a couple cups of tea and a good hour to air her issues with somebody willing to listen.

Right now she had no cups of tea, and until the end of this hallway with her new boss who was probably not fishing for a long story. More than that, while he hadn't gotten any less friendly over the last five minutes, Captain Ōbi had her pinned under a look that could best be described as piercingly appraising.

"I was not currently assigned to a permanent post, so once the 8th had an opening, they sent me. I appreciate the opportunity." While the first part was about as diplomatic a smokescreen for her own conflicting feelings as she could make it, the last part was not a lie; while this had not been where she had seen her life going, she believed it was important work. The sisters who were placed out in companies were able to assist people directly, on a daily basis, which Iris whole-heartedly believed that was the best work the Temple could do. She was excited to try.

"Hm." That was clearly not quite what he was reaching for, and the appraising look did not abate at all until he turned to steer them around a corner. This next hallway was brightly lit, a combination of wood walls and laminate tile floor. It felt very much like well-trafficked common space. It was hard not to feel like an intruder here, like she was in someone else's house without an explicit invitation.

It was her "house" too, now. She was determined to make the most of it.

Captain Ōbi lengthened his stride, seemingly headed for an open door halfway down the hall. He didn't wait until he was there to start addressing people, though.

"Hinawa! Maki! Come out and be social!"

Iris was glad she walking behind him so he couldn't see her jump. The man could roar. He had also managed to spirit her suitcase out of her hands, leaving it against the wall and out of the way before beckoning for her to follow. She didn't realize how much clutching it had relieved her nervousness. Now she just felt exposed. There was some stirring in the room up ahead, including one somewhat put-upon sigh.

"Well, he can really only mean one of us." A man's voice. Given that Captain Ōbi had only mentioned two other people so far, that must be Hinawa. "I am not social."

"No, I do mean both of you. Even if you're going to slink away to the office, at least greet Sister Iris first." Captain Ōbi had made it to the doorway and was giving someone a pointed stare that she was glad that she wasn't standing in front of, hands on his hips. There was a grunt, and the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor.

"I would lead with that part next time."

In a concerted effort to not hide her hands in her robes, Iris kept them clasped together in front of her. The Captain had moved from his place right in the middle of the doorway, with a cant of his head that indicated she should come out of the hallway and be introduced.

A couple moments later, and Iris was rethinking several critical life choices.

Captain Ōbi had simultaneously reaffirmed her preconception of Fire Soldiers and emboldened her flickering confidence that this was the place for her to be. Her next introduction both added to the stereotype, and shattered that self-confidence onto the hallway wall behind her.

There were two people in this room, but one of them drew her attention almost immediately, in the same way that her instincts would have alerted her to the most lethal hazard in her immediate vicinity. Everything else could wait. It was almost fortunate that Captain Ōbi had redefined her understanding of what the limits of both "tall" and "muscular" were in just the last ten minutes, or she would have been significantly more intimidated than she already was, and that didn't seem possible.

While still noticeably shorter than Captain Ōbi, the man standing in the kitchen was still significantly taller than herself; she didn't think she stood much higher than his shoulders. Unlike the Captain, he kept his jumpsuit zipped up clear to his neck; while a great bit more modest than Captain Ōbi's black shirt that most definitely should come in a larger size, it did little to hide the broad shoulders underneath. His hat would have been silly enough to soften his look, except that she was pretty sure his eyes could laser holes into someone from an entire block away. Iris was certain that a piece of her soul flew away in fright upon entering the kitchen. He took the Captain's appraising look and turned it into something almost painfully sharp, capable of stripping a person of weaker will down to their most emotionally unstable state. Like he could peel back someone's thoughts and target their insecurity directly.

She tried not to flinch and squeak when he reached up to adjust his glasses.

In an effort to look at anything else in the room, her eyes flew immediately to the stitching on his chest. Given the amount of stars and stripes there, that meant this man was Lieutenant—

"Takehisa Hinawa, Ōbi's second in command here at the 8th." He regarded her for a moment more, even if it felt much longer than that, before giving her a polite, perfect, rigid bow, deep enough to be considered respectful, and shallow enough to tell Iris exactly where she suddenly fit in to this hierarchy. She was glad the sign to Sol was second-nature for her, because most higher forms of thought were hiding as far inside of herself as possible, hopefully where this man could not find them.

"Sister Iris, and it's my pleasure." She managed to not stutter or squeak through her introduction. That was progress. A mental image of Hibana dropping her head onto a table in frustration came entirely unbidden, and it had the effect of straightening her back slightly. She was trying, alright? Captain Ōbi was intimidating because he was big, loud, and physical in ways no clergy she'd had constant exposure to was physical.

Lieutenant Hinawa was intimidating because he looked like he ate people's warm emotions for sustenance, leaving only the sharp shards of everything else behind.

And yes, she realized she was being rude. And quite possibly projecting; he could turn out to be not that bad.

The second person in the room was a welcome diversion. Tall and pretty, like Hibana, but she looked friendly and outgoing. She had some of Captain Ōbi's warm approachableness too, despite appearing significantly closer in age to Iris than to him. Also had her jumpsuit zipped up to her neck, but she moved with the same athletic deliberateness as the rest of them.

"Hello! Maki Oze, First Class Fire Soldier here at the 8th. Nice to meet you!" She snapped a sharp salute, before offering her hand. Iris gave her a genuine smile. Another nice person, but oh goodness was she in for a surprise when she shook that hand. Despite appearances, with her long thick hair and bright purple eyes, the soft skin of her warm hands belied the surprising amount of power there. Iris tried not to squeak in shock. Gentle, but firm.

Iris was starting to feel like a small, soft marshmallow person in this place.

Luckily, the group didn't linger too long in the confines of the kitchen. Maki snatched Iris' suitcase out of the hall, showed her to her new room, and then gave her a tour. The cathedral was much larger on the inside than it looked; she could already tell that it would take her a while to find her way around. Maybe she'd be allowed to wander around by herself? Hopefully getting lost a few times would help her find her way around when it really mattered. In the meantime, Maki was a patient, kind tour guide, and let her look around slowly as they went through. She had a penchant for lighthearted small talk, which Iris was surprised to appreciate.

Lighthearted or not, Iris swiftly came to the realization of the biggest difference between these people and herself.

They knew exactly where they stood in the world, in the organization, in this company. With each other. And they weren't afraid to say it. It went both ways up and down the chain of command. She stayed respectful, but Maki made her opinions perfectly clear, sometimes she got what she wanted, sometimes one—or both—COs stubbornly stuck to their guns, but even a "no" was followed shortly by an explanation.

Iris did not have the confidence to look any one of her team members in the eye and tell them "I disagree." Not yet.

Maybe never, for Lieutenant Hinawa.

It was… a markedly different sort of interaction than she was used to, especially on calls. Emergency scenes were loud, both the emergency itself (for them, it was typically immediately Infernal-related), or because they had to yell to be heard, either to cover volume or distance. Emergency or not, Iris was finding it difficult to just shout at her superiors, even if crossing distances to get herself heard was dangerous, time consuming, or otherwise impractical (which were all also fast ways of earning a paint-peeling stare, or worse, from the Lieutenant). At the end of one call, where they had found themselves facing not only the Infernal from their initial dispatch but one from an onlooker who had infernalized at their backs, and Iris, as the rearmost crewmember, had been the only one to notice it happening and her first reflex had just been to clutch Captain Ōbi's sleeve, he had clapped her on the shoulder with a rough grin and told her, "use your outside voice next time."

Iris didn't have an outside voice. She had just her one voice, and that one was quiet enough to be used inside a temple. If clergy were lambs, then she had just been pushed into a den of lions. Respectful lions, but they blew her away regularly. She hadn't learned how to roar, yet.

Which wasn't usually a problem, until it was.

A good deal of downtime was spent getting the cathedral into working order. Equipment for calls had been the first thing properly inventoried, and the Matchbox had been stocked just about as soon as Iris had initially arrived with their batch of gear, but improving the infrastructure of the building was a slow, cooperative group project. Because the other three did a great deal of the heavy grunt work, Iris had taken it upon herself to do a lot of the cleaning. Which also meant that she could get the cathedral's courtyard ready to perform a proper Purification Ceremony. It was small, the fountain didn't work and the trees needed some pruning, but they were otherwise in good health, and the stone tiles just needed a good scrubbing. Iris was excited to see what it could become.

Until the grunt work started to infringe into her cleaned areas.

It started as one wayward box set aside in the hallway. Iris had quickly learned not to attempt to move containers of unknown contents in the cathedral, as they were quite often so heavy that even leaning all her weight into one budged it not a single centimeter. That was fine; one of the others would be along in short order to put it where it was supposed to go. Except that the pile grew over the coming days. That was fine too, navigating the hallway wasn't difficult. Whomever was stacking the pile had kept a means of egress open. Whether it was Captain Ōbi or Lieutenant Hinawa was unclear; even if the latter probably had a tape measure ready to ensure that the proper space was given in the hallway for people to pass, if he couldn't just eyeball it out of habit, the former was a stickler for fire code that could give even the Lieutenant a run for his money; blocking doorways and means of escape with heavy objects was a quick way to a brief, friendly safety lecture (never mind that Iris had watched the Captain make an escape right through a plate glass window once, to Hinawa's express consternation). All that to say that the boxes were probably going to be in the hall until one or another person Not Named Iris moved them, and that was fine.

And then the boxes started spilling into the courtyard itself.

Once enough of them had appeared, it was apparent that they couldn't keep piling them in the hallway, so a new stack began to grow along one of the nearby courtyard walls. Which… did infringe on Iris' direct responsibilities. She had tried again, to no avail, to quietly push a box to the side. It worked about as well as expected, and if a box could be smug, she imagined it would be. Which meant that she would have to work up the nerve to ask one of the others to please not put their project on hers, and to move the boxes already there.

She was not good at asking for favors that inconvenienced others, even if not asking inconvenienced herself. Weeks later, and that mental image of Sister Hibana banging her head against a table in frustration leapt to her mind again. She would try, okay? Next morning debrief.

Except that the next morning debrief came and went, even after Captain Ōbi asked specifically if anyone had anything else to address. She stubbed her toe on the edge of a box later that morning. Okay, then the next meeting. She would. Really.

The next day she backed right into the box stack. Never mind the wall of boxes, she herself almost toppled right over. Okay, now she really would address it.

Or not.

The day after, she did end up sprawled across the tiles when she caught her foot trying to pass by the stack. Once she caught her breath and checked herself for any injuries—there were none—she immediately looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. Fortunately, given the small size of the crew and the relatively large size of the space they inhabited, everyone else was far out of ear and eye shot. Which was great, since the embarrassed flush of her face was just short of its own ignition ability. She dusted herself off and just… sat, for a moment.

There was a very easy solution. If she could just make her anxiety calm down for half a minute.

Somewhere, Hibana was pulling her hair out. Possibly also screaming.

Hibana never had problems finding her "outside voice."

Tomorrow. At debriefing tomorrow. For sure, this time. There wasn't any reason for it to go badly, that was just the anxiety talking.

"Tomorrow" almost moved up several hours when she went down for dinner. It was Maki's turn, and while Lieutenant Hinawa had long since proven why he commanded most operations in the kitchen, even when he wasn't in it, she was no slouch. She offered to help carry food to the dining room, and Maki almost handed her a tray. Almost.

"Sister Iris, are you limping?"

Oh no.

Iris was about to answer in the negative, she didn't want Maki to worry, but those five words had attracted attention. The quiet conversation at the other end of the dining room had gone absolutely silent, and she could feel both appraising stares burning into the back of her head. It was intimidating enough when it was just one of them, but being subjected to the pointed looks from both officers was not a good place to be, even if they hadn't said a word yet. Especially since they hadn't said a word yet. Because Captain Ōbi was loud in general, and Lieutenant Hinawa had opinions, and without either of those constants she could only fathom the thoughts flying around between them.

It wasn't too late to lie about it…

Maki was still holding both trays of food. They looked heavy, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Sorry, but you are favoring your right leg. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Oh no.

Yes, her left knee still hurt. She didn't think it had changed her gait enough to be noticed. But Maki had, even through her robes. There was a shifting in presence to the void of sound at her back. Now they knew what to look for, although even if Maki hadn't told them, Iris was sure they would have noticed in short order.

There were three lie detectors in this room, and all of them had names she had become familiar with.

"J-just a little! I tripped in the courtyard. It's nothing to worry about, though! I promise!" Maybe not all the truth, but definitely true nonetheless. She hoped it was enough to get by. "I can still help." She reached for the tray, since Maki hadn't moved an inch.

"Hm." Was Maki's only response, held the previously almost-offered tray high out of Iris' reach, and took the both of them to the dining table herself. Iris made an effort to gently take one of them, to no avail whatsoever, but the gesture did force her to turn just enough to catch a look at the end of the dining hall out of the corner of her eye, and realize that she was very much still the center of attention. She scurried to set the table instead, and certainly did not look any of them in the eye once at all during dinner.

Poor Sister Hibana would have had a stroke out of frustration.

Her attempts to help with clearing the table were similarly disrupted; she was about to stand up from the table with a stack of plates, because whomever cooked shouldn't have to also clean up after everybody. Instead, a hand reached around her to lift the entire stack. Her protest died in throat when she turned, and was greeted immediately with Lieutenant Hinawa's brusque, "don't get up."

So Iris stayed right there on that bench. She felt a whole heap of conflicting emotions. Something like exasperation, because she didn't think she was so frail that she needed to be protected from helping. Even if she quietly checked herself for bruises from the few times she had accidentally bumped into any of these people and there was no give to them at all… okay, so maybe she was comparatively frail. Sitting next to them in the Matchbox still made her feel like a marshmallow. Still intimidated, because these people were impressive. Because any fire within twenty meters of Maki was as good as hers, and if Iris didn't know any better, she'd think she was a Third Gen, not that she'd managed to catch any small flame and make it into a weapon. Because there was a reason that theirs was the only captain in the entire force without an ignition ability, and he held his own anyway, if watching him pull a wooden telephone pole out of the ground wasn't a good reminder. Because Lieutenant Hinawa could bank shot a single bullet around three corners in a narrow alley to hit an Infernal's core a block over and behind a building. Because they could do all that while their lives were being threatened and they didn't flinch or slow down or anything. And she was touched that they bothered to notice something as minor as a knee injury. Not even a real injury! Just… sore. Even the lieutenant, in his cold way.

She still wiped down the table and scurried out of there the minute he didn't have a direct line of sight to her.

The next morning's meeting was the usual. Short, nothing new, since the day prior hadn't seen any calls. The end was coming up, and swiftly. Iris bunched her hands into her robes.

"The good news is, we're about to grow a bit bigger." Captain Ōbi leaned back a little in his chair, never mind the obvious irritation it caused Hinawa every time the front legs left the floor. He stayed oddly quiet, though; probably simply satisfied that he actually got Ōbi to sit in a chair at all, instead of hanging from bars. Or sitting on the desk. "The Fire Defense Agency sent me copies of the applications on file for their new batch of recruit graduates. I'll be reviewing them over the next week or so. I've already been cleared to pull a couple, we just have to pick 'em. And beat the other companies to the good ones." He looked pleased. He looked excited. It was infectious; despite appearances, she didn't dislike it here. The prospect of growing the company was nice.

It meant having to stay on top of her responsibilities, though, and to that end…

"Now that the gritty is done, anyone have anything they need to touch base on?"

"Um…"

And immediately, she drew every eye on the room. Oh goodness. Whether it was because she had never said anything before, or because she was still on their radar from last night, or maybe both, she couldn't say. Regardless, the effect was enough scrutiny to make her want to crawl under the desk.

Sister Hibana would have stood on the desk long ago and made a pronouncement, not meekly asked for a favor.

Iris laced her fingers together. She was not Hibana. Never would be, in many ways. But still.

"Th-there are a lot of really big heavy boxes in the hall, and in the courtyard." But still, she'd try it her own way, instead. "The ones in the courtyard, especially, make it difficult to do any real work in there." Her way could, in fact, also stand to be just a wee bit louder. "Especially when I have to do the Purification Ceremony in the morning." She'd have to actually speak up to be heard, after all. Even if it drew much more attention than she wanted.

Captain Ōbi looked genuinely surprised.

"Oop, I forgot those were there. Sorry, my bad. I can move those for you."

"O-okay." Well, that went better than expected. Not that she really knew what to expect. "Thank you."

"Wait…" And Maki's appraising look from last night came back, more suspicious than ever. "Is that what you tripped over in the courtyard?"

"Um. Yes? But—"

Ōbi leaned forward fast enough to slam the front legs of his chair down hard, and loud.

"Damn, is that how you injured your knee yesterday?"

"I mean, yes, but I'm—"

"Shit, we should have taken care of that a while ago." Ōbi stood, scratching the back of his neck. "I guess we have our group project today, then."

"A good portion of those boxes contain the supplies for redoing much of the courtyard, including the new pipework." Hinawa adjusted his glasses, regarding her before returning his attention to his clipboard. "I did not prioritize getting it done, so I will take responsibility for most of it."

Iris didn't really know what to think of any of this, other than a sense of shocked relief as her anxiety floated out the window. If she had known it would be this easy, she would have gathered the courage to open her mouth more weeks ago.

Ōbi was already shucking off the upper portion of his jumpsuit, his usual reaction to impending work more strenuous than lifting a stack of papers.

"Oh, so if we clear all the boxes out, we could get the plumbing there fully laid today, huh?"

"If by 'we,' you mean the three of us," and Lieutenant Hinawa used his pen to gesture between himself, Maki, and Iris, "then yes. You are not allowed anywhere near that venture." He pulled a single, specific file from the stack on the desk, adding it to his clipboard. "You can move the boxes out, though."

"Excuse me, I can lay pipe."

"No, you cannot." And the look he shot the captain could best be described as judgmental. "If we let you, it will be a disaster."

Captain Ōbi hooked his thumbs into the loops on his jumpsuit.

"I was a firefighter for years before I came here. If there is anyone here with actual experience with water supplies, it's me."

"I can see the immediate and obvious differences between even the large diameter fire supply hose and a permanent metal or PVC pipe buried in the ground." Iris could tell he was slowly approaching Done With This Conversation. "If this were a temporary, above-ground supply I'd let you have it, but it isn't."

"You have no faith in me at all."

"I put faith in you every time I stand behind that shield." Something entirely unseen shot between him and Maki, who took the hint and headed for the door, pushing Iris out with her. Okay, so they were dismissed. It was a good thing Maki was better at reading him than most. "But I also remember you trying to set up the automatic door rigging for the Matchbox bay."

"That turned out fine! Your reflexes are too good for you to be killed by something as simple as a prematurely closing door anyways."

To Iris' surprise, it wasn't so much that they were dismissed; this was a group exodus, as she could hear both heavy sets of boots following down the hallway behind them. Maki and Ōbi started in on the box pile as soon as they hit the courtyard hallway, but Hinawa stopped and passed Iris the folder from the office.

"These are the blueprints and utilities plans for the cathedral. Look for one towards the top titled 'plumbing'; we'll need it for this project." At her unsaid question, because she wasn't up for pushing her good luck just yet, he added, "I pulled them from the city records when I got here. They have come in handy more than once, and they likely will again."

"Yes, sir."

He regarded her long enough for it to start to become uncomfortable, before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose again.

"I know I'm… hm. And Ōbi's…" He seemed to rethink his entire sentence before starting again. "Don't let Ōbi and I's vocal incongruity keep you quiet. We can be stubborn, and difficult, but I promise both of us are better at listening than we seem like we are. If you're going to get good at this job, you'll need to find your voice, the louder the better."

"Yes, sir!"

"Hm." He made to leave her in the hallway, to help the others move the boxes. "One last thing," and the look he shot her over his shoulder made her back straighten, perhaps audibly, "do not allow Ōbi to see those plans. I would like to have this done by sundown. If Ōbi even remembers to ask about them, he's only going to skim it, and this will be more mess than mission."

"Um, yes. Copy that." She wasn't really sure how she was supposed to keep files from someone who could pull rank on both her and the lieutenant both at the same time, but she'd try. Maybe.

The boxes moved out of the courtyard swiftly, which was as much about teamwork as it was that Ōbi could move five or six boxes for every one or two that Maki and Hinawa carried. Iris was pleased; she couldn't do much more than sweep up after them, but it was nice to have the space reclaimed.

And then she watched Captain Ōbi start to gently pull up tiles on the ground, stacking them in a corner nearby. She must have squeaked or gasped or something, because he shot her a look, grinning.

"Don't worry about Hinawa. 'I can't lay pipe,' my ass. Look, you can see 'em come from the floor above, and they go underground right here. You use the water for your ceremonies, yeah? Just give us a few hours, and we'll have this back up and running for you."

He was confident, and sure of himself, and despite Lieutenant Hinawa's warning, he seemed quite sure about what he was doing. She certainly couldn't dispute the logic. She did have those plumbing plans, though…

By dinner that day, she had seen more airborne water than she ever had, short of actual driving rain. Captain Ōbi managed to crack a pipe, which sent huge spouts of water spraying in every direction except into the rest of the fountain. They managed to cap it and fix the damage, but not before Ōbi looked like he had just stepped out of a pool, grinning ear to ear. Hinawa did not look much better, with his bangs stuck to his face, and was wearing an expression more reminiscent of a long-haired cat dunked into a bathtub. And the shouting continued, unabated. Maki looked like she was politely trying not to laugh as she and Iris mopped the stone tiles dry. The captain was summarily banished from wet work, much to his dismay. Iris was surprised, however, that he had a good eye and steady hand for pruning the courtyard's trees. It definitely explained the occasional pots of well-tended plants dotted around the cathedral.

The fountains did work again, though.

Which Iris enjoyed later that night, sitting in the freshly cleaned courtyard. She liked the look of it, cozy in size and feel, if only because it was the result of her coworkers coming to her aid. Which was a new sensation, such a show of force when she asked for help. She didn't fool herself into believing it would be that easy every time, but at least she knew her own voice worked just fine. It still wasn't a roar, yet, but it was loud enough to be heard in this den.

And as long as she was heard, she'd be fine.

AN:

This turned out... much longer than intended, peeps. I started writing and I just could not stop. I'm sure it's all over the place.

WHELP. XD

Yell at them, Iris! They don't have egos delicate enough to bruise; let them know they're being inconsiderate!

And then stay out of the way as Follows No Written Directions Dad thinks he knows how to be a plumber. XD

Also, about the kitchen: the fire department in my city has a tradition that whomever cooks for that shift doesn't do the post-dinner dishes. They can clean what they cooked in as they go, but everyone else clears and cleans the dining room. "Whomever cooks don't clean." Every fire department is going to have a different approach to this, but I'm giving it to Company 8 because that's the kind of "spread the chores around" mentality that they seem like they'd embrace.