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Chapter Two
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Itachi's not dead. That's the important thing, when all's said and done.
Shisui might be reminding himself of that a lot, but that doesn't make it any less true.
He brushes Flicker down with even, careful strokes, like that'll convince the horse to forgive Shisui for abandoning him all this time—no matter that Itachi apparently looked after him once Shisui disappeared, no matter that Shisui's never gonna have the chance to thank him for that or for anything else.
With every swipe of the brush Shisui runs back over what Hana told him. She was thoughtful enough to pour them both a glass of whiskey first, at least.
"Itachi was recalled about two months after you…left," she'd said, diplomatic like. "Fugaku sent for him. I figured the news got back to him one way or the other, that his kid lost control of a felon or something of the like, but all Itachi said was that he had to go home and get married. Face the music."
Shisui ignored the twist in his gut at that. "So how'd you get mixed up with it all?" he asked.
"I just missed your escape, as it turns out. Ma and I came back from a supply run and walked smack into a shitstorm. Everybody was real tense, wondering what'd happened with the jailbreak and what the hell they were gonna do with a sheriff who couldn't keep his own prisoners in line."
Shisui's fingers twisted into his pants hard enough to bruise the skin underneath.
"Itachi probably figured he could use some extra hands," Hana was saying. "As it happened I was lookin' for a change of pace myself, since Kiba's more than old enough to start helping Ma and Pa with the runs, so when Itachi offered me the deputy badge I took it."
She hadn't said anything more about that, but even with all the thoughts spinning through his head fast enough to make him dizzy Shisui could still appreciate what a masterstroke that'd been. Hana's got a natural talent for the lawman's job, seems to him, but it don't hurt that she's one of them and always has been. The mountaineering Inuzukas and their big smelly dogs've been part of this town's landscape for as long as there's been a town; their supply runs keep everyone afloat some winters. That counts for a lot. Itachi was probably doing damage control, trying to get back some of the trust he lost when he let Shisui slip through his hands.
And then if that didn't work, or if something happened—like if his fucking bad penny of a father whistled and expected Itachi to come running—then at least he'd be leaving behind a sheriff who gave more shits about enforcing the law than they did about drinking and whoring. Two birds, one stone. Shisui probably would've felt impressed if he hadn't been so numb.
"And?" he'd asked, when Hana stopped talking.
"And nothing," she'd said. "Haven't heard a damn thing from him in months. I was figuring he'd come back with his wife once all that was done, but if he ain't back by now…"
She shrugged. "Guess I can't blame him. Some folks ain't born for the life out here."
Shisui'd downed the rest of his whiskey instead of saying anything. Hana's no priest, she's not about to judge anyone else for their choices, but it'd still felt too close to calling Itachi weak for Shisui's liking.
At least nobody else took up residence in the stables while Shisui was gone. That would've sucked a big one, seeing as he's got no place else to go. And Hana's been looking after Flicker since Itachi left, so that's something too. All things considered, this is going easier for Shisui than he would've thought.
So why does he still feel like shit?
Flicker's coat is shiny now. It's put him in a forgiving mood, apparently, because he nudges Shisui gently with his big soft nose like he's saying welcome home.
It almost makes Shisui want to cry, stupid as that sounds. He buries his face in the horse's mane and stays there until the feeling passes him by.
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Anko doesn't waste time when Shisui walks into her saloon; two seconds after he walks in the door she makes like she's gonna vault over the bar and take his head off with her teeth, other customers be damned. Shisui puts his hands up as he walks toward her.
"Just remember," he says, "you're gonna be the one cleaning my entrails up off the floor."
"Might be worth it," Anko grinds out. Shisui notices her knuckles going white around the glass in her hand; she might shatter it at this rate. He leans on the bar anyway.
"You still got my favorite cheap-ass whiskey?" he asks, conversational even though his heart is going a mile a minute. "Those city folks wouldn't know a good drink if it bit 'em in the ass."
The glass cracks. Anko, momentarily distracted, looks down at it and scowls.
"You ain't shown your face for a year," she says, the anger quieter than Shisui'd expected, which just makes it scarier. "A year. No word before or since, no letters, no—not so much as a note saying 'hey, Anko, remember me? It's Shisui and I'm a dumbass but I ain't dead yet!'"
Her voice rises on the last few words, only Shisui doesn't realize just how loud it's gotten until he starts feeling every eye in the place on his back. There ain't many people here this early, it's half the reason he came, but the ones who are here have sure as hell pegged him now.
Anko notices it too, and they all know the second she does, because suddenly she's breathing fire at everybody but Shisui.
"The fuck are you staring at? You got something to say?"
There's a general mumble and some clearing of throats. Anko glares around the room.
"I hear a word out of any of you that ain't asking for another round and you're gonna be out on your ass, swear to God Almighty. It's two in the goddamn afternoon and I'm not in the mood."
More mumbling and scraping of chairs, followed by the loudest silence Shisui's ever heard in a saloon in his life. At least he doesn't feel like he's being skinned alive by a bunch of prying eyes anymore; when he chances a look sideways it looks like everybody is focusing pretty damn intently on the contents of their glasses. Shisui sympathizes.
Anko lets out a long breath. She's set down the cracked glass and the cleaning cloth and her color's gone down a bit, though not by much.
"Out back," she says. "Now."
Shisui follows her as she moves out from behind the bar and through a small door in the back of the building. (She doesn't worry about leaving the place unattended; Anko's got to be the only barkeep in the West—or anywhere—whose customers are more terrified of her than tempted by free booze.)
There's no one in sight behind the saloon, which at least gives Shisui some privacy while he's having a new asshole torn.
"So where the hell have you been?" Anko demands.
"The city."
"No fucking shit. Where in the city? What've you been doing?"
Shisui almost makes a joke about how she'll make a great ma someday, but then decides he still values his skin. "Found a bar by the station. I threw people out when they got too rowdy, and they let me sleep in a hatbox upstairs."
Anko looks at him, suspicious. "That's it?"
"That's it."
"What about—" She stops.
"What?"
"Nothing," she says. "Just a dumb thought."
Shisui nudges her. "Thought you didn't have those."
Anko folds her arms, scowling again. "Look, if I'm wrong you can tell me to fuck off, all right?"
"Hey now, I actually like havin' all of my teeth in one place."
She doesn't bite, just gets straight to the point: "Were you fucking the sheriff?"
It kinda feels like she's pulled a knife on him. Shisui hears himself blurt out the old standby. "The hell are you talking about?"
"Don't pull that shit with me," she snaps. "Even if you weren't fucking him you had a—a thing for him. How long've I known you, Shi? You can't get away with shit as far as I'm concerned."
The look on her face is as sure as Sasuke's had been—how long have you been fucking my brother? Makes Shisui think real hard about how many people have seen through him and he didn't even notice.
He takes a deep breath. It's Anko, he reminds himself. She ain't about to set the vultures on him.
"I'm sorry," he forces out, though he can't quite look her in the eyes. "You shouldn't've stuck up for me in there. Won't look too good for you, right?"
Since he's staring down at the dirt he can't dodge when she smacks him hard upside the head. Shisui looks up real quick then, wincing as his hand comes up to see if his skull's caved in.
"You're a dipshit," Anko says coolly. "Those idiots were startled, is all. Not every day the prodigal son comes home." Shisui opens his mouth and is barreled right over, as usual. "Even if there were rumors back then—and I ain't saying there were any—it's been a year. You really arrogant enough to think we'd still be talking about you after all this time?"
Her quirked eyebrow, the dry tone—it's like home is hitting him all at once, sharp edges wrapped around loyalty stronger than a sandstorm. Shisui ducks his head again, relief making him feel more than a little wobbly.
"I should've written you," he mumbles.
"Yeah, you should've," Anko says. "But that's not why you're a fucking moron."
"Then why'm I a fucking moron?" Shisui asks, dry.
She reaches over and whacks him again, but it's more gentle this time, which for Anko means something.
"For not thinking you still had friends here," she says in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.
It takes a second for Shisui to blink away the burning behind his eyes. When he does lift his head and is opening his mouth to apologize, or thank her, or something, Anko turns around and cuts him off again.
"Now we're gonna go back inside, and I'm gonna charge double for your 'cheap-ass whiskey' for making me be nice to you. Then you're gonna tell me how much better my drinks are than whatever swill they forced down your throat in the city. I'm expecting all kinds of detail."
"I won't even make up half of it," Shisui promises, and Anko smirks at him over her shoulder.
"Good to have you back, Shi."
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"You want me to what?"
Hana's looking at him like Shisui's being an idiot, which ain't new or anything, but it doesn't seem fair in this case. Shisui's the one acting normal. Hana's the one trying to make batfuck crazy ideas sound reasonable.
"Don't see why you wouldn't accept," she says. "You can't just hang around the saloon forever."
"Hey, I'm makin' myself useful," Shisui protests. "Throwin' people out if they get too excitable, that's a real useful skill."
Hana rolls her eyes. "In any other saloon in the country, yeah, it would be. Anko's place almost never has any trouble, and you know why that is?" Shisui doesn't have a chance to answer. "It's because she's ten times more threatening than you, or me for that matter. Face it, Shisui, she's keeping you on as a kindness."
Shisui barely manages to keep from hunching in his chair, like a troublemaking kid called out in the schoolroom. "Don't need to be so blunt about it," he mutters.
"If it'll make you see sense," Hana replies. "I need a deputy. You need a job. Simple as that."
Shisui wonders how many times a man's world can turn upside-down before he forgets which way was up in the first place. Shisui of the notoriously sticky fingers, a lawman? His ma is up in Heaven somewhere laughing her ass off.
"You got other deputies," he points out, stalling.
"Deputies, but no right-hand man. They do their jobs, sure, but most of 'em are holdovers from Fugaku's day. They put up with Itachi because he was enough his father's son to suit them." Hana's mouth twists up, sardonic. "But I'm no man, and it doesn't help that some have daughters my age. They're not my men. I slip up, I don't trust them not to play vulture with the corpse of my short-lived career."
Well ain't that a pretty thought. Shisui pulls a face. "An' you somehow got to thinking that bringing an ex-convict on board would help your image any?"
"Ain't about image," she says. "It's about trust. And anyway, strictly speaking you weren't convicted of anything."
That part's true enough, at least. Shisui'd half expected to walk right back into his jail cell the minute he got off the train, but since Hana's stuck her neck out for him nobody else seems willing to try anything. Maybe Anko was right; maybe he was thinking overhighly of himself to think people would really give a shit after so long.
Of course it don't hurt that Aaron, the deputy who caught him red-handed in the first place, apparently disappeared from town not long after Shisui did. Shisui doesn't know why and he sure as hell ain't about to ask. Gift horses and mouths.
"Look," Hana is saying. "I won't twist your arm, Shisui. If you wanna keep staring a hole in the window at Anko's then that's your business. Guess I thought you might want more than that."
Shisui might've gotten pissy about that once, he thinks, her acting like she knows what's good for him. But in all fairness, he hasn't exactly proved he's the best at knowing what's good for himself.
Besides, she's not wrong. Shisui hasn't put it in writing or anything, but he's known for a while now that his thieving days are done. One close encounter with the noose was enough for him to decide he ain't real keen on a second. And though he'd rather swallow a cactus whole than admit it, stealing shit has kinda lost its shine without Itachi getting on his case for it.
It's been strange, these past few weeks. People look at him—or ignore him—more or less the same as they did before everything happened; Anko still pours him drinks and hits him if she thinks he's not appropriately grateful, the Scarecrow with his half-masked face still spooks the shit out of him every time he goes into the general store, and he still goes to sleep every night looking at the stars through the missing slats in the stable roof, listening to Flicker and the other horses breathe noisily somewhere below.
It should feel normal but mostly it's just made Shisui feel lost. It's like he's ended up right back where he started—as if Itachi never waltzed into his life, or anyone else's, at all. And it's forced him to face the fact that maybe his last gamble ain't going to pay off: Itachi's in the wind, and it's not like Shisui can go back to the city and wander the streets asking around for the family Uchiha.
So what's he going to do? Keep staring out windows like he's waiting for somebody who's probably never coming back?
Maybe he does need a change. And to give Hana her credit, he can't think of a bigger change than this.
He leans back in his chair and groans. "Guess I can't say I don't owe you," he says.
Hana shrugs, but she's starting to smile. "That's a true fact."
"I still got one question, though." Shisui leans forward again, one perk coming to mind. "This mean I get one of those shiny badges?"
"Depends," Hana retorts. "You gonna work for it?"