Work Text:
Tsubasa had had it up to here with suffering the insufferable.
At the start she'd thought there couldn't be anything worse - pulled from her home and life, told to plunge an infuser into her own heart and fight against swarms of invaders. The revive-o-matic wasn't any comfort, only a tool to ensure she would be back again and again, no matter how many times she died.
Of course now that all seemed quaint by comparison.
It was one thing to stand in the sidelines while the others battled. The threat of the school's destruction hadn't really felt real, and there were several others who had seemed happy enough to dive into the mass of enemies, shouting nauseating things about wanting to see their guts and bones. It was fine. She wasn't the only one who wouldn't fight. But this was different, waiting for someone else to die irrevocably in your place, and only being glad it wasn't you or those you cared about most. Watching Hiruko die, unable (or was it just unwilling?) to make herself move from the spot.
The bus stalling was actually a welcome change of pace. No worrying about testing strange suits or trying to repair an escape pod - just some good, old-fashioned repair work that reminded her of early days with her grandfather. Her score was even high enough to be outside of any immediate danger for once. It would be an easy fix, but she would still take what time she could to enjoy it.
It was good to be back. The secret lab had been nice, and the garage was exciting to play around with, but the parking lot was the closest to her garage back in the TRC. Walking down the length of the bus, she let the tips of her gloved fingers brush against its side in a fond gesture even as she gave it a critical eye, making sure there weren't any more unexpected surprises. Satisfied with her inspection, she donned her glasses and opened the hood only to find herself with company before she could begin. She expected to see Takumi, either with a new job for her to work on or to give her another toolkit that wasn't quite useful for anything she was actually doing but was still an appreciated gesture.
Instead she saw she'd been visited by Omokage, of all people. Doing a double take, she turned and squinted at him, one hand still resting on the hood.
"Uh...hi? Did something happen? Is there a meeting or something?"
It was rare enough seeing him away from Takumi or the bio lab, but this was especially strange. He acted like he didn't know how out of place he looked as he waved her off with a gesture, stepping into the room.
"No, no. Just...curious."
Curious, she thought, was probably one of the most worrying possible moods for him to be in, right up there with 'hostile' and 'affectionate'. Though he hadn't been responsible for any of the deaths in the school (so far) (probably?), she wasn't sure how she should feel about him. Usually any interactions until then had had the safe buffer of Takumi or the girls from the other academy, who seemed comfortable with him despite his whole...general way of being.
She squinted at him in suspicion but shrugged, determined not to let him throw off her pseudo-break.
"Okay. Just...don't say anything too weird? I'm going to be working, so..." 'So don't say anything that will make me puke on the oil filter,' she left unsaid.
"I'll try," he replied with an absolutely unconvincing expression. "Not that I'd mind if your stomach got the better of you."
Refusing to dignify that with a response, she gave up and started her search. It wasn't entirely surprising when he sidled up near her, trying to look over her shoulder to watch her work. In other circumstances she might have felt more self-conscious, but having her jumpsuit fully on, long hair tucked safely underneath felt like a more familiar armor than her class armor ever was.
She still wished he would give her some elbow room. Seeing no immediately obvious problems, she grabbed her can of carb cleaner and gestured with it towards the corner as she sidestepped him to go and start the engine.
"If you're going to hang around, be ready to grab the fire extinguisher. Just in case." That didn't have the desired effect. If anything, he seemed genuinely interested now.
"Oh? What exactly is the problem?"
"She's running rich and I've been hearing hissing. Probably a vacuum leak."
"And that could start a fire?"
"No, but this could." She began spraying the hose connections, thankful that he was staying quiet and with his haori sleeves well away from the belts. Her focus moved fully, brow furrowed as she listened. Tsubasa was close to pausing and waiting for the engine to cool when it finally stumbled as she got to the intake manifold gasket. Turning off the engine, she went to gather her tools, and was surprised to find Omokage still standing there. She raised an eyebrow, but got no response.
Well, if he was going to be like that, she'd take advantage of her audience.
She started talking as she took out the intake ducting, gently setting the pieces on the cart she'd wheeled over as she removed them as she explained the function of each item. He could have snuck away and it wouldn't have really mattered - she'd spent plenty of time talking to herself, after all - but it was still somewhat gratifying whenever she looked and he was still there, seemingly actually listening. Explaining made her think of her grandfather, of sneaking out to his garage despite her parents' protests and trying to memorize every scattered tool he ever used. Something about it just made sense in a way nothing else ever had, whether it was because of how he explained things or just the nature of the machines themselves, tangible and predictable in a way so many things weren't.
When she began pulling out the wiring harness he finally spoke, the suddenness making her startle slightly.
"Looking at it like this, I can't help but think that our jobs aren't that different."
"Well, when I work on something I want it to still be functional when I'm done with it. I don't just demolish cars."
"But seeing the way you look as you work...I can tell you appreciate the beauty of having such a powerful machine dismantled by the work of your hands. To know every detail of it intimately -" He was starting to get that strange look in his eyes that made her think she needed to try to get the conversation back on the rails sooner rather than later.
"It's not that similar. An actual body would be way more complicated. And fragile. And...wet." She made a face. "You can't just...rummage around like you can with a car."
"You'd be surprised. In surgery-"
"Nope." An amused huff, but he obliged and changed tacks. Moving closer, he gestured at the engine bay.
"Oils circulating in the heart of it, wires as the nerves connecting each system, all interconnected...if you ever wanted to try it, you might take well to the biological."
Unbidden, the image came to her mind of the bus as a living organism, her standing over it with hands stained not with grease but blood, and felt her gorge rise at the thought. She choked down the bile, looking around, grounding herself with the reality of the sights and smells of this place she'd come to cherish.
"And are you the teacher or the subject in this scenario?" What did it say about her, that she'd become able to steel herself enough to joke like this?
"Either. Both. You know me, I'm...flexible."
"Of course," she muttered, taking her socket wrench and started in on the manifold bolts with perhaps more aggression than was strictly required. Omokage obligingly stepped back to give her more room to work, but was still lingering, even as she remained quiet, considering thoughts she'd rather not be having.
You had to know how to take something apart if you wanted to be able to put it back together.
"Your hands are very steady. Even when you're disturbed."
"I'm not disturbed." She hoped her voice sounded more convincing to him. "I'm...thinking, I guess."
"Really?"
"Not like that. I don't want to know, but I guess part of me is curious?"
Maybe it would be good to know some first aid, at least, though she doubted her stomach could handle the reality as well as the hypothetical. It would be something. Maybe it would keep her from freezing again, keep her from being so damn useless -
A sour taste was in her mouth now, and not just from the bile. She sighed as she finished unbolting the intake manifold.
"Hey. Help me lift this."
She could've hauled it out on her own, but there was another perfectly good set of hands just loitering, flipping a knife he'd pulled from god-knows-where, and she was curious as to how he'd respond. Though he gave her an unimpressed look, he obliged readily enough, helping her ease it out and set it aside. She started scraping the remnants of the old gasket, but it was no longer as meditative as it should've been. The mood was off, comfortable rhythm disrupted by what she'd been trying to forget.
"You know what? Apprentice with me for a bit and maybe I'll think about it. I could use some help with the pod."
He laughed, as she'd expected, and seemed ready to finally leave, like she'd hoped.
"A hard bargain. Maybe another day."
Solitude helped, a little, but the damage had been done. She wondered if there was a music player somewhere in the gift-o-matic - some noise that could have covered up the steady rasp of the metal. A radio for her workshop, just like home. She didn't go to ask. Her hands kept moving, because this was what she could do.
Keep working. Try to see what could be fixed.