"A Storm in the West", Chapter Five
Title: A Storm in the West
Chapter: 5/13
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): implied Jun --> Sho, Sho --> Jun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, sexual situations, and potentially triggering consent issues.
Summary: A saloon owner with an enigmatic past, an idealistic sheriff, a remorseful shotgun messenger, and the town that unites them.
The sun was approaching its most upright position in the sky, shortening the shadows all over town, and there was still no sign of the Sandburg Boys; the wooden goods sign flapping against the beam it was mounted on was the only sound down the main drag of road. Sho didn't like the anticipation- it was making everyone's nerves more explosive, less edgy. The more they had to wait, the longer the knots of dread in their bellies would get, and it did not bode well for their chances.
From the grimy windows of the bakery, Ohno gave him a nod. Ninomiya was already in the steeple with his shotgun, and Sho wasn't ashamed to admit he felt like there was a target strapped to the back of his shirt as he walked cross the dirt. He had to trust the other man not to start sniping at his own guns; he just wasn't sure if he did.
There were footsteps behind him.
"We're ready," Aiba said. His cheer sounded a bit forced. "When do you think they'll get here?"
"Before the sun starts to dip again," came the answer. When Matsumoto had arrived in the space behind him, Sho didn't know. He swallowed down the clog in his throat, keeping his back to them until he felt his face was composed enough. Now everytime Jun showed up, Sho's blood was on high alert. He already had reckless courage screaming through his body, he didn't need anything else to help.
The gunslinger's expression was unreadable when the sheriff finally spun on his heel.
"Keep to your places," Sho ordered, staring at Jun's boots. Seemed like the safest bet. "There will probably be a wave from the north and from the south. As soon as we start firing, they've got our position."
"And Ninomiya?" Jun asked.
"Let him shoot," Sho sighed. "Just let him shoot. Maybe he'll hit his targets this time."
When nothing more was said, the tension seemed to increase. Sho cleared his throat and looked down the road, towards the blacksmith's forge and the winding entrance into town. He thought maybe he should say something else, but when he opened his mouth to do so, nothing came out. Everything was just a shade of blank slate. He shut his jaw with a snap, aware that he looked ridiculous.
Aiba shifted his weight from heel to heel, toes skimming across pebbles. He never had reacted well to such anxiety palpable on the air.
"Well," he said, finally, "I'm gonna wait with the men in the stoop of Doc's place."
Sho gave a little noise of agreement, and the deputy shuffled away. Sho didn't miss him turning just once to give the two a lingering glance over his shoulder.
Another period of quiet. Sho wondered if everyone could hear his heart pounding in his chest.
"G'luck today," Matsumoto said.
"Ah," Sho started a bit. He crossed his arms, and then uncrossed them again, and unable to find a good place for them, settled on shoving his hands into his pockets instead. "Yeah. I mean, thanks. You too."
Jun leveled him with an odd stare that Sho caught as he was trying to shift his gaze from the relative safety of Nino's empty saloon to the Johnson windmill just beyond the sloping roof. The desert burned bright beyond the farm, almost blinding in the noon sun.
"Sheriff, I-"
"Right, then," Sho interrupted. Panic was a heady drug. "Guess we should get ready."
He turned without giving Jun a chance to elaborate or continue what he'd been trying to articulate- not then. Sho couldn't handle it then. His palms were already sweaty with the thought of more killin's on town land, especially those by his barrels. There was too much wrapped into his thoughts to deal with any more.
His station was on the end, tucked up against the path to the creek, and he'd never been quite so thankful for its relative isolation on the side of town before. He grabbed his shotgun, checked the rounds, and settled in to wait.
--
The shadows on the steeple cooled the perch, but it would make it harder to see when the time came. He didn't need anyone to tell him that, least of all some Yankee greenhorn thinking he could be sheriff. Nino kept one hand on the handle of his rifle while scanning the desert just beyond the outer edge of town. His fingers were jumpy, twitching towards the trigger.
He could do it. He knew where Jun was; he was across the road, in the porch just outside the tailor's shop. Nino could pick him off as soon as the showdown started and no one woud ever be the wiser to whose bullet had lodged itself between his eyes.
Sheriff might suspect, but he wasn't enough authority to question it. Nino let his gaze wander down to the windows of the store, and the stillness inside. One well-aimed shot, that's all it took. And then her blood splattered 'cross the sand wasn't left un-avenged any longer. He owed it to her, to their memories together- to her body pooling blood on his linens and her petticoat ripped and shredded.
Fingers closed around the handle, and he tsk-ed, pulling his hand away again.
Not yet.
He turned to fight the temptation away, one hand over his eyes.
Movement; a flash of it against the sea of haunting yellowness. Nino's heart leapt to his throat. He crouched down, keeping his gaze on the figure- it was alone, at least for the few seconds that felt like eternity when Nino thought just a scout, just a messenger, comin' to warn everyone- because then there were more swarming behind him. Mendoza hadn't been generous enough to send a messenger. Mendoza had sent half his gang, and that was just the number coming from the south corner he could see.
He grabbed for the rifle. He couldn't shout a warning to the rest, but the blast of the barrels would be alert enough. He had one clear shot before they realized he was up there- one opportunity to take out the leader and cripple the operation as best he could.
Nino waited. They got closer, and he could finally hear the stampede of hooves against the sands, like rolling thunder clouds approaching. He jammed the butt of the gun up against the crook of his shoulder, taking careful aim. His muscles were trembling. One eye closed, line up the muzzle-
He pulled the trigger. There was a split second of gut-wrenching panic that he'd missed, and then the figure on the closest horse jerked backwards, clutching at his chest. He fell, slipping off the saddle, and his foot caught in the stirrup. The horse spooked and dragged him a few feet before his body detangled and fell motionless in the sand.
A cry rose up against the sweltering heat. They saw him now. And the others knew they were there.
Nino didn't give it much more thought before he started shooting again.
--
Jun heard the first shot before he saw any of the gang riding in. There was a roar, and then another, and they appeared on the horizon line. The initial bullet seemed to have set off a chain reaction- suddenly gunfire was everywhere. They were too far for the aim to be good, but a few hit the wall near the window he was peering out of and rattled the boards.
The men were nervous. Mendoza had sent half the gang out after them, a dingy little backwater town in the middle of nowhere; they had scared him good, then, something awful. No way the man would risk so many for a useless grudge killin'.
Jun fired off a few bullets of his own. None of them hit. The roar was deafening as they gained, screaming towards Rapid Springs with the kind of liquid movement only horses under pain of spurs could achieve.
More bullets raining in around them, and this time the shots were closer- better aim.
Jun shot back, taking one in the front down. A bullet richocheted off the beam nearest to him, and then another went through the window. He ducked his head when the glass shattered, pulling his hat down over his eyes. A few shards caught him in the wrist, but the fire in his veins kept him from really feeling it. He threw himself up to shoot back through the opening made by the broken pane.
"Go!" he shouted, waving the other men forward- their cover was all but blown inside, anyway, and it was impeding their shooting accuracy. He ran out and fired off a few more until his shotgun clicked empty. He didn't even bother to reload it, he just threw it to the side and grabbed for both revolvers, emptying rounds into the air.
There were more coming from the sands, closer to Doc's place- he could see smoke from the porch signaling Aiba's shooting, but then there was a crack and a splintering of wood, and the beams of the overhang creaked and groaned down. A shout- the deputy? At least Jun could still hear his voice; meant the man was still alive.
"Dammit," Jun hissed. A bullet rang too close for comfort by his ear. He hit the man nearest to him in the chest, and then the next in the arm; both would probably live. Spooked the horses enough, though, to get them out of the way. He ran out, guns blazing, until they ran empty.
A horse from nowhere, coming from around the Johnson's windmill, and the man had a clear shot. Jun ducked and rolled and narrowly avoided an extra hole in his head. He grabbed for the knife in his belt. Less precision than his guns, but it worked well enough- he hurled it towards the horse and managed to bury it in the Sandburg's side. A gurgled moan and an arc of red against the sky, and the man fell with both hands clutching the hilt protruding out from his skin. Jun would collect the weapon later.
He ran, reaching down to take the fallen gang member's rifle. It wasn't empty yet.
The shooting from the Johnson farm had ceased, and he cursed again; that meant their men had gone down. If they lost the corner, the Sandburgs had an easy way into town.
He whirled, firing on several more. Where was the sheriff?
--
Sho's shoulder was already throbbing from gripping the shotgun too tightly against his form. He didn't know how many he'd actually managed to hit- at least one he'd just grazed the horse of, and the animal had bolted off in the other direction, taking his rider with him. A beam exploded near his arm, splintering shards into the air.
"Fucking-" he hissed, not finishing. He dodged instead, moving out of the confines of the station. The bullets followed, zinging against the wood until he all but threw himself behind the trough out front. A quick glance over his shoulder told him they were in town. "Jesus-"
He shot a few times, but his aim was wildly off. A ricochet against the metal, and then against the porch, so loud it was deafening.
Sho reached for his holster. He felt naked with his shotgun, but he needed to conserve the ammo; the revolver would do until it ran out, for a little while. He aimed with shaking hands and managed to clip one rider in the leg. The other shot at him, and he could see the dust rise into the air from where the bullet had hit the ground, inches away from his leg.
Too close.
"Jun!" he hollered. There was no sign of the gunslinger. Christ, had he gone down already? "Aiba!"
The stamping of hooves, and he rolled over onto his belly past the trough, firing up. Caught the horse in the hindquarters and the man in the face; both fell, splattering the ground with crimson. Sho pushed himself up and ran, staying near the buildings. There was gunfire coming from every corner of the town, and he didn't know whose it was. He couldn't see anything, or make out any shapes.
A bullet whizzed by his ear. He crumpled- it would have been far too late had the aim been a little more on, but at least his ducking allowed the second shot to miss wide. Crawling across the porch of Nino's saloon, he flattened himsef up against the wall. Henderson was firing in the building next, but his gunfire stopped abruptly.
Shit.
Sho glanced up towards the steeple. Was Nino still going? He couldn't tell, there was too much noise. He made his way towards Henderson, bullets hitting the wood beams behind him, and found the man lying with shrapnel in his face- or at least what had used to be his face. Sho wasn't entirely sure he'd have been able to recognize the man if he hadn't known who was firing from the locale, with all the blood.
He didn't even bother to wipe the splatters off the man's shotgun when he picked it up, firing out through the broken window.
--
The powder hissed and the trigger jammed, and Nino dropped the offending weapon with an angry cry of frustration. He couldn't shoot fast enough to keep them out of town- they were making their way down the main drag, hands in the sky like victory celebrations. There was another gun but he couldn't find it in the shadows, and he felt around until his fingers came in contact with the cool metal.
Shots down on the road- looking over the side, Nino watched Jun roll out from the Johnson place, between the forge and the wall, guns blazing. His aim was good, but there were a lot of them.
Nino hesitated for a second- and only a second- before firing on the men coming from behind Matsumoto. He took down one, and then Jun spun and hit the second.
A cry in Spanish, hoarse and raw amongst the gunfire.
Whatever it was, it caught the Sandburgs attention, and at least Jun took advantage of the situation. He clipped one man in the shin and another in the shoulder, and then a third through the back of the head. The rest echoed the cry, and then the horses started screaming and the figures turned- back towards the horizon.
Retreat.
A gasp of relief lodged itself in Nino's throat. He aimed and fired but missed. They were faster heading out than they had been heading in- and in far fewer numbers. The dirt was littered with bodies and angry splashes of red against the beige.
He kept firing until the figures had faded into the hazy heat beyond, and then sucked in a shuddering, painful breath.
--
His legs were shaking when he stood up from his crouched position near Henderson's body. There was a bitter copper taste in the back of his throat, on his tongue; Sho avoided looking back at the man's form again, for fear that the reality would set in faster than the Sandburg's retreat had.
The others had the same idea, moving slowly out into the street. Against his better judgment, Sho whirled to find Jun- he owed the man a debt, it appeared, if the number of bodies on the dirt were anything to go by. Somehow they'd managed to eke out a win despite being outnumbered.
He found Matsumoto standing down the road, re-holstering his revolvers. Something lessened in his chest. Ohno walked shakily out of the goods store, looking dirty but no worse for the wear. In the steeple, Ninomiya was moving, opening the hatch to get back down. Henderson was gone, and from the looks of the red splattered against the side of Johnson's proch, so was he- but the rest of the bodies seemed to be Mendoza's gang. Sho checked them all anyway, one by one, just to make certain.
"Aiba?" Jun asked, jogging over to him, silghtly short of breath.
"Aiba?" Sho repeated, and then turned. Where was the deputy?
"Doc's got hit," Jun answered his unspoken question. "I don't know what happened."
Doc Ogura's front porch was in shambles, but the blacksmith was dragging himself out of the debris even as Sho and Jun approached. There was blood on his shirt-sleeve. He accepted Sho's hand and rose to his feet, coughing and shaking but alive and breathing; better than the alternative.
"Just hit the beams," Aiba wheezed. "Musta been just right. Whole thing collapsed."
"Thank your lucky stars, then," Sho said.
"Or thank that Doc hadn't repaired that stoop," Jun pointed out. "Probably kept you covered."
"They take off?" Aiba asked.
"Mm," Sho nodded.
"You know they ain't gonna give up that easy," Jun warned. Sho blinked at him in surprise, one hand still on the blacksmith's elbow to support his faltering steps.
"Easy?" Sho repeated. "You think that was easy?"
From the look on Matsumoto's face, he did. It didn't help the coils of nerves in Sho's stomach any. But Aiba was alright, and Ohno was okay, and Nino was walking slowly down the street with his shotgun in his hand, barrels dipping towards the ground- so it could have been worse. Even with the red staining the sand and soaking into the dirt, it could have been worse. Much worse.
Sho patted Aiba on the shoulder unconsciously, breathing deeply.
"Do a count," he instructed. "Total the bodies. Ours and theirs."
------
It was strange having another body at his side. He’d gone back and forth between sitting with the wagon driver and the coach driver. Today he was sitting on the top of the stage, and he was used to this being a solitary thing.
Instead, she’d demanded to get out, and she’d arrayed herself here with the sun beating down. A lesser person would have already climbed down and gone back inside, but there was something about this woman. Some excitement bubbling under her surface, ready to burst at any moment, and Jun kind of envied her for it.
The stagecoach bounced and shook over the bumpy trail, the wagon wheels creaking behind them at a steady pace. Jun was used to sitting up top, accustomed to the jostling, but she sure wasn’t. There was a thin rail along the top, and she held on tight. He wouldn’t let her fall. He kept his shotgun in his lap as she undid the ties of her bonnet, letting her blonde curls free.
“You don’t talk much, do you, Jun?”
He shrugged. “Usually don’t have anyone to talk to."
Her smile was big and bright, and it warmed him in a far more pleasant way than the sun overhead. “Well, you got me. And I’m not going to sit out here and stare at the tumbleweeds in complete silence.”
Jun chuckled. “You’ll get where you’re going soon enough. You don’t need to go wasting your time chatting with a fella like me when you get to see your man in an hour.”
She sighed. “You don’t talk, Kazu talks more than he oughta, and here’s me, stuck in the middle. I swear, you men drive us crazy.”
He adjusted his hat, checking behind to make sure there weren’t any bandits coming from any direction. “Okay.” He looked at her. “Okay, what do you want to talk about that’s worth sitting up here and not inside like you should be?”
She smarted at that. He’d argued with her for nearly an hour before they set out that morning that she should stay inside the coach, but she’d have none of it. Hell, Jun thought, woman could have taken the train all the way in, and it would have only been half a day’s ride by buggy to Rapid Springs. But she was as stubborn as the man who’d hired him. Jun figured they were a perfect match.
“Alright, Mister Protector. Since you’re gonna drop me in town and disappear into the dust again.” She tightened her grip on the rail, moving to face him a bit more. If she wasn’t careful, she’d topple, and he’d be fucked if he let her fall or had to grab her roughly to keep her steady. Women were a real pain. “Tell me about you.”
“Ain’t much to tell.”
She winked. “I bet all you rough and tumble types out here say that stuff. Fine, where you from?”
He sighed. Interrogations from clients were rare. He usually just did his job and took his pay. “Texas. My father…or the man my mama claimed was my father, well, he fought at the Alamo.”
“How? I thought all those boys died. And besides, you ain’t any older than Kazu so you can stop your lying.” But she was still smiling, even with the sun beating down on her dark brown dress.
“California. Gold Rush baby.”
“That the truth this time?”
His past was his business. “Sure is.”
She wasn’t buying it. “Alright, it’s obvious you play your cards close. Fine. Why don’t you tell me about Rapid Springs? My fiancé mostly just talks about the saloon he’s built, how much money he’s had to spend and how much it pains him to do so.” She chuckled at that, and Jun merely nodded. He didn’t really know this Ninomiya, so he couldn’t add much to her chatter.
It was a hole. Sure, the new saloon would bring some respectability to town, make it more than a splotch on the newer maps the territory surveyors were putting out. But it was dusty, and Jun rarely took jobs there on account of the townsfolk having very little coin to pay him with. He was surprised he’d even taken this job, but the company was worth it, even if it had just been a few days.
“Rapid Springs is growing,” he said, trying to be positive. The terrain was changing, and Friendship Pass was coming up soon. He’d have to let her go to her fiancé, and much as he wasn’t used to the feeling inside, he’d actually miss her. Most of the women out this way were coarse and filthy. Ninomiya was a lucky man indeed. “I’m sure your saloon will bring a lot more folks out here.”
“That’s what we’re hoping.” She took his hand. Not to be flirtatious or anything, but her eyes were genuine, and he had to swallow to keep himself calm. “We’re getting married, Kazu and me. Soon as I settle in. You’ll come?”
He listened to the horses, pounding the dirt trail as they made their way down between the canyon walls. “That’s up to your gentleman.”
“Don’t go calling Kazu a gentleman. He’s not one, and don’t let him tell you he is.”
Jun chuckled. He didn’t much like sticking around, but she was so earnest and kind that it was impossible to say no. “I’ll sit on the bride’s side of the chapel, if you’ll have me.”
She smiled again, squeezing his hand tight. When she opened her mouth to say something more, they nearly went flying as the stagecoach pulled to an abrupt stop. He had one hand on his shotgun and the other around her waist in an instant. The wagon behind them came to a creaking halt.
The driver was spooked something awful. “Thought I saw…thought I…”
He was on the move already, getting her down from the roof. “In the coach, now.”
“Jun, what’s going on? What’s wrong? Jun, tell me…”
He heard horses, coming from the other end of the pass, and his heart started to race. “In the coach. Get in the coach!”
The thundering sound increased in volume. They were trapped. Couldn’t back up, they were too heavy. Too slow. He nearly shoved her inside, her dress catching in the door as he slammed it shut.
Her eyes were wide. “Jun! Jun, what’s happening?”
He cocked his shotgun and adjusted the brim of his hat. “Lock it. And don’t you come out until I let you out.”
She was smacking her hand against the glass when the riders approached. “Jun! Jun!”
“Chili’s done.”
“JUN!”
He jolted, feeling the tip of Ohno’s shoe poking him in the ribs. “Hey, you awake?”
Jun shook the memories away. It was like a waking dream. It was so easy to drift away, let his thoughts go to that awful day, especially now that he was here in this town again. “Sorry, must have dozed off.”
His back ached, and he’d been leaning against the post at the front of Ohno’s store. Maybe he should have become a grave digger, Jun thought, seeing as he’d spent the better part of the week breaking the soil with a rusty shovel down by the churchyard.
Ohno held out a hand, and though he normally wouldn’t accept, he let the other man get him to his feet. “You’ve never tasted chili like this. Habanero peppers.”
Jun’s stomach grumbled at the thought. He’d never handled spicy too well, despite living out here his whole existence. But food was food, and it had been a long day. Aiba had already rode off for Clearwater to relay the unhappy news about Henderson to his wife, now a widow. The women and children would stay out there another week at least, just to be safe. The Sandburg gang had been beaten back. For now. They’d have a few days to relax. Maybe Mendoza would send a white flag or call for a truce. Jun didn’t know the man. It was up to Sakurai to determine what was next.
Ohno led him through the dry goods store, past the register and back through his living quarters to the yard behind the place. There were tables set up for all the men to eat after their hard day and lanterns hung to keep things visible. The only seats left were at the last table - and Jun’s choices were limited. He could sit next to the sheriff or next to Ninomiya and neither option piqued his interest.
“Okay. Time to eat,” Ohno announced in his calm, easygoing way and turned to go back to his kitchen. Nino was already munching on bread, his gaze boring a hole straight through Jun. The sheriff hadn’t bothered to look up. Instead he seemed to be studying every slight crack in the wood.
“Didn’t think you’d join us,” Ninomiya said, ripping into another roll. “Thought you’d finally be gone.”
“He’s staying until the business with Mendoza’s finished,” Sho muttered. “He promised that.”
He had promised that. Probably shouldn’t have. Nino watched him like a hawk. “How noble. But really, Mendoza’s done for. He won’t hit this town again. He’s lost too many.”
“Don’t know that for sure,” the sheriff retorted. Ohno’s door opened again, and the man came out with a heavy looking pot. The smell was near divine. He started ladling bits of the hearty looking chili into bowls at the first tables. Jun remained standing. He wondered if he could take a bowl full and just go to Aiba’s for a bit of solitude.
No. There was no way Ohno would allow that. This meal was a celebration of sorts. A mourning of sorts, too. But they were all breaking bread together, and Jun had already caused the town enough trouble. He headed for a seat on the bench beside Ninomiya, if only to not have to look at his smirking face the whole meal, but the man set down a hand.
“’Fraid not. The chef’s sitting next to me so he can fetch me seconds.” The man munched on the bread, his eyes lazily drifting from the hunched over sheriff and back up at Jun. “And thirds. Maybe fourths, depending on my appetite.”
Jun said nothing, settling himself on the bench next to Sho. Ohno came by with the pot of chili, oblivious, and gave each of them a sizable serving. Jun concentrated on the food in his bowl, his glass of water and the still warm bread. Ohno joined them, and Nino engaged the baker in some idle conversation about food shipments and things like that. The sheriff didn’t contribute, and neither did Ohno, at least not much.
The other tables were chatting away about who’d shot which of Mendoza’s men, bragging about their kills like it had been a deer or a wolf. The food was hot, and the spice ached enough to send him for his water repeatedly. Sho was downing the chili faster than he probably should have, but it was obvious he wanted to get out of there and get away from him. Jun couldn’t blame him - he’d done enough to weird the sheriff out.
Ohno cleared his throat, sitting down again after fetching seconds for Nino. “Saw you up in the steeple. Better shot than I reckoned.”
Jun dug the spoon into the spicy chili, shoving it in his mouth. Ninomiya could have shot him any time, and much as Jun was loath to admit it, Ninomiya’s shooting had saved his own hide. “Well, we’re even now,” Nino said venomously, and Jun knew without glancing up that the saloon owner was still eyeing him.
“Even?” Ohno continued, pouring salt on the open wound.
“You know, for the other day when the sheriff still had me enjoying the comforts of his fine cell.”
“Oh. Right.”
Jun felt the bench move, jostling him a bit as Sho backed up. “Thanks for the chili, Satoshi. It was amazing.” His voice was strong, but it rang false. He’d only known the man for a week now, but he could already sense when he was putting on an act. “Y’all have a safe night now. Mendoza’s gonna stay quiet, I wager, at least for a few days. We’ll start with building repairs bright and early.”
There was a raucous chorus of “Night, Sheriff!” and “God bless you, Sheriff” from the other men, but where Jun expected the man to idle and soak up the praise he’d craved for so long, he just tipped his hat and went back through Ohno’s door and through his shop.
“Been a long day,” Ohno remarked, dipping some bread in his bowl.
Nino nodded. “Half the glass in my place is busted up. Don’t know whether to order more or wait until Mendoza’s done messing around with us.”
Jun was tired. Aiba would be out all night, staying in Clearwater rather than risking traveling back late. The blacksmith’s home would be empty and quiet, and Jun found himself the slightest bit depressed. Having the deputy’s company and snoring during the night had been oddly comforting.
“Be turning in now,” he announced to no one in particular. Nino watched him, and Ohno simply ate his chili.
The men bid him a good night just as they had the sheriff minutes earlier. It was strange to have been accepted and even thanked, but he’d fought alongside them hours earlier. Working towards a common goal and defending themselves with rapid gunfire seemed to be all the uniting folks did out here.
He decided not to track his boots through Ohno’s store, walking around the outside and down the way to Aiba’s place. The deputy had insisted on letting Jun have his bed while he was gone, and it would be the best night’s sleep he’d had in days. That morning, he hadn’t even known if he’d be making it to this point. Sleeping would be even sweeter a victory tonight.
The front door to the simple clapboard house opened with a creak, and Jun let the darkness wash over him. Couldn’t wait to get his boots off and lie down. So he was more than a little distracted with those thoughts when he was caught off guard and knocked back against the door.
His hand went instinctively for his hip holster, and he drew his revolver, putting it right in the other person’s face. He was just about to pull the trigger when his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The sheriff put his hand on the gun barrel, pushing it aside wordlessly.
Jun holstered the revolver, not shoving the other man away. “You’re trespassing on your own deputy’s property.” Sho said nothing, standing in the dark, hand still keeping Jun pressed back against Aiba’s door. He could feel the sheriff’s hand shaking. “Why are you here?”
Sho stepped closer, his boot dragging with a loud scraping sound across the floorboard. Jun felt the other man’s warm breath against his face.
“I don’t know.”
Jun wasn’t sure which of them moved forward first, but their noses hit before their mouths did, and he couldn’t stifle a moan at the first taste. It was the habanero from the chili, but he didn’t care, reaching for Sho by the fabric of his vest, the palm of his hand scraping against the man’s star.
Sho hadn’t thought his actions through, that much was obvious. He was shaking like a leaf, lips parted and nearly motionless as Jun kissed him. His hands were limp at his sides, and Jun had to keep himself from laughing. He’d come all the way to Aiba’s house, lying in wait, but he just hadn’t considered what that meant, had he? Jun pushed forward, away from the door and took the upper hand.
The sheriff’s boots scraped the floor again as Jun pushed them, reaching between them to find the buttons holding the man’s vest closed. Sho hissed in surprise as Jun bit roughly at the other man’s lower lip, craving more than the sheriff had been prepared to offer. He was just getting the vest open when he heard a horse in the stables next door whinny loudly.
The noise made the sheriff gasp, pulling away like he’d just been saved from drowning. “Sho,” he muttered, reaching for the man again, but it was too late, and it seemed that Sheriff Sakurai’s brain had finally caught up with the rest of him.
Jun stood, chewing on his own lip as Sho stumbled to the door, not bothering to fix his vest. The door opened quickly and slammed shut, and he listened to the retreating footsteps on the porch before collapsing into Aiba’s chair.
“Why are you here?”
Sho’s voice had sounded so lost, so confused. Petrified. “I don’t know.”
Jun kicked off his boots and laughed bitterly until his throat ached.
-----
"How was it?" Ohno asked, collecting the plates from the tables and carrying them in stacks back towards the counter.
"Your cooking is always good," Nino told him honestly. It was worth it to watch the slow, pleased smile that spread across the baker's face; Ohno had been rattled, a bit, the past few days. Never shot a man before, and probably never thought he would have to, but he'd taken down at least two of the Sandburg Boys out the window of his store, and Nino would have to lie to say he wasn't proud of his friend. Mettle was determined in the unfortunate parts of life. He knew that the hard way; didn't mean he wanted his friends to go through the same thing.
"Just glad we could do it together," Ohno mumbled, bent over the dishes as he scraped discarded remains into the slop bucket. The wooden spoon squeaked against the tin. "Nice to do something, after all this."
"Nice we still have a place to do it," Nino said.
"Mm," Ohno agreed. "That, too."
"Like the peppers," Nino said, with a nod towards the rinds still on the wooden cutting board. "You should use them more often."
The baker turned, wiping his hands on his apron, smiling once more.
"Think I will," he mused, mostly to himself. Nino let his gaze wander over the other folk still eating and talking, heads bent low and plates nearly clean, and then to the door. Outside, the desert moon was hanging low in the sky, illuminating the road wtih a blue hue. It was clear- fitting, maybe. As in the clear as they'd been in awhile, anyway. Rapid Springs wasn't off Mendoza's hit list yet, that much was certain, but at least they'd managed to spook him.
Wasn't much going on outside the building, but there was a flash of movement. His nerves were obviously still on high alert, because Nino's first instinct was to reach down for the gun he didn't have on him. A second look relayed it was only the sheriff, walking quickly down the dusty road.
Walking with his vest half-undone and flapping a bit in the breeze.
Nino leaned in closer to the grimy window. Sheriff Sakurai looked like he'd seen a ghost, all pale and wide-eyed and movin' fast as a bat outta hell. It was more than a little satisfying, and Nino's throat ached a bit in response- he hadn't forgotten the law that got laid down in the meeting, and he wasn't apt to anytime soon. Yankee do-gooder still thought he could waltz into Rapid Springs and own the place, and beating back Mendoza's gang hadn't changed the fact that his feet were barely wet. This was Nino's town before it was Sho's, and Nino didn't even like to claim much ownership to the place.
"What about onions?" Ohno asked, over the din, still scrubbing remnants into the pail.
"Sure," Nino said, absently. His mind wasn't on vegetables that would work well with the chili recipe- he watched the sheriff stagger up to the station and disappear in the shadows, and then slowly moved his gaze along the path the man had just taken. Blacksmith's forge. Aiba was out on messenger duty- wasn't nobody there.
Nobody save Matsumoto.
"Hey, Ohno," Nino called. "I'm gonna head out."
"Alright," was the response, and Nino pushed the door open and stepped out into the oppressive night air. The door to the sheriff's station was securely shut, and from the lack of lantern flickers inside, it didn't look as if he'd be coming out any time soon. Nino squinted over at the building, ignoring the clenching sensation in his stomach.
His saloon was right across the street. He started forward, and turned left.
The sound of insect songs off in the dunes was the only thing he could hear other than his own footsteps. He didn't know what Sakurai would do if Mendoza brought his boys back for a second showdown. He didn't know why Matsumoto was still hanging around like he was welcome. And he didn't know much other than getting one or both of them out of town and its benefits for him; at least then he wouldn't have to deal with the raging egos and arrogance the two brought along with them.
There weren't any lights on in the windows of Aiba's house- not even back where Nino knew the man's bedroom was. He pushed his fingers against the outer door. If he couldn't get in- well, he'd turn right around and go back to his saloon and forget the idea had even entered his mind. Wasn't any use of breaking in just to rattle cages. But the door creaked slowly open with any resistance; apparently the sheriff had left Jun in such a tizzy that the man had forgotten to lock it.
Well.
Nino stepped inside, and the boards squeaked beneath his boots.
A few steps more and he was at the doorway to the bedroom, pushing the portal open. It made more noise than he'd anticipated, and the figure was up and moving faster than Nino had thought possible. There was a muzzle in his face, and a split second after, tired laughter.
"What is this?" Jun chuckled mirthlessly. "Everyone in this town show up without announcement at Aiba's shop? I could have blown your head off."
"Could've," Nino agreed. Jun fell back, and set the gun back down on the dresser. If the positions had been reversed, Nino wouldn't have let go of his weapon. "Gotta lotta visitors tonight, Jun?"
Jun leveled him with a hard look. In the moonlight streaming in through the windows, he looked exhausted.
"You come to pick a fight?" he asked sharply. "I'd rather it wait til morning, myself."
"There's a lotta things in life you don't get to choose," Nino said.
"You come for revenge, then?"
A brief silence, and Jun moved his hands wearily through his hair. His clothing was crumpled, and his hair was askew, and he really did look like you could blow on the man and he'd collapse completely.
"Maybe," Nino answered, deciding to leave it open. Didn't really matter what Matsumoto thought his motives were, in the long run, and he didn't much feel like explaining.
"Go ahead, then," Jun sighed. He crossed his arms over his head. "Kill me without a gun."
There were a hundred things Nino could have had stashed besides a pistol to kill the man with- a knife in his boot, a hot iron poker from the forge just beyond the wall; hell, a strong enough batch of Doc Ogura's wares and Jun would be cold by morning. He had none of them. But he wasn't weaponless.
Ninomiya, if nothing else, was good at watching people.
He took a step closer, and Jun's eyes flickered up briefly, sizing him up. Trying to figure out where his head was.
"You know," Nino started conversationally, "what I can't figure out is why you're still here. Deal's done- fight's over. Why haven't you left yet?"
Jun didn't say anything, but he looked a great deal more alert. He hadn't stopped Nino from moving forward yet. Nino cocked his head to one side, raising his eyebrows. At least standing while Jun sat on the bed, he was taller.
"So I'm thinkin'- must be a reason, right? Must be a reason you ain't skipped town yet."
He was fast when he wanted to be, especially when he wanted to catch someone off-guard. He had Jun pushed flat back against the mattress before the other man knew what had him him. It was easy to straddle his position, one hand tightly wrapped around Jun's slender wrists. Nino leaned forward, so close their noses were almost touching, and Jun's quick breathing was hot against his face.
"Wouldn't have anything to do with our pretty new sheriff, would it?" he hissed. Jun's eyes went, if possible, even wider, and it was easy to tell given the proximity. Nino could feel the strain as he tried to pull his hands away, but he wasn't in a position to lend much strength, and Nino's blood was screaming.
He pressed down harder on the gunslinger's wrists, and Jun's breath hitched a little- whether in surprise or alarm, Nino didn't really care.
"Would it, Jun?" he repeated.
"What-" Jun started, and Nino felt a trill of satisfaction hearing his voice warble slightly. He switched his grasp so that both of Jun's wrists were pinned under one hand, leaving his other free to move- down Jun's shirt front, across the belt buckle.
"But I just saw him runnin' outta here like he couldn't get away fast enough," Nino said, as his palm reached the other man's trousers, relishing in Jun's shocked gasp. "Whatever did you do to him to make him look like that?"
He curled his fingers, and was rewarded with another gasp- this one sounding strangled. Every hair on Nino's body was standing alert, nerves alight.
"Go ahead," he whispered. "Tell me to stop."
Jun didn't say anything- his eyes were pinched shut, and when Nino's hand began moving up and down his cock, he threw his head back a bit, groaning.
"Or better yet," Nino continued, leaning down so his mouth was grazing Jun's jaw, lingering far too close to the other man's ear, "pretend I'm him."
Another groan, catching in the back of Jun's throat.
"That's what you want, isn't it?" Nino asked. Jun opened his eyes, looking like he wanted to argue, to say something, to throw Nino off and rail against him. But his hips were moving of their own accord into Nino's hand, and his jaw shut with an audible snap and a hissing exhale of air. His muscles were shaking; Nino could feel them trembling beneath him.
"Well?" he asked.
"You-" but it seemed Jun couldn't get much more out past his clenched teeth than that, and he moaned- a real moan, just like the whimpering, breathy, bliss-laced moan Nino's whores had been trained to emulate when coin was thrown at them.
"Me?" Nino asked. "Or Sho?"
Maybe it was the use of Sakurai's name, maybe not; didn't really matter. Jun gasped and jerked and his muscles trembled for seconds longer as the after-math rippled through his form. Nino abruptly let go of his wrists, casually swinging his leg around to slide off the bed. There was something singing in his veins, something that tasted an awful lot like victory; kind of a hot, stinging sensation.
Jun opened his eyes a bit, staring at Nino through heavy lashes.
"Odd it had to be me, right?" Nino asked, smiling. "Maybe your reason for stickin' around ain't much of a reason after all."
He left Matsumoto lying shell-shocked on Aiba's bed, and slammed the front door with a violent bang.
--------
The metal wire sliced through his hand, stinging and drawing a red streak across his skin. “Son of a bitch.”
He’d been helping Thompson repair his fence for the better part of the morning. Throughout town, things were being mended and rebuilt. A few of the Sandburgs had crawled under or torn up the fencing here, and it wasn’t much of an animal pen until it was fixed. The windmill creaked, and Sho focused as much as he could on fixing the fence.
Which was growing more and more difficult as the sun baked his skin, and his thoughts wandered every which way. Last night had been a mistake. He should’ve turned the other way coming out of Ohno’s. He should’ve just gone to sleep, let his sinful thoughts drift away. But he hadn’t. He’d been impulsive.
He’d gone to talk. Or that’s how he’d rationalized it. But when Jun came in the door, panic had set in. He had never felt this way before. Hell, he didn’t know what he felt. For every little part of the quiet but intense gunman that annoyed Sho, there were a hundred more things that drew him near. Like a moth to a flame, he was unable to keep away until his faith and his so-called rational mind let him know that he was in the wrong.
It was a sin. These thoughts plaguing him, going off in his head like a firecracker each time he thought of Jun’s sun-kissed skin, the coarseness of his hands, and the way his belt hung so low on his hips. It was forbidden and wrong, but they’d talked about Sunday school the other night. Of Cain and Abel, of David and Goliath. Funny how David and Jonathan hadn’t come up.
He shook his head and twisted the metal together. It had been a stupid, stupid idea. But the other man had wanted it too, hadn’t he? He’d been drunk the other night, and Sho had thought it some silly fluke, but Ohno had served water with his chili, and the frugal Ninomiya hadn’t donated any liquor for the dinner. The other man had been acting freely and soberly, roughly pulling at the buttons of Sho's clothes.
Matsumoto either wanted him or took any offer that came his way, so long as he got paid in kind. Sho grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, tying it around his hand and knotting it tight to stop the bleeding. Wasn’t worth another visit to Doc. He licked his lips, tongue drawn to the slight scabbing on the lower corner of his mouth. It was the heat, Sho told himself, deliberately ignoring the prickling between his thighs at the memory of the night before.
He was going to get heatstroke if he crouched down by the fence any longer without having anything to sustain him. Thompson was already napping under his porch, and Sho got to his feet. It was midday already, and definitely time for a break. Aiba had returned that morning and was coordinating the repairs to the Doc’s place, and for all that the sheriff knew, Matsumoto was helping with that too.
Jun would leave soon, once Mendoza backed down. Then he could get back to himself. Ever since the man had come to town, Sho had had nothing but trouble. Once Jun was gone, there’d be no sinful thinking, no thoughts of a man visiting him and doing to his person what a woman should. His mind was fogging, through and through. He was out of the sun a few minutes later, under the overhang of the saloon, and he pushed through Ninomiya’s swinging doors with less enthusiasm than he usually did.
Taking off his hat and fanning himself with it, he took a seat back by the piano while the proprietor was sweeping up glass and humming a tune Sho didn’t recognize. “Well, Sheriff. Done working already for the day? Not used to much physical stuff back at Harvard, right?”
Sho set his hat down on the table and sighed. “Lay off today, Ninomiya. I’m not in the mood."
The other man set the broom down, ceasing his sweeping to head behind the bar. “You pay this time, got that?”
He nodded. “I got that.”
“Okay, what’ll it be?”
“Just something cold. Iced tea, lemonade, whatever stuff you mix together for the kids that never come in here.”
Ninomiya snorted, fumbling around with glasses. “Don’t get cute. It’s not fair if only one of us is hurling insults, Sheriff.”
Sho put his arms on the table, laying his face down and listening to the sound of Nino mixing some concoction. The sheriff knew he’d gone through his share of the man’s liquor, so he was probably getting water or milk from one of Johnson’s cows. The glass was set down a few moments later, and the chair across from him creaked as Nino sat down.
“Coin.”
He didn’t look up, shoving a hand in his pocket. Sho slapped down whatever small change he had, plus his pocket lint, and he heard the silver and tin scrape across the table as Nino pulled it over to himself.
“You got a pretty big tab, Sheriff, and one day I’ll see it paid in full.”
He murmured the closest noise to an assent he could make without moving. The sun and his thoughts about Jun had done more to his head and his focus than he’d even realized, and he felt ready to faint.
Ninomiya poked him in the arm. “What’s eatin’ you, Sheriff?”
“Nothing,” he said, sitting up with an irritated sigh. Sho downed half the glass of sweet tea Nino had brought him. “Just been mending fences for the past few hours. You know, out in the sun? Not inside where it’s cool?”
“Mmm.” The other man was suspicious. Or maybe his face was always like that on account of being a pain in the ass. He started drumming his fingers on the table. “You getting enough sleep?”
“You the doctor round here now?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I just figured since you left so early last night that you must have slept better than the rest of us.”
Sho felt a flush coming on, but hopefully his sun-burnt skin would hide it well enough. “I slept fine.”
“I’m sure you did.” He leaned forward. “How do you think Matsumoto slept?”
“What?” He was panicking, letting Ninomiya see that his insinuations were getting to him. What the hell was the man’s problem?
“Aiba’s place can get pretty hot,” Nino remarked, taking the glass Sho had been drinking out of and taking a leisurely sip. The sheriff watched him run his finger around the rim of the glass. “I mean, with the forge and all. Fire’s not always going, but the residual heat. That sort of thing. I bet it gets pretty warm inside the house.”
“Wouldn’t know.”
“You wouldn’t? He’s your deputy. You’re over there all the time.”
Sho yanked the glass from Nino’s hand, taking a long drink. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it. Stop your winking and your hinting because I’m getting really god damned tired of it.”
Nino stood, moving over to Sho’s side. He leaned forward until Sho could feel the man’s breath by his ear. “The things I know would shrivel up poor Pastor White’s heart.” Sho gripped the table, embarrassment and shame flowing through him the same as his blood. The swinging doors creaked open, and Ohno entered. But Nino was still beside him.
“You should hear the way he says your name when he comes.”
The sheriff could only sit there stunned as Nino took the glass and walked off. “Thanks for your business, Sheriff! Now, Mr. Ohno, what can I get you?”
Chapter: 5/13
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): implied Jun --> Sho, Sho --> Jun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, sexual situations, and potentially triggering consent issues.
Summary: A saloon owner with an enigmatic past, an idealistic sheriff, a remorseful shotgun messenger, and the town that unites them.
The sun was approaching its most upright position in the sky, shortening the shadows all over town, and there was still no sign of the Sandburg Boys; the wooden goods sign flapping against the beam it was mounted on was the only sound down the main drag of road. Sho didn't like the anticipation- it was making everyone's nerves more explosive, less edgy. The more they had to wait, the longer the knots of dread in their bellies would get, and it did not bode well for their chances.
From the grimy windows of the bakery, Ohno gave him a nod. Ninomiya was already in the steeple with his shotgun, and Sho wasn't ashamed to admit he felt like there was a target strapped to the back of his shirt as he walked cross the dirt. He had to trust the other man not to start sniping at his own guns; he just wasn't sure if he did.
There were footsteps behind him.
"We're ready," Aiba said. His cheer sounded a bit forced. "When do you think they'll get here?"
"Before the sun starts to dip again," came the answer. When Matsumoto had arrived in the space behind him, Sho didn't know. He swallowed down the clog in his throat, keeping his back to them until he felt his face was composed enough. Now everytime Jun showed up, Sho's blood was on high alert. He already had reckless courage screaming through his body, he didn't need anything else to help.
The gunslinger's expression was unreadable when the sheriff finally spun on his heel.
"Keep to your places," Sho ordered, staring at Jun's boots. Seemed like the safest bet. "There will probably be a wave from the north and from the south. As soon as we start firing, they've got our position."
"And Ninomiya?" Jun asked.
"Let him shoot," Sho sighed. "Just let him shoot. Maybe he'll hit his targets this time."
When nothing more was said, the tension seemed to increase. Sho cleared his throat and looked down the road, towards the blacksmith's forge and the winding entrance into town. He thought maybe he should say something else, but when he opened his mouth to do so, nothing came out. Everything was just a shade of blank slate. He shut his jaw with a snap, aware that he looked ridiculous.
Aiba shifted his weight from heel to heel, toes skimming across pebbles. He never had reacted well to such anxiety palpable on the air.
"Well," he said, finally, "I'm gonna wait with the men in the stoop of Doc's place."
Sho gave a little noise of agreement, and the deputy shuffled away. Sho didn't miss him turning just once to give the two a lingering glance over his shoulder.
Another period of quiet. Sho wondered if everyone could hear his heart pounding in his chest.
"G'luck today," Matsumoto said.
"Ah," Sho started a bit. He crossed his arms, and then uncrossed them again, and unable to find a good place for them, settled on shoving his hands into his pockets instead. "Yeah. I mean, thanks. You too."
Jun leveled him with an odd stare that Sho caught as he was trying to shift his gaze from the relative safety of Nino's empty saloon to the Johnson windmill just beyond the sloping roof. The desert burned bright beyond the farm, almost blinding in the noon sun.
"Sheriff, I-"
"Right, then," Sho interrupted. Panic was a heady drug. "Guess we should get ready."
He turned without giving Jun a chance to elaborate or continue what he'd been trying to articulate- not then. Sho couldn't handle it then. His palms were already sweaty with the thought of more killin's on town land, especially those by his barrels. There was too much wrapped into his thoughts to deal with any more.
His station was on the end, tucked up against the path to the creek, and he'd never been quite so thankful for its relative isolation on the side of town before. He grabbed his shotgun, checked the rounds, and settled in to wait.
--
The shadows on the steeple cooled the perch, but it would make it harder to see when the time came. He didn't need anyone to tell him that, least of all some Yankee greenhorn thinking he could be sheriff. Nino kept one hand on the handle of his rifle while scanning the desert just beyond the outer edge of town. His fingers were jumpy, twitching towards the trigger.
He could do it. He knew where Jun was; he was across the road, in the porch just outside the tailor's shop. Nino could pick him off as soon as the showdown started and no one woud ever be the wiser to whose bullet had lodged itself between his eyes.
Sheriff might suspect, but he wasn't enough authority to question it. Nino let his gaze wander down to the windows of the store, and the stillness inside. One well-aimed shot, that's all it took. And then her blood splattered 'cross the sand wasn't left un-avenged any longer. He owed it to her, to their memories together- to her body pooling blood on his linens and her petticoat ripped and shredded.
Fingers closed around the handle, and he tsk-ed, pulling his hand away again.
Not yet.
He turned to fight the temptation away, one hand over his eyes.
Movement; a flash of it against the sea of haunting yellowness. Nino's heart leapt to his throat. He crouched down, keeping his gaze on the figure- it was alone, at least for the few seconds that felt like eternity when Nino thought just a scout, just a messenger, comin' to warn everyone- because then there were more swarming behind him. Mendoza hadn't been generous enough to send a messenger. Mendoza had sent half his gang, and that was just the number coming from the south corner he could see.
He grabbed for the rifle. He couldn't shout a warning to the rest, but the blast of the barrels would be alert enough. He had one clear shot before they realized he was up there- one opportunity to take out the leader and cripple the operation as best he could.
Nino waited. They got closer, and he could finally hear the stampede of hooves against the sands, like rolling thunder clouds approaching. He jammed the butt of the gun up against the crook of his shoulder, taking careful aim. His muscles were trembling. One eye closed, line up the muzzle-
He pulled the trigger. There was a split second of gut-wrenching panic that he'd missed, and then the figure on the closest horse jerked backwards, clutching at his chest. He fell, slipping off the saddle, and his foot caught in the stirrup. The horse spooked and dragged him a few feet before his body detangled and fell motionless in the sand.
A cry rose up against the sweltering heat. They saw him now. And the others knew they were there.
Nino didn't give it much more thought before he started shooting again.
--
Jun heard the first shot before he saw any of the gang riding in. There was a roar, and then another, and they appeared on the horizon line. The initial bullet seemed to have set off a chain reaction- suddenly gunfire was everywhere. They were too far for the aim to be good, but a few hit the wall near the window he was peering out of and rattled the boards.
The men were nervous. Mendoza had sent half the gang out after them, a dingy little backwater town in the middle of nowhere; they had scared him good, then, something awful. No way the man would risk so many for a useless grudge killin'.
Jun fired off a few bullets of his own. None of them hit. The roar was deafening as they gained, screaming towards Rapid Springs with the kind of liquid movement only horses under pain of spurs could achieve.
More bullets raining in around them, and this time the shots were closer- better aim.
Jun shot back, taking one in the front down. A bullet richocheted off the beam nearest to him, and then another went through the window. He ducked his head when the glass shattered, pulling his hat down over his eyes. A few shards caught him in the wrist, but the fire in his veins kept him from really feeling it. He threw himself up to shoot back through the opening made by the broken pane.
"Go!" he shouted, waving the other men forward- their cover was all but blown inside, anyway, and it was impeding their shooting accuracy. He ran out and fired off a few more until his shotgun clicked empty. He didn't even bother to reload it, he just threw it to the side and grabbed for both revolvers, emptying rounds into the air.
There were more coming from the sands, closer to Doc's place- he could see smoke from the porch signaling Aiba's shooting, but then there was a crack and a splintering of wood, and the beams of the overhang creaked and groaned down. A shout- the deputy? At least Jun could still hear his voice; meant the man was still alive.
"Dammit," Jun hissed. A bullet rang too close for comfort by his ear. He hit the man nearest to him in the chest, and then the next in the arm; both would probably live. Spooked the horses enough, though, to get them out of the way. He ran out, guns blazing, until they ran empty.
A horse from nowhere, coming from around the Johnson's windmill, and the man had a clear shot. Jun ducked and rolled and narrowly avoided an extra hole in his head. He grabbed for the knife in his belt. Less precision than his guns, but it worked well enough- he hurled it towards the horse and managed to bury it in the Sandburg's side. A gurgled moan and an arc of red against the sky, and the man fell with both hands clutching the hilt protruding out from his skin. Jun would collect the weapon later.
He ran, reaching down to take the fallen gang member's rifle. It wasn't empty yet.
The shooting from the Johnson farm had ceased, and he cursed again; that meant their men had gone down. If they lost the corner, the Sandburgs had an easy way into town.
He whirled, firing on several more. Where was the sheriff?
--
Sho's shoulder was already throbbing from gripping the shotgun too tightly against his form. He didn't know how many he'd actually managed to hit- at least one he'd just grazed the horse of, and the animal had bolted off in the other direction, taking his rider with him. A beam exploded near his arm, splintering shards into the air.
"Fucking-" he hissed, not finishing. He dodged instead, moving out of the confines of the station. The bullets followed, zinging against the wood until he all but threw himself behind the trough out front. A quick glance over his shoulder told him they were in town. "Jesus-"
He shot a few times, but his aim was wildly off. A ricochet against the metal, and then against the porch, so loud it was deafening.
Sho reached for his holster. He felt naked with his shotgun, but he needed to conserve the ammo; the revolver would do until it ran out, for a little while. He aimed with shaking hands and managed to clip one rider in the leg. The other shot at him, and he could see the dust rise into the air from where the bullet had hit the ground, inches away from his leg.
Too close.
"Jun!" he hollered. There was no sign of the gunslinger. Christ, had he gone down already? "Aiba!"
The stamping of hooves, and he rolled over onto his belly past the trough, firing up. Caught the horse in the hindquarters and the man in the face; both fell, splattering the ground with crimson. Sho pushed himself up and ran, staying near the buildings. There was gunfire coming from every corner of the town, and he didn't know whose it was. He couldn't see anything, or make out any shapes.
A bullet whizzed by his ear. He crumpled- it would have been far too late had the aim been a little more on, but at least his ducking allowed the second shot to miss wide. Crawling across the porch of Nino's saloon, he flattened himsef up against the wall. Henderson was firing in the building next, but his gunfire stopped abruptly.
Shit.
Sho glanced up towards the steeple. Was Nino still going? He couldn't tell, there was too much noise. He made his way towards Henderson, bullets hitting the wood beams behind him, and found the man lying with shrapnel in his face- or at least what had used to be his face. Sho wasn't entirely sure he'd have been able to recognize the man if he hadn't known who was firing from the locale, with all the blood.
He didn't even bother to wipe the splatters off the man's shotgun when he picked it up, firing out through the broken window.
--
The powder hissed and the trigger jammed, and Nino dropped the offending weapon with an angry cry of frustration. He couldn't shoot fast enough to keep them out of town- they were making their way down the main drag, hands in the sky like victory celebrations. There was another gun but he couldn't find it in the shadows, and he felt around until his fingers came in contact with the cool metal.
Shots down on the road- looking over the side, Nino watched Jun roll out from the Johnson place, between the forge and the wall, guns blazing. His aim was good, but there were a lot of them.
Nino hesitated for a second- and only a second- before firing on the men coming from behind Matsumoto. He took down one, and then Jun spun and hit the second.
A cry in Spanish, hoarse and raw amongst the gunfire.
Whatever it was, it caught the Sandburgs attention, and at least Jun took advantage of the situation. He clipped one man in the shin and another in the shoulder, and then a third through the back of the head. The rest echoed the cry, and then the horses started screaming and the figures turned- back towards the horizon.
Retreat.
A gasp of relief lodged itself in Nino's throat. He aimed and fired but missed. They were faster heading out than they had been heading in- and in far fewer numbers. The dirt was littered with bodies and angry splashes of red against the beige.
He kept firing until the figures had faded into the hazy heat beyond, and then sucked in a shuddering, painful breath.
--
His legs were shaking when he stood up from his crouched position near Henderson's body. There was a bitter copper taste in the back of his throat, on his tongue; Sho avoided looking back at the man's form again, for fear that the reality would set in faster than the Sandburg's retreat had.
The others had the same idea, moving slowly out into the street. Against his better judgment, Sho whirled to find Jun- he owed the man a debt, it appeared, if the number of bodies on the dirt were anything to go by. Somehow they'd managed to eke out a win despite being outnumbered.
He found Matsumoto standing down the road, re-holstering his revolvers. Something lessened in his chest. Ohno walked shakily out of the goods store, looking dirty but no worse for the wear. In the steeple, Ninomiya was moving, opening the hatch to get back down. Henderson was gone, and from the looks of the red splattered against the side of Johnson's proch, so was he- but the rest of the bodies seemed to be Mendoza's gang. Sho checked them all anyway, one by one, just to make certain.
"Aiba?" Jun asked, jogging over to him, silghtly short of breath.
"Aiba?" Sho repeated, and then turned. Where was the deputy?
"Doc's got hit," Jun answered his unspoken question. "I don't know what happened."
Doc Ogura's front porch was in shambles, but the blacksmith was dragging himself out of the debris even as Sho and Jun approached. There was blood on his shirt-sleeve. He accepted Sho's hand and rose to his feet, coughing and shaking but alive and breathing; better than the alternative.
"Just hit the beams," Aiba wheezed. "Musta been just right. Whole thing collapsed."
"Thank your lucky stars, then," Sho said.
"Or thank that Doc hadn't repaired that stoop," Jun pointed out. "Probably kept you covered."
"They take off?" Aiba asked.
"Mm," Sho nodded.
"You know they ain't gonna give up that easy," Jun warned. Sho blinked at him in surprise, one hand still on the blacksmith's elbow to support his faltering steps.
"Easy?" Sho repeated. "You think that was easy?"
From the look on Matsumoto's face, he did. It didn't help the coils of nerves in Sho's stomach any. But Aiba was alright, and Ohno was okay, and Nino was walking slowly down the street with his shotgun in his hand, barrels dipping towards the ground- so it could have been worse. Even with the red staining the sand and soaking into the dirt, it could have been worse. Much worse.
Sho patted Aiba on the shoulder unconsciously, breathing deeply.
"Do a count," he instructed. "Total the bodies. Ours and theirs."
------
It was strange having another body at his side. He’d gone back and forth between sitting with the wagon driver and the coach driver. Today he was sitting on the top of the stage, and he was used to this being a solitary thing.
Instead, she’d demanded to get out, and she’d arrayed herself here with the sun beating down. A lesser person would have already climbed down and gone back inside, but there was something about this woman. Some excitement bubbling under her surface, ready to burst at any moment, and Jun kind of envied her for it.
The stagecoach bounced and shook over the bumpy trail, the wagon wheels creaking behind them at a steady pace. Jun was used to sitting up top, accustomed to the jostling, but she sure wasn’t. There was a thin rail along the top, and she held on tight. He wouldn’t let her fall. He kept his shotgun in his lap as she undid the ties of her bonnet, letting her blonde curls free.
“You don’t talk much, do you, Jun?”
He shrugged. “Usually don’t have anyone to talk to."
Her smile was big and bright, and it warmed him in a far more pleasant way than the sun overhead. “Well, you got me. And I’m not going to sit out here and stare at the tumbleweeds in complete silence.”
Jun chuckled. “You’ll get where you’re going soon enough. You don’t need to go wasting your time chatting with a fella like me when you get to see your man in an hour.”
She sighed. “You don’t talk, Kazu talks more than he oughta, and here’s me, stuck in the middle. I swear, you men drive us crazy.”
He adjusted his hat, checking behind to make sure there weren’t any bandits coming from any direction. “Okay.” He looked at her. “Okay, what do you want to talk about that’s worth sitting up here and not inside like you should be?”
She smarted at that. He’d argued with her for nearly an hour before they set out that morning that she should stay inside the coach, but she’d have none of it. Hell, Jun thought, woman could have taken the train all the way in, and it would have only been half a day’s ride by buggy to Rapid Springs. But she was as stubborn as the man who’d hired him. Jun figured they were a perfect match.
“Alright, Mister Protector. Since you’re gonna drop me in town and disappear into the dust again.” She tightened her grip on the rail, moving to face him a bit more. If she wasn’t careful, she’d topple, and he’d be fucked if he let her fall or had to grab her roughly to keep her steady. Women were a real pain. “Tell me about you.”
“Ain’t much to tell.”
She winked. “I bet all you rough and tumble types out here say that stuff. Fine, where you from?”
He sighed. Interrogations from clients were rare. He usually just did his job and took his pay. “Texas. My father…or the man my mama claimed was my father, well, he fought at the Alamo.”
“How? I thought all those boys died. And besides, you ain’t any older than Kazu so you can stop your lying.” But she was still smiling, even with the sun beating down on her dark brown dress.
“California. Gold Rush baby.”
“That the truth this time?”
His past was his business. “Sure is.”
She wasn’t buying it. “Alright, it’s obvious you play your cards close. Fine. Why don’t you tell me about Rapid Springs? My fiancé mostly just talks about the saloon he’s built, how much money he’s had to spend and how much it pains him to do so.” She chuckled at that, and Jun merely nodded. He didn’t really know this Ninomiya, so he couldn’t add much to her chatter.
It was a hole. Sure, the new saloon would bring some respectability to town, make it more than a splotch on the newer maps the territory surveyors were putting out. But it was dusty, and Jun rarely took jobs there on account of the townsfolk having very little coin to pay him with. He was surprised he’d even taken this job, but the company was worth it, even if it had just been a few days.
“Rapid Springs is growing,” he said, trying to be positive. The terrain was changing, and Friendship Pass was coming up soon. He’d have to let her go to her fiancé, and much as he wasn’t used to the feeling inside, he’d actually miss her. Most of the women out this way were coarse and filthy. Ninomiya was a lucky man indeed. “I’m sure your saloon will bring a lot more folks out here.”
“That’s what we’re hoping.” She took his hand. Not to be flirtatious or anything, but her eyes were genuine, and he had to swallow to keep himself calm. “We’re getting married, Kazu and me. Soon as I settle in. You’ll come?”
He listened to the horses, pounding the dirt trail as they made their way down between the canyon walls. “That’s up to your gentleman.”
“Don’t go calling Kazu a gentleman. He’s not one, and don’t let him tell you he is.”
Jun chuckled. He didn’t much like sticking around, but she was so earnest and kind that it was impossible to say no. “I’ll sit on the bride’s side of the chapel, if you’ll have me.”
She smiled again, squeezing his hand tight. When she opened her mouth to say something more, they nearly went flying as the stagecoach pulled to an abrupt stop. He had one hand on his shotgun and the other around her waist in an instant. The wagon behind them came to a creaking halt.
The driver was spooked something awful. “Thought I saw…thought I…”
He was on the move already, getting her down from the roof. “In the coach, now.”
“Jun, what’s going on? What’s wrong? Jun, tell me…”
He heard horses, coming from the other end of the pass, and his heart started to race. “In the coach. Get in the coach!”
The thundering sound increased in volume. They were trapped. Couldn’t back up, they were too heavy. Too slow. He nearly shoved her inside, her dress catching in the door as he slammed it shut.
Her eyes were wide. “Jun! Jun, what’s happening?”
He cocked his shotgun and adjusted the brim of his hat. “Lock it. And don’t you come out until I let you out.”
She was smacking her hand against the glass when the riders approached. “Jun! Jun!”
“Chili’s done.”
“JUN!”
He jolted, feeling the tip of Ohno’s shoe poking him in the ribs. “Hey, you awake?”
Jun shook the memories away. It was like a waking dream. It was so easy to drift away, let his thoughts go to that awful day, especially now that he was here in this town again. “Sorry, must have dozed off.”
His back ached, and he’d been leaning against the post at the front of Ohno’s store. Maybe he should have become a grave digger, Jun thought, seeing as he’d spent the better part of the week breaking the soil with a rusty shovel down by the churchyard.
Ohno held out a hand, and though he normally wouldn’t accept, he let the other man get him to his feet. “You’ve never tasted chili like this. Habanero peppers.”
Jun’s stomach grumbled at the thought. He’d never handled spicy too well, despite living out here his whole existence. But food was food, and it had been a long day. Aiba had already rode off for Clearwater to relay the unhappy news about Henderson to his wife, now a widow. The women and children would stay out there another week at least, just to be safe. The Sandburg gang had been beaten back. For now. They’d have a few days to relax. Maybe Mendoza would send a white flag or call for a truce. Jun didn’t know the man. It was up to Sakurai to determine what was next.
Ohno led him through the dry goods store, past the register and back through his living quarters to the yard behind the place. There were tables set up for all the men to eat after their hard day and lanterns hung to keep things visible. The only seats left were at the last table - and Jun’s choices were limited. He could sit next to the sheriff or next to Ninomiya and neither option piqued his interest.
“Okay. Time to eat,” Ohno announced in his calm, easygoing way and turned to go back to his kitchen. Nino was already munching on bread, his gaze boring a hole straight through Jun. The sheriff hadn’t bothered to look up. Instead he seemed to be studying every slight crack in the wood.
“Didn’t think you’d join us,” Ninomiya said, ripping into another roll. “Thought you’d finally be gone.”
“He’s staying until the business with Mendoza’s finished,” Sho muttered. “He promised that.”
He had promised that. Probably shouldn’t have. Nino watched him like a hawk. “How noble. But really, Mendoza’s done for. He won’t hit this town again. He’s lost too many.”
“Don’t know that for sure,” the sheriff retorted. Ohno’s door opened again, and the man came out with a heavy looking pot. The smell was near divine. He started ladling bits of the hearty looking chili into bowls at the first tables. Jun remained standing. He wondered if he could take a bowl full and just go to Aiba’s for a bit of solitude.
No. There was no way Ohno would allow that. This meal was a celebration of sorts. A mourning of sorts, too. But they were all breaking bread together, and Jun had already caused the town enough trouble. He headed for a seat on the bench beside Ninomiya, if only to not have to look at his smirking face the whole meal, but the man set down a hand.
“’Fraid not. The chef’s sitting next to me so he can fetch me seconds.” The man munched on the bread, his eyes lazily drifting from the hunched over sheriff and back up at Jun. “And thirds. Maybe fourths, depending on my appetite.”
Jun said nothing, settling himself on the bench next to Sho. Ohno came by with the pot of chili, oblivious, and gave each of them a sizable serving. Jun concentrated on the food in his bowl, his glass of water and the still warm bread. Ohno joined them, and Nino engaged the baker in some idle conversation about food shipments and things like that. The sheriff didn’t contribute, and neither did Ohno, at least not much.
The other tables were chatting away about who’d shot which of Mendoza’s men, bragging about their kills like it had been a deer or a wolf. The food was hot, and the spice ached enough to send him for his water repeatedly. Sho was downing the chili faster than he probably should have, but it was obvious he wanted to get out of there and get away from him. Jun couldn’t blame him - he’d done enough to weird the sheriff out.
Ohno cleared his throat, sitting down again after fetching seconds for Nino. “Saw you up in the steeple. Better shot than I reckoned.”
Jun dug the spoon into the spicy chili, shoving it in his mouth. Ninomiya could have shot him any time, and much as Jun was loath to admit it, Ninomiya’s shooting had saved his own hide. “Well, we’re even now,” Nino said venomously, and Jun knew without glancing up that the saloon owner was still eyeing him.
“Even?” Ohno continued, pouring salt on the open wound.
“You know, for the other day when the sheriff still had me enjoying the comforts of his fine cell.”
“Oh. Right.”
Jun felt the bench move, jostling him a bit as Sho backed up. “Thanks for the chili, Satoshi. It was amazing.” His voice was strong, but it rang false. He’d only known the man for a week now, but he could already sense when he was putting on an act. “Y’all have a safe night now. Mendoza’s gonna stay quiet, I wager, at least for a few days. We’ll start with building repairs bright and early.”
There was a raucous chorus of “Night, Sheriff!” and “God bless you, Sheriff” from the other men, but where Jun expected the man to idle and soak up the praise he’d craved for so long, he just tipped his hat and went back through Ohno’s door and through his shop.
“Been a long day,” Ohno remarked, dipping some bread in his bowl.
Nino nodded. “Half the glass in my place is busted up. Don’t know whether to order more or wait until Mendoza’s done messing around with us.”
Jun was tired. Aiba would be out all night, staying in Clearwater rather than risking traveling back late. The blacksmith’s home would be empty and quiet, and Jun found himself the slightest bit depressed. Having the deputy’s company and snoring during the night had been oddly comforting.
“Be turning in now,” he announced to no one in particular. Nino watched him, and Ohno simply ate his chili.
The men bid him a good night just as they had the sheriff minutes earlier. It was strange to have been accepted and even thanked, but he’d fought alongside them hours earlier. Working towards a common goal and defending themselves with rapid gunfire seemed to be all the uniting folks did out here.
He decided not to track his boots through Ohno’s store, walking around the outside and down the way to Aiba’s place. The deputy had insisted on letting Jun have his bed while he was gone, and it would be the best night’s sleep he’d had in days. That morning, he hadn’t even known if he’d be making it to this point. Sleeping would be even sweeter a victory tonight.
The front door to the simple clapboard house opened with a creak, and Jun let the darkness wash over him. Couldn’t wait to get his boots off and lie down. So he was more than a little distracted with those thoughts when he was caught off guard and knocked back against the door.
His hand went instinctively for his hip holster, and he drew his revolver, putting it right in the other person’s face. He was just about to pull the trigger when his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The sheriff put his hand on the gun barrel, pushing it aside wordlessly.
Jun holstered the revolver, not shoving the other man away. “You’re trespassing on your own deputy’s property.” Sho said nothing, standing in the dark, hand still keeping Jun pressed back against Aiba’s door. He could feel the sheriff’s hand shaking. “Why are you here?”
Sho stepped closer, his boot dragging with a loud scraping sound across the floorboard. Jun felt the other man’s warm breath against his face.
“I don’t know.”
Jun wasn’t sure which of them moved forward first, but their noses hit before their mouths did, and he couldn’t stifle a moan at the first taste. It was the habanero from the chili, but he didn’t care, reaching for Sho by the fabric of his vest, the palm of his hand scraping against the man’s star.
Sho hadn’t thought his actions through, that much was obvious. He was shaking like a leaf, lips parted and nearly motionless as Jun kissed him. His hands were limp at his sides, and Jun had to keep himself from laughing. He’d come all the way to Aiba’s house, lying in wait, but he just hadn’t considered what that meant, had he? Jun pushed forward, away from the door and took the upper hand.
The sheriff’s boots scraped the floor again as Jun pushed them, reaching between them to find the buttons holding the man’s vest closed. Sho hissed in surprise as Jun bit roughly at the other man’s lower lip, craving more than the sheriff had been prepared to offer. He was just getting the vest open when he heard a horse in the stables next door whinny loudly.
The noise made the sheriff gasp, pulling away like he’d just been saved from drowning. “Sho,” he muttered, reaching for the man again, but it was too late, and it seemed that Sheriff Sakurai’s brain had finally caught up with the rest of him.
Jun stood, chewing on his own lip as Sho stumbled to the door, not bothering to fix his vest. The door opened quickly and slammed shut, and he listened to the retreating footsteps on the porch before collapsing into Aiba’s chair.
“Why are you here?”
Sho’s voice had sounded so lost, so confused. Petrified. “I don’t know.”
Jun kicked off his boots and laughed bitterly until his throat ached.
-----
"How was it?" Ohno asked, collecting the plates from the tables and carrying them in stacks back towards the counter.
"Your cooking is always good," Nino told him honestly. It was worth it to watch the slow, pleased smile that spread across the baker's face; Ohno had been rattled, a bit, the past few days. Never shot a man before, and probably never thought he would have to, but he'd taken down at least two of the Sandburg Boys out the window of his store, and Nino would have to lie to say he wasn't proud of his friend. Mettle was determined in the unfortunate parts of life. He knew that the hard way; didn't mean he wanted his friends to go through the same thing.
"Just glad we could do it together," Ohno mumbled, bent over the dishes as he scraped discarded remains into the slop bucket. The wooden spoon squeaked against the tin. "Nice to do something, after all this."
"Nice we still have a place to do it," Nino said.
"Mm," Ohno agreed. "That, too."
"Like the peppers," Nino said, with a nod towards the rinds still on the wooden cutting board. "You should use them more often."
The baker turned, wiping his hands on his apron, smiling once more.
"Think I will," he mused, mostly to himself. Nino let his gaze wander over the other folk still eating and talking, heads bent low and plates nearly clean, and then to the door. Outside, the desert moon was hanging low in the sky, illuminating the road wtih a blue hue. It was clear- fitting, maybe. As in the clear as they'd been in awhile, anyway. Rapid Springs wasn't off Mendoza's hit list yet, that much was certain, but at least they'd managed to spook him.
Wasn't much going on outside the building, but there was a flash of movement. His nerves were obviously still on high alert, because Nino's first instinct was to reach down for the gun he didn't have on him. A second look relayed it was only the sheriff, walking quickly down the dusty road.
Walking with his vest half-undone and flapping a bit in the breeze.
Nino leaned in closer to the grimy window. Sheriff Sakurai looked like he'd seen a ghost, all pale and wide-eyed and movin' fast as a bat outta hell. It was more than a little satisfying, and Nino's throat ached a bit in response- he hadn't forgotten the law that got laid down in the meeting, and he wasn't apt to anytime soon. Yankee do-gooder still thought he could waltz into Rapid Springs and own the place, and beating back Mendoza's gang hadn't changed the fact that his feet were barely wet. This was Nino's town before it was Sho's, and Nino didn't even like to claim much ownership to the place.
"What about onions?" Ohno asked, over the din, still scrubbing remnants into the pail.
"Sure," Nino said, absently. His mind wasn't on vegetables that would work well with the chili recipe- he watched the sheriff stagger up to the station and disappear in the shadows, and then slowly moved his gaze along the path the man had just taken. Blacksmith's forge. Aiba was out on messenger duty- wasn't nobody there.
Nobody save Matsumoto.
"Hey, Ohno," Nino called. "I'm gonna head out."
"Alright," was the response, and Nino pushed the door open and stepped out into the oppressive night air. The door to the sheriff's station was securely shut, and from the lack of lantern flickers inside, it didn't look as if he'd be coming out any time soon. Nino squinted over at the building, ignoring the clenching sensation in his stomach.
His saloon was right across the street. He started forward, and turned left.
The sound of insect songs off in the dunes was the only thing he could hear other than his own footsteps. He didn't know what Sakurai would do if Mendoza brought his boys back for a second showdown. He didn't know why Matsumoto was still hanging around like he was welcome. And he didn't know much other than getting one or both of them out of town and its benefits for him; at least then he wouldn't have to deal with the raging egos and arrogance the two brought along with them.
There weren't any lights on in the windows of Aiba's house- not even back where Nino knew the man's bedroom was. He pushed his fingers against the outer door. If he couldn't get in- well, he'd turn right around and go back to his saloon and forget the idea had even entered his mind. Wasn't any use of breaking in just to rattle cages. But the door creaked slowly open with any resistance; apparently the sheriff had left Jun in such a tizzy that the man had forgotten to lock it.
Well.
Nino stepped inside, and the boards squeaked beneath his boots.
A few steps more and he was at the doorway to the bedroom, pushing the portal open. It made more noise than he'd anticipated, and the figure was up and moving faster than Nino had thought possible. There was a muzzle in his face, and a split second after, tired laughter.
"What is this?" Jun chuckled mirthlessly. "Everyone in this town show up without announcement at Aiba's shop? I could have blown your head off."
"Could've," Nino agreed. Jun fell back, and set the gun back down on the dresser. If the positions had been reversed, Nino wouldn't have let go of his weapon. "Gotta lotta visitors tonight, Jun?"
Jun leveled him with a hard look. In the moonlight streaming in through the windows, he looked exhausted.
"You come to pick a fight?" he asked sharply. "I'd rather it wait til morning, myself."
"There's a lotta things in life you don't get to choose," Nino said.
"You come for revenge, then?"
A brief silence, and Jun moved his hands wearily through his hair. His clothing was crumpled, and his hair was askew, and he really did look like you could blow on the man and he'd collapse completely.
"Maybe," Nino answered, deciding to leave it open. Didn't really matter what Matsumoto thought his motives were, in the long run, and he didn't much feel like explaining.
"Go ahead, then," Jun sighed. He crossed his arms over his head. "Kill me without a gun."
There were a hundred things Nino could have had stashed besides a pistol to kill the man with- a knife in his boot, a hot iron poker from the forge just beyond the wall; hell, a strong enough batch of Doc Ogura's wares and Jun would be cold by morning. He had none of them. But he wasn't weaponless.
Ninomiya, if nothing else, was good at watching people.
He took a step closer, and Jun's eyes flickered up briefly, sizing him up. Trying to figure out where his head was.
"You know," Nino started conversationally, "what I can't figure out is why you're still here. Deal's done- fight's over. Why haven't you left yet?"
Jun didn't say anything, but he looked a great deal more alert. He hadn't stopped Nino from moving forward yet. Nino cocked his head to one side, raising his eyebrows. At least standing while Jun sat on the bed, he was taller.
"So I'm thinkin'- must be a reason, right? Must be a reason you ain't skipped town yet."
He was fast when he wanted to be, especially when he wanted to catch someone off-guard. He had Jun pushed flat back against the mattress before the other man knew what had him him. It was easy to straddle his position, one hand tightly wrapped around Jun's slender wrists. Nino leaned forward, so close their noses were almost touching, and Jun's quick breathing was hot against his face.
"Wouldn't have anything to do with our pretty new sheriff, would it?" he hissed. Jun's eyes went, if possible, even wider, and it was easy to tell given the proximity. Nino could feel the strain as he tried to pull his hands away, but he wasn't in a position to lend much strength, and Nino's blood was screaming.
He pressed down harder on the gunslinger's wrists, and Jun's breath hitched a little- whether in surprise or alarm, Nino didn't really care.
"Would it, Jun?" he repeated.
"What-" Jun started, and Nino felt a trill of satisfaction hearing his voice warble slightly. He switched his grasp so that both of Jun's wrists were pinned under one hand, leaving his other free to move- down Jun's shirt front, across the belt buckle.
"But I just saw him runnin' outta here like he couldn't get away fast enough," Nino said, as his palm reached the other man's trousers, relishing in Jun's shocked gasp. "Whatever did you do to him to make him look like that?"
He curled his fingers, and was rewarded with another gasp- this one sounding strangled. Every hair on Nino's body was standing alert, nerves alight.
"Go ahead," he whispered. "Tell me to stop."
Jun didn't say anything- his eyes were pinched shut, and when Nino's hand began moving up and down his cock, he threw his head back a bit, groaning.
"Or better yet," Nino continued, leaning down so his mouth was grazing Jun's jaw, lingering far too close to the other man's ear, "pretend I'm him."
Another groan, catching in the back of Jun's throat.
"That's what you want, isn't it?" Nino asked. Jun opened his eyes, looking like he wanted to argue, to say something, to throw Nino off and rail against him. But his hips were moving of their own accord into Nino's hand, and his jaw shut with an audible snap and a hissing exhale of air. His muscles were shaking; Nino could feel them trembling beneath him.
"Well?" he asked.
"You-" but it seemed Jun couldn't get much more out past his clenched teeth than that, and he moaned- a real moan, just like the whimpering, breathy, bliss-laced moan Nino's whores had been trained to emulate when coin was thrown at them.
"Me?" Nino asked. "Or Sho?"
Maybe it was the use of Sakurai's name, maybe not; didn't really matter. Jun gasped and jerked and his muscles trembled for seconds longer as the after-math rippled through his form. Nino abruptly let go of his wrists, casually swinging his leg around to slide off the bed. There was something singing in his veins, something that tasted an awful lot like victory; kind of a hot, stinging sensation.
Jun opened his eyes a bit, staring at Nino through heavy lashes.
"Odd it had to be me, right?" Nino asked, smiling. "Maybe your reason for stickin' around ain't much of a reason after all."
He left Matsumoto lying shell-shocked on Aiba's bed, and slammed the front door with a violent bang.
--------
The metal wire sliced through his hand, stinging and drawing a red streak across his skin. “Son of a bitch.”
He’d been helping Thompson repair his fence for the better part of the morning. Throughout town, things were being mended and rebuilt. A few of the Sandburgs had crawled under or torn up the fencing here, and it wasn’t much of an animal pen until it was fixed. The windmill creaked, and Sho focused as much as he could on fixing the fence.
Which was growing more and more difficult as the sun baked his skin, and his thoughts wandered every which way. Last night had been a mistake. He should’ve turned the other way coming out of Ohno’s. He should’ve just gone to sleep, let his sinful thoughts drift away. But he hadn’t. He’d been impulsive.
He’d gone to talk. Or that’s how he’d rationalized it. But when Jun came in the door, panic had set in. He had never felt this way before. Hell, he didn’t know what he felt. For every little part of the quiet but intense gunman that annoyed Sho, there were a hundred more things that drew him near. Like a moth to a flame, he was unable to keep away until his faith and his so-called rational mind let him know that he was in the wrong.
It was a sin. These thoughts plaguing him, going off in his head like a firecracker each time he thought of Jun’s sun-kissed skin, the coarseness of his hands, and the way his belt hung so low on his hips. It was forbidden and wrong, but they’d talked about Sunday school the other night. Of Cain and Abel, of David and Goliath. Funny how David and Jonathan hadn’t come up.
He shook his head and twisted the metal together. It had been a stupid, stupid idea. But the other man had wanted it too, hadn’t he? He’d been drunk the other night, and Sho had thought it some silly fluke, but Ohno had served water with his chili, and the frugal Ninomiya hadn’t donated any liquor for the dinner. The other man had been acting freely and soberly, roughly pulling at the buttons of Sho's clothes.
Matsumoto either wanted him or took any offer that came his way, so long as he got paid in kind. Sho grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, tying it around his hand and knotting it tight to stop the bleeding. Wasn’t worth another visit to Doc. He licked his lips, tongue drawn to the slight scabbing on the lower corner of his mouth. It was the heat, Sho told himself, deliberately ignoring the prickling between his thighs at the memory of the night before.
He was going to get heatstroke if he crouched down by the fence any longer without having anything to sustain him. Thompson was already napping under his porch, and Sho got to his feet. It was midday already, and definitely time for a break. Aiba had returned that morning and was coordinating the repairs to the Doc’s place, and for all that the sheriff knew, Matsumoto was helping with that too.
Jun would leave soon, once Mendoza backed down. Then he could get back to himself. Ever since the man had come to town, Sho had had nothing but trouble. Once Jun was gone, there’d be no sinful thinking, no thoughts of a man visiting him and doing to his person what a woman should. His mind was fogging, through and through. He was out of the sun a few minutes later, under the overhang of the saloon, and he pushed through Ninomiya’s swinging doors with less enthusiasm than he usually did.
Taking off his hat and fanning himself with it, he took a seat back by the piano while the proprietor was sweeping up glass and humming a tune Sho didn’t recognize. “Well, Sheriff. Done working already for the day? Not used to much physical stuff back at Harvard, right?”
Sho set his hat down on the table and sighed. “Lay off today, Ninomiya. I’m not in the mood."
The other man set the broom down, ceasing his sweeping to head behind the bar. “You pay this time, got that?”
He nodded. “I got that.”
“Okay, what’ll it be?”
“Just something cold. Iced tea, lemonade, whatever stuff you mix together for the kids that never come in here.”
Ninomiya snorted, fumbling around with glasses. “Don’t get cute. It’s not fair if only one of us is hurling insults, Sheriff.”
Sho put his arms on the table, laying his face down and listening to the sound of Nino mixing some concoction. The sheriff knew he’d gone through his share of the man’s liquor, so he was probably getting water or milk from one of Johnson’s cows. The glass was set down a few moments later, and the chair across from him creaked as Nino sat down.
“Coin.”
He didn’t look up, shoving a hand in his pocket. Sho slapped down whatever small change he had, plus his pocket lint, and he heard the silver and tin scrape across the table as Nino pulled it over to himself.
“You got a pretty big tab, Sheriff, and one day I’ll see it paid in full.”
He murmured the closest noise to an assent he could make without moving. The sun and his thoughts about Jun had done more to his head and his focus than he’d even realized, and he felt ready to faint.
Ninomiya poked him in the arm. “What’s eatin’ you, Sheriff?”
“Nothing,” he said, sitting up with an irritated sigh. Sho downed half the glass of sweet tea Nino had brought him. “Just been mending fences for the past few hours. You know, out in the sun? Not inside where it’s cool?”
“Mmm.” The other man was suspicious. Or maybe his face was always like that on account of being a pain in the ass. He started drumming his fingers on the table. “You getting enough sleep?”
“You the doctor round here now?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I just figured since you left so early last night that you must have slept better than the rest of us.”
Sho felt a flush coming on, but hopefully his sun-burnt skin would hide it well enough. “I slept fine.”
“I’m sure you did.” He leaned forward. “How do you think Matsumoto slept?”
“What?” He was panicking, letting Ninomiya see that his insinuations were getting to him. What the hell was the man’s problem?
“Aiba’s place can get pretty hot,” Nino remarked, taking the glass Sho had been drinking out of and taking a leisurely sip. The sheriff watched him run his finger around the rim of the glass. “I mean, with the forge and all. Fire’s not always going, but the residual heat. That sort of thing. I bet it gets pretty warm inside the house.”
“Wouldn’t know.”
“You wouldn’t? He’s your deputy. You’re over there all the time.”
Sho yanked the glass from Nino’s hand, taking a long drink. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it. Stop your winking and your hinting because I’m getting really god damned tired of it.”
Nino stood, moving over to Sho’s side. He leaned forward until Sho could feel the man’s breath by his ear. “The things I know would shrivel up poor Pastor White’s heart.” Sho gripped the table, embarrassment and shame flowing through him the same as his blood. The swinging doors creaked open, and Ohno entered. But Nino was still beside him.
“You should hear the way he says your name when he comes.”
The sheriff could only sit there stunned as Nino took the glass and walked off. “Thanks for your business, Sheriff! Now, Mr. Ohno, what can I get you?”