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1. The Smell of Metal and a Girl's Enthusiasm
Subaru Station was the same as always — the low hum of gravity control, the faint ion-engine residue that clung to the air from a thousand departing ships. Through it, Ledea Mace and Shutia walked side by side, as they usually did.
"...The degradation in the fourth output layer can't be ignored any longer. Mining efficiency on grade-B ore is down fifteen percent. Shutia — within today's budget, I want to look at replacing it with a current-generation unit."
Ledea had her diagnostic log open on her terminal, reading it as she walked. Her silver hair caught the station's artificial light.
"Copy, sis! Your precision flying deserves the best laser available, obviously. I lock the target with my anchor, you burn straight through — just imagining it is making me hungry for dinner already."
"I'm talking about work. Come on. Hal Maintenance."
Shutia, long since accustomed to this temperature of response, hummed something to herself and fell into step half a pace behind.
The automatic door opened. A voice met them before anything else.
"Ledea! Shutia! Hi!"
Sati, apron pocket full of tools, ponytail in motion, came across the shop floor toward them.
"Hello, Sati. I'm here about a laser unit."
"Laser! Leave it to me. The Silver Anchor's current unit, let me think—"
Ledea gave her the specifications. Sati synced with her own terminal and threw a catalog into the air between them.
"It's old enough that replacement makes sense. Output stability is the priority."
"In that case, what about the budget version of the Ifreet Core? Stability is excellent, and the load on the cooling system is minimal."
"The sweep-angle tracking response, though—"
Within moments the conversation had left the atmosphere entirely, technically speaking. Ledea's absolute efficiency and Sati's hands-on passion — two completely different orientations arriving at the same question from opposite directions, generating heat at the point of contact.
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2. Crossed Glances, a Shifting Color
*(...She looks like she's genuinely enjoying this. Sati really does love this work.)*
From the end of the counter, Shutia watched.
There had been a time — not long ago — when she couldn't have sat here. Ledea's side: the only seat that mattered, the only place Shutia had any right to be. The conversation, the shared knowledge, the attention directed somewhere that wasn't her. The fact of not being the sole recipient of all of it would have been enough to fill her chest with something dark and burning and consuming.
*Sis's words should only enter my eardrums. Sis's knowledge should only touch my neurons.*
She had recited versions of that to herself, once.
But now?
*(...Strange. It's not that there's nothing there. But it doesn't feel like the 'I want to break this' urgency from before. Something is different.)*
Shutia pressed her hand to her chest. The obsession was still there — the love that had no reasonable upper limit, that had always been there and would not be leaving. That hadn't changed.
What surprised her was that Sati's straightforward admiration for Ledea — clean, uncomplicated, the respect of someone who simply recognized what they were seeing — felt, in some way she couldn't quite name, endearing.
Then Sati glanced over.
A fraction of a second. A blink's worth of time.
*(—oh.)*
In Sati's eyes, Shutia found something she hadn't expected to find. Not the technical respect she turned toward Ledea. Something warmer than that, and more restrained, and bright in a way that was trying to be modest about itself.
Admiration.
"Um — Shutia, are you bored? I'm sorry, we've been going on about nothing interesting—"
Sati had noticed her watching, and was apologizing, eyebrows tilted with guilt at having left a customer unattended.
Shutia's expression shifted. Not the sweetness she kept for Ledea. Something quieter — the way someone looks at a younger person they've found themselves fond of without quite deciding to be.
"I'm fine, Sati. I like watching this."
The moment she said it, she was the most surprised person in the room.
It should have been a performance — the pleasant accompanist, the reasonable person who didn't mind. She had the lines for it. She'd used them before.
But this wasn't that.
Ledea at her best, and someone beside her who helped bring that out. Shutia looked at that picture and found she could accept it. Not perform accepting it. Actually accept it.
Maybe that was what one step outside the cage felt like.
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3. Amber Tea and the Limits of the Ideal
"Then sit here — please!"
Sati's expression lit up. She steered Shutia toward the small table in the corner of the shop, disappeared into the back at a near-run, and returned with two cups still steaming.
"Look at this — I got actual Earth tea. A trader I know let me have some. Please, drink it!"
"I couldn't — it's too valuable—"
"I wanted you to have it! That's why I got it. Here."
The directness of Sati's gaze left no comfortable angle to decline from. Shutia sat down. Ledea, across the room, paused her consultation and looked over.
"Sati, thank you for looking after her. ...Shutia — accept the offer."
"...Yes, sis. Thank you, Sati."
Shutia took the cup in both hands.
The tea was amber. Its smell had nothing to do with the station's manufactured air — something older, organic, the ghost of soil and leaves. She took a sip. Soft bitterness, and underneath it, a faint sweetness that arrived quietly.
"...It's lovely."
"Really?! I'm so glad—"
Sati beamed as if she'd been the one complimented, then turned back to the consultation.
After a while, she slowed. Frowned slightly at the spec sheet. Scratched the back of her head.
"...Ledea. I have to be honest — the Silver Anchor's laser is too specialized. A multi-function unit that handles precision welding and cutting on top of mining, at that performance level... I don't think I have anything in stock right now that covers everything in one unit."
"I thought that might be the case. Custom order, or a high-end model."
"Yes. For specific applications I have good options at reasonable prices, but if you want to preserve the Silver Anchor's versatility, I can't recommend something that only half-covers it."
Sati delivered the professional conclusion without softening it. Ledea received it the same way.
"I appreciate the honesty. Thank you, Sati."
"Oh — but don't give up yet!"
Sati raised a finger.
"Subaru Station doesn't have what you need, but the Comet Station next door is running a parts exhibition and sale right now. Advance releases from major manufacturers, one-of-a-kind finds — it goes until the end of the week. It might be worth the trip."
"An exhibition sale..." Ledea looked across the room. "Shutia. What do you think?"
Shutia set down her empty cup and looked up.
"Wherever sis wants to go! Comet Station is two days from here — if it means a space voyage with sis, I'm absolutely in favor."
"It's not a voyage. It's work. — Sati, thank you for the information. We'll go."
Ledea settled the rest of the order — consumables, small parts — and wrapped up the visit with her usual efficiency.
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4. A Fingertip, a Ripple
As they were leaving, Sati came across the floor to Shutia at a small trot.
"Shutia — was the tea actually good? Did it suit you?"
The eyes asking were anxious and hopeful in equal measure. The competent mechanic from ten minutes ago was entirely gone. This was just a girl who wanted to know if the person she admired had liked what she'd prepared.
Shutia looked at her properly.
Sati, who had worked hard for Ledea's sake, who had thought to offer something warm, who had apologized for not paying more attention. Small and earnest and trying.
"Yes. Very much. It warmed me. ...Thank you, Sati."
Shutia's hand moved on its own.
Not the headpat from before — the one that had been a kind of measurement, a calibration of something. This was different. Her fingertips came to rest on Sati's hair, light enough that they barely registered as weight. Less like patting and more like acknowledging — the gesture of someone saying *you're here, and that's good.*
"Oh—"
Sati went still for a moment. Then the color arrived in her cheeks, slow and thorough, and she ducked her head with a smile she couldn't quite manage to hide.
"...Hehe. ...Thank you, Shutia."
From a few steps away, Ledea watched. Her expression held something between puzzlement and a quality that was harder to name — the way a person looks at something bright when they weren't expecting to see it.
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5. The Axis That Doesn't Move
On the way back to the dock.
"...Shutia. When did you get so close with Sati? You never used to reach out to people like that."
"Huh?! Oh — that's, um — we ran into each other at the station once, and talked a little—"
Shutia's eyes went sideways. The truth — that she had been quietly patting Sati's head while Ledea slept, as a kind of comfort she hadn't admitted to needing — was not something she was going to say out loud.
"...I see. Well. Making connections is a good thing. Sati is an excellent mechanic, and having someone reliable nearby is worth something."
Ledea didn't pursue it. She looked ahead.
"Making connections... yeah. You're right, sis!"
Shutia closed the distance between them — not quite grabbing Ledea's arm, but close.
"But sis — my center of the universe is always you! If you need it, I'll be your mechanic, your bodyguard, your cook, your pillow, anything, as many times as you need — Sati is wonderful, but my life belongs to you and no one else!"
"...That's excessive. You're smothering me. Step back."
"That's so cold, sis! Oh — we need to plot the course to Comet Station tonight, so let's sleep together and do mission planning, okay? Okay?"
"...I'm putting three locks on the door tonight."
"Don't say that—!"
The usual noise of them, going home.
For a moment, Sati's face crossed Shutia's mind.
Then it passed.
*(Sis. Even so — everything I am is yours.)*
The smell of the amber tea was still with her. Shutia turned to look at Ledea's profile, and quietly began recording again.