"Captain Asami?" A skinny fireman with glasses questioned the large man standing there, looking commanding just by his very existence. The large man's hard, gold eyes which matched his dirty yellow jacket flickered as the fireman cringed when Asami the Great, as he was known, regarded him coldly. "Crew 21 needs to pull out, you wanna send crew 35?" He said cautiously.
Asami pushed a stray black strand of dirty hair out of his face. He'd been fighting this fire for 36 hours straight, but he was Asami the Great and never met a fire he couldn't beat, and this one was almost beat. "Send crew 49. They've rested long enough." He said, and narrowed his eyes at the line of flames peeking over a hillside, which was brown with dead branches. Most people would call them weeds, he called it….fuel. "Get a heli to dump a load on that hillside and then get crew 42 to tamp out the hotspots." He ordered into his walkie-talkie. Moments later the chakk-chackk-chak-chak, chak-a-chak-akk-chk-chk-chk of the helicopter rattled his ears as they carried out his orders.
It's good to be the Great.
He was sure the Old Grapevine fire, as they named it, was started by an arsonist who had taken advantage of California's gusty, hot and dry Santa Ana conditions, and as the wind whipped around him, blowing ash and sparks into his face and hair, he wondered when he'd get to go home, back to San Francisco. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. For sure not today.
Not that anyone was waiting for him there, he just hated Los Angeles. It was hot, the people were idiots and you couldn't find a good Japanese food place to save your life, unless you went to Little Tokyo. Japanese Fusion was not authentic, not by a long shot.
Not that he had time to eat anyway, except an occasional beef jerky or a dried up sandwich. Mostly, he lived on water and air. Choking, blackened air, that is. There was joke among crew about his about his ability to go days without eating...Asami the Great will eat when he's dead. . .which didn't make any sense, since the dead don't eat. He guessed it was one of those plays on words that didn't translate well. English wasn't his first language, after all.
But he answered that desperate call from the worthless (in his eyes) firefighters in Southern California who needed Captain Asami Ryuichi the Great's expertise. He was the guy who laughed at flames, laughed at smoke.
Fire, to him, was like sex. If the wind of a lover's hot breath fanned it, the smolders flickered and grew brighter. If you left it alone, if you let it consume all the fuel around it, it would eventually go out. He knew it very well. His lovers didn't stay long. They were too frustrated with his inattention and his inability to make room for them in his busy life. So now, 35 and still single with a string of notches on his belt (trysts from both men and women, he wasn't picky), he faced the inevitable.
He wasn't the marrying kind.
"Captain Asami?" Another firefighter inquired, handing him a map with bright Xs on it, all homes that had burned. "Reporters are asking for an update, do you want to do the honors?"
"Not really, but I will. What's the latest on the 1300 block?" He asked in shorthand. 1300 block meant the 1300 block of Calderon Street, which had 25 homes. Had, past tense. When the wind shifted without warning, 13 home burned, the lives of 13 families now reduced to smoking ash and blackened rubble. But everyone had gotten out alive so he was satisfied with that, and they should be to.
"Still at 13. No change." The fireman said, and looked triumphant, as if only 13 homes burned was something to brag about.
"That's 13 too many, Kirishima." He chastised, and crinkled the map in his hand. He really didn't care that 13 homes burned, he just loved to see his men squirm a little. He didn't get the moniker of Asami the Great by sitting back and letting his men become complacent.
"Yes, sir, sorry sir." He said, and fell in behind him as he sauntered toward the group of paparazzi, who were practically drooling for a sound bite from Asami the Great.
So he walked towards the waiting throng of drooling reporters, cameras and lights, trying to go over in his head his little speech and that's when he saw him…..a cute, petite cameraman that looked about 18 as he fought with his video camera on one shoulder, his tripod on the other. He stood out because most cameramen were in their 40s, seasoned veterans in the news game. But he, this slight boy with dyed blond hair looked seasoned beyond his years, as if he was born to be just what he was, a cameraman. He caught the boy's eyes quickly before he looked away. He thought he saw a blush color camera boy's face. He couldn't be sure.
Even prostitutes blushed when they gazed upon the magnificence of Asami the Great.
Asami was gorgeous, with his gold eyes, black hair, chiseled features and strong physique. He might as well accept that fact that most people lusted after him, wanted to bed him, or wanted him to bed them. Even old ladies fawned over him, wishing they were younger, looking at him with stars in their eyes and an evil perverted grin on their wrinkled mouths.
The boy glanced at him again and Asami was sure now of that first slight blush. A bright pink hue covered the camera boy's face, radiated down to his neck until it went underneath his ABC NEWS 10 crew shirt. He was so cute, so adorable, so young, so incredibly fuckable that Asami's breath hitched a little, thinking about the things he'd like to do to that boy.
He gave his quick and dirty update to the reporters, their microphones stuck in his face, their lights blinding him. He couldn't see the boy between the flashes of photographers which he always compared to lightening. The flashes came and went, the microphones retreated, the crew went away quickly and he was still standing stock still, blinded for a moment. His eyesight returned and when it did, he was looking into the hazel eyes of the boy, who was calmly getting his gear together.
"Thanks for the update." The boy said, as he casually wrapped some black cable that quivered in his hands like a snake. Most news crew never thanked him, not that he cared for their gratitude. It was his job, it was their job, and the less they spoke the better. But the boy was obviously taught better. He couldn't be sure, but did he hear an accent? Was he Japanese, like him? It was hard to tell with that odd blond hair and hazel eyes. Not that it mattered what his nationality was, as long as he could take him he would.
"No problem." He replied, making his voice low and rumbling on purpose. He knew how to seduce. But this boy, who had eyes that sparked like fire, looked like he was so skittish as to be a feral cat, still searching for a home. If he wasn't careful, he'd scare this little wildcat off. "You with Channel 10?" Although he knew the answer, he just wanted to keep the conversation going.
"Yeah, my first fire, though." He said, and turned to go, as he had finished his work. "It's interesting."
"I have lots of stories, you know…the kind of stories that'll keep you up at night." He knew most news people had a dark side. They didn't chase the happy, fluffy stories. They lived for the underbelly of the world, the dark side of people. They wanted to be on the scene when news happened, to catch the criminal in the act, or at least be there when the criminal was taken down.
The evil that men do was their paycheck.
"Oh yeah? I'd love to hear them sometime." He replied, although he was half-turned away, as if to be swallowed in the smoke filled street that looked like a pale grey cloud had descended.
Hook, line and sinker, Asami thought. He handed him his business card and quickly wrote a name down on the back. "I'm staying at this hotel. I'll be at the bar later tonight, nursing my wounds over a good cocktail." He said. "The crew and I will probably be regaling each other with our war stories." He gave a slight smile, which was a kind one, as if to say hey, you can trust me, I won't bite….much. "I'll treat you to a…..oh wait, you're probably too young to drink."
"I know, I look young, but I'm 23 actually." He said, as he took the card and gave such a grin that it caught Asami off-guard. When the boy smiled, his entire face lit up. "Maybe I'll see you later!" He said, and gave a little wave.
"Hey, what's your name?" He called after 23 year old camera boy with a face like an angel and the body of a sinner.
"Oh! I'm Akihito, Takaba Akihito." He called and gave another wave, before grabbing his gear and running, not walking, into the smoke colored fog. "Nice to meet you, Captain Asami!" He said. The boy already knew his name, from the press conference.
Later, the boy would be moaning…no screaming his name in ecstasy. He was sure of it.