Chapter Text
It had been a long fucking day.
No, really.
It had been.
Kageyama Tobio had spent the better part of a week hunting down one man—a cattle thief, card cheat, and occasional highwayman who had somehow proven far more slippery than his bounty suggested.
Seven days.
Three towns.
Two sleepless nights.
One godforsaken trek through the desert beneath a hot sun that nearly cooked him inside his leather jacket. Then another through a muddy pig farm.
Kageyama glanced down at his boots. Grimaced. There was still something suspiciously brown crusted along the heel of the left one.
His eye twitched.
He was going to kill the bastard.
Not literally, unfortunately.
The bounty paid more if he brought him in breathing. Besides —he preferred to keep his hands clean where he could.
But Kageyama was beginning to think the difference in pay might be worth it.
Still, the trail had finally led somewhere.
Kageyama stood at the end of the town’s main road, one hand resting loosely near his belt as he stared at the establishment before him.
His expression darkened.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
The Crow’s Nest.
The saloon squatted between the general store and an abandoned tailor shop like something that had grown there by accident. Its wooden siding had long ago faded beneath years of dust and sun. One of the shutters hung slightly crooked. The porch sagged toward the left. Above the double doors, a black-painted sign swung lazily from two rusted chains.
THE CROW’S NEST
The lettering had once been gold. Now it was chipped, weather-beaten, and barely visible beneath the grime.
From inside came the muffled roar of conversation, badly played piano, and the unmistakable crash of someone dropping—or throwing—a glass.
Kageyama closed his eyes.
The dry afternoon wind pushed hot air against his face, carrying dust, horse sweat, and the faint smell of whiskey into the street.
He inhaled slowly.
Exhaled.
Then pinched the bridge of his nose.
Naturally, the trail had led him here.
Every goddamn trail led him here eventually.
Sand and gravel crunched beneath his boots. The rowels of his spurs gave a faint metallic jingle with each stride, sharp against the dry afternoon quiet.
He climbed the sagging steps of The Crow’s Nest and shoved through the swinging doors. The hinges creaking loudly as they moved.
Faces turned.
And—
Silence.
Conversation died mid-sentence. The piano stopped so abruptly the final note hung awkwardly in the air. A chair scraped somewhere near the back. Every head in the saloon turned toward him.
Kageyama stopped in the doorway.
Even he could feel the tension.
Men who had been laughing seconds earlier now sat stiffly over their drinks. A card player quietly lowered his hand. Someone near the stairs muttered something beneath his breath that sounded distinctly unfriendly.
Kageyama ignored them.They all meant nothing. His gaze swept slowly across the room, searching for the familiar face from the wanted poster folded inside his coat.
He knew the bastard was here.
He could practically feel it.
And then, of course, Kageyama spotted someone else first. At the far end of the bar, framed by dusty bottles and afternoon sunlight, stood a head of hair so bright it might as well have been a beacon.
Hinata Shoyo.
Their eyes met.
Something stupid fluttered low in Kageyama’s chest. He ignored that too.
Hinata’s entire face lit with recognition. Then, to Kageyama’s horror, he lifted one hand and waved.
“Howdy, partner!”
The greeting rang through the silent saloon. Kageyama closed his eyes.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
He briefly considered turning around.
Instead, he stalked toward the bar, every clink of his spurs and gun belt suddenly obnoxiously loud beneath the weight of several dozen hostile stares. The patrons watched him closely.Tense and suspicious.
A few openly hateful.
Kageyama knew exactly what they saw when they looked at him.
A bounty hunter inside the one establishment in town where men came specifically because they did not want to be found.
Hinata, meanwhile, looked delighted.
“What can I get for ya, partner?”
He was already reaching beneath the counter for a glass.
Kageyama’s brows drew into a scowl. “You know why I’m here.” His voice came flat and cold. "And I’m not your partner.”
Most people had the good sense to shrink when Kageyama spoke to them like that. Hinata only looked up at him.
Bright eyes.
Bright grin.
As though Kageyama were an old friend arriving rather than a man who had dragged three of his customers out in handcuffs over the last six months.
In a way, Kageyama supposed, 'old friend' wasn’t entirely inaccurate. The thought had barely formed before Hinata tilted his head.
Kageyama’s eye twitched.
There it was.
That fucking head tilt.
The one Hinata always made immediately before saying something so profoundly irritating that Kageyama had to stop himself from wringing the saloon owner's neck.
“Well, I’m not sure why you’re here,” Hinata said pleasantly, beginning to polish the glass. “So you’ll have to place an order.”
His grin widened.
Kageyama felt something tick in his jaw.
Profoundly irritating indeed.
“What can I grab ya? Whiskey? Bourbon? Oooh, I can make ya those fancy cocktails they make back in the city—”
“Where is he?”
Hinata blinked. “Where is who?”
Kageyama stared at him. “You know who I’m talking about.”
Hinata slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid not, partner.”
Kageyama’s jaw clenched. “Stop calling me that.”
"Stop calling you what?"
"You know what."
Hinata's grin widened. "Sorry, partner. Force of habit."
Something inside him snapped.
Kageyama lunged across the counter. Several chairs scraped violently behind him. His fist closed around the front of Hinata’s shirt, hauling him forward until the smaller man was half bent across the bar.
A collective breath seemed to suck through the room.
Hinata's eyes flew wide. Not frightened—just startled. He wasn't frightened of Kageyama anymore.
Maybe he had been once, two years ago, when Kageyama had first marched into The Crow with a warrant in one hand and a pistol at his hip.
But now?
Now Hinata looked mildly inconvenienced at worst. Gleeful, even, if Kageyama was being honest with himself—which he absolutely was not going to be.
“Where is he?” Kageyama growled.
Their faces were close.
Too close.
Close enough that Kageyama could smell the soap Hinata used. Citrus. Mint. Always citrus and mint. Underneath it lingered the faint sweetness of liquor soaked into his clothes.
Why the hell did he have to smell so fruity?
Typical city boy.
Hinata blinked up at him with an expression of such exaggerated innocence that Kageyama wanted to throttle him.
“Listen, partner—”
“Don’t.” Kageyama said through gritted teeth.
“—all ya gotta do is order and I’ll make you a drink.”
“I don’t drink. You know that.”
“I know that,” Hinata affirmed, his voice soft and smooth in a way that nearly stole the breath from him.
Kageyama quickly forced himself back to the task at hand.
“Hinata.” Kageyama scowled.
“Kageyama.” Hinata mirrored with an undeniable tease in his voice.
“Where. Is. He?”
Something changed.
Barely.
A flicker in Hinata’s eyes. A tiny pause before his smile returned. Anyone else would have missed it.
Kageyama didn’t.
He never did.
He had spent the last two years trying to pry names, answers, and locations out of Hinata Shoyo. He knew his tells.
The way his fingers stilled when he was buying time.
The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth when he was lying.
The way his eyes darted—not toward the person he was protecting, never that stupid—but toward the nearest exit.
Hinata knew.
Of course he fucking knew.
“Well…” Hinata began slowly, resuming his work on the already spotless glass. “You’re going to have to be more specific. See, I come across a lot of customers—”
“Argh!”
Kageyama released him.
Hard.
Hinata stumbled backward, catching himself against the shelves before his shoulder could slam into a row of whiskey bottles. Several patrons surged half out of their seats.
Hinata immediately lifted a hand.
“Sit down.”
And—
They did.
Kageyama noticed.
His gaze moved briefly around the room. Every man who had started to rise slowly settled again. Not because they were afraid of Kageyama.
Because Hinata had told them to.
Kageyama stared at him across the bar. The saloon owner had gone back to polishing his glass, humming tunelessly under his breath—some jaunty little tune that Kageyama had heard him whistle a hundred times before.
It was the kind of song that got stuck in your head against your will.
Like everything about Hinata Shoyo, apparently.
He wanted to say something. Throw the saloon owner off balance. Find some crack in that infuriating smile. But before he could open his mouth—
A scuffle.
Boots scraping across creaky floorboards. Fast. Furtive. The sound of someone trying very hard not to be heard.
Kageyama turned. Just slightly. The barest tilt of his head, a fraction of movement that most people wouldn't even notice. The onlookers certainly didn't—they were still frozen in their seats, still watching him like he was a rattlesnake that had wandered into their camp.
But it was enough.
Enough to catch a flash of movement near the side exit.
Ah.
There he was.
Head down, hat pulled low, shoulders hunched in a desperate attempt to appear smaller than he was.
Yuri Terushima.
Scampering toward the door like a rat abandoning a sinking ship.
The funny thing was—and Kageyama would never admit this out loud—was that while he had Hinata's tells memorized, the same was true in reverse.
Because that small tilt of Kageyama's head that was practically imperceptible?
Hinata noticed.
His amber eyes went wide. The glass in his hands stopped moving. For one precious second, the saloon owner actually looked worried. Then he set the glass down—slowly, carefully, like he was handling an untamed horse—and stretched out his arm.
"Now hold on, now—"
Too late.
Kageyama moved.
One moment he was standing at the bar. The next he was across the room, closing the distance in a blur of dust-colored leather and coiled frustration. His hand shot out and seized the back of Terushima's collar, yanking him backward with enough force to make the man's hat fly off.
Terushima stumbled. Caught himself. Then—of course—he fought.
The bastard didn't spend a week running from Kageyama to go quietly now.
"Argh!" Terushima twisted, elbowed, thrashed like a caught fish. His heel came up, aiming for Kageyama's shin.
Kageyama dodged. Barely.
Terushima charged forward, head down like a bull, and Kageyama sidestepped at the last second. He grabbed the man's outstretched arm and used his momentum against him, swinging him hard toward the floor—
But Terushima was slippery.
He twisted midair, caught himself on a nearby table, and wrenched free. The table overturned with a crash, sending cards and coins and half-empty glasses flying. Somewhere behind them, a woman shrieked.
Kageyama heard glasses shattering. Patrons yelling. Someone's chair scraping violently backward.
And over it all, a voice cut through the chaos like a knife.
"Take it outside!"
But Kageyama didn't listen.
He never listened.
The moment Terushima broke from the crowd, Kageyama lunged.
"Don't—!" Hinata shouted.
Too late.
Terushima was cornered. And cornered men were stupid men.
His eyes darted wildly around the saloon before landing on the nearest weapon—a heavy oak chair that had probably been in The Crow since before Hinata was born.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hinata breathed.
Terushima grabbed it. Kageyama saw the movement a second before the chair came hurtling toward his head.
He ducked.
The chair sailed harmlessly over him.
For a brief, fleeting moment, Kageyama felt rather pleased with himself.
Then—
CRASH!
Glass shattered behind him.
The entire saloon froze.
Kageyama's stomach dropped.
Slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
One of The Crow's front windows was gone. Completely. Where dusty panes had once filtered the afternoon light, there was now a gaping hole overlooking the street. Jagged shards clung to the frame like teeth. Fragments glittered across the floorboards.
And standing behind the bar was Hinata Shoyo.
Both hands buried in his bright orange hair. Mouth hanging open. Eyes enormous with a horror usually reserved for men watching their entire savings go up in flames.
Kageyama winced.
Ah.
That was probably going to cost him.
"You—"
Terushima bolted.
Kageyama whipped back around.
"YOU—" Hinata shrieked behind him.
Kageyama took off.
Terushima slammed through the swinging doors and stumbled onto the porch, but Kageyama was already on him. They collided at the steps, crashing hard into the dirt. Dust exploded around them.
Terushima cursed. Kageyama cursed louder.
Behind them, Hinata was still shouting about his fucking window.
Kageyama wrestled Terushima onto his stomach, yanked one arm behind his back, and ignored the elbow that nearly caught him across the mouth. Within seconds, he had his wrists tied securely with the rope at his belt.
Terushima collapsed with a miserable groan.
Kageyama sat back on his heels, breathing hard.
Done.
Finally.
A shadow fell over him.
Kageyama looked up.
Hinata stood at the edge of the porch, glowering with the kind of hostility usually reserved for wanted murderers.
"Uh..." Kageyama cleared his throat. "Sorry about the window."
Somehow, this was the wrong thing to say.
"'Sorry about the window'?! " Hinata stormed down the steps. "I told you to take it outside!"
"It is outside!"
"After you destroyed my furniture and smashed my window!"
"I didn't throw the chair!"
"You started the fight!"
"He's a criminal!"
"He was a customer!"
Kageyama hauled himself upright, grabbing Terushima by the coat. "I told you to stop housing criminals!"
"I wasn't housing anyone!"
"You hid him!"
"He was enjoying a drink!"
"He robbed a stagecoach!"
"Allegedly!" Hinata retorted.
"You're practically an accomplice in all of this!"
Hinata threw his hands in the air, nearly smacking a patron in the face. "That is between him, the stagecoach, and God!"
Terushima glanced between them, dust still clinging to his clothes. "Actually—"
"Shut up! " they both shouted.
Kageyama jabbed a finger at Hinata, his voice dropping to something dangerously low. "I have half a mind to arrest you too."
Hinata's eyes went wide. "Me?! "
"Yes, you!" Kageyama shouted --doubling down. "As an accomplice-- for housing a dangerous criminal!"
Hinata balked, jaw dropping. "Excuse me?!"
"This wouldn't have happened if you'd just hand them over!"
"Well, if you stopped barging in here and ruining the atmosphere of my saloon—"
"Stop protecting criminals!"
"Stop arresting people in my saloon!"
"Stop giving them a place to hide from the law!"
"Stop coming here!"
Kageyama stepped closer, boots scuffing against the dirt, until they were chest-to-chest. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your little safehouse! I can't stand your saloon!"
Hinata's face went red—not embarrassment, but genuine, blazing outrage. "How dare you! It is a fine establishment!"
"When I arrest every last criminal in this territory, I'll never step foot in your godforsaken saloon ever again."
"Good!"
"Good!"
They stood there, chests heaving, fury crackling between them like heat lightning. Hinata's hands were clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white. Kageyama's jaw ached from gritting his teeth. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
Neither moved.
Neither looked away.
Somewhere behind them, Terushima shifted his weight, the rope around his wrists creaking. "So... are we done here, or—"
"Shut up! "
They were nose-to-nose now. Kageyama could see the gold flecks in Hinata's furious brown eyes, could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
He could smell that fruity smell again!
Goddamn citrus and mint!
"You little—"
Hinata lunged. "Oh, you wanna go, bounty hunter?"
"Try me, dumbass—"
"Ahem."
They froze.
Father Sugawara stood several feet away, hands folded pleasantly, silver hair neat despite the heat, expression serene as a still pond. He was smiling.
Kageyama immediately stepped back. Removed his hat. "Good afternoon, Father."
"Good afternoon, Father," Hinata echoed, suddenly very small.
Sugawara's smile deepened. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."
Silence.
Behind them, Terushima shifted awkwardly in his restraints and a tumbleweed rolled by from the light wind.
Sugawara glanced at the shattered window. Then at the overturned chair. Then at Hinata's disheveled collar. Then at Kageyama. His expression remained perfectly serene.
"It is a rather hot day today."
Hinata nodded frantically. "Very hot."
"Indeed." Sugawara looked toward The Crow. "I find myself rather thirsty. Hinata, would you mind making me something cool to drink?"
"Uh—yes! Of course! Right away, Father!" Hinata practically fled up the steps, pausing only to shoot Kageyama one final murderous glare—this isn't over—before disappearing through the doors.
Sugawara watched him go. Then turned to Kageyama. Kageyama suddenly felt thirteen years old and caught throwing stones through church windows.
Sugawara's gaze drifted toward Terushima. The wanted man attempted a smile. "Father."
Sugawara sighed—the kind of sigh that held the weight of worry and disappointment all at once.
"You," Sugawara said mildly, "should perhaps reconsider some of your recent choices."
"Yes, Father." Terushima replied, head hung heavy.
"And you." Sugawara looked at Kageyama, who tensed the moment he was addressed. "Should probably deliver your prisoner to Sheriff Daichi before something else gets broken."
Kageyama glanced at the destroyed window—the jagged teeth of glass still clinging to the frame, the sunlight streaming through unhindered. "...Yes, Father."
Sugawara nodded. "Excellent."
Kageyama placed his hat back on, the familiar weight settling over his brow. He'd barely taken a step when Sugawara spoke again.
"It is very hot today." Sugawara repeated himself, though this time his voice carried something else beneath the pleasant surface. Something Kageyama couldn't quite identify—a glimmer of amusement, perhaps.
Instead of mulling it over, Kageyama simply replied, "Uh... yes."
Sugawara's gentle grey eyes stared him down, patient and perceptive. They swept over Kageyama's face, lingering for just a moment too long, as if he were searching for something.
Finally, he broke into a soft smile.
"You should both be careful in this desert sun."
Kageyama paused.
Sugawara gazed thoughtfully toward the horizon, where the afternoon sun hung low and heavy over the desert. Then he looked back toward The Crow, where Hinata could be seen through the broken window—angrily sweeping glass while continuing to complain.
A peculiar gleam entered the priest's eyes.
"It can leave a person rather..." He paused thoughtfully. "...Hot and bothered."
Kageyama blinked. "...Indeed."
He had absolutely no idea what Father Sugawara was talking about.
Sugawara smiled. "Good day, bounty hunter."
"Good day, Father Sugawara."
Kageyama tightened his grip on Terushima's coat and hauled him down the road.
He absolutely did not look back toward The Crow to see if a certain orange-haired saloon owner was watching him through the broken window.
He absolutely did not.
Kageyama looked forward and drew out what felt like the umpteenth sigh of the day. A long, bone-deep exhale that carried the weight of seven days, three towns, and one very muddy pig farm.
His shoulders ached.
His legs were tired.
He could feel his own sweat dripping down his neck and back like a leaking faucet.
And somewhere behind him, in that godforsaken saloon, a man with sunshine in his hair was probably already sweeping up the glass and muttering insults under his breath.
Kageyama's jaw tightened.
It had been a long fucking day.