Note: Woot! My first Hidan-fic! Be warned for a little blood and craziness. For those of you who don't know Hidan, he's a character that appears around chapter 312 (I think) of the manga. He's hot, religious, and crazy. That's all you need to know to be good to read. XD And reviews would be love!
Small, slender fingers cupped a large mug, squeezing fitfully as a drunk stumbled past and collapsed near the washroom door. Every breath filled her lungs with smoky, hazy air, heavy with the scent of musk, perfume, and tobacco.
A glance at the clock elicited another tight squeeze from her fingers, pink-polished nails scraping against the cup of untouched sake.
It was nearing 2:00 AM and her parents had no idea where she was, and she had no idea how she was going to get home without getting caught. A regular occurrence for some, but a milestone for her.
She was a baker's daughter, boasting no skills as a shinobi and serving as a teaching aid at the local elementary school. She was shy and subdued; one who kept her eyes trained to the ground and clasped her hands together when she walked. She wore long skirts and brandished long sleeves, quiet and quaint and everything a parent could ask for in a daughter.
Although being ignored by the men in the bar relieved her, she couldn't help but feel a bit disheartened by their lack of interest. Her friends, however, tall blondes who wore scraps of cloth and wielded mischievous winks and smiles, received the attention of men and women alike.
She didn't feel jealous. Just…disappointed. She knew she wasn't beautiful with her curly brown hair and wide, doe-like eyes, but she'd thought herself cute enough to elicit a mere glance from someone.
The sake smelled unpleasant and she pushed it away, staring vacantly into space when she wasn't shooting pretend-smiles at the friends who caught her eye.
Guilt clouded her mind, dampening what little enjoyment she felt. She was a good girl, a decent girl, the type of girl who didn't go dancing in dirty bars in the middle of the night.
She was a girl who didn't disobey and didn't give into primal urges. She was boring and quiet, and her parents were happy with that. Polished nails scraped the wooden counter as she sighed to herself.
It was a wonder why she couldn't be happy with that, too.
Minutes passed and she continued to sit there, chewing her lower lip and waiting till she felt her body had mustered enough courage to speak.
Glancing off into the jostling, dancing crowd, she resolved herself to tell her friends it was time to go.
A friend caught her eye and she blinked when the girl shouted something unintelligible at her through the noise. Her resolution melted away under that carefree look, and she ended up nodding meekly in return.
Then her friend was gone, swallowed up in the mass of moving bodies, leaving her to deal with the gnawing guilt eating her from the inside out.
A few more minutes passed and it was nearing 2:15 AM when the back of her neck began to prickle. She scratched at it absentmindedly, blinking tiredly at her untouched sake and avoiding the bartender's sympathetic gaze.
Deciding to stretch her neck a bit, she turned her head and glanced around the bar. A couple sat in a dark booth, heads hidden beneath a jacket. Looking away quickly, she cast her eyes to another booth, brow furrowing at the sight of a collapsed drunk.
Brown eyes drifted to the last booth and stayed when she caught sight of the two strange-looking figures sitting there.
They both wore cloaks, and she squinted through the hazy darkness to make out the reddish clouds decorating the black fabric. One of them appeared to be wearing some headgear and had his head bent over a list of some sort.
She meant to glance momentarily at the other but found her eyes lingering, caught when she realized he was looking straight at her.
Casually, she turned back around on her stool, trying to play it off. She furiously stifled the hope that he'd been looking at her because he wanted to, telling herself they'd just happened to look each other's way at the same time.
Besides, she told herself, blushing a little. He didn't look drunk and was too good-looking to have any interest in her.
A sad thought, but one she was used to.
Unfortunately, she felt tempted to turn around once more just so she could let her gaze sweep appreciatively over his features. In that short moment when their eyes had met, she'd felt her breath hitch when she took in his appearance.
Fair hair had shone through the darkness, slicked back and framing a slender, pale face. His lips were quirked almost mischievously, a contrast to his bright eyes, and she found herself wondering how a grown man could look so…angelic.
And she found herself blushing even more when she realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Rather, he'd boldly left the front of his cloak open, chest exposed.
No, a man like that would never look her way—not intentionally, at least.
As her eyes focused in on the grains of the counter again, the music quieted. Snatches of conversations and sensual lyrics met her ears, only serving to make her feel more pathetic as she continued to sit by herself.
The thought of approaching him didn't even cross her mind, her thoughts focused intently on the time and not on the attractive man sitting across the bar. The prickling on the back of her neck continued, and she irritably told herself she was tired and that she should leave her friends where they were.
It wasn't as if they'd notice her absence, anyway.
Another minute passed and she shoved her mug towards the bartender in resolution. She was going home and she wasn't going to look back. Her parents had told her she would learn from her mistakes and now she knew there was nothing in a place like this for decent people like her.
In fact, she thought inwardly. That guy sitting behind me probably takes girls home all the time. I don't want the attention of someone like that.
But despite herself, her stomach flipped excitedly in anticipation as she gathered her things. Leaving would require turning around. Turning around would require looking in his direction.
She swallowed hard.
He probably wasn't even looking at her anymore, anyway. It wouldn't hurt to turn around and check one last time. In fact, it would just strengthen her resolve to never come back to a place like this again.
Brown curls brushed over her shoulder when she turned her head slightly, wide eyes flitting quickly in his direction.
Her lips parted, fingers growing slack around her purse when she found him staring directly at her. She blinked, almost dazed, hoping she wasn't imagining the eye contact through the smoky darkness.
But the man didn't look away and she felt herself grow weak, felt the blood rush to her cheeks and breath hitch when he canted his head in the slightest, the corners of his lips rising in a slow smile.
At that very moment, his companion chose to look in her direction too and she snapped out of her reverie, whipping back around on her stool to face the counter again.
Cheeks flushed, chest heaving, she stared at her shaking hands, feeling euphoric and excited and terrified all at once.
Oh my God, what do I do? She questioned herself frantically. He's looking at me. Do I turn around again? Should I leave?
She forced herself to be calm and put a hand against her chest, brow furrowing in annoyance at the feel of her rapid heartbeat. Honestly, she was a young woman and here she was getting flustered over a mere smile. The thought was meant to consolidate her, but only succeeded in making a pleased little smile flourish upon her lips.
Almost unconsciously, her hands moved to set her purse down again.
A few seconds passed and she wondered what she should do, flushing and balking at the thought of herself throwing him her own mischevious smile.
No, she wasn't that type of girl, she told herself breathlessly. She was a good girl.
Maybe…maybe looking once more would give him the incentive to come over. But she buried her face in her arms at the thought. What would she do if he did decide to come sit by her? She'd blush and stammer and make a fool of herself.
She was twenty-one and had never had a boyfriend. She was twenty-one and couldn't look the opposite sex in the eye, let alone give them suggestive looks.
Her euphoria turned to nausea.
"The look was enough," she whispered inaudibly to herself. "I'm happy now. Just…don't come over, please."
Her fingers reached up to scratch at the prickly skin of her neck, and she froze when she realized he was probably still looking at her.
The very idea made her feel both flattered and violated.
A glance at the clock forced her heart into her throat.
It was 2:30 AM and she'd sworn to herself that she'd be home by three. She had no time for flirty exchanges with a man she didn't know.
Her fingers grasped at her purse and she slowly pulled on her cardigan, her movements slow and deliberate. Her mind spun with thoughts of him following her out, with thoughts she'd kept under lock and key for fear of feeling dirty.
Grimacing, she bowed her head as she finished buttoning her sweater.
She was going to turn around and leave. That was it. She wouldn't look his way.
Biting her lower lip, she swiveled the stool around and meant to look straight at the exit. But her eyes strayed ahead to that booth once more. She froze, staring with wide eyes.
He was gone.
Her fingers slackened on the purse, relief and disappointment flooding her system as she sagged back onto the stool.
Jumping, she scrambled to catch her purse when she dropped it in surprise.
Flushing automatically, she looked towards the voice and felt the blood rush uncontrollably to her face. She saw black fabric and red clouds, feeling her mouth grow dry. She couldn't respond as the fabric creased when he sat down, his pale, slender face coming into full view.
She found herself momentarily transfixed by that guileless smile, her mouth open in a small "O" of surprise until she found her voice.
"H-Hello," she stammered back, mortified with herself for blushing uncontrollably.
It was almost dismaying to see that he looked even better close up. His silver hair was offset by the disarming violet of his eyes, and long, fair lashes cast scant shadows on his pale skin beneath the dim light of the lamp.
"You looked like you were ready to leave."
She started at the sound of his smooth voice, wishing desperately for her hands to stop shaking.
Instinctively, she cast her wide-eyed gaze to the ground, hands nervously coming to clasp together in her lap.
"I was," she said meekly. "It's late."
Inwardly, she was astonished at how effortlessly he'd started the conversation and was even more astonished with herself for answering. A thrill of excitement ran through her and she fought back a wispy smile.
She gave him fleeting glances, trying and failing to make eye contact. She couldn't explain the disarming vulnerability she felt when she did meet those eyes—couldn't explain the hitch of her breath and catch in her voice.
It almost made her feel faint.
"Are you here alone?" he asked, harmless in the way he tilted his head to the side, eyes curious.
"N-No," she answered with a weak smile, gesturing vaguely to the dancing crowd. "I'm here with some…friends."
He raised his eyebrows and she blushed when he gave her a teasing look, eliciting an uncontrollably pleased smile from her.
"Not a dancer?"
She shook her head furiously.
"Neither am I."
A small hiccup of a laugh escaped her lips and she lowered her eyes, wondering why she felt so pleased.
"Um, are you…here with a friend?" she asked timidly in return. "I mean, that other guy…"
He waved a hand offhandedly, making a face.
"More like an acquaintance. He's too much of a prick."
Another small laugh escaped her, this one clearer and more carefree and she felt herself relax enough to raise her eyes. But her gaze stopped at his right hand, lips parting in surprise when she saw what he held.
The beads of a dark rosary clicked noiselessly together, worn and old in appearance. He held them with a tenderness suited for pearls, his thumb pushing a bead down the string every few seconds.
He must have noticed her gaze, because he sounded amused when he spoke.
"Oh!" She flushed, looking up and catching that amused smile, feeling herself go weak in the knees. And this time she gave into the feeling with abandon, elated and enthralled. He was polite, nice, and religious. He was perfect.
"A little surprised," she admitted. "You didn't seem the type…"
"Everyone says that," he said, looking bemused. "I wonder why."
"Well, you're…" she paused, surprised at her boldness. "You are in a bar."
He laughed—a pleasant, keening sound.
"The acquaintance likes his drinks."
"Oh," she breathed, letting her affection for this total stranger spiral out of control.
He was polite, nice, religious, and he didn't drink. She practically swooned.
"But you're in a bar," he said a moment later, gesturing. "Yet you seem like a decent girl."
"I am a decent girl," she blurted. "I don't normally come to places like this. My friends…" she trailed off when he nodded in understanding.
He gestured to the bartender and she watched in surprise as he was handed a glass of water.
"My name is Hidan, by the way," he said a moment later, eyeing her over the rim of his glass.
"Hidan," she repeated. "That's a nice name."
He said the same when she told him her own name, and she felt herself relax completely, content to talk to this beautiful man who for some reason seemed interested in her.
The time became unimportant and she was happy to just watch him talk from beneath her lashes, nodding and smiling and laughing every so often and feeling something akin to joy blossom in her chest. He answered her meek questions effortlessly and she felt herself open up when he returned the questions, listening to her answers with genuine interest.
While she was telling him about her job as a teaching aid, he handed her a glass of rose syrup-flavoured water. She accepted it without a second thought, sipping and smiling against the rim of the glass.
A moment came when she couldn't contain her curiousity any longer and she pointed timidly to his cloak.
"I noticed your friend was wearing that, too," she said, in a tone of innocent curiousity. "Are you in some sort of club?"
The smile he gave her made a shiver of pleasure run down her spine.
"You could say that."
He lifted his right hand, setting his rosary down on the counter so he could run his fingers through his hair. She glanced up when he spoke, his tone serious.
"Do you believe in God?"
She nodded earnestly, inwardly ecstatic when a pleased expression overtook his features.
"Do you believe in heaven? Hell?"
"Yes," she whispered, eyes glittering in the dark. "Yes, I believe."
He cocked his head slightly to the side, and she blinked hazily as his smile slid in and out of focus. It was nearing 3:00 AM and she could feel her exhaustion taking its toll.
"Where do you think you'll end up?" he asked softly.
She closed her eyes, brow furrowing.
"Heaven, I hope…but I've been bad."
She heard the scrape of a chair as he leaned closer.
"I…stayed out past curfew."
He laughed at that, that wonderful keening laugh, his rosary clinking as he slid it back into the folds of his cloak.
"Heaven," he murmured, smiling slightly. "You're a shoo-in for heaven."
She blushed. "Thank you."
"Do you think your friends will miss you if you leave?" he questioned, smirking suddenly.
Heat crawled up her neck and something ached pleasantly in the pit of her stomach. She felt reckless and free, feeling as though her friends didn't exist and answered him honestly by shaking her head.
He reached up, taking the glass of rose water from her hands, eyes intent and intimate.
"Want to go somewhere with me?"
She stared at him, blinking hazily.
His eyes glinted and she couldn't look away, swallowing when he touched her hand, running the pads of his fingers over her knuckles.
"I want to show you something. Will you come with me?"
"Okay," she whispered, blinking slowly. "Okay."
He smiled and she smiled back, feeling a sense of dim euphoria engulf her being when he took her hand in his own, helping her off the stool. They stood in that dim light for a moment, and Hidan watched her stare into his closeness. Her fingers tightened unconsciously around his own.
Turning, he tugged gently on her arm and she followed, feeling as though she were striding through water as they headed outside, legs leaden and weak.
When they emerged into the cool night air, she breathed deeply, staring at him with wide, adoring eyes as he carefully led her over some rocks in the path. Her chest ached pleasantly, heart welling with contentment as he continuously glanced back at her, as if to check if she was all right.
She stared shamelessly, awed by his beauty and the way he almost seemed ethereal in the moonlight. Her vision continued to swim in and out of focus and she stumbled, on the verge of fainting when he caught her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes as she pressed her cheek to the warm fabric of his cloak. "I'm…tired."
"I know," he said back understandingly, complacently. "I know."
Her head lolled back onto his shoulder when he picked her up, continuing on when he heard no complaints.
"Hidan," she murmured a few minutes later, when the chill of the wind ceased and the moonlight disappeared. "Where are we?"
"Almost there. Don't worry."
She tightened her grip on his cloak, lips uplifting in a content little smile.
She could hear the clinking of his rosary, hidden somewhere within his cloak when he took her into a clearing, the moonlight bright and vivid against her eyelids. His steps slowed and he carried her a bit farther before stopping.
"I'm putting you down now."
She grabbed onto his shoulder for balance when her feet touched the ground and she swayed unsteadily for a few moments before slowly opening her eyes. The moon was obscenely bright and she squinted, shielding her eyes as her gaze scoured her surroundings.
A soft breath pervaded the air in awe when she realized what she was standing on. The floor of the clearing was covered with what looked like religious symbols, black and beautiful against the gray stone.
"Hidan," she whispered. "This is…"
"Holy ground," he finished for her, taking a step forward.
She slowly turned around and looked up at him, a blush flushing her cheeks as her eyes glittered in the dark. Her thoughts were muddled and her vision clouded with an endless fog, but Hidan never stopped being beautiful. Hidan never stopped being wonderful.
She felt like the luckiest girl in the world, throwing her inhibitions aside when she stepped closer, arms rising to embrace him.
A hand came to rest against her hair, brushing it back behind her ear as spoke to her, voice hushed.
"Will you do something for me?"
"Yes," she whispered, without hesitance.
He made an approving noise in his throat, gently pushing her to take a few steps back. She conceded, her steps sluggish and uncoordinated as he led her backwards, stopping her by resting a hand against her shoulder.
Fingers encircled her small wrists and lowered her arms by her sides, his hands rising once more to hover over the buttons of her cardigan.
His voice was like silk against her ear, coaxing and gentle as his fingers carefully undid the buttons.
"You've never done this before…have you?"
She couldn't bring herself to speak, her voice stifled by euphoria. Instead, she dumbly shook her head, breathing slowly and shakily as he undid each button.
A shudder ran through her when he gently pushed the fabric over her shoulders.
"Good," he whispered in response, lips warm against the shell of her ear. "Good girl."
A soft sound elicited from her throat when he pushed forward, hands supporting her back as she receded without hesitance, lying back on the stone ground. His hands left her back, laying her down and moving her hands to clasp over her stomach.
Her chest heaved, eyes closed and brow furrowed as a dark blush tainted her cheeks.
He smiled, looking down at her with a trace of affection.
"I know. I'll be gentle."
She smiled back, eyes closed as he nudged her leg to lay aligned with the vertical line of the seal.
The rosary was out and around his neck when he removed his cloak, discarding it and standing bare-chested within the seal, the glint of moonlight illuminating his scars.
He knelt, then, kissing the rosary before brushing the curly strands of hair away from her forehead, the fingers of his other hand coming to a rest below her sternum. Her breathing grew increasingly laboured as his fingertips drifted, in between her breasts and slightly to the left.
A pounding heartbeat met the pads of his fingers and he kept them still, brushing his other hand down and over her eyes, hearing her breath hitch at the contact.
Soft, dulcet murmurs pervaded the air, his prayers escaping into the night as his fingers slipped from her chest, replaced by a sharp, metallic point. She breathed and smiled at the sound of the prayers, feeling her heart swell as his thumb tenderly brushed against her brow.
This must have been God's reward to her for being such a good girl.
Hidan remained sitting by her side half an hour later, thumb pushing a rosary bead down the string every few seconds as the blood seeped in rivulets over the seal and into his clothes.
Out of all the girls, she had been the first to say she loved him before he shoved the metal pike through her chest. His head bowed and eyes closed as his rosary brushed against her cheek. Her mouth had opened but she made no sound, hands remaining still and clasped together against her abdomen.
"Good girl," he had whispered comfortingly against her temple, almost sympathetic as he stroked his fingers against her brow. "You were a very good girl."
When every line of the seal was saturated with crimson, he finished his prayers and began another, this time for her. He'd ensure a place for her in heaven, as she'd aided him greatly and had been rather sweet and cooperative on the way there.
The others had been a bit more feisty, a bit more suspicious and fussy.
But she was perfect—naïve and innocent, easily seduced and willing to please. Hidan had been lucky.
"How do you always know?"
Hidan raised his head slightly at the sound of his partner's amused voice.
"How do I know what?"
"How do you tell the virgins apart from the rest?"
He shrugged. "It's not that hard. They just have this look."
"For a religious guy, you're a heartless bastard, you know that?" Kakuzu smirked in the darkness, watching his partner bristle at the comment.
"I don't have a choice. The Jashin doctrine demands a sacrifice every month," he snapped. "It's not like I enjoy it."
"So what are you saying? You gave her a painless death?"
Hidan turned around and gave Kakuzu a withering look.
"There's no such thing as a painless death."
Kakuzu chose not to reply to that and instead cast his gaze to the girl. She looked as though she were sleeping, skin stark white against the darkness of her hair. He canted his head slightly.
"Want me to get Zetsu?"
Hidan paused, then slowly shook his head.
Kakuzu smirked. "You liked her that much, huh?"
"Heh." The masked man sneered before leaving, disappearing into the shadows of the surroundings rocks.
Hidan stood there for a few minutes, letting the blood dry on his skin and flake off in the cool breeze. When he was relatively dry again, he reached down and wrapped the girl in his cloak, folding her stainless cardigan and placing it over her chest.
He rifled through her purse till he found some I.D., pausing when he raised it before his eyes.
She didn't live too far from here.
Once he'd returned to the Akatsuki headquarters, nobody bothered asking him why he was covered in blood or why his cloak was missing. Returning in such a state had become a regular occurrence for Hidan and the others knew better than to question him about it.
He showered for nearly an hour, scalding his skin in an effort to remove all the blood.
Hidan hadn't been lying. He didn't enjoy getting to know innocent young girls and then killing them afterwards. He didn't enjoy thinking about what went through their minds right before they died. He hated that maddening feeling of discomfort that came after every sacrifice.
But he was rewarded consolation for his efforts. In the end, it would only take him a few hours of fervent praying and clutching his rosary to remind him that he'd done them all a favour. He took their lives when they were still clean, still pure—still eligible for paradise.
Leaving them alive would have worsened their chances, would have allowed them to grow old and make mistakes.
So in a way, he'd saved her.
In a way, that had been a lucky day for them both.
And in a way, that had been God's reward to her for being such a good girl.
Hidan sighed in relief at the thought, thankful as he kissed the rosary before setting it down on his bedside table. When he laid down to sleep, his eyes remained bright before closing and his lips donned that guileless smile until morning.
And they had all wondered how a grown man could look so angelic.
Note: If you couldn't tell, the girl in the fic was an OC. I figured most of you wouldn't mind since she...well, dies. (coughs) Anyway, reviews would be wonderful!