The garage was quiet except for the soft patter of rain on the tin roof and the occasional clink of a tool against Tokki’s frame. Hana knelt by the mech’s leg, her hoodie streaked with grease and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. The fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over her workbench, where half-assembled components and scattered tools lay waiting.

She adjusted a stubborn joint, the torque wrench clicking as she finally tightened it into place. Leaning back, she wiped her hands on an already-ruined rag, letting out a small, satisfied sigh. It was nearly 3 a.m., but the steady rhythm of the rain and the hum of the garage made it feel like time didn’t exist.

Her eyes wandered over Tokki’s frame, panels open and wires exposed. The mech wasn’t just a machine—it was her partner. Her escape. She smiled faintly, reaching for another tool. “Just one more fix,” she muttered, her voice soft against the rain.