Kaidou lays half-disassembled on Inui’s table, watching the somewhat unnerving process of Inui running fine tools across the insides of Kaidou’s tenuously attached arm. Most technicians won’t allow their android clients to be awake during maintenance. Most androids find it a bit too off-putting anyway. Kaidou is a bit contrary in that sense; he prefers to remain active, because he finds being shut down to be the far more unnerving part. That’s why he goes to Inui for all of his maintenance.
That, and one other reason.
Inui sets down Kaidou’s forearm, and quickly sets about reattaching it at the elbow. Inui works fast, his fingers working with quick precision, without any wasted effort. His work is machine-like in his efficiency; Kaidou sometimes forgets that Inui is human.
Inui runs a hand over the length of Kaidou’s arm, feeling at the tendons and artificial muscles. Kaidou can just hardly process the nerve impulses; his positronic brain is still hooked up with Inui’s computer, with scans and defragging running on it. He has to be kept in low-power mode for that, which means all of his sensory input comes in just a little fuzzy.
“How has your performance been recently?” Inui asks, his hands still digging into Kaidou’s arm.
“Good.”
“The snake shot is still effective?”
“Yes,” Kaidou says. “Though the last few matches it’s been a bit off.”
“Can you be more specific?” Inui asks, raising an eyebrow. “How far off? A matter of millimeters or centimeters?”
“Millimeters, I think,” Kaidou says. He wasn’t programmed for fine tuned measurements like that. Just to hit the ball and win.
Inui nods. “I don’t believe the problem is the arm itself. But some calibrations may need to be done on your internal systems to account for it.”
“Sure.”
Inui reaches over to Kaidou’s chest. Even some experienced technicians have trouble pinpointing the seams on the maintenance hatches on the first try, but Inui sinks his finger into the hidden groove without fail every time. He runs his fingernail under it, like a surgeon with a scalpel, until finally the hatch pops and releases with a hiss. Inui is quick to open it and get the chest plate out of the way, setting it aside.
The chest hatch is notorious for being hard to perform maintenance on, what with there being so many components and work has to be done, very often, at odd angles. It’s another reason most androids would prefer to be unconscious for the procedure. Inui doesn’t skip a beat before pushing himself up on the table, planting a knee on either side of Kaidou, and digging into the hatch with some of his finer tools.
Kaidou of course doesn’t have his uniform on, his artificial skin fully exposed. He can hazily feel the texture of Inui’s slacks slightly brushing his sides. More clearly, he can feel Inui’s hands as they run over his components, and the poke and prod of his tools as they very gently — considerately — work into his systems.
Kaidou looks up at Inui’s face, tense with concentration, focused singularly on his goal.
And Kaidou thinks that’s why he wouldn’t want to be unconscious for a single second of this.
FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, T
Word Count: 535
Kaidou lays half-disassembled on Inui’s table, watching the somewhat unnerving process of Inui running fine tools across the insides of Kaidou’s tenuously attached arm. Most technicians won’t allow their android clients to be awake during maintenance. Most androids find it a bit too off-putting anyway. Kaidou is a bit contrary in that sense; he prefers to remain active, because he finds being shut down to be the far more unnerving part. That’s why he goes to Inui for all of his maintenance.
That, and one other reason.
Inui sets down Kaidou’s forearm, and quickly sets about reattaching it at the elbow. Inui works fast, his fingers working with quick precision, without any wasted effort. His work is machine-like in his efficiency; Kaidou sometimes forgets that Inui is human.
Inui runs a hand over the length of Kaidou’s arm, feeling at the tendons and artificial muscles. Kaidou can just hardly process the nerve impulses; his positronic brain is still hooked up with Inui’s computer, with scans and defragging running on it. He has to be kept in low-power mode for that, which means all of his sensory input comes in just a little fuzzy.
“How has your performance been recently?” Inui asks, his hands still digging into Kaidou’s arm.
“Good.”
“The snake shot is still effective?”
“Yes,” Kaidou says. “Though the last few matches it’s been a bit off.”
“Can you be more specific?” Inui asks, raising an eyebrow. “How far off? A matter of millimeters or centimeters?”
“Millimeters, I think,” Kaidou says. He wasn’t programmed for fine tuned measurements like that. Just to hit the ball and win.
Inui nods. “I don’t believe the problem is the arm itself. But some calibrations may need to be done on your internal systems to account for it.”
“Sure.”
Inui reaches over to Kaidou’s chest. Even some experienced technicians have trouble pinpointing the seams on the maintenance hatches on the first try, but Inui sinks his finger into the hidden groove without fail every time. He runs his fingernail under it, like a surgeon with a scalpel, until finally the hatch pops and releases with a hiss. Inui is quick to open it and get the chest plate out of the way, setting it aside.
The chest hatch is notorious for being hard to perform maintenance on, what with there being so many components and work has to be done, very often, at odd angles. It’s another reason most androids would prefer to be unconscious for the procedure. Inui doesn’t skip a beat before pushing himself up on the table, planting a knee on either side of Kaidou, and digging into the hatch with some of his finer tools.
Kaidou of course doesn’t have his uniform on, his artificial skin fully exposed. He can hazily feel the texture of Inui’s slacks slightly brushing his sides. More clearly, he can feel Inui’s hands as they run over his components, and the poke and prod of his tools as they very gently — considerately — work into his systems.
Kaidou looks up at Inui’s face, tense with concentration, focused singularly on his goal.
And Kaidou thinks that’s why he wouldn’t want to be unconscious for a single second of this.