Bankotsu coughed, tightening the shirt around his face as he looked for an exit. He'd just replaced the batteries in the smoke detectors, but by the time they'd gone off on the fifth floor where he'd been working, the ones below him were already engulfed in flames.

He called out, eyes watering from the smoke and ash. There shouldn't have been anyone else on the floor with him. Hell, the pipes weren't even attached to the ceiling yet, but he didn't want to end up on the evening news because he'd had the chance to save someone and left them behind.

Another cough led to a hack, and he slumped against the nearest wall. Where was the fucking exit? It was too hot, and he couldn't see—was the orange blur in the distance the stairs or more flames?

He thought he heard someone calling to him, but his vision swam as he pushed himself to keep going.

He refused to die here.

Something grabbed him from behind, yanking him backwards, and he didn't have the energy to struggle, another coughing fit making his lungs seize. Whatever had grabbed him was dragging him further from the stairs, and he thought he heard someone whisper, "I've got you," but everything went black.


There was pressure on his mouth, then his chest, and suddenly he could breathe again, rolling onto his side as he gasped for air.

"Slowly," someone said. "Don't force it."

Bankotsu groaned. "Easy for you to say," he wheezed.

"Well, I was wearing a mask, so it kind of is." Great. His rescuer was a comedian. He supposed he should be thankful, pushing himself up to voice as much, but he was forced back into the ground, cool grass tickling his cheek. "Best to rest. You inhaled a lot of smoke."

He blinked, more to clear his vision than in surprise, but he was suddenly aware that the voice belonged to a woman. Blinking again, he stared at his rescuer, chocolate giving way to caramel as she smiled at him.

Fluorescent suspenders looped over strong shoulders, a few of the other firefighters patting her shoulders before grabbing the nearest hose. Bankotsu didn't have to turn around to feel the heat from the fire behind him. "Did everyone get out?" He asked.

"Seems like it," the woman said. "Most people heard the alarms and got out as fast as they could." She gave him a pointed glare. "What's your excuse?"

"Two apprentices were working with me," he whispered, his charred throat incapable of much else. "I wasn't sure if they'd gotten out. And then I couldn't find the exit."

"Would explain why I had to lug you out the window," she muttered, waving down a paramedic. "You passed out briefly, but I got you breathing again."

"It was one hell of a first kiss."

It was the firefighter's turn to blink, the blush on her cheeks visible even through the ash on her face. "That's not—"

"Tomato, to-mah-to." He tried to smile, but the paramedic placed a mask over his mouth, and he started coughing again. The woman shook her head, then got to her feet, Bankotsu managing to reach out and grab her leg. "Thank you."

"I need to go help the others," she said. "Thank me later."

"Will you let me do that?" he asked, not letting go.

"Maybe." Then she kicked his hand away and joined the others, leaving Bankotsu to answer the paramedic's questions. However, his eyes never left the Amazon barking orders, directing victims and volunteers in various directions.