Disclaimer: The characters, items, places etc of Naruto are property of Masashi Kishimoto. These objects are used without permission for entertainment only, not for making money. No infringement is intended.

Warning- language and religious talk. This is Hidan, after all. I hope you enjoy it :)


By Nanaki Lioness

Every morning, Hidan endured the same taunts as he set about his morning ritual, stabbing himself gladly and bathing in the pain safe in the awareness Jashin was watching- Jashin was always watching, but those other assholes had to watch to. They were the ones with the problem, not him. The comrade mocking him changed each time, but the message was still the same- you fool, what a waste of energy, why are you devoting so much energy to something that isn't real?

Kakuzu was occasionally watch, simply staring and sighing irritably as Hidan absorbed himself in his passion, occasionally muttering about blood stains on the carpet. Hidan didn't give a shit about blood stains on the fucking carpet because he was Hidan, and rituals aside he wouldn't have cared anyway.

Sometimes it was Deidara, giving him a scornful look and a flick of his head as he observed the messy ceremony with tapered eyes that clearly spoke volumes- he wasn't the crazy one in the organisation after all. Sometimes it was Itachi, simply observing impassively as he did everything else before quietly leaving the room. Sometimes Zetsu would materialise at the scent of blood, sometimes Tobi would frantically attempt to reason with him- it didn't matter which bastard it was, they all held the same opinion.

Jashinism didn't exist in their worlds. It made Hidan appallingly sad to learn he was alone in his opinion, but he was soothed by the knowledge he wasn't ever truly alone because he had Jashin.

Once his ritual was complete and he had pulled various sharp objects from his drained body, he would retire to his room and lay on the bed, bleeding crimson into the sheets with his necklace in his hand as he simply stared at the cracks in the ceiling and smiled wickedly at the invading thoughts of Jashin. He let them enter; willingly opening the door to greet them- Jashin was always welcome to infect his very being, after all.

One thought was very unwelcome and he always tried to shut it out, but sometimes it crept in and inhabited him until he killed something in a rage to rid it. What if Jashin didn't exist? Then what?

He held the necklace up to the sky before letting it drop carelessly down to his chest, clasping at the air above him instead. Jashinism was a security blanket- it was where he turned in times of trouble and he felt misplaced without its warm, protective layering surrounding his soul. Exposed- vulnerable and needy, like a lost child wandering the store searching for Mother, only this parent demanded worship (though perhaps real Mother had earned it too) and sacrifice that he was happy to give.

"Jashin," he murmured, but the word was could be construed as empty. How could he call a name that didn't exist? The name itself existed else it wouldn't have fallen from his tongue, smooth as silk as the syllables fitted themselves around his tone effortlessly. "Jashin," he repeated languidly, wanting to sense, to taste, to experience that feeling once more.

His fingers continued to clasp the air, searching, grabbing, needing to touch something- something that would make everything alright again and fill the aching hole he hadn't realised was there until the idea behind his faith had been cruelly ripped from him momentarily by his traitorous mind. Faith should be unshakable- was he a heathen, now?

He clenched the air determinedly, balling his fist in resolution. They were wrong- that was the answer. How could a force that seemed so true be false? They were the heretics; they were the misguided atheist scum who were simply condemned to Hell. He'd still be going to meet Jashin himself and be seated by his side to laugh for eternity at the cretins below, and that was the most important thing.

He slipped quickly off the bed and opened the door, leaning out into the hallway. "Fucking heretics!" He howled coldly, hearing his own voice echoing off the walls and revelling in it. "You atheist bastards! You laugh now you fucking jerks but you won't be laughing when I'm with Jashin and you're burning in Hell!" He paused, a manic grin twisting the edge of his lips. "I should just kill you all right now!"

He laughed loudly at his own joke- if it was indeed a joke, since he wasn't so sure anymore- before retreating back into the room, hand mechanically tightening around his necklace once more.

He was Hidan- staunchly determined and absolutely fucking fanatical, but that was alright with him. Jashin would be right by his side every zealous step of the way.