Benimaru carries a lot on his shoulders. Captain, husband, leader of Asakusa, and the one to put the burning to rest. It weighs on him and yet he never complains but you see it on him when he thinks no one is looking or when he sleeps...unless you snuggle in to him, holding him tight...then he sighs in his sleep and a small smile graces the normally frowning face.

Lately it’s been worse. There have been an increasing occurrence of combustions and even though Benimaru would never dream of letting anyone else handle these cases it’s clear that he wish he didn’t have to.

“You grant them rest,” you reminded him this evening as he left to the sound of the alarm.

He had just nodded before pulling you into a quick embrace, inhaling your scent. Then he was gone.

That’s hours ago. Even from your window you’ve been able to see the flames and smoke above the roofs and you know it’s a bad one.

----

Darkness is enveloping you. Outside the streetlamps are burning softly but the light can’t penetrate the curtains...at least there’s no more glow of flames in the distance.

You must have dosed off for once – you almost never fall asleep alone – because you can hear the familiar sound of Benimaru in the shower even if you haven’t heard him come in. Turning your pillow, you wait for him.

You don’t have to wait long before the water is turned off and briefly after that you hear Beni come into the room and sit on the edge of the bed. Reaching for him, you find his muscular back in the dark, allowing the tips of the fingers to run over him. There’s a sigh. Getting on to your knees, you shuffle closer to him, embrace him from behind and he grabs your arm, pulling you close.

“Tough one?” you ask quietly.

“Nah.” His voice is broken and you know he’s lying. There’s nothing you can say to make it easier.

...what? He doesn’t have to ask where they would have heard something like that: just this morning [Y/N] had said something along those lines to Benimaru when he tried to order her back to her sick bed. If only I’d known better. Konro had chuckled, telling his old friend to give up on the protectiveness, for now at least.

Staring down at the twins, the scarred man crosses his arm calmly. “Try again.”

Seconds later, papers float in the air as Hinata and Hikage have changed their minds and are sprinting off to get ready for bed.

...  Reader   ...

Ow. Ooow. Eeek. Ow. Ouch.

Limping past Benimaru’s office, you’re thankful the door is closed as you don’t need him to see how you’re gritting your teeth in pain. Maybe he had a point this morning...ow.

He had caught you leaving your room – your destination being the kitchen where Konro was busy serving breakfast for everyone present at the Special Fire Force Company Seven’s headquarters – and promptly ordered your back to bed, completely ignorant of the fact that you’d spent a full day there already and you were bored out of your mind. Opinions had been...exchanged before he let you do what you wanted for the rest of the day.

And now I’m paying the price. Every body part is screaming in protest at the mere idea of moving, littered with bruises and swells, and you’re fairly sure you’ve pulled a few of the stitches on your thigh. Just a bit more. Down the hall and around the corner, then you can collapse onto the futon and get the weight off your swollen ankle.

“Have I ever told you, you’re stubborn?” Beni’s bored voice stops any progress.

Fuck. “Once or twice,” you grit out, refusing to turn to see him standing there, probably arms crossed and leaning against the doorpost, “I take it as a compliment.”

“Figures.” There’s a huff and then you can feel him right behind you. “[Y/N]...” lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “please...you don’t have to do everything alone and I know how strong you are. Let me he-...let me be of use.”

Oh, it’s tempting. You remember parts of the trip back from the Nether and how it had felt to be pressed against his warm body, nuzzling against the crook of his neck to inhale the mixed scents of coals, cedar, and light sweat. It had made it bearable whenever unconsciousness shifted and you were brought back to the pain.

Now Benimaru’s arms snake around your waist and under your knees and you realize you’ve said yes without meaning to, allowing him to lift and hold you against him once more. He tries to move carefully, reducing the jostle as much as he can even as he lays you down.

“[Y/N]...the wound...” The frown on his face could be either worry or exasperation as he shows off the blood that’s seeped through your trousers and onto his shirt.

“Sorry?”

Somehow, he accepts not getting a hold of the doctor. “I’ll...I’ll get what we need to rebandage it while you...” He motions to the bloody clothes, a pink tinge rising to the tip of his ears before he hurries out of the room.

It’s easier said than done and you’ve only managed to wriggle your butt out of the pants by the time he returns with cloths, bandages and hot water. Eyeing the lack of progress, Benimaru wordlessly asks for permission to help with the rest (leaving you in underwear and an oversized t-shirt) which he is granted – you’re too exhausted to keep up the hopeless charade of independence, preferring to be cared for. By him, specifically.

The large hands work meticulously, gently shifting off the layers of the soaked bandages while you lie back to watch in wonder. His shock of black hair can’t obscure the frown or the way he pulls his lips tight when the cloth sticks to the wound and you bite back a hiss of pain. He cradles your thigh with a subtle grasp as he begins to dab away the mess and turning the damp cloths continuously lighter shades of pink until everything finally is clean again.

“You’re luckier than you deserve,” Benimaru grumbles, “stitches are holding. It’s just been seeping from underneath.”

Pushing yourself up by the elbows, you can see he’s right and that a new bruise has formed around the wound. Okay...I’ll have to take it easy a few days more. “Fine...maybe you were right.”

“Maybe? Trust me, by the time it’s wrapped up, you’ll know I’m right.”

It’s obvious that’s he’s taking care, trying to shuffle your leg as little as possible and such, but the bandage has to stay in place and so he can’t let it be too loose. Sure, after the first layers of foamy material directly on the wound, the shifting pressure isn’t quite as bad...but it’s bad enough. Your nails are digging into your palms, teeth into lip, and tears are pouring down your cheeks even if you aren’t making a sound by the time Benimaru is done and has lifted your ankle up by placing a stack of pillows under the calf and foot.

“I’m sorry,” he hushes you, spreading the covers over you, “I really tried to be careful.”

“Mhmm.” You don’t trust your voice to say anything else, but lift the covers aside for him to join you. “Please?”

Something deep and warm moves in those mix-matched eyes of his as you studies your face. Then he discards everything but his boxers and lies down on his side, facing you. The touch of his fingertips is barely there as he wipes away the tracks of the tears.

“I know...I won’t always be able to prevent you from hurting...but I wish I could, babe,” he whispers.

Of course he can’t. It doesn’t matter though, you decide, as long as he’ll be there to help you afterwards and you tell him as much, words mumbled against his lips before losing yourself in a slow kiss.

You are both out of breath when he breaks away.

“I’m not letting you leave bed tomorrow except for the absolute minimum!” Beni vows.

“I could be convinced if you come and cuddle up with me sometimes.”

“Hm. I smell it.”

Smell? Sniffing the air, you don’t pick up on anything much at first apart from Benimaru, dust; and your own need for a bath.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N], just stay calm.” He must have felt you stirring.

Nothing snappy comes to mind and it doesn’t matter because that’s when you realize that a curl of sulphurous stench is mingling with the air.

“Let me down.”

“You can’t stand on that leg,” he argues as Joker steps closer.

Already fumbling with the sash holding the two of you together, the idea of supporting the weight seems like a horrible idea. “It wasn’t an invitation to a discussion, Beni,” you growl, “I’ll hold you back if you carry me.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Stubbornly digging the fingers into your thighs, he’s probably stubborn enough to stick to the word.

Finally free of the restraints, you tug at his hair. “I’m only telling you to put me down for now.”

There are whispers now, low murmuring groans coming from both directions as if carried on the fumes. The lightest dust and ashes are starting to dance on the ground in spiralling patterns that clash and divide in mesmerizing patterns. They could have been fascinating to watch if it wasn’t for the temperature slowly rising.

“Do as she says, Shinmon,” Joker drawls, his eye fixed at a warm glow that has appeared in the distance.

Begrudgingly, the man sets you on the ground, careful to let you gain the balance on your good leg before letting go. It’s obvious on his face: one wrong move and he’ll sweep you off your feet. I’m so gonna use this to my benefit once we’re home. You decide to ignore the nagging sense of doubt and instead focus on the growing lights in either direction of the tunnel.

What at first was nothing more than a glow has now, beyond a doubt, taken shape of several flickering fires moving towards the same cluster of targets. Misshapen bodies cast their stretching shadows beneath the flames, obscuring dozens of shuffling feet as the pace begins to pick up. They know you’re there. They are hungry.

Glancing at the men, the darkness before them is illuminated in red and purple and the air around them is shimmering with heat.

“Let them get close.”

“Guess you’re too exhausted to think clearly, dear,” Joker chuckles but then hesitates as he sees your face, “...okay. Call it.”

...  Joker  ...

Smiling behind the collar, Joker recognizes the worry flashing across the other man’s face. It’s a bold plan and he isn’t sure it’s strictly necessary...but they can’t be sure what else they’ll be facing on their way out, so [Y/N]’s idea of preserving the would-be rescuers’ power for later makes sense.

“Lighten up...or not, actually,” he smiles wickedly at Shinmon, “let’s see what our girl can do, eh?”

The glare he receives from the captain is a logical response.

“[Y/N]...there’s no reason to push yourse-”

“I didn’t survive this shit just to be rescued like some fairy tale maiden.” The threatening purr combined with the half-dried blood makes her seem tantalizingly dangerous. “There’s no one to take out my revenge on, but at least I can clean up the mess I’ve made when I let the lab blow up too.”

Oh? That must be an interesting story...for later. Finding an adequate slab of broken concrete, he brushes it off and sits down. In one of the inner pockets of the coat is a pack wrapped in cellophane and he picks a cigarette from it, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. Aaah. The acrid taste fills him for a handful of seconds before it’s blown out through his nostrils together with the last hours’ worth of stress – he could almost chill for a moment if it wasn’t for Benimaru joining him by the boulder, sitting as relaxed as a statue about to crack.

“Has anyone ever told you t-”

“Shut up, Joker.”

The men relapse into silence. It’s not that the man with the hat doesn’t understand Benimaru’s sentiment: the girl’s in horrible condition and is using almost all her strength to stand, it seems. The white-clad ran from her. The image of a dying man clutching a bundle of hastily written notes is still clear in Joker’s mind. Abandoned a comrade together with a demon infernal...he didn’t think they could end it. It’s clear, though, that something did put it to rest, most likely causing the explosion at the same time. Show us what you’ve got, [Y/N).

...  Benimaru ...

Like lit matches, only their heads are burning as they rush forward. At first surging for whomever is nearest until a clear shout orders them to ignore the men.

“I am what you want!”

The way the infernals all zero in on [Y/N] it really looks like she’s right and as they swarm around, pushing closer but never able to touch her, he can barely see her until he stand up on the slab of concrete.

Eye glowing bright yellow even against the infernals’ blaze, she doesn’t flinch as charred fingers scrape against the air, trying to reach her. She stands, immovable, talking calmly as if they could understand her. Maybe they can. Yes, they absolutely can and some must be accepting what she says because they stop and wait without a sound. Wait for what? A few infernals continue their struggle only to be wrapped in the arms of those standing by until finally, none of them are moving more than their dead faces.

There’s a shift in the air as [Y/N] spreads her arms, smoke and heat pushed outwards by an unseen pressure and stilling the flames of the damned.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispers a second before tugging her fists tightly to the chest and plunging the Nether in darkness once more.

Benimaru can hear the muted sounds of clothing landing in heaps on the ground, the impact softened by dust and ashes, but the room is obscured by dark flakes filling the air to the extend that the glow from Joker’s cigarette nor the captain’s excellent vision can guarantee a view of the woman they came here for.

“Impressive,” the smoking man comments, snapping a fiery playing card out of nowhere to illuminate the space.

No one is listening to the compliment. The captain of Special Fire Force Company Seven is reaching out for the swaying figure of the woman he loves, barely making it over the heap of sooty jumpsuits in time to catch her as she collapses one more time.

“[Y/N]!” he croaks, frantically feeling for a pulse.

A fear that’s still roiling in your guts and clawing its way up your throat until only a fraction of it lands on the beetle that’s waving its antennae towards you. It clicks as if offended (though more likely disgusted) and tries to free the legs one by one to get away.

If it escapes...

Benimaru (and others) have called you stubborn. You’ve learned not to give up because giving up meant allowing yourself to get caught and you weren’t naïve enough to think that the only punishment for that was to see your parents’ faces and sorrow over the little sister you had lost. No. It would’ve meant landing yourself in this exact situation – even if it was nothing but a fearful conspiracy at first.

Now, you know better and realize that the stubbornness has changed.

Now, you twist on the jagged ground, pulling yourself forward by hands and elbows to drag your leg free from a slab of concrete. The dead weight threatens to hold your hostage, squeezing onto your foot with cruel determination. It would be easy to give in to it – to lie down and claim the rest your body is screaming for – but the beetle is moving faster than you are, having spent the time wisely while you fought with gravity, mass, and your own mind.

It can’t be called a scream, the sound that begins deep in your chest and works its way up and out as the strain of muscles constrict around your lungs. You don’t feel the way the nails scrape and break against the sooty floor, just like the muted pop from a strained joint goes ignored save for the tears of relief the moment the ruins let go.

The thud of your palm slamming down doesn’t conceal the satisfying crunch of an exoskeleton being crushed. Shards of concrete dig into your skin and you’ve never welcomed them as much as now.

“Got you, fucker,” you swear, voice hoarse but seething with a new sensation: revenge.

One down. Time to find the rest.

...  Joker  ...

There’s no reason to talk. Not yet, at least. All the men can do for now is to search through the rubble methodically, each covering a half of the space ahead of them while pretending that the odds aren’t stacked against them. He must have realized. But even the lanky man doesn’t have it in him to give up yet, wishing instead to extend the blind hope for just a bit longer. She’s stronger than we give her credit for, but...

“[Y/N]!” Benimaru’s deep voice fills the darkness, briefly fooling his friend in need to think the search is over. “[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” the captain yells, a crackle of desperation breaking through.

Dust and small debris falls from the ceiling as if startled by the sound. It’s a miracle the place hasn’t caved in already and Joker’s about to shut up the normally quiet man when he hears it. Or...? No...it must’ve been an echo.

But then it’s there again: something more akin to a cough has come from the farthest side of the new cavern.

“-maru?”

As if they had planned it, the men each let lose a roaring blaze, licking against the uneven surface above and cast deep, jagged shadows that dance in the white-hot air. Dust is fanned by the invisible wave, split into streams as obstacles loom in the path only to be caught against nothing a few feet from a mess of a woman.

Arm raised as if holding a shield, [Y/N] is leaning against the remains of a wall. Apparently she’s just clambered over it, but how she has managed is a mystery. She’s barely standing! Swaying dangerously, blood seeping from the nose and countless cuts and scrapes, not even the dirt and bruises can hide the fact that the usual lustre of her skin is gone. The only parts of the woman that seems somewhat alive are her eyes glow with a deep crimson a few seconds longer before that too disappears with a blink.

Not a blink.

Benimaru moves faster than Joker can think, suddenly skidding to a halt right before the supposed damsel in distress, catching her effortlessly as her legs give out and she tumbles towards the ground.

...  Benimaru  ...

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

It’s impossible to tell if [Y/N] has heard him, her body limp against the captain’s. There’s no time to worry about decency as Benimaru quickly inspects her for serious injuries – a task that’s all too easy, though, as the once-faded-now-flambéed jumpsuit has been torn to the extend that it barely can hold on to her frame. Finding nothing too obvious (health wise), Benimaru shrugs off the dark-blue kimono shirt to wrap around her.

“We’re gonna get you out of here.”

A slow groan precedes the answer. “Wh- not yet...” [Y/N] can barely keep her eyes open. “Imma k-ki-ick their...asses.”

It’s Joker’s startled laugh that breaks the silence, earning him a confused frown from the dazed woman until he explains. “There’s no one left here.”

“He’s right, [Y/N],” Benimaru agrees, suddenly reconsidering what might have caused all the destruction, “so let’s get you fit for fight before round two.” His entire world consists of this woman as she looks up at him with a tiny smile, asking if they’re going home. “Haï. Home to Konro and the twins. Home to Asakusa.”

“Just give...give me five minutes to rest,” she demands, eliciting a new laugh, “then I’ll be on my feet.”

Not with that leg, you won’t. “Will you let me carry you until you’re okay to walk?” It’s the closest he can get to arguing with her stubbornness right now. “It’d be good to get out of here before the whole thing collapses.”

The chagrin is obvious in her face although it’s softened by fatigue. “Fine.”

With a bit of help from Joker, [Y/N] gets settled for a piggyback ride, her chin resting on her would-have-been rescuer’s shoulder with a content sigh.

Now, you can’t move at all even if the giggling puppeteers has relinquished control of your limbs. Strapped down tightly with chains and manacles, it’s impossible to do more than wiggle your toes. Well...you can move your eyes but you’re not sure you dare to.

Before you stands the dis-proportioned figure of Dr. Giovanni. The tall hat’s brim and his collar are cradling darkness behind the freaky mask – you can’t see his face, but you’re sure his smiling.

“Isn’t this better, hmm?” His voice crackles despite minimal intonation, “waiting...on the precipice to your destiny!”

“Mmrmmmglllm!” Shut the fuck up!

He gets the gist even with the gag impeding your speech. “Now, my dear, there’s no need to be so angry. I’m merely going to help you seize the power waiting for you. Wait and see.”

Giovanni strides over and opens a door and in comes yet another person dressed in white with a red cross. This one is big and muscly and his face is hidden behind a shroud but to be honest you’re paying more attention to what he’s dragging along: a girl, maybe ten years old, is trotting behind (her upper arm is engulfed by the man’s fist). Dressed in the same type of clothes as you and barefoot...that’s where the likeness ends because she’s dirty, skinny, her hair is a mop of matted strands managing to shield most of the face but not hiding the dried-up streaks from tears and snot.

“There’s good.” You’re only vaguely aware that Giovanni had gone to the lab and come back before hearing his order.

The muscle man parks the child in the appointed spot in front of you and then steps behind you. Out of sight. You want the girl to run, to show some sign of desire to get out of this hellhole...but her eyes are unseeing and she simply stands with a hanging head.

“[Y/N],” Giovanni’s voice crackles with delight, “let me show you what I’ve been working on.”

...  Benimaru  ...

“No,” Benimaru easily shuts down the conversation, “you’re not coming with me.”

He knows Konro wants to protest – his oldest friend might even go behind his back somehow in an effort to be of help – but there’s no doubt in the captain’s heart. No one else. Information is scant about the Netherworld and the White-Clad who seem to cherish the relics of a burned world, so going there won’t be a stroll in the park. While Benimaru is confident in his own powers (sometimes looking for a challenge, actually), he doesn’t know what waits underground and can’t guarantee the safety of others.

Pausing at the heavy cloth marking the entrance/exit of the fire station, Benimaru looks back briefly at his friend. “Keep Asakusa safe.”

...

The only person who might be willing to share any information of use is Joker. Of course, he’s not the kind of guy that’s easily found when he doesn’t want to be, but somehow it makes sense to see the slender figure waiting in the dark. Only the pulsing glow of his cigarette is occasionally enough to illuminate the man’s maniacal grin as Benimaru jumps off the matoï.

“You remembered, good,” Joker greets him.

Remembered what? Scratching his head, the captain walks over to the wall of metal and concrete that’s blocking the way below ground. Judging by partially overgrown grooves along the edges, it must be supposed to open outwards, but there’s no handle or lock and there are patches of rust wherever water has had a chance to linger.

“Netherworld...nether means below, so I figured this was an easy place to start,” he shrugs and bangs on the gate.

There’s a faint sound of echoing from the other side but, naturally, nothing else happens.

“Huh...” smoke accompanies Joker’s words, “no one’s home?”

The papers in his fist smoke, the feathery cloud mixing with the dust in the air for no more than a few seconds before igniting with a silent phwoomp. Oops? Someone more sensible (Konro, maybe) would have chosen to preserve them as evidence, but Konro isn’t there and a hopelessly naive side of Benimaru is discreetly urging him to destroy any recount of what these white-clad have been doing as if that could delete the actions too.

Continuing in silence, the men have to be increasingly carefully as walls have been blasted away and the ceiling threatens to cave in the closer to the epicentre they get. Small mounds of ashes and burned clothes dot the way in random intervals – they all look to have been made of a rough material that once might have been a sort of grey...and some are too small for adults.

Benimaru has counted six by the time they reach their destination.

According to the guy they had interrogated, the heart of the cavernous darkness ahead used to be a room of roughly 25 square meters but expanded considerably due to the explosion that had sent heatwaves throughout the subterranean network of tunnels and chambers.

“Still no sign of his comrade,” the drowsy voice of Joker points out.

Maybe the guy we met wasn’t the only one to run. “Well...if Giovanni already had left, why’d one man stay behind and face an infernal alone?”

It’s a rhetorical question which the lanky man decides to ponder. Knowing already that Joker will say what he likes regardless of any protests, the captain of company seven shifts some pieces of rubble to ensure nothing (or rather: no one) is beneath it.

“It was the strongest he’d ever seen, right?” That’s exactly what the white-clad had claimed before expiring. “They can’t have realized that was a risk or Giovanni wouldn’t have told them to continue with the experiments.”

Whichever reason the twisted “doctor” must have had for leaving, the duo haven’t gotten a proper explanation and the risk of Giovanni and maybe more of his fellow nut-jobs returning makes the hairs on Benimaru stand on end.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he growls, “we came here for one reason only.” With that, he clambers over a chunk of ceiling in the hopes of finding [Y/N].

...  Reader  ...

Your body is heavier than lead. Lying still, the only thoughts running through your mind are simple observations related to the physical inputs. The layer of dust settling on your face and getting caught in the eyelashes is soft, blowing into the air if you exhale harder and renewing the smell of concrete and dirt. You’re also vaguely aware that you’re sprawled out across something hard, but it doesn’t really matter much now that the pain has numbed your body – as long as you don’t move, it’ll be fine and you might eventually get some rest.

Flesh seethes and bubbles, the stench quickly filling the room together with the heat of the flames, and you know it won’t be long now. When an infernal is fully formed (their previous life reduced to charcoal and blackened bones) the hunger sets in. Already, the girl’s shape is falling into the posture of a mad and starving animal trying to smell out its prey...and you’re first in line.

“Let me go.” You hate the tremor in your voice as you try to appeal to Giovanni’s kinder side. Does he have any? “Let my hands free at least!”

Eye sockets filled with fire zero in on your struggling shape and a wicked grin splits the blackened skull. Here she comes. The infernal’s first words are barely audible above the roaring flames, but you know what they are anyways because they always are the same – infernals are hungry for souls, for craving the heat of fire while still hating the pain as the last of their consciousness roasts forever.

You know, she can’t burn you. Compared to anyone else who might have been in this situation, you’re actually kind of safe...or you would have been if the fact that the flames won’t touch you is exactly what has gotten you into this mess in the first place. That and the fact that I can’t shut up and keep my head down, you berate yourself.

A skeletal hand reaches out, and you instantly recoil. “No! Don’t touch me!” It pauses as if considering your words and the fear powers you on. “The one behind me, take him...please. Not me, take him instead.“ Tears barely make it onto your cheeks before they evaporate from the blazing heat and you can’t keep your eyes open any longer as it prickles and burns. “Don’t touch me...”

The light shifts together with the scorching air, passing beside you and leaving the front of your body suddenly shivering at the change in temperature.

“Interesting,” the mad doctor comments.

There’s a muted crunch, then the flickering light dies together with the last of an innocent girl.

...  Benimaru   ...

Dark and damp, the Nether seems to exist in a different world altogether. The sounds of rats scurrying out of the way can be heard sometimes, but mostly it’s just the footsteps of the two men making their way along tracks that haven’t seen activity for centuries, maybe.

Once, they’d gotten to an area where stairs led upwards only to be blocked by rubble. Another time, they’d to edge past an abandoned vehicle, the stretched shape askew on the rails and the seats behind the dusty windows offering room for nothing but shadows and a hint of the old world.

That was hours ago.

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Benimaru drawls, “do you?”

Joker shuffles an unlit cigarette to the other corner of the mouth. “Never said I knew exactly where she’d be.”

On and on the walk, none of them saying much except when the path diverges and they must choose a direction. The captain hates it. Sure, Konro often tries to teach him to think first and act later, but there is nothing to consider here except making sure to be able to find the way out again – a task that’s ensured by stacking rubble every 200 meter.

Maybe we should’ve taken the left back there? It’s easy to second-guess everything down here where the cold slowly tries to seep into their bones. Benimaru doesn’t care about the subterranean climate: as long as he hasn’t reached his goal, nothing else matters. It appears Joker is of the same opinion. What does he want from her?

“Wait...” the man in questions pauses, slowly picking the cigarette from between the lips, “do you feel that?”

Benimaru has already figured out that his “friend’s” senses are sharp despite the dopey mannerisms, so he stops as well and tries to sharpen his senses. The thick soles of his boots doesn’t allow him to feel if there are vibrations, but not even the lightest pebbles shift in their spots – only a cobweb waves silently from the broken sign hanging above them. It’s moved by the faintest of breezes that also caresses Benimaru’s cheeks with a hint of warmth as it blows past, carrying the scent of dust and mould.

Wait. ”Warm air,” he gasps.

Whatever is causing it, it’s worth checking out and the men continue into the darkness.

...   Reader   ...

“Please...please do-do-don’t!” Your heart is beating loudly in your ears but it’s not enough to drown out the clicking noises of the beetle. “You c-can’t...please!”

But you know Giovanni not only can but also will because he’s got the beetle gripped with a pair of elongated tweezers and is steadily coming closer. He’s drawing it out, though, revelling in the panic you can’t hold back any longer as it begins to black out everything else.

“You should be proud,” his voice comes from far away, “the scientific importance of this is unparalleled! And the honour! If this works...it means you’ve been chosen to usher in the Second Cataclysm.”

“No...I don’t want...no, please don-”

Sometimes there’s the sound of footsteps passing by at the other side of the door, each time making you hold your breath with dread. But nothing happens – not even when the passer by(s) stop outside as if they’re about to enter. Time just passes and you start to tire from the constant vigilance.

At some point, a bland meal arrives through a hatch and slide in the wall by the desk. Nothing impressive. Nothing that tempts you enough to risk anything by eating or drinking it out of fear of what might be in it. I’m overreacting. They caught me, so why would they spike the food or water? But the worry remains unmoved by any amount of logic you can muster.

...  Konro   ...

Everything has descended into madness.

After returning from the kitchen fire, Konro had presumed that the absence of Beni and [Y/N] was a natural result of their slow start together, but when the night had almost dragged by and the world started to stir, only the captain returned. A grim expression on his face was underlined by the clench of his jaw and fists, his clothes singed and torn.

“Where is -” The question is unnecessary. “Where did you search?”

Benimaru sinks down on the nearest chair. “Third. She’s not there.”

The aftermath of Benimaru’s unsanctioned “search” hit shortly after that.

Representatives from Haijima and the highest up of the Special Fire Force are staring down at the two men from Asakusa, one of which has his mind somewhere else entirely. The last thing needed to dissolve some of the tension is for the captain of Seventh to come off as wry, cooperative, and standoffish.

“I don’t know about a guy with a dark coat and wide-rimmed hat,” Konro sighs, rubbing the scar running across his face, “all I know is that an Asakusan citizen is missing now and that captain Giovanni has practically harassed us on several occasion previous to tonight.” Say something. He attempts to project the desperate wish into Benimaru’s brain. Something useful, he adds.

An exasperated huff betrays one of the Haijima guys, a sleazy man called Oguru, but it’s the Agency Chief who speaks up. “Giovanni...is not a captain anymore.”

Finally, the only captain present seems to listen although his face reveals nothing.

Konro lets his hand fall from his face. “Please explain.”

“As you might know from co-operating with Company Eight, certain...issues have come to light that have dishonoured Giovanni’s standing and warranted his arrest which was set to be handled less than 48 hours ago.”

“Was set to be...?” the lieutenant stressed the grammatical choice.

A potent silence drags out.

“...a simple task which the Fire Force leadership was not able to carry out,” Oguru butts in coldly, “instead allowing him to escape with his research and plans.”

“Hrm,” the Chief grumps, “probably into the Nether.”

Konro’s mind blanks out for a second, not even able to think of curses strong enough for what he knows will happen.

...   Reader   ...

Your body has betrayed you, allowing you to dose off after hours of hyper-vigilance, and so it comes as a shock when the door is wrenched open to allow an oddly dressed girl to enter the room – a baggy, white onesie that somehow doesn’t manage to make her appear anywhere near decent is topped by a crown that has slid past the forehead.

“Awww! You didna wike what we gave you, huh?” she trills, an edge of insanity looming close in her voice, “well, don’t wowwy wittle girl! We won’t give you anymore.” The last sentence stands in sharp contrast, suddenly void of any emotion or caricatured childishness.

Rather than engage, you remain on the cot and only watch the cold mannerism disappear to make room for impatience. She’s insane! Whatever horrors you had concocted at night, growing up in fear of the many dangers a homeless girl could suffer, none has prepared you for this.

“Get up!” the girl orders.

She can only be a handful of year younger than you. Reminds me of a spoiled toddler. And just like a brat, the tantrum follows much too quickly and unleashes an electrical jolt that spans the distance and enter your body with a sharp pain before everything turns numb.

“Wha-...?”

Numb, but not limp. Your body moves as if invisible strings have been attached at every joint, forcing you to stumble past the grinning girl and into the dark corridor beyond. Fear claws at your lungs, causing bile to boil in the guts at every useless attempt of regaining control.