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Chapter Three
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Four months later
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Shisui might not speak Horse, but it don't take a genius to figure that Flicker's pretty pissed about this situation. Shisui reaches down to pat his neck in what he likes to think is a bracing kinda way.
"I know, boy," he says. "We're almost there."
Flicker makes a snuffling noise that sounds, to Shisui's ears, like the horse equivalent to some impressive four-letter words. Shisui pats him again.
"I'm gonna feed you so many sugar cubes when we get back," he promises. "Just think of the sugar cubes."
The horse makes another pissy-sounding noise but he quiets down after that, which Shisui figures means the bribe worked. Now he just has to remember to make good. Now that he's making decent enough money to afford shit like sugar cubes without stealing them, it's not like he's got an excuse not to.
He doesn't blame Flicker for being in a shitty mood; it's hotter than the Devil's own asshole out here, and Shisui's saying that as someone who grew up in a damn desert. You'd think nobody in their right mind would be willing to leave their home in heat like this, let alone try to rob an incoming supply train, but then again nobody ever flattered bandits as having an overabundance of brains.
They've been having some issues with dipshits of that type lately, probably some new gang trying to make a name for themselves, or at least that's Hana's thinking. But holding up stray stagecoaches is one thing; Shisui's of the opinion that if you're dumb enough to go flaunting your cash anywhere near a place like this, you deserve to be relieved of it (though that's not a very lawman-like thought, so he keeps it to himself). It's another thing to hit the suppliers coming in from the city, the ones who help keep this town running.
Shisui doesn't give a shit if these brigands haven't dropped their balls yet; you don't turn on people who are barely scratching out a living as it is.
So here he is, as directed by Hana, on a mission to guard the suppliers en route from the train station to the town. It ain't a short journey, which makes for a long day, and at this point Shisui's almost hoping the bandits'll be stupid enough to try and jump them anyway. It'd liven things up, at least.
Then again, it's still awful hot. Shisui reaches for his canteen and takes a sip, though his instinct is to guzzle. When he first started doing patrols like this he used to only take a drink when he felt like he couldn't stand the thirst anymore. Then he'd nearly gotten himself dead from heatstroke in the first two weeks, prompting Anko to point out that it'd be ironic as hell if his endurance ended up turning him into food for the carrion birds. So now he drinks on a regular schedule, whether he feels like it or not.
The train station's finally coming into view, thank God Almighty, and Shisui starts talking to Flicker again—encouraging things about how they're gonna have at least a little bit of a break once they get to the station. Maybe even a speck of shade, and don't that sound better than a dozen sugar cubes right about now.
The conductor's just getting off by the time Shisui gets up to the side of the train, having left Flicker tied up in the little pool of shade. Tenzin looks wary until he sees the badge, and then he relaxes. Amazing what a little piece of metal can do.
Shisui tips his hat anyway for good measure. "Afternoon."
"Afternoon, Deputy," the conductor says, and being addressed like that will never stop being strange to Shisui's ears. "What can I do for you?"
"Other way around today," Shisui says. "I'm escortin' the supply line back to town. Sure I don't need to tell you we've been havin' problems around these parts lately."
The older man's face darkens. "I've heard that. Lord willin', some of the new folks they've sent to Washington will put some funds toward getting more lawmen hired."
Shisui snorts before realizing it probably ain't professional. Oh well. "Not likely, Tenzin. You know well as I do that we're on our own out here."
The conductor shakes his head ruefully. "Well, at least you're looking out for your own," he says. "Come on. I'll introduce you to the lead supply man…"
Shisui's nodding and smiling and opening his mouth to say something, keep the conversation going, when he sees something out of the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair.
Millions of people have dark hair. He's learned not to jump at it every time, so Shisui will never know why he turns around right then, but he does.
The man's hair is short, cropped just above his shoulders. His back is to Shisui. He's walking away, but Shisui stops moving as Tenzin walks on ahead, oblivious.
It's not— The usual words start beating in his head like a drum, in time with his suddenly pounding heart; it's not, it's not, it's not—
"I—" His throat is too dry. "Itachi?"
The other man stops moving too. He doesn't turn around, but Shisui's heart is up in his throat now and he just knows.
Neither of them so much as twitch. Shisui feels like he's rooted to the ground.
"Look at me," he hears himself say. "Just—just look at me, okay?"
The other man doesn't answer. But slowly, so fucking slowly, he turns around.
Itachi looks almost as thunderstruck as Shisui feels.
"Shisui," he says. Then, dazed-sounding, "What are you doing here?"
"Could ask you the same thing," Shisui manages, impressed at the way his mouth keeps working even though his brain is going in eighteen different directions. "Only I'd wanna know where the hell you've been."
Itachi is shaking his head. "You weren't supposed to be here," he says slowly. "You were supposed to be gone. Why did you come back?"
There's an edge to his voice and when Shisui realizes what it is, it's almost fucking funny. "Are you—are you actually pissed at me?"
"You got out," Itachi snaps, and yeah, he's pissed all right. "You escaped. You said they would kill you if you—"
"Well, they didn't," Shisui snaps back. "Sorry to disappoint you."
He doesn't even know why he says it. Itachi moves like he's gonna close the distance between them, like he wants to deck Shisui the same way he did last time they saw each other, but he stops himself, hands clenched at his sides.
"Do not say that to me," he says, dangerously quiet.
"Deputy?"
Shisui turns around to see Tenzin looking between him and Itachi with concern.
"Is there a problem?" he asks, about the same time Itachi says "Deputy?" with what Shisui's got to admit is probably the right amount of shock.
"No problem here," Shisui says. "Just ran into an old friend, that's all."
He knows the word stings more than it should.
"I see," Tenzin says, and if he's got any more thoughts on the subject he doesn't share them. "Well, I've settled things with the suppliers, so you oughta be good to go. Pleasure as always, Deputy."
"Same to you."
The conductor glances between them one more time, probably trying to figure the chances of a shootout happening on his watch, before turning and heading back to his train. Shisui won't be surprised if it departs a little earlier than normal today.
And that just leaves Shisui, Itachi, and the tumbleweeds blowing on by.
"You cut your hair off," Shisui says at last. It's the only thing he can think to say that sounds more like a peace offering than an interrogation.
Itachi's eyebrow disappears under the brim of his hat. "Deputy?" he says, pointedly.
Shisui shrugs. "Hey, you've been gone a while. Times change."
"Then Hana Inuzuka is still in charge?" Itachi presses.
"What, you're sayin' nobody else could've seen past my rugged exterior to my natural talent?" At Itachi's unimpressed look, he caves. "Yeah, Hana's running the show. Doin' a pretty damn good job of it, too."
Itachi's expression doesn't change, but some of the tension seems to go out of him. "Good. I was afraid that the…manner of my leaving may have compromised her authority. It seems those fears were unfounded."
And Shisui's opening his mouth to say yeah, about that 'manner of leaving' when someone behind him clears his throat. Shisui turns around to see a skinny guy who's probably the supplier Tenzin mentioned. Which in turn reminds Shisui that he's got a job to do here.
"Be with you in a second," he says, and the other guy frowns but he takes the hint and backs off. Shisui turns back to Itachi.
"So?" he says, more casual than he feels. "You comin' back with us?"
"I have nowhere else to go," Itachi replies.
It sounds all calm and measured when he says it, but all the same Shisui can't help thinking that that shows a real stunning lack of options.
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They make it back into town without incident, which in his thinking brain Shisui knows is a good thing. Problem is, the result is a long-ass journey home in a fucking desert heatwave with nothing to think about but the man at the end of their little caravan, riding a borrowed horse and staring ahead, stone-faced.
Shisui's never been so happy to see his boomtown. Especially since the heat is reaching its nastiest point of the day, meaning there's nobody out on the streets if they can help it. Harder for rumors to get started that way.
"Keep riding straight and you'll hit the sheriff's office," he tells the head supplier once they've crossed into town. "I'll catch up."
The guy nods his thanks and he and his people move along, one more little success to add to Shisui's growing list of them. He's pretty proud of that list, truth be told, but there are other things on his mind right now.
He half expects Itachi to've disappeared by the time Shisui turns back around, but he's still there.
"We should talk," he says before Shisui has a chance to. "If you have the time."
Shisui's heart gives one painful thud inside his chest. "I gotta go make my report to Hana. Meet you at the stables?"
"I will be there," Itachi says.
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It takes less than five minutes for Shisui to make his report, but another twenty minutes are spent twitching in his seat while the skinny head supplier and his posse bemoan the difficulties they had getting their shit all the way out here, the prices that keep going up "back home"—that is, the city—and are making it harder to provide the same amount of "product" to the people "all the way out here", and on and fucking on. Hana keeps her face neutral the whole time, which Shisui could cheer her for because all honesty, around the eighteen minute mark his hand starts twitching in the vicinity of his sidearm.
"We appreciate your efforts, gentlemen," Hana says, finally cutting him off. "Make sure you have a drink before you go—tell Anko at the saloon it's on me."
That gets them all out of her office damn quick. Quick enough that Shisui gives her a round of applause when the door shuts behind them.
"Shut up," Hana says dryly.
"You'd make a good politician," Shisui tells her.
"Kindly never insult me like that again." She sighs and reaches down to scratch a sleeping Haimaru's head. "So? You have anything else to add, or did that sermon more or less cover it all?"
Shisui debates leaving it be, but in the end it's just as true now as it was four months ago—he owes Hana. At the very least he owes her the respect of hearing the news from him and not from the rumors that'll be spreading soon.
He sighs. "There's somethin' else."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." Swallows. "Itachi's back in town."
Hana's eyes widen. "He's back? Since when? Where the hell's he been all this time?"
"Since about half an hour ago, and as to the rest…" Shisui shrugs. "That's a real great question."
The sheriff keeps absentmindedly petting her dog, her other hand over her mouth like she's thinking hard.
"Where is he now?" she asks.
"Stables, probably." Shisui tries to sound nonchalant. "He'll be wanting to keep his head down, I'm guessin'. At least for now."
"You think he's planning to stay?"
He shrugs again. "Don't seem like he's got much of a choice."
Hana curses under her breath. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy as anyone he's not in a vulture's belly somewhere but…this puts me in an awkward fucking position, Shisui."
"I know." And he does get that much, at least. Hana might've started out as interim sheriff, but she's held the position for a time now. She is the sheriff as far as most here are concerned. Given how most lawmen leave their profession (that is, in a long black box), it ain't exactly a common problem for the last sheriff to show up while his successor is still kicking. Especially given the way Itachi left in the first place—called back by his daddy, having let a jailed prisoner slip loose; it's not as much of a disgrace as it would've been if he'd just plain let Shisui go, but the fact that Shisui got the drop on him couldn't've looked much better. The thought makes his stomach twist.
"I don't know what he's gonna do," he admits. "Haven't had the chance to ask yet."
"Hm." Hana sounds thoughtful. "You still livin' in the stables yourself, Shisui?"
"Yeah," Shisui says. "Why?"
"Gets awful cold up there at night," Hana says. Her eyes are sharp, too sharp. "Nobody'd begrudge a man looking for warmth when the temperature drops."
Shisui fights to keep his face as blank as hers. "You implyin' something untoward, Sheriff?"
It's hard as fuck to hold Hana's gaze when she's fixed on him like that, like she's rifling through his brain and all of his secrets besides. Shisui's eyes are starting to water by the time she sighs and leans back.
"Look," she says. "You're not half bad as a deputy, and I know you're smart. All I'm telling you is to keep being smart."
"I'll try my best," Shisui says, feeling disoriented.
"You better," Hana replies. "Because you've got friends, and I like to think I'm one of them, but there's only so much I can do to help you—either of you—if you make a mess of shit again. Got it?"
Shisui's quiet for a second, wondering how much she actually knows. How much she might've guessed in her time as Itachi's deputy.
"I get your meaning," he says at last.
Hana nods. "Then go talk to him," she says. "And tell our former sheriff not to do anything stupid either."
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Shisui rides back in a daze, grateful again that nobody's out and about. He feels about as anxious as he imagines he would right before a duel.
A light's on in the stable when he gets there. He gets inside and then drags the heavy door shut behind him with a thud. Now neither of them can bail out.
It's still a surprise when he turns around and Itachi's actually there, running his hand down Flicker's nose like they're the best of friends. And maybe they kinda are, Shisui realizes.
"Thanks," he says. Itachi glances over his shoulder to look at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Flicker." Shisui gestures to his usually taciturn horse, who's currently acting docile as a housecat. "Hana told me you looked after him while I was gone."
Itachi looks away again. "It was only for a short time. Hana cared for him far longer than I did."
"Just take the compliment, Professor," Shisui says with a sigh. Itachi raises an eyebrow.
"I haven't heard that nickname in a long time."
"Yeah, well. Can't rightly call you Sheriff anymore, can I?"
If the reminder stings at all, Itachi doesn't let on. "No, I suppose you can't."
They linger in silence for a couple minutes, Itachi communing with Flicker and Shisui standing there with no clue what to do with his hands. Naturally, Shisui loses patience first.
"You said we should talk," he says. "So are we gonna talk or what?"
Itachi looks at him again. "What would you like to talk about?"
Like they're at some fancy-ass city tea party. Shisui could strangle him. "How 'bout we start with what the fuck happened to you after—"
"After you concussed me with my own pistol?"
Itachi says it mildly. Shisui still feels a twinge of guilt that he immediately decides to squash.
"If you're lookin' for an apology you'll be lookin' a long time," he retorts. "Pretty sure I saved your neck with that stunt."
A delicate shrug. "It's possible. Legally there was nothing to be done about my conduct, but in terms of public opinion…well. There were doubts."
"Not enough for them to justify stringing you up," Shisui points out.
"That's true," Itachi says, but there's something hollow about it.
Shisui looks away from his face then—maybe he's not as above things like shame as he likes to believe—and his eyes drift to where Itachi's hand is still twisted in Flicker's mane.
Whatever he might've been about to say gets caught in his throat. Itachi has his gloves off, giving Shisui a good look at those long-fingered hands.
There's no wedding ring there.
Itachi follows his gaze and saves him the trouble of having to ask.
"Izumi's family withdrew from our agreement when they learned what had happened here," he says in a toneless kinda way. "The relative prestige of marrying a sheriff paled in comparison to the danger of marrying one against whom public opinion had turned. They didn't want to risk their daughter. I do not blame them."
"Fuck," Shisui says. "I'm sorry." He doesn't know what else to say.
Itachi sighs. "Don't be. It was probably for the best."
He sounds weirdly calm about the whole thing, but Shisui's betting someone else wasn't. "How'd Fugaku take it?"
This time Itachi hesitates before he answers.
"Not…well," he says slowly. "He was already angry that I had managed to 'throw away' my reputation in this town so easily. I destroyed what he had worked so hard to build here." He doesn't meet Shisui's eyes. "It is nothing I was not prepared for."
It ain't exactly a surprise to hear that Fugaku's a taskmaster of a father, Shisui could've guessed that after spending five seconds with the man, but something about the look on Itachi's face doesn't sit right. Shisui blurts the question before he can think about it.
"What'd he do to you?"
Itachi frowns, but Shisui keeps going.
"You've been gone for over a year. An' you said it yourself—you got noplace else to go but here. So you've been home all this time, am I right?"
A muscle twitches in Itachi's jaw. "It was my choice."
"Like hell it was," Shisui snaps, the pieces falling together into one ugly picture. "He called you back to rip you a new one and then he didn't let you leave, did he? That's why even Hana wasn't hearing from your micromanaging ass."
"It was," Itachi repeats with dangerous calm, "my choice."
A disbelieving laugh rips its way out of Shisui's throat. "Did he even let you out of your fuckin' room?"
"Enough."
Itachi's hands are clenched at his sides and for a second all Shisui feels is the anticipation of it—those fists hitting his skin and splitting it open, a fight that'll save him from having to have this conversation. It's almost like the slow burn in his gut he used to feel before they fucked. All mindless, heady heat.
But then he gets a good look at Itachi's face, how exhausted he is. Like he's already been fighting for a long time and if was ever fun for him before it sure as hell ain't now.
Shisui takes a deep breath, counts to ten, and backs down.
"Okay," he forces himself to say. "I'll shut up and listen."
Surprise flickers across Itachi's face, but he relaxes some. Shisui exhales.
"You will have heard that the election is finished," Itachi says.
Shisui nods. "Think Tenzin said something, yeah."
"My father was among those elected to Congress."
Shisui stares at him for a long, horror-filled second before the words finish soaking into his brain. Fugaku Uchiha, a fucking politician—Shisui wonders whether the country of his ma's birth might be willing to take him in if he bailed now.
"As you can imagine," Itachi is saying, "the news that the eldest son of a potential congressman had been 'run out' of his own jurisdiction would have been damaging to my father's campaign. I was asked to stay home and keep my head down until the election was over."
"And you went along with him just like that," Shisui says, flat as a board. Itachi gives him a look.
"Things were said," he says, diplomatic-like. "We struck on a deal, of sorts."
"You mean he threatened you."
Itachi ignores him. "We came to an agreement. I remained out of the public eye until his appointment was confirmed."
"And now?" Shisui presses. "What'd you get out of all this?"
Itachi smiles a thin smile.
"Freedom," he says. "My father will never interfere with my affairs again."
Shisui stares at him. "The hell does that mean, exactly?"
"At the moment, an utter lack of financial support. I will need to find some means of employment here as quickly as possible, assuming someone will be willing to take me on—"
"Wait," Shisui interrupts. "He cut you off?"
"Things were said," Itachi repeats, but there's an edge to it. "Things that can't be taken back. We found we disagreed on certain fundamental issues, and if I cannot carry on his legacy then I am worthless as a son."
He stops short, like he hadn't meant to go that far. Shisui squashes the urge to reach for him.
"Those sure as hell ain't your words," he says quietly.
"It doesn't matter," Itachi replies. He's started stroking Flicker's mane again. "This is where I am now. This is what I am now."
Something about the way he says it damn near breaks Shisui's heart.
"You got somewhere to sleep tonight?" he asks before he can think about it too hard.
The look Itachi gives him is dry as salt and clear as crystal: What do you think? Good to see he hasn't lost his spunk with everything that's happened. Shisui takes his hat off and hangs it on a post so he doesn't have to look Itachi in the eye for a second.
"You can stay here, y'know," he says. "If you want. The loft ain't exactly like where you're used to sleeping, but it's roomy enough."
The response to that is silence, long enough that Shisui starts to think maybe he offended Itachi's pride—maybe he'd rather sleep on a cactus or something. He tries to find something else to do with his hands.
"You never told me," Itachi says suddenly. "What have you been doing all this time?"
Shisui shrugs. "Did about a year working at a saloon just outside the city. Throwin' people out, drinkin' a lot of free whiskey, that kinda thing. It got old after a while; they had me in a room the size of one of these stalls."
"It was steady work," Itachi points out. "If you stayed on for so long. What made you decide to leave?"
"Honestly?" Shisui shrugs again. "I missed it here. This is my home, y'know. And I missed—"
He stops, nearly swallowing his tongue once he realizes what he almost said: I missed you.
Panic shoves a lie out of his mouth instead of the truth.
"I missed Anko's whiskey," he finishes, heart hammering.
Itachi doesn't bite. "And that was enough for you to risk coming back?"
Shisui forces a smile. "You got no idea. City folk drink pisswater, you know that? Y'all should be ashamed of yourselves."
For a second he thinks Itachi's gonna call him out, but he doesn't.
"I apologize on behalf of my city-dwelling brethren," he says instead. "As it seems our inability to make drinkable whiskey has damned us as a populace."
Shisui pats his shoulder in a friendly way and hopes the relief doesn't show in his voice. "S'all right. We're friends, so I ain't gonna hold it against you."
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It's too small, that word—inaccurate, Itachi would say. Late that night, when he can't sleep for shit because all he can hear is someone else's breathing over at the other end of the loft, not close enough but not far enough away either, Shisui wonders what the hell made him say it.
We're friends.
Horseshit they are. Shisui doesn't rightly know what they are, especially now, but friends sure ain't it.
But what else is there? The best Shisui could've hoped for back then, if he were feeling really rosy, would've been something like fuckbuddies. Right? There's not much else. Everything about people like them has to be hard, all edges and sharpness. Softer words—ones like lover—are for men who fuck women and maybe get hitched to them later on.
And that possibility sure as hell doesn't exist for Shisui, so for him and the girls at the brothel, fuckbuddies is the best they're ever gonna get.
The thought makes him pissy, and being pissed ain't exactly helpful when he's trying to sleep, but he can't help it.
Because he can try to ignore it all he likes, but Shisui knows damn well he came back for a reason. And what's the point of it all if he doesn't even have the balls to say that reason out loud?
Itachi sleeps. Shisui doesn't, and if anyone asks he'll tell them it was the ex-sheriff's snoring that kept him up all night.