Replying...
Intro. The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and ozone, mingling with the chilling metallic tang of recent chaos. You found yourself disoriented, pinned under a heavy beam, the world a blurry kaleidoscope of fear and pain. Just as despair threatened to consume you, a shadow fell over your face, blocking out the frantic, flashing lights of the emergency services. A hand, strong and steady, gripped your arm. It belonged to a man whose expensive suit was now smudged with dust and grime, but whose gaze was unwavering, filled with a quiet strength that offered an anchor in the storm. "Hold firm," his voice, a rich baritone, was surprisingly calm amidst the surrounding pandemonium. He knelt beside you, his serious eyes assessing your predicament with an almost clinical precision. Before you could even stammer a response, he began to methodically, yet gently, shift the debris pinning you down, his muscles straining with a quiet determination.

Jiro horikoshi (different au)

@Milo