"Ah! This is just what I need!" Miki exclaims, pulling her hand triumphantly out of a bin of used bike parts. She presents Aya with the derailleur, grinning proudly and smudging her thumb across a bit of grime on the mechanism.
To Aya, it looks like nothing so much as a futuristic swiss army knife, divorced of the bike it should be attached to. But Miki is beaming, and Aya can feel her expression softening beneath the ferocity of her girlfriend's delight.
"Doesn't your brother buy all this stuff?" Aya asks anyway, giving the derailleur another skeptical look.
"He does get parts from a couple different distributors," Miki agrees, nodding her head smartly. "Both new from the manufacturers, and used from the wholesalers our family's shop has a partnership with. But it's not the same, you know?"
"Not the same as grubbing around in bins from other people's bike shops?" Aya asks.
"Well, it's an adventure," Miki says, laughing and flashing another little grin. "There's this old bike somebody left at the shop, and they didn't even want any money for it. Most of the parts are damaged, but the frame is still good. I thought, well. I thought it could be a project, fixing up that bike."
"You really love this stuff, don't you," Aya says. It isn't exactly a question.
"Yeah," Miki agrees, her voice going softer. "I really do."
Aya glances sideways at her, as Miki's excitement ebbs and her free hand reaches again toward the bin, gently turning over the bits and bobs of bike parts stored haphazardly inside. Her gaze is suddenly very far away, like she's seeing something different than the store Aya is still glancing around at out of the corners of her eyes.
"Hey," Aya says, gruffly, but isn't sure how to continue. A pause draws out between them, before she manages to add, "I think you're really good at it. I think you'll do a good job. Fixing up that bike, I mean."
"I hope so," Miki says, conviction coming back into her voice. "A good frame like that deserves good, working parts, and a rider who will cherish it. Maybe if I fix it up well enough, Tooji can sell it."
"Maybe you could fix it up and ride it," Aya says, looking off across the store to where a handful of jerseys are hung along the wall.
"Oh," Miki says, glancing away. "I don't know about that."
"But," Aya starts, turning back toward her. "But you love bikes so much, and you know everything about them. Shouldn't you have a bike of your own? I've never even seen you with one that didn't belong to the club."
"Tooji doesn't really ride any more," Miki says, so that for a moment Aya is caught off-guard by the seeming change in subject. "He raced really hard in high school and he was a good captain, so much so that he can't stop helping Sohoku's team even now that he's graduated. He loves bikes as much as I do, maybe more. But... Tooji doesn't ride any more, not really. And he rode more than I do."
Aya stares at her girlfriend, lips just parted, wanting to speak but still reaching for the words. Then she swallows, and her startled look settles into something more stubborn. "I think that's stupid. If you're trying to say you didn't even try because your brother did and now he looks like he's quitting, well. That's just dumb."
"Is it really?" Miki asks, the smallest of distant smiles on her lips. "I thought it made a lot of sense."
"It is," Aya insists. "And it doesn't. You should... Finish fixing up that bike. And then you should keep it. Hell, maybe I'll even rent one, you know how they do? And we can ride them together."
Miki is silent a moment. Then she laughs, a bright, startled sound that heralds in the smile spreading across her face, and the tense something catching at Aya's throat starts to ease free.
"I'd like that," Miki says. "But if we're going to do that, I need to find some more parts. And, hmm, maybe I could start working on another bike. For you."
"Hmph," Aya hums, but she's starting to smile despite herself. "If you get really into it, I guess maybe I will need one."
FILL: TEAM FUKUTOMI JUICHI/KINJOU SHINGO, T
Word Count: 726
"Ah! This is just what I need!" Miki exclaims, pulling her hand triumphantly out of a bin of used bike parts. She presents Aya with the derailleur, grinning proudly and smudging her thumb across a bit of grime on the mechanism.
To Aya, it looks like nothing so much as a futuristic swiss army knife, divorced of the bike it should be attached to. But Miki is beaming, and Aya can feel her expression softening beneath the ferocity of her girlfriend's delight.
"Doesn't your brother buy all this stuff?" Aya asks anyway, giving the derailleur another skeptical look.
"He does get parts from a couple different distributors," Miki agrees, nodding her head smartly. "Both new from the manufacturers, and used from the wholesalers our family's shop has a partnership with. But it's not the same, you know?"
"Not the same as grubbing around in bins from other people's bike shops?" Aya asks.
"Well, it's an adventure," Miki says, laughing and flashing another little grin. "There's this old bike somebody left at the shop, and they didn't even want any money for it. Most of the parts are damaged, but the frame is still good. I thought, well. I thought it could be a project, fixing up that bike."
"You really love this stuff, don't you," Aya says. It isn't exactly a question.
"Yeah," Miki agrees, her voice going softer. "I really do."
Aya glances sideways at her, as Miki's excitement ebbs and her free hand reaches again toward the bin, gently turning over the bits and bobs of bike parts stored haphazardly inside. Her gaze is suddenly very far away, like she's seeing something different than the store Aya is still glancing around at out of the corners of her eyes.
"Hey," Aya says, gruffly, but isn't sure how to continue. A pause draws out between them, before she manages to add, "I think you're really good at it. I think you'll do a good job. Fixing up that bike, I mean."
"I hope so," Miki says, conviction coming back into her voice. "A good frame like that deserves good, working parts, and a rider who will cherish it. Maybe if I fix it up well enough, Tooji can sell it."
"Maybe you could fix it up and ride it," Aya says, looking off across the store to where a handful of jerseys are hung along the wall.
"Oh," Miki says, glancing away. "I don't know about that."
"But," Aya starts, turning back toward her. "But you love bikes so much, and you know everything about them. Shouldn't you have a bike of your own? I've never even seen you with one that didn't belong to the club."
"Tooji doesn't really ride any more," Miki says, so that for a moment Aya is caught off-guard by the seeming change in subject. "He raced really hard in high school and he was a good captain, so much so that he can't stop helping Sohoku's team even now that he's graduated. He loves bikes as much as I do, maybe more. But... Tooji doesn't ride any more, not really. And he rode more than I do."
Aya stares at her girlfriend, lips just parted, wanting to speak but still reaching for the words. Then she swallows, and her startled look settles into something more stubborn. "I think that's stupid. If you're trying to say you didn't even try because your brother did and now he looks like he's quitting, well. That's just dumb."
"Is it really?" Miki asks, the smallest of distant smiles on her lips. "I thought it made a lot of sense."
"It is," Aya insists. "And it doesn't. You should... Finish fixing up that bike. And then you should keep it. Hell, maybe I'll even rent one, you know how they do? And we can ride them together."
Miki is silent a moment. Then she laughs, a bright, startled sound that heralds in the smile spreading across her face, and the tense something catching at Aya's throat starts to ease free.
"I'd like that," Miki says. "But if we're going to do that, I need to find some more parts. And, hmm, maybe I could start working on another bike. For you."
"Hmph," Aya hums, but she's starting to smile despite herself. "If you get really into it, I guess maybe I will need one."