Chapter Text
Keng had been a firefighter for so long that fear had learned to sit quietly at the back of his mind.
He had seen houses swallowed whole by flames, watched walls give in with a sound like thunder, and dug through ash that still carried the heat of people’s lives.
He had arrived at traffic accidents where metal was twisted like paper and silence screamed.
He had fought forest fires that burned for days, devouring everything in their path, and smaller house fires that destroyed not only memories but, sometimes, entire families.
Floods.
Chemical spills.
Collapsed bridges.
Rescue operations that demanded speed, strength, and decisions that haunted you long after the uniform came off.
Nothing surprised him anymore.
Or so he thought.
He was checking his gear, fingers moving automatically over buckles and straps, when his gadget beeped sharply against his chest. The sound cut through the station like a blade.
Keng glanced down.
'Collapsed building.'
His breath hitched before he could stop- just a fraction, just enough to feel wrong. The navigation system chimed, and the address appeared on the screen.
An elementary school.
His heart dropped so fast it felt physical, like something tearing loose inside his chest.
He was already moving.
Boots hit the floor, hands grabbing his helmet as he climbed into his assigned vehicle and started the engine. The siren wailed to life, echoing through the streets as he tore through traffic.
“Radio check,” Thomas’s voice crackled through the radio. “Can you hear me, Keng?”
“Loud and clear,” Keng answered, eyes fixed on the road. “Do you have details for me? Over.”
“The school is evacuating as best as they can,” Thomas replied, voice tight. “The entire top floor collapsed. At least one class is unaccounted for. One teacher missing.”
Keng swore under his breath, hands tightening around the steering wheel as the school finally came into view.
Smoke wasn’t pouring out, but dust hung in the air like fog, and the sound- crying, shouting, sirens- hit him all at once.
The moment the vehicle stopped, his team spilled out.
“Move, move!” Keng barked, authority sharp and practiced. He headed straight for the entrance while his mate Tle stayed back to gather information from the adults clustered outside.
The building groaned softly as Keng climbed the stairs, every step measured, careful. He knew the odds. Collapsed structures rarely forgave impatience. But when children were involved, waiting was not an option.
His radio crackled.
“Keng,” Tle said, breathless. “The kids say their teacher got most of them out. He carried them through, one by one. But he never came out himself. They’re sure he got locked in.”
Keng clenched his jaw. “Do they know which classroom?”
Tle guided him, voice steady despite the chaos.
The hallway on the top floor looked like it had been folded in on itself. Rubble, broken beams, torn wires. Keng spotted the classroom immediately- the wall torn open, a jagged crack barely wide enough for a child to slip through.
He radioed for backup.
The realization hit him as he crouched beside the opening. The teacher had held the wall up. Had kept it from collapsing long enough to save his students.
“Can anyone hear me?” Keng called into the darkness.
No answer.
Then footsteps- his crew arriving behind him.
Carefully, painfully slowly, Keng pushed the cracked opening wider, checking every movement so the ceiling wouldn’t come down on them. His flashlight swept across the room.
And then he saw him.
A young man lay pinned beneath a massive slab of concrete, half his body crushed under the ceiling. Blood streaked down his cheek, dark against pale skin. His head had taken the worst of it.
Keng sucked in a sharp breath-
-and froze when a small sound reached his ears.
A soft, broken groan.
His light shifted.
Beneath the teacher’s body, tucked into the space his arms had created, was a child.
A little girl.
Safe.
Protected.
Understanding slammed into Keng all at once, heavy and humbling.
The girl blinked, dazed, her eyes locking onto him. Terror flickered there, raw and bright.
Keng forced a smile, warm and steady despite the pounding of his heart. “Hey,” he said gently. “You’re okay. I will get you out.”
Behind him, his crew slid a metal plate beneath the concrete slab. The machine hummed as it slowly lifted the weight, inch by inch.
“Tle,” Keng said softly. “You take her.”
Tle stepped forward, lowering himself. “Can you crawl to me, sweetheart?”
The girl nodded shakily. She carefully slipped free from the teacher’s still embrace and crawled into Tle’s arms. He scooped her up and hurried down the stairs, murmuring reassurances the whole way.
Keng watched them go- then turned back to the man who was still stuck inside.
He reached out, checked the teacher’s pulse. Strong. Surprisingly steady.
Relief flooded him, brief but powerful.
Working under the press, Keng moved with precision, freeing the teacher’s upper body first. As the rubble shifted, he saw it; another slab pinning the man’s right leg completely.
He was injured badly.
Keng braced himself and lifted, muscles screaming as the weight resisted him. The teacher groaned, pain ripping him back into consciousness.
“It’s okay,” Keng gritted out. “I’ve got you.”
He dragged the metal plate closer, hands trembling from effort, and finally freed the leg. The weight was gone.
Their eyes met.
The teacher looked at him dazed, unfocused- but alive.
Keng leaned over him, shielding his body as they maneuvered him through the narrow opening. His crew helped pull the injured man free, and once the teacher was out, Keng crawled after him.
One of his mates reached for the teacher. “I’ll take him-"
“I am."
Keng interrupted, surprising even himself.
He didn’t know why.
He just knew he needed to.
He lifted the teacher into his arms, the man’s head resting against his chest.
He could feel his breathing- slow, uneven, but there.
His helmet knocked awkwardly against the teacher’s shoulder, but Keng didn’t care.
When he emerged fully into the open, the crowd surged toward him. The ambulance rolled forward, stretcher ready.
Keng laid the teacher down gently, stepping back as paramedics swarmed him, hands moving fast, voices clipped and professional.
Only then did Keng remove his helmet.
Cool air hit his face. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself, before turning back to the crowd of teachers and students.
“He’s alright,” Keng called out. “He’s going to be okay.”
The relief was instant and overwhelming.
Children cried harder. Teachers pressed trembling hands to their mouths.
Keng glanced back once more at the teacher on the stretcher, now surrounded by flashing lights and skilled hands.
A man who had held up a wall long enough to save every single child.
And for the first time in years, Keng felt something tighten painfully in his chest- not from fear, but from awe.
⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚
The drive back to the station was quieter than the chaos they had left behind.
The sirens were off now, the city slipping past their windows in muted colors, evening light bleeding slowly into dusk.
Keng sat in the passenger seat this time, helmet resting against his knee, fingers loosely curled around the strap. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a heavy, hollow exhaustion that settled into his bones.
Tle glanced at him from the driver’s seat.
“You know,” he said carefully, breaking the silence, “you never fought anyone for carry duty.”
Keng didn’t look up.
“But today?” Tle continued, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You looked like you’d punch someone if they tried to take that teacher from you.”
Keng exhaled, slow and shaky. He shrugged. “I didn’t think about it.”
“That’s a lie,” Tle said, amused.
Keng turned his gaze to the window, watching streetlights flicker past. “He was rather weak you know.." he said quietly. “Did you see him? That wall could've crushed him outright. But he held it. Long enough to get every kid out.”
His jaw tightened.
“He knew he might die doing it,” Keng added. “And he still did.”
The teasing response died on Tle’s tongue.
He nodded once, expression softening. “Yeah,” he said. “I saw.”
Keng leaned back in his seat, eyes closing for a moment. Keng had always loved kids.
Always gravitated toward them instinctively during calls- kneeling to their level, shielding their eyes, carrying them out wrapped in his jacket.
Children deserved safety.
They deserved adults who would stand between them and the worst parts of the world.
And today, he had met someone who shared that mindset.
The rest of the shift passed without incident. Reports were written, gear cleaned and stored, uniforms stripped of dust and sweat. Routine settled in like muscle memory.
When his shift finally ended, Keng grabbed his keys and instead of driving home, he turned toward the hospital.
He stopped at a small convenience store on the way.
Jelly cups.
Chocolate cookies.
A bottle of juice.
He hesitated, then grabbed an extra pack of gummies.
Hopefully she’d be feeling better by now.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and quiet worry. At the front desk, Net looked up and smiled the moment he spotted Keng.
“Let me guess,” Net said lightly. “Kid involved today?”
Keng chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. She was so young, eight years old.”
Net nodded knowingly and pointed him down the hall. “I already figured you would be here today. Room 312.”
Keng knocked gently.
The door opened to two adults turning toward him in confusion- then recognition dawned.
“Hi. I’m Keng,” he said softly. “I was the chief on today’s rescue operation.”
Their faces lit up instantly.
Gratitude rushed forward like a wave.
“Please- come in." The girl's father said, stepping aside.
The girl- Gem sat upright in the bed, color back in her cheeks, eyes bright.
When she saw the bag in Keng’s hands, her face lit up completely.
“For you,” Keng said, setting the snacks carefully on her lap.
She beamed. “Thank you!”
Her parents thanked him over and over, asking if he wasn’t exhausted, why he’d come all this way.
Keng waved it off.
“I’ve got a soft spot for kids,” he admitted. “I just wanted to check on her.”
They talked quietly, about school, about Gem’s favorite subjects, about what she wanted to be when she grew up. She shyly offered him a cookie, and Keng accepted it with a smile that made her giggle.
But Gem’s mother kept drifting- eyes unfocused, smile faltering.
“Is something on your mind?” Keng asked gently.
Her husband slipped an arm around her shoulders. She sighed. “The teacher,” she said softly. “He’s still unconscious. And… with all those injuries he must have to pay a bunch of bills. We’d love to help him, but we can barely manage everything for Gem as it is.”
Her husband nodded. “He saved our daughter. And we can’t do anything for him.”
Keng’s smile faded.
“How is he?” he asked.
They hesitated.
Gem was busy digging through the snack bag, blissfully unaware.
“Still unconscious,” her mother said quietly. “His leg has several breaks. Concussion. Bruises all over his back and hips.”
Keng swallowed.
He remembered the weight of the ceiling. The way the man’s body had curved protectively, shielding a child even as the building crushed down around him.
“He carried a lot,” Keng murmured. “More than his body should.”
He asked which room the teacher was in.
“Right next door,” they said. “But… yeah, he hasn’t woken up.”
Keng nodded and excused himself, promising to talk to staff about the bills.
Outside, he paused at the door, reading the name on the shield.
'Namping'
A unique name.
The machines greeted him with soft and beeping when he entered. He lay still, face pale now that the blood had been cleaned away.
A thick bandage wrapped the back of his head. His leg was encased in plaster, suspended carefully.
Keng frowned.
He must have been terrified.
He sat down beside the bed, hands resting on his knees, eyes tracing the rise and fall of the teacher’s chest.
“You did good,” Keng said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “You really did.”
He didn’t know why the words mattered- but they did.
And as he sat there, the hospital lights humming softly overhead, Keng made himself a promise.
He would look after him.
Until he was better.