Tin God

By: firefly

Note: WTF. For the first time in my life, I included freakin' politics in my fic. But yeah, this is my take on how Hidan became a missing-nin. He's so fun to write, my God. XD

Reviews would be love!

Also, Hidan is around 12 to 13 years old in this fic.

Tin God

Hidan hated the shinobi academy. Moreover, he hated his entire village.

Besides the Jashin monks he resided with, he had no friends. Propaganda comprised half the village's literary works, the academy was more of a military training camp than a school, the smiles he saw were so saccharine and fake they made him ill, the work was tedious and pointless, and worst of all; the school and every other institution in the village were strictly secular.

There was no mention of God in the texts, no symbols of religious persuasion donning the multi-coloured walls, and absolutely no prayer.

God was virtually considered illegal.

It was the military that garnered the reverence, and it was the military that every student, including him, was being prepped for inside an academy classroom.

Hidan felt detached, sitting at his desk with his hands covering his face, staring through his fingers at the ridiculous woman he called his teacher at the front of the class. The rosary concealed beneath his shirt pressed into his flesh, cold and hard as he leaned onto the desk and stared appraisingly at his teacher.

"So if you see someone in need, it's your duty as a citizen of this village to help," the teacher said cheerfully, eyes bright and lips stretched into an impossibly wide, wan smile.

"Tell me, class, what could you do to help?"

A pig-tailed girl raised her hand eagerly in the front.

"If the enemy is someone below genin level, you can use kunai and shuriken to stop them."

The teacher nodded enthusiastically, eyes glittering and curls bouncing.

"Excellent! And what if the assaulter is above genin level?"

"Then you call on someone to help," a boy answered across the room. "Like a chunnin or jounin."

"Very good! Now, who can tell me where the vital areas are?"

Hidan felt the corners of his lips quirk, his smile resembling a grimace as the class eagerly began reciting the vital body parts they'd memorized for homework the night before.

Idiots, he thought inwardly, eyeing the smiling, happy faces of the students with disgust. Don't you know what they're doing?

This is How to Kill: 101 pretending to be a self-defense class. This is you being honed into a soldier so they can use you. This is them signing you off to die. Can't you see that, you morons?

"Hidan-kun?" the teacher's dulcet voice called.

He lifted his violet eyes, staring unblinkingly at her through his fingers.

"Can you tell me what you should do if you're captured and interrogated?"

Hidan slowly lowered his hands, staring at her as the rest of the class turned their heads to look at him, biting their lips to refrain from answering for him.

What do you want me to say? He asked her silently, transfixed by her wide, red smile. That I should keep my silence and wait for help to arrive? Please. What happily-ever-after shinobi life-story did you read?

"Let me give you a hint," the teacher said, when he didn't reply. "The answer involves your friends."

You want me to keep my silence as they torture me, and wait for assistance from backup that has a 12 percent chance of arriving in time before they kill me. Is that what you want?

"Come on," the teacher said softly, voice coaxing. "I know you know the answer, Hidan-kun."

He licked his lips, tilting his chair back on its back legs and smiling complacently.

"I leave it in God's hands," he answered. " I pray."

Her smile faltered in the slightest. An eerie hush fell over the room.

I can see your brain working, Hidan thought, unperturbed by the students' shocked stares, his gaze focused on his teacher. You're thinking of correcting me in the least offensive way possible, aren't you?

Her smile stretched back to its normal length, brown curls bobbing gently as she nodded.

"Sure," she answered sweetly. "Sure you can, Hidan-kun. But if you want to give me an answer according to what you read in your textbook, what would it be?"

"I didn't read it," he replied with a sneer. "Because it's bullshit."

The other students looked appalled at his answer.

If possible, the teacher's smile became even more sickeningly sweet as she slowly approached him, bending down to his level with her hands pressed against her knees.

"Hidan-kun," she said softly, her floral perfume encircling him like a miasma. "Would you like to spend a little time out in the hallway?"

"I would," he replied, staring directly at her. "But I'd like to ask you a question first."

"Oh?" she asked, raising her thin eyebrows. "What would you like to know?"

"If I was captured and chose to wait for my friends, what would happen if they couldn't come for me?"

"Oh, Hidan-kun," she cooed, resting a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way he recoiled. "You must be optimistic! Of course your friends would come save you. They're your friends, after all."

"I'm being realistic," he said flatly, giving her a contemptuous look. "Seriously, I'd have a 12 percent chance of surviving if the situation involved two or more captors of jounin rank. If my friends couldn't get to me on time—oh, let's say because they were intercepted, then what would happen if I died?"

"The village would honour you as a hero," one of the boys said hesitantly in the back, answering for her. "Your sacrifice would be seen as civic duty."

"Ohh, civic duty…" Hidan echoed ponderously, his tone mocking. "Then what?"

The teacher blinked, seemingly not understanding.

"What happens to you after you die?"

She laughed.

"No one knows the answer to that, Hidan-kun."

He nodded slowly, leaning forward.

"I do," he said softly. "I know that after you die, there's judgment."

"Hidan-kun," the teacher cocked her head slightly to the side, her simpering tone now patronizing.

"Not everyone shares in your beliefs."

He nodded again, smirking.

"And that's why I feel sorry for you, sensei."

This time, she didn't bother with a reply. Still smiling, she straightened and headed back to the front of the class. Hidan followed her with his eyes, his smirk widening.

"So, civic duty, huh?" he said loudly. "Is that what we are? Sacrificial lambs? And you," he said with a laugh. "What are you? The shepherd?"

"Hidan-kun," she said lightly. "Please be quiet and let me continue with the lesson."

"No," he said resolutely, eyes alight as he stood up, placing his hands on his desk.

"Hidan-kun, would you like me to call the headmaster?"

"Hey, hey, watch your tone with me, sensei. Three years from now, I'm going to die on a mission while waiting for my friends to arrive, and when they do arrive, they'll find my head on a pike." His breathing quickened, and he smiled uncontrollably as the students paled.

"Then they'll take my head back to the village, stick it in the ground, and call me a hero. I'll be a hero, all right? So watch your goddamn tone."

"Hidan," one of the boys said angrily from the front. "Why don't you just leave?"

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up?" Hidan snapped back.

"There is nothing wrong with being a hero, Hidan-kun," the teacher said calmly from the front, eyes cold despite her smile. "People consider it an honour."

"Oh yeah," he nodded. "Honour will do me plenty good when I'm dead. Just admit it; this is military training. At least stop pretending."

"Pretending?" she echoed innocently. "No one is pretending, here."

"Seriously?" Hidan gasped in mock surprise, eyes widening as he pressed his hand to his chest. "You mean to tell me your little sermons were real? You expect people to take you seriously? I'm so, so, sorry."

"There's no need to be mocking, Hidan-kun."

"Oh, but I have to be. I have to be mocking," he said breathlessly, his pale cheeks flushed. "I have to be mocking when you pretend it's okay to die for a village that won't pray for you."

"Not everyone shares the same beliefs as you, Hidan-kun."

"True, and I just don't happen to share your belief in going through life shitting rainbows and puking pretty lies."

"Who's lying, Hidan-kun?"

He blinked, closing his mouth as she stared at him expectantly. Silently, he straightened, arms hanging listlessly by his sides as he tilted his head slightly, eyeing her contemplatively.

The room was silent for a moment.

"You're telling the truth?" he asked suddenly, eyes searching. "You're telling me the truth, sensei?"

"Of course I am," she said softly, her smile returning at his question. "Hidan-kun, you can trust me."

"I can trust you," he echoed, lowering his eyes. "Okay."

Then someone screamed.

Hidan's books flew off his desk. Papers scattered and cascaded through the air as he flipped his desk, the wood shattering from the force of impact as it collided with the floor.

The teacher was still staring at where he once stood, wide eyes following the sheets of paper spiraling through the air, even as the side of her face was being forced against her desk.

The students stood in alarm, some of them shouting, but Hidan merely waved his kunai in warning, the weapon's presence enough to dissuade them from attempting escape.

"Truth, sensei?" he said airily, tightening his hold on the fistful of brown, scented hair, forcing the side of her face against the surface of the desk.

Her eyes widened further when he lowered the tip of the sharp kunai into her field of vision, swinging it tauntingly.

"I could make you a hero right now," he said softly. "Easily. I just have to cut off your head."

Someone sobbed in the back of the class.

"Don't do this, Hidan-kun," she whispered, wide eyes focused on the sharp blade. "Don't ruin your life."

"Don't ruin my life? How much life do I have left to ruin? In three years I'll be out on a mission that'll end my life. You just want me to remain eligible for recruitment."

"No," she whispered, mind racing. "Hidan-kun, let's talk about this."

"We are talking, you idiot."

"No, no, like civilized people, Hidan-kun. What you're doing is not civilized," she choked.

He relaxed his grip slightly, tone contemplative.

"Civilized…? Sensei, didn't you say dying for our village is regarded as civic duty? If I killed you now…" he lowered his head, lips parting near her ear.

"I could make you a hero."

She couldn't think of a response to that, her throat constricting in fear as his grip tightened again.

"If I killed you right now…me—the mentally disturbed delinquent, you—the loving teacher and patriot…wouldn't they hail you as a hero?" he asked innocently. "Wouldn't they commemorate you as an honourable woman, one who died in her line of duty? Wouldn't that be an honour, sensei?"

"Please don't do this," she choked, catching her reflection in the blade, watching her mascara run down her cheeks and collect in a black puddle beneath her cheek.

"Why are you afraid?" he asked, moving the knife back and forth slowly, showing her a reflection of her terrified face. "Isn't that what we're all aiming for? To die as heroes? Don't you want that?"

"No," she gasped, nails scraping feebly against the desk, feeling her heart race against the wooden surface. "I don't want to die."

"Then you weren't telling the truth, were you?" he asked calmly, tone reprimanding. "You lied to me, sensei."

She closed her eyes, unable to answer as the tears ran freely down her face.

"I hate this place," he suddenly whispered, his voice laced with venom. "I hate its people, I hate its practices, and I hate its values. But most of all, I hate its lack of faith. People need God, sensei, not patriotism. Dying with honour isn't enough, because honour is worth jack shit when it comes to the final judgment.

"But then," Hidan suddenly laughed. "You don't share my beliefs, do you? And that's a pity, sensei. That's a damn shame."

"Let me go, please…"

"I don't think I want to. I've had enough of this village, sensei. You'll help me escape it, won't you?"

A sense of foreboding rose within her, bile flooding her mouth as he tapped a finger against her temple.

"With your sacrifice," he murmured. "You accomplish the shinobi dream. You become a hero. And me, I become a missing-nin."


She stopped, the rest of her voice drowned out by the loud thunk of the kunai piercing the table. Someone screamed, long and loud, and slowly the classroom came to life, each of its occupants standing and screaming, their voices rising into a deafening cacophony of noise.

She couldn't move. Lowering her eyes, she felt her throat grow inexplicably hot, noticing a dark puddle spreading beneath her head and soaking into her scented, curly hair.

The blood reached the end of the desk and dripped onto the clean white tiles, and the stark contrast of red on white sent her reeling. As she felt herself losing consciousness, he released her hair and his grip on the kunai, which held fast and kept her pinned to the table, embedded through her neck.

She saw the students fleeing the room, heard the screaming fading down the empty hall, and could do nothing but gurgle in her throat as Hidan circled the table to stand in front of her, kneeling down to eye level and putting his hands on his knees.

He smiled.

"Congratulations, sensei. You've accomplished the shinobi dream. The village will honour you and call you a hero, and probably carve your name into a rock somewhere."

He laughed.

"Isn't that awesome?"

She watched him blink a few times, seeing herself in his violet irises. Her tongue felt like a lead weight in her mouth, body growing inexplicably numb.

"But hey," he murmured, tilting his slightly to the side, his smile guileless and innocent. "I won't forget you. You've done more for me than you can imagine, sensei. You've freed me from this hellhole, and for that…"

He leaned forward, pressing the pendant of his rosary against her forehead, kissing her clammy, white skin.

"I'll pray for you," he whispered.

She blinked hazily, tasting blood as she soundlessly moved her lips, staring after his retreating back as he placed his rosary around his neck. He turned at the open window, his outline blurry and grey.

She was just able to see him wave goodbye before the classroom faded to black.