Chapter Text
Osamu doesn’t have to wait long for his chance. James’ gang is relentless in their pursuit of the Miyas and those affiliated with them. And none more so than their de facto leader Willis Randolph. Osamu figured out it was him after another run-in at the bar. Since then, he’s seen him hanging outside the bar twice in the past two days. He hasn’t said a word to Osamu and he always makes a big show of walking away when Osamu spots him, but Osamu knows better than to think Willis isn’t up to no good. He’s sure Willis has eyes on everyone else too and the thought alone makes Osamu uneasy. The last major incident might be several days behind them but he isn’t stupid enough to think they’re out of the woods yet.
He’s proven right when Kosaku bursts into Osamu’s bar on a warm September morning just as Osamu was getting ready to open for the day.
“Have ya heard?” Kosaku says in between laboured breaths.
Osamu shakes his head. “No, but I’m sure yer gonna tell me.”
“Willis Randolph, ya know —”
“Yeah. Yeah, he’s the one in command of James’ gang now, right?”
Kosaku nods. “He’s running all over town, shoutin’ about how today is the day he takes down the Miyas. He’s just waitin’ for one of ya to cross his path.”
“What part of town did ya see him last?” Osamu asks, already ducking behind the counter to reach for the gun he keeps well hidden underneath the boards.
“He was headin’ toward the west side of town.”
Osamu hums. “Headin’ for Atsumu then it sounds like.”
Kosaku gulps. “Ya think so?”
Osamu shrugs. “Suna’s north. Same here. Aran and Kita are in the south part of town. He could be headin’ for Sakusa I suppose, but it doesn’t matter,” he says as he tucks the gun into his slacks. “He isn’t gonna make it to ‘em.”
Bracing one arm against the bar, Osamu hops over and heads for the door, only stopping to look back at Kosaku and say, “thanks for the tip. I’ll see ya around, Kosaku.”
Inarizaki City was the west’s newest boomtown. Osamu doesn’t really know why Aran and Kita chose to uproot their tiny family. They weren’t the type to chase their fortune in boomtowns. Maybe it was the two years with an awful growing season that nearly did the four of them in that pushed them to leave farming behind. Maybe they wanted to try something new, something less labour intensive. Osamu never thought to ask. When Aran announced that they were thinking of leaving town and setting up shop — literally — somewhere else, Osamu didn’t question it. Atsumu was excited and although Osamu didn’t share his same level of enthusiasm, he didn’t mind moving. As long as Atsumu, Aran, and Kita were along with him, then he’d be fine.
Back then Inarizaki City wasn’t even a city. Nothin more than a meager few shacks hastily constructed from logs. And dozens of canvas tents acting as homes, shops, restaurants, saloons. There was even a canvas tent hotel. But Inarizaki City kept growing, and that city of canvas tents didn’t last long. Within a year, solid buildings built from adobe bricks sprung up where the canvas tents once stood, Kita’s Sundries and Dried Goods included.
It was around then that Atsumu and Osamu first met Suna Rintarou. They were helping to straighten up the store shelves when Suna came in looking to buy some tobacco for his dad and a piece of hard candy for himself. The thing about making friends while young is that one moment they’re a complete stranger and then, in little more than a blink of an eye, you’re inseparable with no clear memory of when or how it happened. One day Osamu is selling Suna a piece of peppermint candy, the next all three of them are running around causing trouble, and then the next Osamu is confessing to Suna Rintarou behind the city’s dance hall, stuttering every third word until Suna shut him up with a kiss square on the mouth.
The sun and the heat of the desert are particularly brutal today despite it only being half-past ten in the morning. Its rays beat down scorching all that cross their path. Gusts of wind send bursts of fine, red dirt into the sweltering air. Sweat drips down his face, soaks his shirt causing it to cling to his shoulders and back. It’s enough to suffocate a man but Osamu hardly notices it. His sights are set on finding one person and one person only.
“Osamu!” someone calls.
He doesn’t slow down, not even when Ginjima comes running up from behind, gesticulating wildly as he tries to keep up with Osamu’s brutal march.
“Osamu!” Ginjima says again.
“Somethin’ I can help ya with?” Osamu asks as he picks up the pace again.
“It’s Willis Randolph, he’s on a rampage.”
“So I hear.”
“Oh, ya heard. That’s good. Are ya on yer way to tell Atsumu?”
“No.”
“What do ya mean no?”
“Don’t need him. I can handle this one myself.”
“What?” Ginjima stammers. “Yer not even a lawman.”
“I got a gun, don’t I? Don’t see what else I need.”
“Yer gonna... Osamu that’s crazy. Shouldn’t ya at least take Atsumu with ya?”
“Ginjima,” Osamu says, stopping for the first time since he left the bar. He turns to face him. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it taken care of. Now ya better run off before we come across Willis Randolph and yer still here with me. Nothin’ is gonna get in the way of me protectin’ my family, okay?”
Gin swallows and nods hesitantly before heading back the way he came.
Atsumu and Osamu’s parents died when they were young. Sometimes he tries to remember them but the years have muddied and watered down what few memories remain. He thinks he can remember a lullaby, picking flowers for his mother, their father chasing Atsumu and Osamu around the outside of their house, collapsing into giggles when he finally catches them.
But in these memories, his parents are faceless. He can’t remember what they looked like. He can’t remember what they sounded like. He doesn’t even know if they’re real or not, he’s too afraid to ask Atsumu, afraid that his own meager memories won’t fit together with what remains of Atsumu’s.
They lost their parents and, by some miracle, Aran and Kita took them in without batting an eye. Aran and Kita, who were little more than kids themselves at the time. Osamu has plenty of memories of them. Picking wild apples in the fall, following Arna around the kitchen like a duckling, Kita telling them a story before bed.
They moved to Inarizaki City with Aran and Kita when they were 15. By the time they were ready to move out of Aran and Kita’s and find their own way in the world, Suna and Osamu were together. Not long after, Atsumu met Sakusa and did the same. Atsumu and Osamu might have lost their parents when they were young but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a family. And Osamu isn’t about to let some asshole even think about taking this family from him.
Osamu is pissed. Pissed his family is being threatened. Pissed that the law can’t do anything about it. Pissed that Atsumu’s hands are tied it’s Suna, Sakusa, Aran, and Kita who are bearing the brunt of the burden. Osamu’s hands aren’t held back by the law. Not in the same way that Atsumu’s are. He doesn’t know how this is going to pan out and there may be a reckoning that Osamu has to answer for but it’s a risk he’s willing to take.
Osamu finds him a block from Atsumu’s office waving a pistol in one hand and yelling barely coherent ramblings. For being Johnny James’ right hand man, the very same who orchestrated all the attacks against the Miyas and their extended family in the past few weeks, he’s more off kilter than Osamu was expecting. Osamu was expecting a calm and collected asshole hell bent on causing trouble — just like James. But this man, waving a pistol and shouting about how Atsumu has wronged him, is anything but collected.
Osamu wonders if he’s drunk or if he was always this unhinged or if something just snapped and pushed him over the edge. Cursing the day the Miyas were born isn’t new, but the manic look in his eyes is. He grins when he catches sight of Osamu. If Osamu weren’t filled with such righteous anger, he might find it unnerving to stare down Willis Randolph in these circumstances.
“Look who’s come to play,” Willis Randolph says as he stakes one shambling step in Osamu’s direction. “I caught myself a Miya without even trying.”
Osamu stops then stands to his full height and crosses his arms over his chest. He won’t be intimidated by the likes of Willis Randolph.
“It ain’t the Miya I was lookin’ for,” Willis Randolph continues, “but I ain’t picky. After I deal with this one, I’ll just have to keep lookin’ for the next. And I’ll keep going until this town is free of the Miyas.”
“What’ll that do?” Osamu asks. Killing or driving all of the Miyas out of town won’t free Johnny James from prison. It won’t reduce his charges or stop his trial from going forward. And if James is found guilty, it won’t be a Miya putting him behind bars, it’ll be prosecutor, judge, and jury. “What do ya stand to gain?”
“It ain’t about gainin’ anything.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“Revenge,” he says with a snarl.
“Revenge for what? Johnny James isn’t even dead. He hasn’t even had his trial yet. What’s there to avenge?”
Willis Randolph takes another step forward. There are still a few meters between them space between them. If Willis Randolph is trying to intimidate Osamu it isn’t going to work. Osamu isn’t the prey in this situation, Willis Randolph is whether he knows it or not.
“Details,” Willis Randolph says with a wave of his pistol. “That’s the thing about revenge, it doesn’t gotta be logical.”
Osamu wonders if what happens here today will be considered revenge. Local bartender takes on notorious Johnny James’ right hand man, Willis Randolph, in a desperate bid for revenge. Osamu isn’t here to make Willis Randolph or anyone else pay for what they’ve tried to do to his family. He’s here to stop them from trying anything else. He’s here to protect his family, not avenge Suna’s near death experience, the ransacking of Kita’s Sundries and Dried Goods, or anything else. But, he supposes, if that stray shot had struck Suna or if Sakusa hadn’t made it back safely from the stagecoach robbery attempt, if a single hair on any of their heads were harmed, he wouldn’t be here to protect. There’s no doubt in his mind, he’d be here for revenge, and completely justified in seeking it. Osamu wouldn’t consider himself a vengeful person but every person has their limits.
“Yer not going to kill a single Miya,” Osamu says, steadfast.
“Enough talkin’. Why don’t ya put yer money where yer mouth is.”
“Gladly,” Osamu mutters.
Osamu’s heard of the notorious gunfights that have plagued the west. He’s even seen a few arguments escalate in his own saloon but they always get broken up before all hell could break loose. Osamu never thought it would be him on one side of a gunfight. But he supposes as he reaches for the pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers, that life doesn’t always pan out the way anticipated. When he was a kid, he didn’t expect his parents to die. And after, he didn’t expect Aran and Kita to take them in. Before he moved to Inarizaki City, he didn’t expect to take a different life path than Atsumu. He didn’t expect to settle down with Suna, the random kid he met buying peppermint candy at Kita and Aran’s store.
Willis Randolph swings his own pistol in Osamu’s direction. Even from here, Osamu can see that Willis Randolph’s hand is shaking. Osamu’s own hand is steady as he aims. He takes a deep breath. This isn’t a time to be careless and rush. There’s something about facing down the barrel of a gun away that makes time slow to a near standstill. Osamu is suddenly aware of everything. The slight breeze tugging at his shirt where it isn’t sticking to his skin, his own sweat acting like glue. The sun, shining high in the sky without a single cloud to shield the desert below from its unforgiving shine and unbearable heat. Osamu’s finger rests against the trigger. The street is silent. Despite the time of day, there isn’t a single person in sight. The street is abandoned. It’s just Willis Randolph and Osamu. Osamu and Willis Randolph.
Randolph fires.
Randolph misses.
There’s a shout and time speeds back up, propelling Osamu into reality. His neck snaps in the direction of the sound convinced that the rest of Johnny James’ gang has shown up to defend their de facto leader in his absence. Someone is running. It isn’t until the figure stops squarely between Willis Randolph and Osamu that he realizes who it is.
It’s Suna.
What the hell?
In the same moment that Osamu realizes the identity of the newcomer, his finger falls from the trigger of the gun and he’s seized with panic. Willis Randolph still has his pistol raised and —
Willis Randolph crumples to the ground in a heap.
Where Willis Randolph stood now stands Kita and Aran. Kita tucks a pistol into his belt while Aran crouches down next to Randolph’s pitiful form.
“Is he alive?” Atsumu asks.
And wait —
When did he get here? Sakusa too stands with Atsumu, hands shoved into his pockets as he kicks Randolph’s boot. Randolph twitches but doesn’t wake up.
“Alive,” Aran says then he hands Atsumu Randolph’s abandoned gun, “But out cold.”
Atsumu breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Woulda been a real hassle if ya ended up killin’ him. That mad dash here woulda been for nothing.”
Osamu is too busy trying to understand what is going on to notice that Suna has been steadily creeping closer to him since the moment Willis Randolph hit the ground.
“Samu,” Suna says, voice soft.
Osamu doesn’t react. Not even when Suna touches him, featherlight, on the shoulder.
“It’s over, Osamu.”
Suna reaches for the gun still in Osamu’s grip. He moves with care like Osamu is a spooked horse that might bolt at any moment. Suna’s fingers come to rest on Osamu’s where they are still wrapped around the gun.
“You can let go,” Suna says. “It’s over. Let me take it.”
Osamu shudders and lets the gun slide from his grip and carefully into Suna’s waiting hand. Suna swiftly shoves it into his waistband. Then, with the gun safely out of sight, he wastes no time grabbing Osamu by the front of his shirt and tugging . Osamu stumbles forward but doesn’t fall, Suna catches him. He holds Osamu close then pulls back to pepper kisses all over his face.
“You damn,” kiss, “foolish,” kiss, “self-sacrificing,” kiss, “loving,” kiss, “ idiot.”
Suna pulls Osamu tighter to him. His hand drifts to cup the underside of Osamu’s jaw. He presses a desperate kiss against Osamu’s lips.
“Dumbass, you could have died,” Suna says, punctuating the sentence with a punch to the shoulder.
“So could have you,” Osamu protests. “The other night. Ya coulda died.” Just the thought of it still knocks the wind out of him even though he knows that Suna is fine. More than fine, he’s right here, right in his arms, alive and whole.
“So that means you have to put your life on the line? How does that solve anything.”
“Nobody else was gonna get hurt. Not if I had anythin’ to say about it.”
“Yer a damn fool.”
“But ya love me,” Osamu says, hoping to cut the tension.
“Yes, I do,” Suna says without hesitation. “Do you have any idea how fucking scared I was when Kosaku came running into our house, barely making any sense? All I knew was to run and run fast.”
Osamu does know how scared, how terrified Suna must have felt because it’s exactly how he felt when he made his mad dash to the Silver Dollar Saloon. Osamu doesn’t regret coming here today. But he does feel guilty for making Suna endure that same desperate, helpless feeling.
“I won’t say I’m sorry for tryin’ to stop him, but I am sorry for not tellin’ ya first.”
Suna huffs a laugh and punches him on the shoulder but doesn’t let go of Osamu, not all the way. “I can live with that.”
And even when Aran and Kita then Sakusa and Atsumu come to check on them, Suna still doesn’t let go.
“How did ya all get here?” Osamu asks.
“Ginjima told us,” Atsumu says.
“And Kosaku warned me you were about to do something stupid.”
“Then he came and found us. Ya know, ya gave us a real scare there,” Kita says.
“That’s one way of puttin’ it,” Aran says, holding a hand to his chest. “My fragile heart can’t take this.”
“I’m fine,” Osamu says to them all but mostly to Suna who still hasn’t budged.
“Uh-uh,” Suna says, shaking his head. “I’m holding on to you so you can’t go do anything stupid again.”
“Good luck with that,” Aran says, laughing.
“Looks like you’ll never be able to let go then,” Atsumu says.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Suna says.
Atsumu grimaces. “Ugh. Yer disgustin’. We’re in public.” He nods toward Randolph, “and in front of the outlaw? Have some self respect.”
“Yer literally holdin’ Sakusa’s hand right now.”
“He’s got you there,” Sakusa says.
“That’s totally different! If Suna was any closer to Samu then he’d be carryin’ him!”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Suna says. Then without warning, he heaves Osamu over his shoulder like it’s nothing.
“Rin!” Osamu squawks.
“Stop squirming.”
“Gross,” Atsumu mutters.
“They might still have questions for him,” Sakusa says. “You’re both probably going to have to give a witness statement.”
“Well, you know where to find us,” Suna shouts, already walking in the direction of their home. “Don’t be a stranger.”
NOTORIOUS OUTLAW WILLIS RANDOLPH, ARRESTED FOR DISTURBING THE PEACE, ADMITS GUILT IN 3 OTHER UNRELATED CRIMES — Robert Dickerson & Richard Robertson —
It was a family affair in Inarizaki City when Willis Randolph was apprehended by authorities for firing a single shot within the confines of the town, narrowly missing local barkeep, Miya Osamu. Several witnesses reported that Randolph was threatening the lives of Miya Atsumu and his family. Randolph was intercepted by Miya Atsumu’s brother, Miya Osamu. Osamu went toe to toe with Randolph in what could have turned into a nasty gunfight if it weren’t for the rest of the Miyas and family appearing out of nowhere. Randolph was easily put out of commission by a single swift hit to the back of the head with the butt of Kita Shinsuke’s pistol. A shout from Suna Rintarou distracted the would-be gunfighters while local shop owners, Ojiro Aran and Kita Shinsuke snuck up from behind. With Randolph safely secured by Miya Atsumu, witnesses reported Suna Rintarou walking off the scene with Miya Osamu thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. Alls well that ends well. Folks, you can’t make this stuff up.