Chapter Text
Deep in the American old West, where the sound of the trains were mind-numbingly peaceful and each click of the wheels passing over the joints in the rails consumed the area around them.
The samurai held tight on his blade, eyes narrowing at the dust that dirtied their shoes.
The gunslinger walked with no care, this was his home.
He had no reason to fear, for this was were he was raised and born.
Raised from the same dirt they walked upon, and the Samurai feared that he held no place.
No place in the west as a Samurai, for he looked far different than anyone else.
With the pointed blade of his maedate, It looked sharp enough to pierce flesh.
Despite their differences, the sharpened point of a blade and the rounded sphere of a gun's barrel, Their eyes were filled with unspoken concern for each other.
The samurai would listen intently to the words of the gunslinger, adapting, taking in, learning his language.
His lips sealed tightly as he did not dare speak when the gunslinger was.
The samurai imagined what It would be like to live with the gunslinger, to show him his mind and to never worry again.
To open up his sealed heart once more, and just stand still in time.
These ideas fell on deaf ears, the Gunslinger was not interested.
And through their raised voices, you could hardly hear the whistle of the train and the clicking of the wheels anymore.
They walked, but as they walked they were no longer side by side and instead a ways apart. Separated by a million miles of unspoken words.
The Samurai didn't want to stay so silent, he wanted to be close, hear the gunslingers words, to be the center of his attention.
To be the only thing the gunslinger would think about for however long they lived.
When Night fell, and then moon casted a reflection in the metal of the samurai's helmet and the steel in the Gunslingers rifle.
The shine caught the gunslingers' attention, he glanced over but did not look long.
Then he spoke, he spoke of being afraid, being scared of getting stuck.
He did not like the idea of being stuck.
Of being alone without the samurai.
He was afraid that if he stayed for too long, a moment in time would find him and ruin everything. And through that he would spend what would be his happiest years with the samurai in anxiety and treachery.
His scope pulled up to his eye, Never turning away from the front door which he wanted to open so badly but also wished was steel and could keep whoever would come near out.
He could almost feel his chest rising and falling, his breathing unsteady just thinking about being stuck like that.
They were complicated and unruly emotions he wished he could lock away and then swallow the key.
The Samurai's face softened, his mouth curling into a soft smile that truly could change anyone just by looking.
He slipped his gloved hand into the Gunslingers, saying nothing as there was no need to speak. A million words turned into just two.