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[indent]Years spent alone, meditating, learning how to block out all external agitators so that she could focus on the [i]internal[/i] ones, had leant Mio the ability to wrestle even great duress into stillness. In the work of a few moments, her heart was steady, her breathing was even, and her hand clutched the hammer in a white-knuckle grip but, well, it wasn’t shaking. Little steps. 

The downside to such intense focus was fairly obvious. She had somehow managed to miss one of the loudest presences in the valley until it was quite literally tapping her on the shoulder. It was only due to so many years of intense discipline that she did [i]not[/i] jump like a startled cat, or shriek like she was eleven years old. Instead, with a small jolt, she released the deathly grip on her hammer and turned around. 

Her little corner was smoggy and dark, and what firelight reached her did not lend her a gentle appearance. She was a hulking shadow smeared with soot and sweat, and she would not have held it against Akiyama Haruhi if she turned tail and ran away.

Instead, the girl thrust out the broken blade of a farming tool and smiled like she couldn’t see her. 

“[color=00FF36]I hit it on a rock![/color]”

Mio took the hoe from her gently, inspecting it up close. Snapped at the socket, and not a clean break either. The thing was utterly mangled. 

“[color=f26522]So you did,[/color]” she agreed. 

Most people weren’t happy when they needed something fixed, which, frankly, made them easier to deal with; she couldn’t ruin someone’s day if it was already ruined. Haruhi, however, seemed incapable of bad moods, and if she hadn’t always been that way, Mio would have suspected she was playing some kind of Keiko-level joke on her. Instead she was just confused, and it made accepting the girl’s genuine nature difficult. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the longer it took, the further it had to fall. 

Realizing she was staring, Mio cleared her throat and turned back to her table. She tried not to make eye-contact often—people told her it made them uncomfortable. Even if she didn’t quite trust Haruhi’s kindness, she didn’t want to repay it by being unsettling. 

“[color=f26522]Well, lets see,[/color]” she said, sifting through the small stack of craft and repair orders she’d yet to get to. Those, combined with helping out with whatever Tsubasa was working on, would probably see this delayed to the evening. 

Ah, but, this was different, wasn’t it? This wasn’t a busted doorknob or a cracked spare axle. The Akiyamas were farmers, their tools helped keep the village fed. Haruhi especially would need hers, considering her bizarre aversion to Signs. Putting something like this off would be…well, it would be irresponsible. 

With a nod she said, “[color=f26522]Just one moment,[/color]” and cleared a space on the table, before setting the hoe down. After Mending so much that morning, she had planned to handle the rest of the day’s orders by hand, but, with the break being how it was, she wasn’t confident in a slap-fix, and without magic she might have just recommended the girl buy a new tool altogether. What else were Signs for?

So, she took the snapped blade and shaft in one hand, closing her fingers around them so that they appeared as a single unbroken piece. With her other hand she made the familiar Mending Sign, and under her breath she muttered its words. A faint glow, not unlike the waking stokes of the forge, emanated from her palm, seeping deeply into the metal. She kept her focus, tried not to think about the girl who had taught her this Sign being so close by, and squeezed her hand tight around the tool. Jagged metal poked her skin, but she’d been a blacksmith for almost ten years, it would take more than that to draw blood from her hands. 

Eventually she let go, and allowed herself a small smile at her work. Small, and brief, and gone when she turned back to Haruhi and held out the tool with both hands and a bow, now perfectly whole. 

“[color=f26522]I believe this will do,[/color]” she said, eyes still downturned. Part of her was tempted to ask she be more careful in the future, but not only did the idea of advising others horrify her, this hadn’t been a terribly difficult task. Besides, a little break from the monotony now and then didn’t hurt. 

Instead she said, “[color=f26522]Thank you,[/color]” which felt somehow worse and more awkward. [i]Thank her for what?[/i] “[color=f26522]For…the work,[/color]” she finished. Yes, much better now.
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[sup][right][color=f26522]Interactions:[/color] [i]Haruhi [@Lemons][/i][/right][/sup][/indent]