#fireforce

Didn’t know what you felt and how it was making you feel like you were drowning – too far from shore to find footing and, day by day, growing too tired to keep treading water.

Konro knew. You’d never told him but the man was insightful. He’d always make sure to check in on you when Benimaru was out and you’d be the first he brought news of the return of the man you bled for.

Today is no different except for one thing: as Konro is about to leave, he pauses in the door to look at you – pacing the living room gaze fixed on the horizon where the smoke is rising above the district – and this time he says something that might have been on his mind for a long time:

“You should tell him. It won’t change who he is and what he does but...it would make it easier for you.”

He allows you a moment to find your ability to speak.

“I can’t...it’s...”

A soft smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You might be surprised.”

---

The district is noisy with the celebration of the fire force’s success. That’s how people in Asakusa live: they find the joy in the moments and in the bright memories of shared lives. Long tables have been placed along the main street with matching benches for those who want to join in. People are bringing out food and drinks for an improvised potluck and you...you haven’t joined.

Not yet.

You are waiting for Konro to come like he always does so he can tell you who got combusted and that all of the fire force is fine. That Benimaru is fine. You wouldn’t be able to keep composure if you went down and found him hurt.

It’s stupid. Of course it is. The man is far too powerful, too skilled to be hurt by a simple combustion...but you always imagine the worst things and it’s tearing you apart from the inside out. And you know, you should fight the nightmarish thoughts...it’s just so hard to constantly watch your thoughts and while most of the time you can manage, sometimes it’s overwhelming.

There’s still a thin trail of smoke spiralling towards the sky from where the incident had been – they must have brought it under control by now, meaning that Konro will be on his way.

As if on cue, you hear the boots on the stairs – heavier than usual and quicker too and it makes your heart freeze with fear of what might have caused it. You try to move to the door to open it for him but you’ve only gotten halfway there when it’s slammed open to reveal...Benimaru.

There’s a smudge of soot across his cheek. His hair is tousled, as always, partially hiding the narrowing eyes. But you can see the mismatch flicker behind the shock of black. And there’s the wry pull of his mouth as if he’s upset.

Did it not go well? Why is he here?

For a second, he stands in the entrance with his hands on the door frame, fingers curling around the edges and making the knuckles white. Then he stalks to you, not even bothering to kick off the heavy boots as he crowds your space – your only retreat is to back towards the windowsill, feeling the wood dig into your lower back as it prevents you from coming closer – arms on either side of you and chest so close to yours your hearts can almost touch. As if to betray you, your palms land on his arms, feeling the heat rolling off him.

“My biggest fear is that one day, I’ll have to come and extinguish you.”

His confession punches the air from your lungs. You were not prepared for it. For him fearing that, for how bluntly he says it, for the look in his eyes that are narrowed with annoyance at something you didn’t understand but now can see is his vulnerability at the confession.

“Mine is that you get hurt...or worse...” you manage to breathe. “If something happened to you...”

He has the audacity to laugh at that, dry and humourless. “Something already has happened,” he explains, though. “And I thought, if I pretended otherwise that I wouldn’t risk losing it.” He lifts one of his arms to rub the back of his head, not caring that your hand is squeezed in the bend of his elbow. “Took a wallop from Konro to get me to understand.”

You can imagine that all too well and it makes you smile. Right away, his gaze zeroes in on your lips and of course you can’t resist letting your tongue dart out to wet them nervously.

There’s no power in your body to protest as he slips an arm behind your neck, gently pulling you closer.

“Feel free to wallop me too if you want me to stop,” he mumbles, mouth only a few centimetres from yours.

Somehow, you manage to shake your head, breath caught in your chest and heart thundering so hard that surely he can hear it too.

His lips are softer than you expected: plush and pliable as they mould to yours. He’s the one in charge, unsurprisingly, and you don’t mind allowing him more access by parting your lips so his tongue can sweep in and steal a sigh from you.