Prize ficlet for gravegonecold on deviantart for winning my contest :D go to my dA to check out all pictures.
In a way, Kakuzu had always known that he and Hidan would end up meeting again. Somehow, he had also known that it would not be pleasant.
He would have felt a bit smugger about having been right if he didn't have a gun pointed to his forehead though.
Kakuzu hadn't changed that much. They had last seen each other on the day of their final exams, which Hidan had failed. Kakuzu had passed with the best marks in their entire grade. Even so, Kakuzu's appearance had become more mature, manlier, but his attitude and personality had not changed.
He was still the kid who broke out – the kid who left that shitty part of town where children were not allowed to play outside. The kid with the scholarship who took his fate in his own hands. The only difference was his body and his university degree in business – and all the money in his bank account.
But looking at Hidan, he wondered if it was the same for him. Was he still the same as back then? The kid with the big mouth who came crying to Kakuzu when something didn't succeed?
One thing was certain: Hidan's appearance had matured. Instead of shaggy silver hair, he had slicked it back now, and instead of ripped jeans and bright t-shirts, he was now wearing designer jeans and an expensive-looking brown leather jacket. His eyes were concealed by sunglasses and he had a cigarette hanging from his lips.
Kakuzu wondered how much this new look reflected his personality.
Kakuzu and Hidan; that's who they had been - the genius and the psycho. They had grown up next to each other, their mothers had gone grocery shopping together all the time, and their fathers shared beer. Even though Kakuzu and Hidan had always fought and claimed to hate each other, they had been, in a very screwed up way – best friends.
Or, well, at least Kakuzu had considered them that. As much as Hidan annoyed him, in the end, he was lonely without him and ended up missing him. And Hidan had confided in Kakuzu – Kakuzu still clearly remembered the day Hidan told him that he dreamt of getting out of that part of town and make it big somehow.
But that was the difference between them: Hidan dreamt of breaking out. Kakuzu broke out. Hidan threatened to punch someone – Kakuzu punched someone. Hidan was all hat and no cattle – Kakuzu let actions speak rather than words.
"So after 15 years, we meet again…" Hidan took a drag of his cigarette, gun still pointed at Kakuzu's forehead. The bastard wasn't even looking – he seemed more interested in flicking his cigarette away, right onto the expensive carpet of Kakuzu's office. He was so going to pay for that.
"Why did you break into my office?"
"My boss doesn't like your business too much. Hates it, even. It's a fucking thorn in his side, seriously."
And the moment he heard Hidan falling into his usual speech pattern – the way he had already talked as a young teen – Kakuzu knew that Hidan had not changed. There was no need for him to take action; a false promise, a bit of intimidation, and Hidan would let him go.
Hidan watched his cigarette burn into the carpet, a small smirk playing around his mouth. Kakuzu hadn't changed at all; even with a gun pointed at his head, he showed no sign of fear. But during the last 15 years, Hidan had learnt that showing fear could sometimes spare his life.
Originally, his order had only been to warn Kakuzu, to tell him to give up his business, and if he did not cooperate, to beat him up a little. When Hidan redirected the gun to Kakuzu's shoulder and pulled the trigger, his only thought was "Fuck orders".
Life had screwed him over. His best friend had, fully well knowing his dream of breaking out, abandoned him. Kakuzu had never even said he wanted to get out. Hidan couldn't even understand which pissed him off more – having been left behind or his own envy.
Watching Kakuzu stagger and clutch his shoulder in pain was so absolutely satisfying. Hidan couldn't help it; he had to laugh. He knew the pain and he had come to cherish it for all it reminded him of; it effectively silenced emotional pain.
He remembered each and every time – the broken ribs when he was used as a drug courier, the knives piercing his skin as he got tortured when an opposing organisation had captured him, the bullets in his body after an encounter with the police – so many injuries, so many scars, so many stories.
He was still laughing when he pushed Kakuzu to the ground and straddled him. Using his gun, he nudged away Kakuzu's hand from the wound.
He loved it. He loved the blood, the colour and smell of it, and the pain it inflicted on Kakuzu. He loved the way Kakuzu tried so hard not to show it – one of Kakuzu's hands was trembling slightly, but his face looked almost impassive.
Hidan dipped his index finger in the blood and proceeded to draw on Kakuzu's cheek with it – a triangle in a circle. He chuckled, the pitch of his voice rising. "You haven't changed at all, Kakuzu. Still the same high and mighty bastard… But me, I'm not the same anymore. I've changed."
His laughing stopped at once and he whipped up the gun, pressing the muzzle of his gun against Kakuzu's forehead again. "My order was to convince you of closing your business, but fuck the order. The boss knows I can't stand leaving people alive. Especially you… I had to wait for this moment way too long, seriously."
Kakuzu still had the nerve to smirk, even though his body made it obvious that he was in pain. "You talk the talk, but can you walk the walk? You haven't changed at all, Hidan, and we both know that you're not going to kill me."
Hidan pulled the trigger.