Author's Note: I've given all the chapters to this story an update. I hope you enjoy! Set in the same timeline as The Shy Newcomer, but you'll see that this story starts before then. It also works as a standalone. Without further ado, here's the first chapter!
0o0o0o0
The middle-aged barkeep wrung out his checkered washcloth and wiped down the counter before him, paying special attention to the rings of dampness the beer steins had made. He ran a hand through his rust colored hair and sighed. It was already eight o'clock at night, and business had been so slow that he was considering closing early; none of his regulars had even shown up yet…
The door to the inn creaked open and revealed a gloomy young man dressed in sooty khaki coveralls and a blue cap. He made his way up to Doug and slammed a fistful of coins on the counter.
Honestly, it was quite hard to tell when he was having a bad day; he had mastered his grandfather's permanent scowl. He learned a few years ago that it was best not to ask if something was bothering Gray. "Will it be beer or scotch tonight?" Doug's hands hovered over the empty drinking glasses behind the bar.
He shook his head. "Rent."
Well, at least he wasn't going to vent to him about a horrible day at work. Listening to complaints without judgment was part of the job, but the barkeeper found it hard to keep his mouth shut when Gray griped incessantly about his employer. Doug was, after all, friends with Saibara and was in the agreement that the boy took criticisms of his work too personally. He quickly counted the coins with his finger and scooped them up in his hand. "Thank you, Gray; you're never late with your payments. How about a drink, on the house?"
He considered this for a moment, then nodded with a grunt and took a seat at the counter as Doug slid him a beer.
He decided it must not have been too bad of a day for him. "So, how go things at the smithy?" Doug leaned his elbows on the counter. It was a quiet night; he normally wouldn't attempt to make conversation with someone so unsociable. He typically was in the kitchen filling snack orders at this time while his daughter served beverages.
Gray took a sip of the ale, indifferent to the flavor and conversation. "Same old, same old."
"And how is your grandfather?" Doug saw him regularly, and he was a bit surprised the old man was not at the bar this evening.
"Still kicking." Gray sounded glum. He pulled the stein closer to him and poked the thick froth with his finger, like a child inspecting a new vegetable on his plate. He sighed and took another drink; he wished Doug had offered him a free scotch instead, something with more of a kick to it.
"I hear that the farm to the south is still empty." Doug said this to no one in particular as he dusted off his apron and straightened up the bottles of liquor on the shelf behind him. He thought that there was something that he was going to tell his tenant, but it drifted out of his mind as he attempted to occupy himself.
Gray snorted. "Like anyone would be dumb enough to want to live there." He took small sips of his drink out of boredom. "Overgrown… Shabby…"
He was more than used to the young man's frank words; he often failed to see the bigger picture. Doug thoughtfully stroked his moustache. "Well, we really could use a farm around here." He chose his words carefully.
This seemed to be a constant complaint of the older generation; Gray ceased to see why this affected him in any way. "Eh, we've already got Barley and Lillia," he replied bluntly, tugging on the bill of his cap. Why should he care if Doug had to spend more on imported produce for the restaurant?
The barkeeper let out a silent sigh while his head was turned and began folding napkins. It was a task he usually left for his daughter when they had down time, but he felt the need to keep himself busy right now, lest he let his tongue slip. "True." Gray was always so difficult to keep a conversation with.
A young woman bounced down the stairs and hopped onto the stool next to Gray's.
"Hello!" Her long red braid smacked him on the shoulder.
He tried his best not to roll his eyes, but failed miserably. "Hey, Ann…" He went back to his beer. It had been a long day at work and the last thing he wanted to do was entertain her.
She looked at her father, eyes sparkling. "Did you tell Gray about our new resident?" She couldn't understand why the two of them weren't bouncing with excitement over the news.
Gray choked on his drink. Someone new in town? Who on earth would choose to live here?
"Oh, yes," Doug set down his stack of napkins. Strangely enough, he had been so busy trying to make conversation and keep him happy that he had forgotten about the new development going on under his own roof. "A young man about your age arrived a few hours ago. A curious fellow, very quiet. His name's Clint."
"Cliff, Dad!" Ann corrected with a giggle, swinging her feet.
Gray ceased to realize why this affected him in any way; the inn had two suites. His stomach suddenly dropped. Unless…
"Looks like you got a new roommate, eh, Gray?" She nudged him in the ribs, causing him to choke yet again.
He booked the shared room? Dammit!
He gritted his teeth and his eyes, biting back the web of obscenities that threatened to pass his lips. His perfect sanctuary of quietness had been ruined. How was he supposed to get any reading or thinking done? "I can hardly wait. How long's he staying?" How soon is he leaving?
"He didn't say. He's paying month to month." Doug looked uncomfortably down at the countertop and Gray wasn't sure if it was because he wanted a second permanent tenant or if he had been afraid of his reaction.
Gray stared into his empty stein emotionlessly and felt his anger melt away. He had a couple of similar roommates in the past and he had no problem ignoring them for a few months. "Whatever." This Cliff would stay for a short while and leave, and things would go back to their same boring routine, as usual. It was doubtful someone paying month to month actually intended on staying in Mineral Town for very long…
0o0o0o0
So this is home now, I suppose…
Cliff threw himself down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. The mattress let out a loud groan in protest and he jumped in surprise. He stood up and threw himself back down. Another loud creak. He adjusted himself on the bed; he had never slept on a spring mattress before, and it felt strange to him. Surely he'd get odd looks in a town like this if he slept on the floor…
The young man unrolled his large bearskin sleeping fur and placed it on the bed. He threw himself back down on the mattress. Another squeak. It felt a little homier, at least.
Maybe this could work…
He had finished unpacking his bags a couple of hours ago, and he had headed back upstairs when people started to enter the bar. Crowds made him a little nervous, and the fact that he used to love and thrive in them depressed him a bit. The bedroom was quiet, and the only sounds he could hear were the muffled voices downstairs in the bar. He could enjoy the sounds of people from the safety of his own room. It had a soothing effect on him, and it reminded him much of the way things were never really quiet at his original village. It had always been full of songs and laughter. Cliff pondered with a sigh if all good things must inevitably come to an end.
It had been three years since he last saw his home town. The place that had once been full of joy and life now seemed dark and empty; he was no longer wanted, and there was nothing left for him. The only choice he had left was to leave. So he had taken his things, strapped them to his back, and left his home once again, never looking back. Akiyama Village could never be a home to him anymore. And it was up to him to find a place that was worthy of being called "home" once again.
He snapped out of his reverie as he heard the door to his room squeak open, revealing his roommate.
"H-hello." He watched him enter the room and sat up properly. He looked around the same age as him. "Pleased to meet you," he added, bowing his head politely.
Gray nodded as by way of greeting and bit back a smirk.
Wow. Mountain hick. His rural accent was as thick as his long brown hair. Gray's new roommate was dressed in furs and hides and was sitting on a large bearskin he had pulled over the bed. He must be a hunter or trapper of some sort; those types never stayed at the inn for very long. It looked as if his predictions were correct – this was definitely a short-term tenant. He would probably leave at the end of winter to follow the herd and he would have the room to himself again; Gray let out a silent sigh of relief.
"M-my name is Cliff," he stammered, intimidated by Gray's cold stare.
The young man's expression didn't change. "I know."
Alright. City folk... Cliff could detect his roommate's big city inflections from those two words. Well, that, along with the heap of random goods at the side of his bed had suggested that he had lived in a place more urban than Mineral Town for most of his life. The traveler had been to enough villages and towns to hear all kinds of stories about people from the city. According to several sources, they had a tendency to be short-tempered, rude, and bossy. Cliff sincerely hoped that this young man was an exception to this.
"Th-then you must be-"
"Gray." He tugged on the bill of his cap.
"I'm Cliff." He replied automatically, bowing his head again.
He blinked; how socially awkward could one person be? The kid acted as if he hadn't spoken to another person for years. "I know; you just said that."
Cliff could feel himself already losing favor with his roommate. "R-right," he stammered, slouching his shoulders, avoiding the young man's gaze.
Gray bit back a smirk; he had never seen someone look so out of place and be so keenly aware of it. What was he doing here, anyway? "So, what brings you to a town like this?"
Cliff hesitated. He knew the question was inevitable and he might get it from others, but he wasn't ready to answer it just yet. Maybe moving in really wasn't the best idea… "I-I'm sorry… I'd rather not go into detail, but… I-I moved out." He figured this would be a safe answer for now.
Gray didn't feel like listening to a back story of someone he'd only know for a month and a half anyway. As much as he enjoyed reading and hearing about adventures, he didn't feel the need to bother with Cliff. He shrugged and kicked off his boots. "That's what I came here for, too."
"Really?" Cliff was eager to focus the conversation on anyone but himself.
"Yeah. I moved here a few years ago to become an apprentice blacksmith. My Gramps owns the smithy to the south. So I've been working there and using what little pay he gives me to rent out this place." He looked around the room with a quiet sigh, realizing what little he had to show for his wages.
That explained all of the hammers and rocks by his roommate's bedside. Cliff shifted on his bed and jumped when it let out another loud squeak. "I-it must be nice, working with family." He wistfully thought of home. There had been good times, he reminded himself time and time again.
"No." Gray's voice was as hard as his eyes.
"Oh… I'm sorry…" Cliff couldn't help but wonder if all conversations with his new roommate were going to be so difficult and awkward.
"D-don't get me wrong, Gramps can be okay… sometimes…" He rolled his eyes. "But you know how it can be with relatives. Sometimes you just can't wait to get away from them." He took a seat on his own bed and it let out a similar groan. It seemed all of the beds in the room were quite noisy.
"Right." Cliff fidgeted with his hands as a sour feeling hit the pit of his stomach. Why had he been so eager, he wondered for the millionth time.
Gray nodded thoughtfully and his eyes traveled curiously over the new tenant. He looked younger than most of the other boarders. "So, how old are you, anyway? Nineteen? Twenty?"
Cliff chuckled nervously and shook his head; people always thought he looked younger than he really was. He wasn't sure if it was something about his appearance or the fact that he had made quite a few juvenile impulse decisions in his lifetime – perhaps immaturity was written all over his face. "Twenty-three."
"I'm twenty-six," Gray felt obligated to answer the question as well. "Twenty-six and still just a lousy apprentice." He let out an exasperated sigh, throwing himself down on the mattress and it whined with him.
"S-so… What kinds of things do you do in your apprenticeship?" The young man's voice was hesitant, yet courteous.
Why on earth did this guy care what he did for a living? He had no intentions of returning the question. He tugged on the bill of his cap, a little annoyed that his roommate was insisting on making empty pleasantries. "I process metal to make ingots."
"Ah… and what do you make the ingots into?" Cliff's voice was slightly stilted, yet painfully folksy.
His patience was gone. "I don't. I make ingots." Gray's voice was emotionless as shifted his position on the bed. He couldn't help but feel like the action in his life had come to a standstill as of late. He reached over to a messy stack of books beside him and flipped through one, signaling the end of the conversation as he rolled to face the other side of the room.
Cliff stared down at the cover on his own bed. "Oh…" He looked over at his own tidy stack of belongings and produced a needle and thread, eager to find something to do. He noticed a small tear in his game bag as he was unpacking and set to work on mending it. Cliff worked in silence; it seemed this room would probably always remain fairly quiet, and he was okay with that.
Gray attempted to read silently for a few minutes, his frustration and annoyance bubbling to the surface as he thought of his duties at the forge. "I'm not allowed to make anything important." The stiff words came out before he could stop them.
Gray's sudden deep voice startled Cliff, and he jugged his finger with the needle. The young man sucked the blood off of his index finger and continued working. He wasn't exactly sure how to reply. "Ingots seem pretty important… You need them before you can make anything else," he offered.
"I guess…" Gray sighed and turned the page in his book.
Cliff could see that the conversation was over. He rummaged through some of his clothing and found a particularly worn-out cotton tunic. Time for another bag; he had the time tonight to work on it. He grabbed his knife and began to cut, unaware of his roommate's curious gaze.
"What are you making?"
Cliff looked up in surprise. "Ah, this? A bag."
"You can just make one freehand like that?" He tried not to look too impressed.
Cliff held up a couple of his homemade satchels, and Gray's eyes widened. It seemed he actually looked like he actually knew what he was doing; the sacks looked well-made. Cliff was aware of his stare and ducked his head in embarrassment. "They're very simple. I'm hardly a professional tailor, but I try to reuse things," he smiled shyly.
Gray bit back a chuckle; he was really going to have to get used to hearing that accent… "Huh… And you're making that out of an old shirt?" He made it look so simple…
Cliff nodded as he threaded his needle.
Gray spied a recurve bow in the corner of the room. "Seems like a weird skill for a hunter. Kind of clashes, you know?" He sat up.
"No… I-I'm afraid I don't follow." Cliff frowned and shook his head. Sewing seemed like a pretty necessary skill for someone who collected hides and pelts to earn a living.
"Heh, if Gramps rips his clothes, he just wears it anyway. I don't think any of the men in this town can sew. It's not exactly a manly skill; all of the guys either send their mending to Ellen or their wives… Ann mends my clothes without my asking… You make those bracers yourself?" Gray forgot his frustrations from earlier and moved to the middle bed as he watched the young man curiously.
Cliff could see that he was paying him a compliment in his own strange way. It had been quite a while since anyone praised him. "Yeah..." He unlaced one and handed it to him.
Gray found that he was staring at the arm wear with envy, blind to the rare minor flaws in the stitching; he wished that he could create something with his own two hands that didn't immediately end up in the furnace. "Eh, not bad… Damn… What happened to your arm, man?" His eyes flew to a jagged scar on the man's forearm.
"Huh? Oh, this?" Cliff raised his eyebrows as he looked at the mark on his arm. "Well, a needle and thread can be used on more than just fabric or hide, you know… It's a good skill to have," he said a little more confidently, but still avoided that pale blue gaze.
He tugged on his hat and let out a grunt in appreciation. "That's pretty badass. Disgusting, but badass…" Gray's eyes widened at the scar. "How did you manage to get that?"
Cliff blushed with embarrassment; he hardly had an impressive story to tell for it. "I was stupid enough to reach my arm into a badger's den when I was a teenager… My sister patched me up."
"Yeah, that is pretty stupid," Gray let out a gruff laugh, and his roommate jumped a little. He leaned forward in excitement, his mind whirling with stories to tell him. "Hey, you wanna hear stupid? When I was little, I touched some cooling ingots and burned off part of my thumbprint." He stuck out his thumb at him, eager to show off his own scar.
Cliff leaned forward to look at it and winced; it still looked pretty nasty to him. "Did it hurt?"
He shrugged in response. "Heck if I remember." He tossed the bracer on his companion's bed, giving it one last appreciative glance. "I was really young when it happened; I don't remember."
Cliff thoughtfully removed his other bracer, setting them both in a tidy stack beside him. "So you must have visited here as a child then?"
Gray was surprised he remembered Gray wasn't born in this town. He wasn't very used to people actually listening to what he had to say. Granted, he never really gave them much of a reason to try with all of the griping he did… "Yeah, my parents took me to see Gramps regularly. We'd go to the ranch and I'd play with the horses… Hey, I get to work there sometimes to shoe the horses," his face lit up. "That's actually my favorite part of my job."
"Animals make great companions." He nodded in agreement as he finished stitching his bag.
"Yeah, I think I understand the horses at the ranch better than I understand humans. I definitely prefer their company over most people, no offense." Gray gave his roommate a wave of the hand.
"None taken," Cliff thought of his own companion waiting for him and was eager for morning.
Gray found the beginnings of a smile spreading across his face. An hour ago, he wouldn't have imagined himself saying this aloud. "Hey, you're not bad, Cliff."
The young man's heart swelled; he hadn't heard approval from anyone in such a long time, and he wasn't sure how to react. "Ah… Thanks… You too…?" He reddened; he was sure his reaction had been awkward.
He got a soft chuckle in response. "It's getting pretty late. Mind if I hit the lights?"
"Not at all," Cliff untied his hair and threw himself down on the loud springy bed. He listened to his companion shuffle around in the dark. Maybe this place can be a home… He looked out the window at the moon; it felt so strange to be sleeping indoors again. Maybe I can belong somewhere again… His heart filled with joy and a little bit of fear at the very thought of it.
"Hey, Cliff?" He heard a gruff voice on the opposite side of the room. "Welcome to Mineral Town, by the way."
