Chapter Text
FRIDAY
Sweat sticks his shirt to his back. A mix of pressing heat and exertion. Hunching over like this is doing nothing to relieve the ache that spreads through his chest, but it takes off some of the strain off of his shoulder and back. Trading one agony for another. Duchess trots steadily, jostling him side to side in the saddle. Each breath is a gasp. His shoulder still aches from when Suguru reset it. He thinks the pain has bored through his bones.
Duchess’ reins are loosely wrapped around his hand, resting atop his thighs - he doesn't particularly have the strength to hold them properly. They feel heavier than they’ve ever felt before. He slowly pushes himself upright, getting halfway there before the effort makes his head spin. A deep breath - too deep; his chest is caving in, pressure and heat and ache.
He sways.
His tongue is heavy and thick, rolling back down his throat. He smacks his lips together like there is enough liquid inside of him to make saliva to loosen his breaths. The wide brim of his hat has thankfully kept most of the sun off of his face, but the heat is all around him, oppressive. His water flask is empty - has been for hours. Suguru might still have some.
He glances to his right. Nightshade’s grey and white flecked coat is a comforting sight despite the sheen of sweat and hoarse breaths. Saliva froths at the corners of her mouth, and each step is cautious, signifying how long they have been picking their way through scrubland and how long ago they should have stopped. Suguru has been too paranoid to stop anymore than they already have. He stifles the urge to reach out and pet Nightshade, fearing he would topple off of Duchess the moment he tried. Instead, he lifts his gaze higher.
Suguru stares forward beneath the wide brim off his hat. Dust and dirt clings to his shirt. Rivulets of sweat drip down his neck. More of it must be gathering at the nape of his neck where his dark hair is gathered in a ponytail. At first glance, he appears to be in far better shape than Satoru, but he knows otherwise.
There are heavy bruises hidden beneath Suguru’s shirt, pale skin mottled purple over his ribs. He has been limping the past two days, insisting that he is fine when he is clearly not. Satoru did take the brunt of the fall, and as a result the worst of the injuries and had broken Suguru’s fall when he landed on him. Yet the black-haired man wheezes slightly, breathes thin and quick as he tries to maintain his posture in the saddle.
“Hey, Suguru.” Satoru fights to keep the whine out of his voice, but it’s a losing battle, plea bleeding into his next words. “Do you have any water?”
“Are you out?” Suguru sighs, but he pulls his flask from Nightshade’s saddle and offers it regardless.
Satoru forces his heavy limbs to move and takes the flask. It quietly sloshes, a light weight in his hand. He tips his head back, relishing in the brief relief the lukewarm water gives him. He doesn’t take all of it, no matter how much his dry throat begs him to.
Suguru takes the flask back, carefully tying it to his saddle horn. “You look tired.”
Satoru huffs a laugh, regretting it as the action makes his chest jolt. “No kidding, I haven’t felt this unsteady since I was a baby - and I don’t even remember it. It’s too damn hot. You look like you’re gonna pass out, too.”
Suguru pulls off his hat, wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, and fans himself with the hat. His cheeks are ruddy from the heat. “I don’t know if we should stop. You don’t think we’re bein’ followed?”
“It’s been a day or so now? I think we’re okay.”
“Three days. You were asleep most of yesterday.”
“Makes one of us.” Satoru mutters, leaning toward Suguru. “Did you get any rest? You look like shit.”
“Enough,” Suguru hisses, dropping his hat back on his head.
“Sounds like it’s a decent reason to stop.” Satoru’s head spins, suddenly overly aware of the heat that radiates from Suguru. “If you’re that paranoid, it doesn’t even need to be a proper town. Weren’t there supposed to be some train tracks nearby? We can follow them until we find an empty station.”
“Not a bad idea, but the others are waiting for us. We shouldn’t keep them waiting for too long. You know how they get.”
“Yeah, but—” Satoru goes weightless. The ground rushes toward him.
“Satoru!”
Pain bursts through his shoulder. It flares through his body. A loud noise rattles his skull and it takes him a moment before he realises the noise comes from him, his own scream clawing its way from his throat.
“I’m sorry.” Suguru pulls at him - gentler now, with his other hand pressed against Satoru’s sternum - and Satoru slumps forward once again onto Duchess. The mare lets out a whine.
“It’s okay, girl.” Satoru whimpers, forcing himself to lift his remaining functioning arm to pet along her neck. “I’m okay.”
Duchess whines again, dark ears flicking. A whine escapes his own chest as Suguru’s fist tightens in the back of his shirt, yanking him upright.
“We’ll stop,” Suguru says. “Look, up ahead, there’s a town. We’ll rest here for tonight. Just stay with me, okay?”
“Plan on it.”
Satoru feels his focus slip, head and chest feeling tight along with the raging pain in his shoulder. He slips, in and out of focus, feels his own chest rattle as he breathes.
He doesn’t remember falling as hard as he did. He knows he must have though, there are cuts on his back that Suguru had attempted to patch up, a result of having directly fallen through the window – the added pressure of Suguru landing on him must be why his chest hurts so much. He must have also hit his head at some point, it would explain why everything is spinning. Satoru leans forward again, desperately wanting to press his head against Duchess’ neck. He is lulled into closing his eyes, only to be jerked awake by Suguru seconds later.
“Hey. You heard me right? Stay awake.”
“I wasn’t fallin’ asleep.” Satoru hisses, finding himself leaning into Suguru’s side. “Everythin’ hurts. I wanna sleep.”
“I know, just hold on,” Suguru twists Satoru’s shirt in his hands, fingers digging hard enough to bruise. Not that it will make much of a difference, he already is. He’s exhausted too, Suguru will barely even notice if Satoru falls asleep.
“Hey, Satoru, we're here.” Suguru shakes him again. “I just gotta find the doctor.”
“Okay,” Satoru mutters. “My arm hurts.”
“I know, I know just—shit.”
“S’wrong?”
“Someone’s comin’. Don’t say anything.”
“Okay,” Satoru hisses in response when Suguru moves, cradles his arm to his chest to try to relieve some of the tension.
Satoru looks up – the man approaching them has short, dark brown hair half hidden beneath a hat. As he gets closer, Satoru can just about see the wrinkles around the man’s eyes.
“We don’t get visitors much this way.” The man says in lieu of a greeting. “I’m Sheriff Kitagawa. Can I help you boys with somethin’? You’re lookin’ awful rough.”
“A doctor’d be much appreciated.” Sugru cuts in before Satoru can say anything. “Got one on hand?”
“We do, but–-”
“Great. S’all I needed to know.” Suguru hisses when the sheriff blocks their way. “There a problem, sir?”
“Before I let y’all in any further, I’m gonna haveta ask you to surrender any weapons.”
“What?” Suguru scoffs. “My friend needs to see the doc.”
“And that he will. Surrender the weapons first, then you can be on y’all’s way.”
“He needs the doctor. That first.”
“Hey,” Satoru wheezes, leaning against Suguru’s shoulder. “It’s fine. I can wait.”
“Fine,” Suguru snaps. “I just hand ‘em over to you, then?”
The sheriff has clearly done this before, eyes and voice steady despite Suguru’s rising hackles. “Bring ‘em to the station. I’ll give you a token and then y’all will collect them when you’re ready to make tracks.”
“This is takin’ too long,” Suguru hisses. “I’m not leavin’ him all by his lonesome.”
“I’ll be fine,” Satoru mumbles. They are entering a town, yes. He knows … he knows how this works, he thinks. Even through the cotton filling his head, through his thoughts clogged with fluff and syrupy pain.
What, again?
“You nearly fell from your horse. You’re far from fine.”
“It’s—” He cannot remember and follow conversation at the same time. What are they … right, a new town. A town that cannot meet Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. Usually they plan for something like this, but they haven’t had the time because Satoru spent three days a lead weight. He clears his throat - they’ll have water in town, right - and reaches across the space between their saddles.
The world rolls. He -
“Satoru.” Hands on his shoulders shoving him back. He should hurt - the sole, universal truth his scrambled brain allows him to retain is that motion is pain - but nothing percolates between the cotton fibres twisting around his thoughts. He glances to his right to find Suguru, lips tight and eyes wide. Satoru can feel his hands trembling through his jacket. Duchess’s muscles roll under him as she shifts uneasily. His attempt to give her reassuring pats is more of an unsteady drag.
Eyes bore into the back of his skull - right, the sheriff who just learned Satoru’s name. He shouldn’t know that.
Should he correct him? It’s too late now. Why bother?
“Suguru,” he finds himself saying instead. “Jus’ go, it’s fine.”
Suguru’s hand drops. “I’m not leavin’ you alone.”
“Now you hold on, I never said you’d haveta leave yer friend alone,” the sheriff counters.
Satoru watches as he turns, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Nanami! Nanami!” the sheriff calls out. He should tell him to shut up; he’s too loud. Satoru’s head pounds. “Get on over here!”
“Satoru?” Suguru’s voice comes from near Satoru’s knee. He glances down on instinct and finds Suguru standing beside Duchess, her reins tangled with Nightshade’s around his left hand. When did he dismount?
Suguru’s face has twisted, and dread curdles the contents of Satoru’s stomach. It’s just water. He blinks, and Suguru’s expression has morphed into focus.
“Let’s get you off there.”
Duchess and Nightshade have been tethered to a hitch. The lash slithers over the saddle behind him. He missed all of it, but the bruise still snakes over Suguru’s left palm, so he can’t have been out for too long.
Suguru stretches, hands latching under Satoru’s arms and driving all the breath from his lungs.
“Let’s go, easy does it.” Suguru murmurs. Satoru falls against him, chest to shoulder, in the saddle but sliding, with a whimper he can’t stifle. Duchess rolls beneath him. Suguru clicks.
“Easy girl, easy, easy, easy …”
“Easy,” Satoru echoes, voice barely more than a rasp. The blackening edges of his vision crawl inwards, consuming Suguru’s face and the town gate and the sky that is far too bright. Where did his hat wind up?
“Leg out.”
Slackening his leg is enough to release it from the stirrup. The ache that lances up his hip is just one more pain he lacks the mind to parse. How long has he been in the saddle?
“Other one now.”
His body does not know how to dismount with someone else in control; every fibre of his being has spent the past several years ensuring he does not fall, even like this with nothing holding him upright but the fact that he will break irreparably if he hits the ground wrong.
Hasn’t he already done that?
“Satoru.”
He pulls his foot back. There is nothing under him but Suguru’s shoulder and Duchess’s back under a few layers of leather and cloth, nothing around him but arms. He will not find the stirrups again like this. He had the gall to get fucked up, and now they are trapped.
The world spins, darkening swirls and ribbons of too-bright light. When Suguru pulls him fully off, Satoru barely registers the solidity beneath his feet before his knees buckle.
“I’ve got him.”
Unfamiliar arms. Clean fabric that does not rub his skin raw. His head spins. The arms hold him so gently that he briefly forgets the pain he is in. Though he can’t quite work out if the warmth is his own or if it radiates from the other man.
It’s an awkward angle to be looking at someone, but he can just about make out a sharp jawline and fair blonde hair. He looks familiar, or at least Satoru thinks he looks familiar. He is jostled as he’s carried and he wants nothing more but to squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself from feeling sick, but he has already lost sight of Suguru and there is a part of him that doesn’t want to lose sight of the blonde man for that matter.
He loses time.
The next thing that he is aware of, is being laid down on a large table. There are warm hands on his face, his good shoulder, gently shaking him.
“Stay awake.”
He hears someone murmur - it’s not Suguru. It’s a raspier voice, warm and rumbly. Is this what the blonde man sounds like?
“M’awake.” Satoru mutters, his eyes fluttering shut. It’s too damn bright.
There’s a loud bang - a door hitting the wall and then Suguru’s voice, sharper, smoother - it sinks into Satoru’s brain.
“What are you doin’?!”
“I’m helping.”
“I thought you were taking him to the doc’s?”
“This is the doctor.”
“I don’t see one around.” Suguru spits. “So I’ll ask again, what in the hell are you doing?”
“Doc’s asleep at the bottom of a bottle.” Satoru lifts his head, watching as the blonde man rolls back his sleeves. “I’ll be able to help.”
“Do you even know how?”
“Do you?” The blonde man snaps back, turning his attention back to Satoru, hands moving swiftly to unbutton Satoru’s shirt.
Satoru watches him, the slight frown on his face, the creases between his brow. He’s handsome.
“You’re real easy on the eyes, darlin’,” Satoru finds himself saying, forcing emphasis on his words. “If you wanted me outta my clothes you coulda least asked me out all proper-like.”
The blonde man pauses. “You’re delirious because of your fever and what I’m assuming is a dislocated shoulder. Stay quiet and I’ll be able to help you.”
“Ain’t the fever talkin’. I know a pretty face when I see one.”
“Does he always talk this much?”
“Unfortunately.” Suguru’s voice gets closer, and he moves to Satoru’s other side. A sense of relief washes over him. “What can I do?”
“Hold him down. I’m going to reset his shoulder.”
“Hey—” Satoru says, his voice cracking. “Hey—“
The blond man ignores him and looks at Suguru instead. “Hold him here— no here. Make sure he doesn’t move.” Satoru thinks he has seen the man before - knows without a shadow of a doubt. They’ve been to so many places that he has to have seen him somewhere.
“I’ll try,” comes the hissed reassurance.
“Darlin’, blondie—“ Suguru’s cold hands are on his other shoulder and the centre of his chest. He is heavy; Satoru feels like he might suffocate.
“What is it?” Strands of the blonde man’s hair have come loose, it dangles over his glasses as he looks down at Satoru. “Are you in more pain?”
“Are you an actor?” Satoru asks instead.
“Oh my god.” He hears Suguru say. “Really?”
The blonde man raises a thin brow. “S’cuse me?”
“Are you an actor?” Satoru asks again. “You are aren’t you? I saw your face in a poster for one of them travellin’ shows.”
The blonde man huffs – it's almost a laugh. “I’m not.”
“Are you sure? Maybe not one of them travellin’ shows but in the cinema for sure. I swear I’ve seen–
A scream claws out of his already raw throat, a ringing in his ears and then—
His limbs feel heavy when he wakes, like a weight is still pressing down on them. It’s an effort to even open his eyes, almost like they’ve been sewn shut. Light assaults his eyes and he wishes that he had his sunglasses with them. Where were they anyway ? His pack?
Satoru fully opens his eyes. The sheriff from earlier is staring down at him and Satoru jolts, or as much as he can before pain tears through his chest. He bites down his gasp of pain and glares.
“Oh good, you’re finally awake. For a moment there I thought we’d lost you.” The sheriff chuckles. He smells like cigar smoke. “You have Nanami to thank for that.”
“Nana–”
“That blonde fella who patched ya up. I asked him to head over to the inn to see if we can’t get you a place to stay. Before that though I’d like to ask you some questions.”
Satoru nods, awkwardly pushing himself to sit upright. It takes an effort for him not to heave the contents of his stomach - maybe he has already done so. Over the top of the sheriff’s head he spots Suguru – bandages peeking out of his wide collared shirt. He must have been patched up after Satoru passed out. Suguru is on edge – his thin brows are furrowed together, mouth pulled in a tight line as he stands with his arms crossed.
Satoru pauses, rolling over the words in his head before he speaks. “I’d be happy to answer Sherriff— what was yer name again?”
“Kitagawa.” The man says. “Now, mind tellin’ me where you boys were comin’ from?”
“Visitin’ family. I have an aunt in a settlement a few ways from here.” The lie rolls off of Satoru’s tongue with practised ease. “I haven’t seen her in a while, and she’s gettin on the older side.”
“Family.” Sheriff Kitagawa repeats. “And what happened to the two of you to end up in the state you came in?”
“Bandits. It was my fault really – I wanted to take a shortcut, neither of us had passed through there before but we were ambushed. I can’t really remember how many of them there were – but one of ‘em managed to knock me clean off my horse.”
“You remember what they look like? Anythin’ at all?”
“Not really sheriff. I hit my head when I fell, everythin’ that comes after is a little blurry.” Satoru pauses like he’s thinking, lifts a hand to cover his mouth. “I think they were hidin’ their faces.”
Suguru’s eyes narrow, head tilting slightly.
Sheriff Kitagawa jerks his head in Suguru’s direction. “Seems like the two of you have had it rough. We’ll help you out until you can get up on yer feet.”
“That all yer questions, sheriff?”
“Everythin’ I need to you. You and yer friend there said the same thing. I’m thinking we can scrounge up some jobs for you — well, maybe more for yer friend. He’s in better shape then you are to work off yer debt at the inn.”
“Debt?” Satoru repeats. “What are you—”
“The sheriff,” Suguru cuts in, uncrossing his arms. “Has kindly arranged for a place for us to stay while we’re recovering. Said he could waive the first night for us too. Ain’t that so helpful?”
To anyone else, Suguru would sound polite. Satoru has known his friend for too long. Suguru was furious with the entire situation, though if his fury was directed at himself, or Satoru, or the sheriff, Satoru couldn’t quite tell at the moment. Suguru is laying on the niceties extra thick to conceal how he was seconds away from gutting Kitagawa where he stood.
Satoru sees it in the thinly pressed smile that Suguru wears on his face, the hands that are by his side, fingers twitching to reach for a gun that is no longer there.
“Really there’s no need for us to stay. I’m sure that I could—” Satoru cuts himself off with a gasp as pain tears through his chest.
Suguru is by his side in an instant. “You’re not in a state to travel. Neither am I, if we’re bein’ honest.”
“You’re sure?”
Suguru nods. “I’m sure.”
Satoru stares back, studying Suguru’s face. He looks exhausted. Has he always had those dark circles beneath his eyes? He needs to sleep. They both do. The sound of sleeping on an actual bed instead of his bedroll on the ground sounds far more appealing.
“We’re not putin’ you out too much, are we sheriff?” Satoru asks.
“Only a little but we’ll put you boys to work to make up for it.” Sheriff Kitagawa says. “Don’t you worry. For now we should let you two get some rest.”
“Here, let me help you up.” Suguru murmurs.
It feels like it takes an age, but between the two of them, Satoru manages to stand upright on wobbly legs. He leans heavily against Suguru as the Sheriff leads them to the inn, and Satoru has to stop an embarrassing amount of times in fear of passing out again.
His head is throbbing again by the time they actually get to the inn – only vaguely aware of Suguru all but dragging him up the stairs. There’s a girl showing them the way, maybe a little younger than the two of them, her dark hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck.
“Yer room is here.” She says, leading them down to the end of the hall. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to get you something lower down, we didn’t know how badly you were injured.”
“That’s alright.” Suguru says, he smiles softly at the girl and Satoru resists the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed like he was laying on the niceties extra thick again, molasses tipping out of a jar. “We’re grateful that we managed to get this – what was your name again?”
“Nanao.” The girl says.
“Nanao.” Suguru repeats. “Thank you.”
A light flush colours her face and she turns abruptly, opening the room door with a key before pressing it into Suguru’s hand and rushing back down the hallway.
“What was that about?” Satoru asks.
“I’m being nice, Satoru, maybe you should try it for once.” Suguru chuckles. “Are you alright to stand while I lock the door?”
“Mhm.” Satoru pushes away from Suguru to lean against the wall.
It’s a simple looking room – there are two small beds in the room, one of them is closer to the door, the other up near the window. The mattress’ look worn and Satoru can only hope that they’re somewhat comfortable.
There are a few hooks on the wall, and Satoru automatically reaches for his hat before realising that it's no longer on his head – where did he leave it? Suguru must have it. Or he left it with Duchess.
There’s a small washstand with a basin and water pitcher, and a small mirror mounted on the wall that the two of them will definitely have to crouch to look into. In the corner of the room near the window, is a rickety looking wooden chair and a writing desk.
“Door’s locked.” Suguru says. “Wanna sit or lay down?”
“I don’t care.” Satoru murmurs in response, pressing his forehead against the wall. “Everything hurts.”
One of Suguru’s cool hands is around his waist, the other grabbing his uninjured arm. “Alright, you take the bed nearest the window.”
Suguru leads him to the bed and Satoru resists the urge to throw himself down onto it, it would only make everything hurt more. Suguru pulls back the thin sheets and gently pushes him to sit.
“My boots–”
“I know, I’m getting them.” Suguru kneels down, easing Satoru’s boots off his feet. He stands up again, helping Satoru to swing his legs up on the bed and lean against the headboard.
Satoru lets out a sigh – everything still hurts, but now he’s finally still. Maybe he can get some rest. “Hey, Suguru. You’re really okay with us staying?”
“No. I don’t have a good feeling about any of this but what choice do we have?” Suguru rubs at his chest again, before reaching to pull inky black hair from his ponytail. “We’re both injured and exhausted. You can barely walk on your own. I don’t like it but… a few days at most.”
Satoru pulls at a loose thread on his shirt. “But—”
“Satoru, you passed out twice when you were getting bandaged up. You woke up quickly the first time but…I didn’t know if you were going to wake up after the second time. We need to make sure that we’re both strong enough to get back to the others.”
“Fine, you’re right.” Satoru sighs, leaning his back against the headboard. He watches Suguru pace the length of the room. “The diamond?”
“Safe.” Suguru murmurs, pulling off his pack from across his shoulders. Has he had that the whole time? He has Satoru’s with him too, and lays Satoru’s down on the desk. “Took them off the horses before that idiot of a sheriff made me give up our weapons.
Suguru reaches into his own pack and pulls one of his gloves from it. He tips it over, gently shaking it until a rolled black bandana falls into his cupped hand. Suguru unwraps the bandana and pulls free a diamond, slightly smaller than his palm. He moves to stand in front of Satoru. “Damn pain this thing turned out to be, don’t you think?”
Satoru holds out his hand and Suguru presses the diamond into his palm. Satoru holds it between his fingers, turning it this way and that to catch the light. “I think it has a stupid name. Who calls a diamond ‘Prison Realm’? Sure hope it doesn’t mean anything ominous.”
“I don’t plan on getting myself locked up until I find the other half of it. Once we do, we split it between you and me.”
Satoru laughs handing the diamond back. “You’d leave the others out of it? Even your brother?”
Suguru hums softly, carefully wrapping the diamond back into his bandana and into his pack. “Alright then, we split it between you, me and Kenjaku.”
“Oh please, Mahito follows you around like a goddamn puppy. It’s gonna be hard to shake him.”
“I’ll handle Mahito. You just make sure you and yer big mouth don’t get us caught.”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “I can handle that. You should be the one to be careful. I thought you gave all our weapons away.”
“I only gave them what they could see.” Suguru grins, spinning the pearlescent coloured pistol between his fingers and tucks it into a small hidden holster on his belt. “Sheriff only asked for the guns we had on our person — the ones on our legs and the horses. This one was in my pack.”
“Careful Suguru, you’re starting to sound like me.”
Satoru laughs, his breath catches, his whole chest rattling as he coughs, it sounded harsh and jagged in his head.
“Satoru—” Suguru rubs wide circles on his back. “Hey, take it easy—”
“I’ll try.” Satoru croaks out. “I did fall through a window in case you didn’t know. Someone also fell on me. Pretty sure I dislocated my shoulder at one point.”
Suguru looks like he’s resisting the urge to sigh. “Do you need anything? Water–”
“No, no I think I’m ok.”
Suguru props the pillow behind Satoru’s back and sits down onto the other bed. “Your accent slipped a few times.”
“Shit. Was it noticeable?”
“To me it was.”
“Anythin’ I do is noticeable to you. We’ve known each other too damn long.” Satoru grumbles.
“You’re right. Can’t hide anything from me, Satoru.” Suguru grins. “ Though I’m pretty sure the sheriff just thinks you hit your head pretty hard.”
“I did hit my head pretty damn hard. I fell out a goddamn window.”
“We’re lucky for that cover story.”
“Is it a cover if it really did happen?”
“It is if there just happens to be some truth to it.” Suguru lets out a deep breath, rubbing tenderly at his chest.
Satoru frowns. “You alright?”
“I’m fine. I have some minor bruising, but nothin’ major.”
“Hmm. I’m not the only one who slipped up, you know. You used my real name.”
“I know. It’ll be okay.”
“Will it?”
“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry so—“
A sharp knock at the door cuts Suguru off.
“Who’s that?” Satoru whispers.
“Quiet.” Suguru hisses back. He stands as silently as he can, pulling the gun from his holster.
The knock sounds again.
“Hello?” The muffled voice calls out. “It’s Nanami Kento. From the doctors.”
Suguru turns to look at Satoru raising a brow.
“Well go.” Satoru mouths, gesturing with his good arm.
“Jus’ a second,” Suguru calls out.
He holsters his gun again and pulls down the back of his shirt to hide it just as he opens the room door. “Somethin’ we can help you with?”
“I was hoping to check in with you both. You were gone when I got back.”
“That so?”
“I can always come back later.”
“Come on in.”
Satoru blurts out before Suguru has the chance to turn him away.
Suguru shoots him a look over his shoulder, but steps out of the way letting Nanami into the room.
Now that Satoru isn’t laying down with his head spinning, he can get a better look at the other man.
Nanami is tall, broad shouldered. He has a coat draped over his arm. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anythin’.”
“We were just talking.”
Satoru stares at Suguru – behind Nanami, he points to his own mouth, his head and then to Satoru.
Focus.
“So, you’re the one who patched me up, huh?” Satoru says, his throat feels raw, words feeling clunky in his mouth. “Thank you for that darlin’”
“No need to thank me.” Nanami stands in front of him. “Do you mind if I check over your injuries?”
“Sure.” Satoru says. “Do what you need to.”
Nanami leans toward Satoru, moving the open collar of his shirt aside, lightly pressing against Satoru’s shoulder. Satoru feels his face warm at their closeness. “How are you feeling?”
“I don’t feel like I can move very much.” Satoru answers, finding himself staring at Nanami’s jaw, there’s a thin scar across his cheek, it’s barely visible against his skin.
“You won’t be able to.” Nanami confirms. “A dislocated shoulder can take weeks to heal.”
“Weeks?” Suguru repeats, almost in disbelief. “You serious?”
“It’s a bad injury.” Nanami says. “You’ll need to be careful. You could make it worse.”
“Will I be able to ride my horse?”
“Now? No, you won’t have the strength to. You’ll need to wait until you heal.” Nanami says, drawing back from Satoru. “If you feel any more pain, send for me and I’ll come to look.”
“Call for you and not the doc?” Suguru taps his foot against the floor in an unsteady rhythm. “Pardon me for sayin’ so but why should we call for you?”
“I won’t be at the bottom of a bottle. I can help for as long as I’m around.” Nanami turns on his heel, heading in Suguru’s direction. “The same goes for you. May I check?”
“If you gotta.”
“I’d feel better if I did.”
“Say, Nanami was it?” Suguru asks as Nanami checks over his bandages. “What didja mean by ‘as long as you’re around’, you not from around here then?”
“I’m only passin’ through.”
“Passin’ through, yet it seems to me like you’re pretty cosy with the sheriff." Suguru comments. "How’re you gettin’ to play doctor if you’re only passin’ through?”
“My uncle was the previous doctor. He passed not too long ago. I’m only in town to wrap us his affairs but I got roped into helpin’ out around the place. My uncle would do all sorts of odd jobs.”
“So they assumed you would also do the same?” Satoru asks. “Are they payin’ you for it at least?”
Nanami makes a noise. “Not as much as I’d like. Pretty sure Fujimura had a hand in that.”
“That the drunkard who was asleep?”
“The same one. He took over when my uncle passed.”
“He wasn’t too fond of some city boy comin’ in and makin’ noise?” Satoru asks.
“Something like that.” Nanami draws away from Suguru, turning back to Satoru. The corner of his lip quirks, his amber eyes seem to bore into him. “The two of you seem alright for the moment, but like I said, anythin’ changes, do call for me.”
“Thank you Nanami.” Satoru says. “We do appreciate the help.”
Nanami dips his head briefly, barely lifting his gaze from Satoru’s. “I’ll take my leave now, I hope the two of you have a good night.”