The hum of machinery was the only sound that filled the garage.
It was tucked beneath one of Future Industries' lesser-used facilities—a place Asami had claimed as her own long before Republic City knew her name. The scent of grease, smoke, and metal lingered in the air like a comfort blanket. It wasn't part of the main lab. There were no digital readouts, no assistants, no funding grants.
Just her, a half-built motorcycle, and memories.
Kaiqok stood at the open bay door, watching her from a respectful distance. She hadn't heard him yet. She was bent over the engine, a streak of oil across her cheek, goggles perched lazily on her head.
And he was spellbound.
Not by her beauty—though that was undeniable.
But by her quiet.
The kind of peace she only seemed to find with tools in her hands, and no world to save.
He stepped closer, the wooden floor creaking under his boots.
Asami looked up, startled for only a moment. "You're not supposed to be here."
Kaiqok smirked. "That never stopped me before."
She set the wrench down and wiped her hands on an old cloth. "This place isn't on any blueprint."
He leaned against a nearby workbench. "I know. You erased the registry lines with an electromagnetic field loop. Smart."
Asami narrowed her eyes. "How do you know that?"
"I read the magnetic residue in the walls," he replied casually. "And followed your perfume."
She chuckled. "You're insufferable."
He tilted his head. "But charming?"
She didn't answer—just tossed him a rag. "If you're going to invade my garage, you're going to help."
---
An hour passed in relative silence as they worked side by side.
She was rebuilding an old Satomobile engine, one of her father's forgotten designs. He helped without needing instructions, matching her rhythm perfectly, his chakra gently heating parts for sealing while she welded with precision.
"So," Kaiqok said finally, "this was your first escape?"
Asami looked up from the crankshaft. "More like my first battlefield."
He waited.
"My father taught me how to build. Before he… changed. Before Amon, before everything fell apart." Her voice was steady, but the sadness in it wasn't hidden.
"This place was where I came to pretend that none of it happened. No Equalists. No war. Just... me and the machine."
Kaiqok wiped his hands, then leaned against the bench beside her.
"Even warriors need somewhere to fall apart," he said.
Asami nodded slowly. "You have a place like that?"
He hesitated. "No. I had people. For a while. But not a place. I moved too much, fought too often. I think… this is the first time I've stayed long enough to miss something."
She studied him. "You mean miss someone."
Their eyes locked again.
He reached up, gently brushing the oil from her cheek.
"I meant what I said before. I'm not going anywhere."
Her breath hitched—only slightly.
"And what happens when your past finally catches up to you?"
He smiled softly. "Then I fight like hell to stay here."
---
Their moment was interrupted by a soft clink—the engine piece she'd been holding slipped from her grip, bouncing once before Kaiqok caught it effortlessly.
She laughed. "Okay. That was impressive."
"Trained reflexes. And… I may have used a little chakra."
"Cheater."
He shrugged. "I fight fair only when it's boring."
She smirked, then looked at the nearly rebuilt engine. "You want to know something ridiculous?"
"Always."
"I've rebuilt this thing four times. Taken it apart, started again. And I've never once finished it."
"Why not?"
"Because if I finish it… I have to drive it. And if I drive it…" Her voice dropped, "I have to admit I'm moving forward."
He said nothing for a moment.
Then stood and walked around to the driver's seat.
"Then let's finish it together. And if you're scared to drive it…" He held out a hand, "Let me be the one riding beside you."
She stared at him, heart hammering.
Then took his hand.
---
An hour later, the engine roared to life.
Asami stepped back, breathless, eyes wide as the old machine growled and rumbled beneath them. Kaiqok sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, grinning like a proud mechanic.
"You built a beast," he said.
She laughed—really laughed—the sound echoing through the garage like music.
"I finally finished it," she whispered.
He looked at her. "No. We did."
She turned to him, cheeks still streaked with grease, eyes shining.
Then she leaned in—slowly—and kissed him. Not out of desperation or tension.
But out of gratitude.
Out of trust.
And for the first time in a long time, Asami Sato let herself feel like she could build something that wouldn't break.
---
Elsewhere, deep in the shadows of Republic City, the Stellar Hand unearthed something old from a warehouse ruin: an engine core etched in First Era markings, built to channel spirit energy directly into human nerves.
K stood over it, watching it pulse.
"Let them fix their hearts," he murmured. "I'll fix their future."