The Good, the Bad and the Sparkly (a Soba Western) part 1/4

[elanielyn]

Title: The Good, the Bad, and the Sparkly (A Soba Western)
By: maayacola and elanielyn
Pairing: Nakame
Rating: PG-13 (for language and innuendo)
Summary: A series of thefts in Johnnysville lead Sheriff Nakamaru and his deputy, Jin, on a merry chase. Nakamaru’s just got to be careful that the mysterious thief doesn’t run away with his heart!
Warnings: Western AU. Jin is kind of a dumb ho, but it’s how you know he’s loved.
Author's Notes: This was written for Isa for KameX over at capslock_turtle

*

When Kame gets the notice, he’s a little surprised.

Johnnysville is all the notice really says, with five names listed under it. Five objects Kame needs to acquire for his employer, no questions asked.

Kame’s surprised, because Johnnysville is in the middle of the desert. A small town in the West with no landmarks, no tourist attractions... Nothing.

So Kame’s not entirely sure why they’ve chosen him, a veteran, to go on this seemingly pointless job, to this seemingly unimportant place, to deal with these seemingly unimportant people. Kame’s been around the world, and now he’s headed to, well, somewhere Kame would probably describe as nowhere.

A look at the list of objects, however, brings an intrigued smile to Kame’s face. He pushes his hand through his dark hair and licks his lips.

This might be interesting after all.

*

If you had asked Nakamaru when he was seven what he wanted to be when he grew up, chances are he would have said a baker. That was because when Nakamaru was seven, his best friend Massu was obsessed with bread, and Nakamaru has always been a bit of a people pleaser.

If you had asked Nakamaru when he was fourteen, he would have said bank teller. It was nice, normal job, with regular hours, that utilized Nakamaru’s superior skills in mathematics and sitting. Plus, a fringe benefit would be that he’d never have to interact with that stupid Jin Akanishi in his class, who Nakamaru was sure would never have enough money to use the bank, because no one could possibly want to hire someone whose brain was that empty.

When he was eighteen, Nakamaru decided he wanted to be a train engineer, because that was a useful job, that benefited society, and out here in the Wild West, trains were the next big thing to haul out city dwellers interested in cheaper land and a new life. But that, really, required Nakamaru to go to more school; school that his family couldn’t afford.

So when Nakamaru was twenty, he decided to take one for society and sign up for what he was sure is probably the most thankless job on this side of the Appalachian mountains -- Town Sheriff.

Being Sheriff wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the steady stream of petty crime constantly committed by this bald, creepy bandit who lived just outside of town, named Tanaka, that Nakamaru can’t really arrest, because the crimes he commits are more like ‘nuisances’ than actual law-breaking. Koki Tanaka is the second-most annoying part of Nakamaru’s job.

The first most annoying part, of course, is his fucking deputy, Jin Akanishi, who, it turns out, was not quite dumb enough to escape the shackles of necessary employment. Nakamaru sometimes wonders who he pissed off in a previous life to deserve having Jin constantly in his presence, singing popular chorus girl music and repeatedly dragging Nakamaru to the bar so he could hang out with Yamashita, the overly buff bartender at the SuperGood SuperBad Saloon. Nakamaru understands why they’re friends, really, because between the two of them, they might even manage to tie their shoes in the morning. Maybe.

So Nakamaru does his best with... limited resources to keep Johnnysville as safe as he can from criminal activity, and somehow manages not to drink himself into oblivion every time Jin opens his mouth.

“Boss, boss! We have... a case,” Jin says, bursting through the wooden double-doors to Nakamaru’s office, long hair hanging uncombed from his oversized cowboy hat. “A real big case.”

“What have I told you about coming into my office,” Nakamaru replies, sighing and dropping his head onto his folded arms, the document-covered desk serving as a satisfactory pillow.

“Never to do it unless I’m on fire,” Jin answers slowly, like he’s trying to remember. “And only then, just so you can watch.”

“Right,” Nakamaru says. “Are you on fire, Jin?”

“Yes, but not for you.”

“Ew, Jin, you and sex. Gross. Thanks.” Nakamaru wonders if it’s too late to go back in time and never have helped Jin pass the ninth grade. “Now get out of my office.”

“But Booooooooossssssssss,” Jin drawls. “We have a case. Straight from the Mayor’s office.”

“What?” Nakamaru, sitting up straight and giving Jin his full attention. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“I did,” Jin says. “Just now.”

“Well, what is it?” Nakamaru says impatiently, running his hand through his short, close-cropped hair. It’s hot in his office, and Nakamaru almost regrets the argyle-print leather vest he’s wearing over his shirt, but he has to make sacrifices for appearance’s sake. Someone has to look put together in this office, and as he takes in Jin’s jeans, belted stupidly below his butt, Nakamaru knows this task is left up to him. Every task is left up to him.

“Well, the Mayor said we had to report to him for details,” Jin hedges. “Immediately.”

“Why did he tell you and not me? I’m the Sheriff.”

Jin bites his lip, and then anxiously scratches his cheek. “Well, he sent it in a letter,” Jin says.

“Can I see it?” Nakamaru asks, wondering if he has to spell out every logical action to his deputy. “The letter, I mean.”

“Weeeeeeelllll,” Jin says, nervously shoving both hands into his pockets, searching for the paper, “it’s a bit... personal.”

“Personal,” Nakamaru repeats dully. “What does that mean?” Jin crows triumphantly as he emerges from the depths of his extra-large trousers with a crumpled envelope that smells strongly of flowers and import tea. “What is that?”

Jin slams the envelope down onto Nakamaru’s desk, and now Nakamaru can see that large swirly hearts have been drawn all around Jin’s name, and when he flips the envelope over, he can see that, to his disgust, it has been sealed with a lipstick-print kiss. “Err, that part, about the case...That’s at the end of the letter.”

“What’s the first part of the letter about?” Nakamaru asks, against his better judgement.

“My eyes, mostly,” Jin responds. “Well, and there’s a pretty large section in the middle devoted to my dic--”

“Don’t finish that thought,” Nakamaru says, and he opens the envelope, pulling out the letter and carefully avoiding anything but the postscript.

P.S: Tell Nakamaru to come to the Mayor’s office ASAP. There’s an emergency case that must be immediately resolved!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That’s all it says, and Nakamaru wonders what kind of emergency could possibly happen in a town with only one criminal. The worst thing that Tanaka has ever done was moon the entire town on main street during the Thanksgiving parade.

But the Mayor had used at least five exclamation points, which is probably the most excited and or agitated Nakamaru has ever seen the cool, collected, and polished Mayor of Johnnysville be on paper. The man has always been incredibly flowery, but he’s usually circumspect with his punctuation.

“Well, then,” Nakamaru says. “I guess we’d better go.”

“Do I have to go?” Jin asks. “I’d rather hang out with Yamapi over at the SuperBad. The Mayor makes me a little uncomfortable.” Jin shudders. “It’s almost like he’s undressing me with his eyes.”

Nakamaru figures that Jin feels that way because the Mayor is ‘undressing him with his eyes’, and it sometimes makes Nakamaru uncomfortable too. But the Mayor is always in a terrible, bratty mood if Nakamaru goes to visit without his deputy, so Nakamaru really has no choice but to take Jin along. “Yes, you have to go,” Nakamaru says. “Because this is your job.” He stands up from his desk, and gathers his pen and notebook. “As much as I wish that it wasn’t.”

“Boss,” Jin says, eyes locked inexplicably on Nakamaru’s chest. “Are you wearing...an argyle vest? Made of leather?”

“Yes,” is Nakamaru’s measured reply. “Why?”

Jin chuckles, and his trousers fall a little lower, revealing even more of his really, unfortunately tight underwear. “Well, I guess both of us can’t be good at fashion,” Jin says, and Nakamaru wonders if it’s too late to be a baker.

*

Nakamaru has never been too fond of the color pink. He’s also never been too fond of glitter, feathers, pleather, rare dangerous pets, or men that like to touch.

If he had ever, in his life, possessed a fondness for any of those things, Mayor Matsumoto’s office certainly would have put an end to any lingering affection.

“Um,” Nakamaru says, tapping gently on the pink and cream door. “Mayor Matsumoto? You wanted to see me?”

“I prefer ‘Your Highness’,” Mayor Matsumoto says, and motions them in the door.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jin says amicably, and Matsumoto creepily looks him up and down.

“Oh, Jin,” Mayor Matsumoto says. “You can call me Jun.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Or Daddy.”

“Oh, God, why?” Nakamaru says under his breath, and Mayor Matsumoto turns sharp eyes on him.

“What the hell are you wearing, Sheriff?” The mayor turns completely in his chair to assess Nakamaru’s clothes. “Goodness, it looks like you’ve been molested by an overachieving stripper-clown.”

“What?”

Mayor Matsumoto sighs dramatically, and looks at Jin sadly. “Well, I guess you can’t both be excellent dressers.” Jin nods sympathetically, and Nakamaru wonders why all the buildings in Johnnysville only have one floor. “But! That is not why I have summoned you to my royal chambers.”

“You’re the mayor, sir, not the king.”

“Semantics!” Mayor Matsumoto shouts, standing up from his plush chair. “You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to! But we both mean that delectable red vegetable that delights one’s palette in the salad bowl!”

“Tomatoes are a fruit,” Nakamaru grumbles, and then he clears his throat. “And mayor is an elected position, sir. Not a, you know, a hereditary one.”

“Oh, Yuichi,” Mayor Matsumoto says, like Nakamaru is picking at tiny details. “Even back in our school days, you were always so obsessed with the facts.”

“Well, yes,” Nakamaru says. “Speaking of facts, I would like to collect some. Right now. About the case.”

“Ahhh,” Mayor Matsumoto sighs again. “The case. It’s too tragic to think upon. Jin, I need comfort. Come sit on my lap.”

“Do I have to?” Jin asks, frowning. “Cause... I don’t really want to.”

“Of course you have to,” Mayor Matsumoto replies. “I’m the king.”

“You know what?” Nakamaru says. “He’s right, Jin. Go sit on the man’s lap so I can have lunch.”

“Fine.” Jin pouts, but does as he’s told, and Nakamaru figures maybe Jin has a use after all.

“Excellent,” Mayor Matsumoto says. “Now I feel like I can properly face this trauma. Last night, Sheriff, an important object was stolen.”

“What was it?” Nakamaru asks, pulling out his notebook and pen.

“I can’t tell you that,” is the response, and Nakamaru raises an eyebrow.

“Then how am I supposed to find it?” Nakamaru asks wearily. Jin is leaning anxiously forward as Mayor Matsumoto attempts to slide his hands down Jin’s trousers. Nakamaru just pretends not to notice this, or Jin’s pleading look.

“It was taken from my boudoir in the depths of night,” Mayor Matsumoto continues as if he hasn’t heard a word Nakamaru has said over the loud sound of his own self-importance. “The woman who took it had long black hair, a long dress, and surprisingly large shoulders.”

“Surprisingly large shoulders,” Nakamaru repeats, pen pausing above the paper of his notebook. “Surprisingly. Large. Shoulders.”

“Yes,” Mayor Matsumoto says, giving up on wriggling into Jin’s trousers to wriggle up under his shirt. “Like, you know...”

“No, sir, I don’t know,” Nakamaru says.

“Like she wasn’t... always a woman,” the Mayor finishes, and Jin is whimpering in discomfort as hands completely disappear into the shirt that Nakamaru is just now realizing is completely inappropriate for work, because it’s got holes everywhere along the grey hem, like Jin had tried and failed to do his own laundry.

“Okay,” Nakamaru sighs and resigns himself to his fate. “I’ll keep an eye out for this person then.”

“You won’t ‘keep an eye out for’ her, you will find this person,” Mayor Matsumoto says sternly, and Jin shifts uncomfortably on his lap when the Mayor’s hands brush a little too close to his collarbones. “And you will return to me what was stolen.”

“But I don’t know even know what was stolen!”

“Well you don’t need to know!”

Nakamaru wants to argue the stupidity of Mayor Matsumoto’s order, but the man’s hands finally reach Jin’s sensitive collarbones and his deputy jumps up and away from the Mayor’s lap with a shriek and shelters behind Nakamaru’s argyle clad form.

“I think I need out of here, man. I’m off to the SuperBad, need to wash the violation away with some beer.” Jin mutters into Nakamaru’s back, and quickly leaves the office.

Nakamaru hurries to follow him, bidding a quick farewell to Mayor Matsumoto who watches them bemusedly from his pseudo-throne.

“Geez,” Jin says, when they’ve emerged into the bright desert sunlight, eyes readjusting to normal, natural colors. “You drunkenly sleep with a guy once and suddenly he thinks he can touch you whenever he wants.” Jin shakes his head. “He’s into weird dominatrix shit, man. I couldn’t sit down for a week. Never doing that again.”

“GROSS,” Nakamaru says, and Jin quirks a grin and lights up a cigarette.

“Want to get a drink before we start investigating?” Jin suggests, and Nakamaru shivers despite the high heat.

“I think I’m going to need several,” Nakamaru replies, and they both start walking as one to the saloon.

*

It’s difficult to move around the house in the dark. Kame watches his steps carefully, trying to avoid hitting the many bulky objects that decorate what appears to be every square inch of the Mayor’s manor. He moves gracefully even with his legs restricted by his kimono, and the delicate fabric barely makes a sound as it brushes against the wooden floor. Kame’s barefoot, walking on his tiptoes to avoid the creaking of the old planks under the expensive carpets.

It takes Kame a while to find what he’s looking for. It’s well hidden, locked away in a drawer. Kame doesn’t have the key, but he has the next best thing. His long dark hair falls free on his shoulders as he removes the pins holding it up and carefully inserts them in the drawer’s keyhole. Kame twists them with expertise and the drawer opens with a soft click that draws a feline smile on his face.

Kame opens the drawer, and even in the dark it only takes him a few seconds to figure out the false bottom and lift it up to reveal his prize. It’s only bad luck that the sudden pull rocks the small cabinet, which was it turns out is slightly uneven on one leg. A high, heavy vase falls from its surface and breaks against the ground with a loud crash, and the lingering echo of scattered glass. Kame freezes on the spot, and sure enough, barely a moment later there are steps rushing through the corridor. Now that it’s pointless to care about discretion, Kame drops the fake bottom on the floor and hides his prize in the folds of his kimono, making sure it’s securely tucked in his white bandages. The light of a gas lamp illuminates the corner of the corridor.

“You! What are you doing, breaking into His Highness’s Palace?!”

Kame’s already rushing away, but he turns to stare at the Mayor over his shoulders, entertained at the man’s self-given title. Even in the dark, Mayor Matsumoto’s lurid pajamas catch the eye, burgundy and gold and made of what, even at a distance, and in the dead of night, Kame can easily recognize as velvet. He allows himself an amused chuckle and blows a loud kiss to the Mayor before disappearing around the corner. It takes Matsumoto a moment to react, but he soon breaks into running too, chasing after the thief with an indignant cry, but Kame’s already out of his clutches, home free.

On top of the cabinet stands, unnoticed, a tube of lipstick.

*

“What can I get ya?” Yamashita asks, and Nakamaru has to blink twice because Yamashita isn’t wearing a shirt, despite the fact that he technically works in the food-service industry.

“A clothed bartender,” Nakamaru replies, and Jin punches him in the arm.

“Why on Earth would you want him to put on a shirt?” Jin hisses, and Nakamaru turns to look at Jin. “Are you stupid?”

“Well, what do you want him to do?” Nakamaru asks.

“Pour me some whiskey,” Jin replies, and Nakamaru thinks that’s a pretty good choice. “And take off his pants.”

“Is there anyone in town you haven’t slept with?” Nakamaru asks, and Jin invitingly wiggles his eyebrows.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Can you go die?” Nakamaru asks, and Jin gapes at him, stopping only when Yamashita comes back with two beers for them both. He sets them down firmly and puts his hands on his hips. His pectorals jump up and down. Nakamaru thinks he’s doing it on purpose. Show-off.

“Because you’re together,” Yamashita says. “Which means you’re working. So beers it is, boys.”

“The way you said that, though,” Jin tells Nakamaru, after a sip of his beer. “It’s like you meant it.”

“Did it?” Nakamaru asks. “Slip of the tongue, really.”

“How do you manage to drink beer from the bottle?” Jin asks, still sketchily watching the flex and pull of Yamashita’s back muscles, rippling under the skin. “Doesn’t your nose get in the way?”

“Do you think before you speak?” Nakamaru asks, and takes a long chug from his bottle just to prove a point. “My nose is not that big.”

“Your deputy seems like a lot of trouble,” says a low, nasal voice from his right, and a man with light brown hair and a gentle smile on his lips slides onto the stool next to him. “He’s cute though. Like a puppy.”

“I guess,” Nakamaru replies, before his eyes narrow. “How did you know he’s my deputy?”

“The badges, obviously,” the stranger says, rolling his eyes. “Yours says ‘Sheriff’ and his says ‘Deputy’. This is not complicated science.”

“Fair enough,” Nakamaru says, and the stranger turns to face him. “Yuichi Nakamaru,” he says, and the stranger smiles.

“Shizuku Kanzaki,” the stranger says, and Nakamaru is caught off guard by just how white the man’s teeth are. He’s got an interesting face, Nakamaru thinks, the kind it’s not easy to forget. Nakamaru doesn’t remember him from before.

“New in town?” he asks.

“Came in with that traveling acting group this morning. We’re here for the next week.” Shizuku grins. “We’re doing Shakespeare. Are you a fan, Sheriff?”

“Always been more into science,” Nakamaru says. “Or, you know, baking.”

“I see,” Shizuku says. He gestures toward Yamashita, who reluctantly peels himself away from what Shizuku’s sure must be a stimulating conversation between Jin and his pecs. “What sorts of wine do you carry?”

Yamashita frowns down at Shizuku and his pectorals draw together in which Nakamaru doubtfully interprets as their own kind of confused frown. “Wine?”

“Yes,” Shizuku repeats slowly, and Nakamaru pities him already, “wine. Just... bring me whatever wine you have?”

The bartender nods and directs a confused glance to Jin, who’s too busy staring at Yamashita’s six-pack to notice anything beyond the shine of his copper skin. Yamashita disappears only to come back minutes later holding another bottle of beer, that he places expectantly in front of Shizuku. The actor looks back and forth between his drink and the topless bartender a few times.

“This is a beer.” He deadpans, and Yamashita looks at him like he’s dumb. Nakamaru decides to save him a pointless discussion.

“Don’t bother and just drink it. It’s probably better than anything resembling wine he could have had in the cellar.” He raises his own bottle in a toast and smiles at the soft clink of glass when Shizuku bumps his drink against it. Yamashita’s leaning over the counter enough that Jin’s nose is almost brushing his pecs, but Nakamaru decides it’s safer to ignore that. “What play are you doing?”

“As You Like It.” Shizuku chirps cheerfully. “Do you know it?”

“Kind of. What character will you be playing?”

“Orlando de Bois.”

Nakamaru struggles to remember what little about literature still remains in his brain from school. “That’s... the main lead? Congratulations for that, I suppose.”

Shizuku smiles and Nakamaru finds himself shifting his stool a little closer to the man’s, though he reasons to himself it’s only to hear him over the loud argument Jin and Yamashita are having about whatever people with their reduced brain capacity are able to argue about.

“Thank you, Sheriff!” Shizuku puts down his empty bottle and stands up. He straightens the creases on his shirt and grins at Nakamaru again. “We’ll be showing at the theatre tomorrow night. Please do come to watch us, Sheriff.”

Jin’s loud squeak when he falls off the stool goes unheard as Shizuku bows his head and exits the saloon, leaving Nakamaru staring at the swinging double doors. Nakamaru has always been more into science and baking, but a bit of culture never hurt anyone, he muses. Maybe he’ll go watch the play after all.

*

Kame feels a special sort of affection for Shizuku. Of all his characters, Shizuku is the most cultured one; the one who knows the most about things that make him look elegant and important, like wine, and he’s the one who has been to France. He’s sweet, cheerful and charming, and Kame can see Sheriff Nakamaru falling for the character the moment Shizuku smiles at him. Shizuku has an honest smile and he’s easy going; he makes it easy to talk to people, and Kame finds it almost a game to ply the Sheriff with innocent questions, pressing against his awkward stances and bumbling shyness, slowly opening him up. Kame can almost see Nakamaru leaning toward him as Shizuku moves away, eyes following when he leaves the bar.

Almost against his will, he thinks the Sheriff is kind of cute.

All of Kame’s characters have different jobs. They change places in his mind, and take each other’s places to play whatever role he needs them to. Shizuku has been a teacher before, a train waiter, a sommelier on a ferry across the Atlantic Ocean, and a young entrepreneur interested in the wine business in France. Those were fun jobs, Kame remembers, but Kame likes the stage. Shizuku is strong willed, energetic and free of inhibitions; he makes for a good actor.

Kame also likes puzzles and riddles, and honestly? He mostly enjoys the wicked complexity of being an actor inside an actor.

And later tonight, when the curtain falls and Orlando de Bois is over, Kame will let Shizuku play his next scene.

*

Jin grumbles as Nakamaru drags him into the theatre and checks the tickets again to make sure he knows where their seats are. One of the few advantages of being the town’s Sheriff is that Nakamaru was able to get pretty decent tickets in no time, though with the population’s average IQ it’s a wonder a theatre play is selling at all. Nakamaru had to threaten Jin with sending him to interrogate Mayor Matsumoto alone to get his deputy to attend the play too, though Jin had made his distaste at being deprived of the usual Friday Drinking Contest at the SuperBad very clear to his boss.

“Why do I have to be here?” He whines loudly, and plops down on his seat with a pout one would expect of a five years old, and not from someone over twenty years older.

“Because it’s your job.”

“Attending theatre plays is my job? Because I don’t remember my contract ever stating--”

“Jin,” Nakamaru interrupts in an exasperated tone, and lifts his eyes from the flyer he had been given at the entrance. “We both know you don’t have a contract. AND,” he cuts Jin’s attempt at a protest, “you’d never have read it even if you did have one. You’ve never read anything longer than one page in your life. Besides, this is not attending a theatre play, this is investigation”.

Or at least that’s what Nakamaru has been trying to tell himself since yesterday, because he certainly didn’t buy tickets for a play he doesn’t care about just to see a stranger again.

“Right,” Jin says. “An investigation.” Jin slumps in his seat, which is really just a spot on the staggered wooden benches that fill what passes for a theatre in Johnnysville. Nakamaru has got them seated in the front row, so they can kep their eyes peeled for... evidence. “Are you investigating how to get into that guy’s pants?”

“Jin!” Nakamaru says, squirming in place. “Not everyone has the same lackluster job performance as you.”

“I wouldn’t describe my performance as lackluster,” is Jin’s quick response, and Nakamaru rolls his eyes. “Oh relax, Nakamarad--”

“What did you call me?” Nakamaru says, turning sternly towards Jin. “You know the rules.”

“Don’t come into your office unless I’m on fire,” Jin replies promptly.

“And?” Nakamaru says, impatient.

“And don’t refer to you by any of the humiliating names I came up with for you when we were in high school and I was the cool kid.”

“Exactly. You’ll call me Sheriff, or sir, or Boss, got it Jin?”

“Yes, sir,,” Jin says, pouting exaggeratedly. “But really, sir, do you think the criminal is here?”

“Well,” Nakamaru responds, tapping his pen to his lips. “A new group of people come into town, and suddenly something is stolen from Mayor Matsumoto’s house... Seems suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Yeah!” Jin says. “It does! I think that Suzuki guy was super suspicious, too.”

“Shizuku,” Nakamaru corrects absently, and then he frowns. “He was totally not suspicious. He wouldn’t have invited us here to look at everyone if he were trying to hide something!”

“I think you’re biased. Satoko or whatever his name was totally fits the description Mayor Matsumoto gave us, in theory. I mean, did you see his shoulders?”

“Buff,” Nakamaru agrees. “But really, he wasn’t wearing a dress, his hair wasn’t long, and if wide, strong shoulders are the only link we’ve got, there are plenty of suspicious people in this town that aren’t Shizuku.” He emphasises the name, because Jin is terrible with names even though he’s excellent with faces.

“Like who?” Jin queries. “I can’t think of anyone.”

“What about your friend Yamashita, the naked bartender?”

“Pi? Naw,” Jin says, inexplicably blushing and letting his hair fall into his face. “Pi’s shoulders aren’t wide, anyway. He’s just all...rippling...and muscular...and stuff.”

“...Right,” Nakamaru says, and he’s gearing up to continue his defense of Shizuku when the lights dim. Nakamaru peers up at the stage, crossing his arms as he prepares to watch the show.

Nakamaru doesn’t remember ever being this interested in any of the admittedly scarce theatre plays he has watched since school. At some point during the production, Jin slides lower in his seat, and he stars snoring softly before the first scene is over, though at least he has the courtesy to not snore louder than the actors are speaking, which Nakamaru knows he’s more than capable of doing.

Nakamaru himself starts to lose focus as Shizuku disappears backstage. He is however startled back into attention when Rosalind appears for the first time. Something in her face catches the Sheriff’s eye, and he leans forward to try and catch a better glimpse in the dim light. There’s something in the way she moves, and in the way the dress falls over her chest and hips, but Nakamaru can’t be sure... He kicks Jin’s feet and his Deputy startles awake with a slightly louder snore.

“Jin,” Nakamaru hisses, and points to Rosalind as subtly as he can. “Isn’t there something off about her?”

It looks like Jin needs a moment to remember where he is, but Nakamaru knows it’s better not to rush Jin when he’s just woken up because his brain is not really the sharpest when it’s starting up, and could just freeze altogether if Nakamaru tries to hurry it along. Long hours teaching Jin things the night before an exam have taught Nakamaru that, at least. His Deputy blinks twice at him with an expression that reminds Nakamaru of a particularly dumb sheep, and then turns and blinks at the character the Sheriff is pointing to.

“That lady is totally a dude,” is his verdict before falling asleep again.

And now that Jin’s said it, it becomes obvious to Nakamaru that the person playing Rosalind is a man. And underneath the heavy draping of his period costume, Nakamaru is willing to bet he has very strong shoulders.

“Now that is a suspect,” Nakamaru mutters to himself, narrowing his gaze on Rosalind’s actor, taking in the way he smoothly walks from one side of the hastily constructed set to the other. “Jin, wake up!”

“No,” Jin says, and Nakamaru’s put out until Jin keeps mumbling. “Not the anchovies,” Jin continues. “Don’t put them there, Pi.” Nakamaru gives Jin up as a lost cause, and tries not to think about what might be happening in Jin’s dreams, because he knows the answer would haunt him forever.

He focuses on the play instead, on Rosalind and the way the actor moves and talks and on judging if the dress could hide large shoulders or not, or if the long black hair that falls in curls over the man’s back is a wig or real. He tries not to let Shizuku distract him too much, as well, though he’s not as successful on that front. At least Jin’s not awake to tease him about it. He could swear Shizuku’s eyes lock with his from the stage a couple of times, though, and it sends shivers down Nakamaru’s spine.

Jin is startled out of his slumber again when the play ends and the public gives the due applause to the cast, who’s now bowing at the front of the stage with their hands clasped together. It’s Shizuku, as the male lead, who steps forward to thank the public, and his smile makes Nakamaru feel a bit giddy when Shizuku looks down at him during the final bow. Nakamaru kicks Jin’s feet again and tells his Deputy to follow him backstage, fully intent on having a talk with Rosalind. Or whoever was playing Rosalind.

The cast is in various states of undress as Nakamaru ventures into the dressing room. Shizuku smiles, and Nakamaru’s eyes can’t help but flicker down to take in Shizuku’s half-unbuttoned blouse. A glimpse of flesh makes Nakamaru have to fight a blush, and Jin snickers at the way Nakamaru forces his back ramrod straight.

“Man-crush,” Jin says under his breath, and Nakamaru elbows him in the stomach.

“How can I help you?” Shizuku purrs, purrs, and Nakamaru feels vaguely like he’s developing a fever.

“Yes,” Nakamaru says, and he blinks twice, slowly, as Shizuku licks his lips, and loses track of his thoughts.

“We need to talk to the tranny,” Jin says, and Shizuku raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at Jin.

“Excuse me?”

“The dude-chick,” Jin continues. “We need to interrogate that guy. That played the girl.”

“Oh, you mean Ueda,” Shizuku says. “I... wouldn’t call him a tranny, if I were you. He just plays female roles. It doesn’t have anything to do with his real life choices.”

“Whatever,” Jin says, and Nakamaru regains his senses enough to jam his elbow into Jin’s gut a second time. Jin yelps, and Nakamaru rolls his eyes.

“Forgive my deputy,” Nakamaru says. “He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“Mmm, you might want to talk to Ueda on your own then,” Shizuku says, gesturing to the back of the room with a tiny grin. “His temper can be a little short.”

“I could take him,” Jin says, scratching at his head with a single finger, hat moving up and down as his knuckle pushes at the brim.

Shizuku looks Jin up and down, slowly, gaze lingering on Jin’s trousers, belted down at his knees, and his skinny frame drowning in his large shirt. “I doubt it,” Shizuku says. “Especially since when Ueda isn’t acting, he works as a prize-fighter to pay the bills.”

Jin blinks at Shizuku slowly and then turns toward Nakamaru. “Suzuki is right, I think you should go alone. I’ll just... wait at the SuperBad.”

Jin goes as far as turning around and taking a few steps before Nakamaru grabs his belt and yanks him back, though he regrets it almost immediately because Jin’s trousers slide even lower. He lets go of the belt like it burns, but Jin doesn’t bother to fix his jeans.

“You,” Nakamaru starts in the most stern tone he can manage, “will stay here to do your job, and talk to the rest of the cast to see what you can find out. You can start with Shizuku.” he stresses the name and Jin rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath, so Nakamaru steps on his toes and ignores his deputy’s indignant yelp.

“These shoes are new,” Jin whines, and pouts sadly at his neon yellow cowboy boots.

“Did you hear me?” Nakamaru asks, and Jin grumpily nods.

“Yeah, yeah, talk to your new boyfriend and the rest of the cast, and ask boring questions. Got it.”

The Sheriff turns to Shizuku again as if on second thought. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Sure!” Shizuku gives Nakamaru a dazzling smile, and Jin snorts.

“Gay,” Jin says, and Nakamaru turns to him incredulously.

“You slept with Mayor Matsumoto,” Nakamaru says dryly. “And you’re calling other people gay?”

“I’m openminded,” Jin replies. “I don’t like labels.”

“Why do I even try to reason with you,” Nakamaru mutters with a resigned sigh. “Just... Do your job and try not to offend anyone. If you can.”

Jin gives him a mock salute bringing two fingers to the brim of his cowboy hat, and Nakamaru flashes Shizuku one last apologetic look before going to look for Ueda. Jin digs in his pockets for his notebook and pen, and gives Shizuku his best investigating look. “So, in a scale from one to ten, how gay are you for the Sheriff?” Shizuku merely raises an eyebrow at him again.

Ueda is thankfully back in a pair of trousers by the time Nakamaru finds him, because Nakamaru doubts his interrogating skills when faced with a man in a dress and stage make-up. He is quick to note that the long dark hair had been a wig, though; Ueda’s real hair is dark too, but cropped in a short buzz cut.

Nakamaru does find him a bit menacing, up close. He tries not imagine what those strong arms could do to an intruding sheriff that happens to interrupt a robbing session. Or ask the wrong questions in a theatre backstage. Being a Sheriff doesn’t necessarily make you brave; Nakamaru is living proof of that. He clears his throat in a way he hopes comes across as polite and brings out his notebook and pen.

“You’re Ueda, right? I’m Johnnysville’s Sheriff, and I was hoping you could answer a few questions regarding a crime committed two days ago.”

“Am I being accused of something, Sheriff?”

The muscles on Ueda’s arms and chest flex, and Nakamaru gulps nervously. It vaguely reminds him of Yamashita, except that Ueda looks capable of combining physical strength with decent intelligence, which Nakamaru is pretty sure wouldn’t bode well for Jin if they were to get into a fight. He mentally reminds himself to make sure Jin doesn’t say the word tranny.

“Not at all. We’re just interrogating the whole company. Now if you could tell me what were you doing two nights ago?”

Ueda sighs and reaches for his shirt, slipping into it gracefully. “Dress rehearsal with the rest of the cast, and then straight to the inn to sleep. Yasuda can confirm that, I shared a room with him. He is the guy who played the court fool.”

“Right, okay.” Nakamaru scribbles the information in his notebook and bites his lip distractedly. “Who’s responsible for looking after the costumes used in the play?”

“We’re each responsible for our own attire. They are to stay in the company’s trailers, of course, but we’re the ones who leave them there after every show, and wash and mend them.”

“And um, you don’t happen to have like, um, used your costume outside the play, right?”

“Of course not. That would be more work for me.”

“I see.” Nakamaru looks closely at the other man’s face. “Your lips are very red,” he blurts out before he can think better of it, and Ueda growls.

“Yeah, family curse,” Ueda says. “But at least it means I don’t have to wear lipstick to play the part. I hate lipstick.”

“You’re a very beautiful woman.” And Nakamaru kind of wants to punch himself in the face.

Ueda freezes and turns toward Nakamaru with a raised eyebrow and an expression that reminds Nakamaru of the calm before the storm. “Are you implying anything, Sheriff?”

Nakamaru remembers the muscles hidden under the light white shirt and clears his throat again. “No. I’d not dare, sir. I was just asking... Necessary questions, you know.” Ueda raises an eyebrow at him and Nakamaru puts away his things quickly. “Well, I think I’m, um, done here. Thank you a lot for your help, sir.”

Interrogating the rest of the cast seems like a bit of a waste of time when no one else matches the description offered by Mayor Matsumoto, so Nakamaru rushes to leave the theatre. Jin follows him quickly, and lights a cigarette as soon as they’re outside. Nakamaru steals one for himself.

“Did you find anything out?”

Jin actually looks proud as he brings out his notebook and flips through the pages. “They had a dress-rehearsal two nights ago, so they were all in attendance. The only one who can’t prove he went to the inn right after that is that Shimizu guy, because he doesn’t share a room with anyone. See?! I told you we should be focusing on him!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Jin. I told you already that it wouldn’t make sense for him to have invited us here to watch if he was the thief.”

“But Boooooooooss!” Jin whines loudly as he trudges behind Nakamaru towards the office. “I’m telling you, there’s something off about him!”

“Jin, shut up. You’re lowering the IQ of the whole town.”

*

The bank is a little more difficult to get into, but Kame has his ways. It only takes him a charming flutter of his eyelashes to have the one of the security guards trying to chat him up, and it’s easy to just keep flirting with him. When closing time comes, Kame only has to wink playfully and promise to wait for him at the saloon for the man to usher the rest of clients out and leave as quickly as possible. Kame’s good at hiding, and by the time the man finds out there’s no one waiting for him at the SuperBad, he won’t think of coming back to check.

Is easier to move around the bank than the Mayor’s manor with the lights out, though, and the stone floors are not likely to creak under Kame’s feet. Kame knows how many employees the bank has: who has left, and who has stayed behind to finish making sure all the numbers sum up to what they should. Kame’s meticulous in his research, and he knows where to look and when to hide.

He hadn’t expected the bank president to stay behind, though, and the light in his office throws him off only for as long as it takes to realize that there are no sounds coming from the room. The gas lighting on the mahogany illuminates the office and pulls metallic shine from the lockbox placed next to it. Kame’s almost incredulous at the president’s carelessness, but he knows a chance when he sees one; this can be so easy, if he’s only fast enough.

The keys are in the box’s lock, and Kame contemplates taking the whole thing- slipping the box between the folds of his kimono, but he doesn’t want its edges catching on the delicate fabric and pulling on it when he moves. The contents would rattle inside its walls with every step Kame took, and that would be noise he couldn’t afford. So he grabs the keys, as he was originally planning. The moment of contemplation delays him though, and when the president steps into his office they both stare at each other before the man’s brain finally catches up with the fact that Kame shouldn’t be there.

The president has a much more practical mind than Mayor Matsumoto. He lurches forward when Kame’s not expecting him too, and manages to hold onto Kame’s wrist and pull him back. Kame’s feet step on his kimono and he stumbles, falling against the president’s chest. It throws the man off balance, and Kame sees his chance to escape. He pulls his hand up and smirks at the president before kissing the man’s wrist, leaving a not totally unintended smudge of lipstick on the cuff of his white shirt.

The president lets go of him like the contact burns, and Kame makes a wink pass as goodbye before he runs away. He wonders if the sheriff will be able to find the lipstick tube that rolls across the stone floors.

*

Nakamaru wakes up the next morning feeling like something has gone terribly wrong. It’s just intuition, but it makes him hurry through his shower, and scramble into his customary jeans and sweater-vest with alarming speeds.

“What’s wrong, Boss?” Jin queries when Nakamaru rushes into the office ten minutes early, and Nakamaru scratches at his hair anxiously.

“Something’s going on today,” Nakamaru mutters. “I can feel it.” Then he blinks twice, turning to look at Jin, who is sitting at his desk, hunched forward with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here?” Jin says, and it’s more like a question. Nakamaru supposes that’s fair, since he tries to fire Jin at least once a week despite the fact that he has no authority to do so.

“No, no,” Nakamaru replies. “I mean. It’s eight in the morning. Why are you here already?” Jin isn’t even usually awake at this time of morning, let alone his version of dressed for work and at the office. Not that Nakamaru minds, usually, because it’s nice to have a couple of quiet hours in the morning before Jin parades in with his neon cowboy boots and his loud gum-chewing that makes Nakamaru want to prose new laws against open-mouthed chewing. “Oh no, it’s actually the apocalypse. The world is actually going to end.”

“Er, well, the thing is...” Jin says, and then his face crumbles. “The thing is Pi and I got into a fight last night at the SuperBad and now he’ll never talk to me again and I can’t sleep because that would be, like, the most awful thing ever and I’ll be lonely forever!”

Nakamaru stares blankly at Jin as Jin’s eyes go round and watery, like he’s about to erupt in a fountain of tears. “Uh, a fight? With Yamashita?” Nakamaru tries to imagine a world in which the two are not the best of friends, and it is a rather unfathomable situation. “What did you fight about?” He asks, because he feels like he’s supposed to.

“I don’t even KNOW!” Jin shouts, and then he is crying into his folded arms. “One minute, we were discussing the pros and cons of weight-lifting, and the next, he was telling me he never wanted to see my ‘two-timing face ever again’.” Jin looks like he’s completely lost, which isn’t new. But the sadness is new, and Nakamaru feels, strangely, like Jin is a puppy that has been kicked. He’s worried, and it’s weird, because Nakamaru doesn’t worry about Jin. He just makes fun of him, and occasionally keeps him from hurting himself with his own stupidity.

Then Jin’s words catch up with him. “Two-timing?” Nakamaru says, and Jin scratches at his nose as he sniffles.

“Well, I met this new friend at the bar yesterday. I thought he was your friend, Shakira, but--”

“SHIZUKU,” Nakamaru corrects without thinking, and then Jin just nods and keeps talking.

“Okay, whatever, but I thought it was him, at first, and usually I’m awesome with faces, but it turns out I was wrong, it was a different guy with the exact same nose. And moles. And even the same eyebrows, but hey, I asked him his name and it was a totally different name. And his personality was different, too.”

“What’s that got to do with ‘two-timing’?” Nakamaru asks, and Jin sighs.

“The guy, Kousaku, seemed to really like eating, so I asked him to go to get tacos with me from the Taco Gong.”

Nakamaru makes an aghast sound. “But Jin, you know that’s you and Yamashita’s place!” Nakamaru may not know much about the creepy friendship between his deputy and the SuperGood SuperBad’s bartender, but he certainly does know that some things between the two are sacred.

“I know that!” Jin wails. “But he was so enthusiastic about eating, and I was going to invite Pi to come too, but then Yamapi poured a drink over my head and told me...” Ah, Nakamaru thinks; that explains the clean clothes. “What do I do?”

“Well, the only thing you can really do is apologize, Jin,” Nakamaru says, and Jin opens his mouth to respond when suddenly their office doors burst open. An out of breath Johnnysville Junior stands there, huffing and puffing, falling forward to rest his hands on his knees. Nakamaru likes the Juniors, because they are young boys dedicated to the community. He’s not quite sure how Jin survived his tenure.

“Sheriff!” the boy says, after he’s gulped in a few lungfuls of air. “There’s been a break in at the bank!”

“What?” Nakamaru yells, and Jin hastily scrubs his face free of tears. His complexion is still a bit ruddy, but it’s hardly noticeable anymore, not with the way Jin’s hair is falling sloppily into his face. They’ve got bigger issues than Jin’s social life, right now.

“The bank!” the Junior, Juri, repeats. “There’s been a break-in! The President has asked me to fetch you immediately!”

“Fetch?” Nakamaru says, deadpan, and Juri cringes. “Let me guess: As he said it, he pushed his glasses up on his face and smiled condescendingly.”

“Yes, sir,” Juri replies. “But he seemed agitated, Sheriff. I think something big has been taken.”

“Big?” Jin asks, and there’s a wobble in his voice but he’s sounding more and more like himself. “Do you know what it is?”

“No, Deputy Akanishi. But the President sent another Junior after mayor Matsumoto and it all seemed very urgent.”

“Right,” Nakamaru says, and his pad and pen are still in his pocket where he left them yesterday. “Deputy, let’s go!”

“You got it, Nakamarad!” Jin sniffles, and then he coughs into his hand. “I mean...Sheriff.”

“He can be trained,” Nakamaru says to himself, and follows Juri out of the office. It takes him three minutes before he realizes Jin isn’t following.

He jogs back to the room to see Jin sniffling at his desk and looking forlornly at a locket. Jin looks up, startled, when Nakamaru sighs.

“I’ll go with you to apologize to Yamashita if you can hold it together for the rest of the morning,” Nakamaru says, grudgingly, and Jin looks up at him with shining eyes.

“Boss, you do care,” Jin says, and Nakamaru doesn’t really know why, but hearing the usual buoyancy in Jin’s voice makes Nakamaru feel better.

Huh. Maybe he’s a little fond of his Deputy after all.

*

“Ahh, you’ve finally made it,” the president says, and he examines his nails. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“Juri just came to our office about fifteen minutes ago,” Nakamaru says, and the president pushes his glasses up and somehow manages to look down at Nakamaru, despite Nakamaru’s height advantage.

“So really, you should have been here eleven minutes sooner than you arrived,” the president says, and then he smiles a smug smile. “If my calculations are correct...” He raises a single brow, as if to say that of course his calculations are correct, “then it only really takes about three minutes to walk here from your office. Allowing a minute for human error--” Another look, and this one implies that of course mere mortals like Nakamaru would not be working at maximum efficiency, “you should have been here eleven minutes ago.”

“Ah, that’s my fault,” Jin says apologetically, and President Sakurai turns to look at Jin. “I was having a bit of a crisis, President Sakurai.”

President Sakurai’s eyes get a little wide, and Nakamaru watches with disgusted disbelief as the man’s cheeks redden just the slightest bit. “Oh, well, that’s alright then, Jin, I understand that... these things happen...”

“I really am sorry, President Sakurai--”

“Jin, haven’t I told you to call me Sho?” The president’s expression softens noticeably as he smiles at Nakamaru’s deputy.

“Are you blushing?” Nakamaru asks, unable to hold the words in. “Seriously, sir? Blushing?”

“What are you trying to say, Sheriff?” President Sakurai snaps, and a familiar voice cuts in, and Nakamaru wonders why every day is like an uphill battle against insanity.

“He’s trying to say you should be more professional,” Mayor Matsumoto says, and then he slips and arm around Jin’s waist. Jin looks like if it were possible, he would crawl inside of himself. “Talking so freely with my Jin.”

“Your Highness!” Jin squeaks, awkwardly peeling Mayor Matsumoto’s fingers from his abdomen one by one. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“He’s the mayor,” Nakamaru says through gritted teeth. “It’s an elected position.”

“Well, when I heard someone had broken into the bank, I simply had to come.”

“Speaking of the break-in,” Nakamaru says smoothly, retrieving his notepad. “Can you give me the details of that? You know, to help with the investigation.”

“Well, the thing that’s been stolen is a set of very important keys.”

“Keys?” Nakamaru taps his pin against his lower lip. “Keys to what?”

“A special lockbox we keep in the vault. A very, very special lockbox.”

“What’s in the lockbox?”

“Nothing special!” Mayor Matsumoto says quickly, and Nakamaru crosses his arms.

“Then what makes it a very special lockbox, hmm?”

“Is it a magic box?” Jin questions, eyes round. “Maybe the box itself is special somehow?”

“Yes!” President Sakurai shouts. “The lockbox is special because. It is very old. And magical.”

President Sakurai is sweating, and Nakamaru rolls his eyes because all these lies are very counterproductive to his investigation. There’s also the fact that both Mayor Matsumoto and President Sakumoto both have hedged on what’s been stolen, which is making Nakamaru sort of suspicious.

“So,” he says, abandoning his former track. “How were the keys stolen?”

“Well, I was working through the night double checking the day’s tallies,” President Sakurai starts. “When suddenly, a man appeared in front of my desk!”

“A man?” Nakamaru asks. “What did he look like?”

“Well,” President Sakurai says. “To be honest, he looked more like a woman than a man.”

“The same suspect!” Jin cheers, and Nakamaru looks over. Jin’s freed himself from Mayor Matsumoto’s clutches, although the price seems to have been the height of his jeans, which are actually sitting so low on Jin’s ass that Nakamaru’s not sure how they’re staying up.

“Sure does sound like it,” Nakamaru says. “Any details you could give us would be of great help.”

“He was wearing...”

“A long dress?” Mayor Matsumoto chimes in, and bank’s president frowns.

“No, Mayor,” President Sakurai says. “He was wearing a kimono. A woman’s kimono, specifically, with the open sleeves.”

“What’s a kimono?” Jin asks, and Mayor Matsumoto and President Sakurai both smile at him fondly and Nakamaru sighs.

“Oh poor Jin,” President Sakurai says. “How empty it must be inside of your head. In my infinite intelligence, I happen to know the answer to that which you ask, and if you ask politely and come stand by my side, I will whisper the answer into your ear--”

“It’s a form of traditional Japanese clothing, Jin,” Nakamaru says quickly, before anything gets kinky, and Jin nods thoughtfully. “That’s... an excellent clue. Anything else?”

“Well, actually...” President Sakurai hesitates. “There is this.” He holds up the sleeve of his cream shirt, and there’s a red stain on the cuff. “I tried to catch the intruder after he snatched the keys off my desk--”

“The keys were just laying on your desk?” Nakamaru interrupts, and and President Sakurai nods and frowns. “Well, yes, I had just been using them.”

“Right. To open the very old magic lockbox with nothing special inside of it.”

“Yes,” President Sakurai says, shifting uncomfortably and again pushing up his glasses. “Exactly.”

“Okay,” Nakamaru says, and then he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Lipstick,” Jin says, and Nakamaru looks over. Jin is pushing his hat back so he can see, eyes examining the stain. “Expensive.”

“How do you know that?” Nakamaru asks, and Jin smiles.

“Well, it’s got a low wax content, and the color’s really rich, even on fabric. That means it’s probably from Europe.”

“Jin, where’s Europe?” Nakamaru asks, narrowing his eyes at Jin. Jin shrinks uncomfortably under his gaze.

“On the other side of the ocean?”

“Which ocean?”

“I don’t know!” Jin wails. “I’m not good at... oceanography!”

“You probably mean geography, there,” President Sakurai says indulgently. “Oceanography is a type of Earth science, that involves the study of things like marine organisms, and ecosystem dynamics, and maybe even, well, plate tectonics could be classified--” Sakurai’s words stutter to a halt as Jin tugs on a fluffy lock of hair and grins charmingly at the man, and Sakurai blushes again, and Nakamaru wonders why there are no nearby lakes to drown himself in. But at least Nakamaru is satisfied that it’s not an imposter pretending to be his deputy, because only Jin wouldn’t know where Europe is.

“Good job, Jin,” Nakamaru says grudgingly, and now Jin is beaming.

“I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me before,” Jin says, a little awed.

“Yes I have,” Nakamaru replies distractedly. “In high school, during third year history class.” Nakamaru scrunches his mouth. “So we’re looking for a man who wears kimono, with broad shoulders and lipstick. To be honest, this sounds ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously easy, you mean,” Mayor Matsumoto says, and adjusts his pink feather boa. “How hard can it be to find a suspect that looks like that?”

Nakamaru blinks twice at Mayor Matsumoto, before he clears his throat. “Well, yes, Mayor--”

“I prefer ‘Your Highness’--”

“I’m not calling you that,” Nakamaru says. “Anyway, the point is, our suspect is not walking around wearing this. It’s obviously a costume.”

“Like someone would wear in a play,” Jin adds. “Right?”

Nakamaru nods. “Definitely. And Ueda doesn’t like to wear things on his lips. Looks like we have to go back and question the rest of the troupe.”

“I still think it’s that Shiitake guy,” Jin muses as they leave behind a bickering Sakurai and Matsumoto. “He’s mighty suspicious.”

“He’s a well educated and interesting man with a flair for the arts,” Nakamaru says, not bothering to correct the name. It’s like talking to a wall, anyway, and Nakamaru’s got better ways to spend his time.

“If you say so,” Jin replies, and then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “To the SuperBad?” His voice is hopeful, and Nakamaru remembers he’d promised Jin to help with his apology to Yamashita.

“Alright,” Nakamaru says, and a sense of foreboding bubbles in his gut. He presses it down, and follows Jin, who’s almost skipping in his atrocious boots, trousers dipping dangerously with every little hop.

Part 2