My first Naruto fic. Please be kind to it. Or stab it and kill it. But i'll ignore you if you do. XP It's probably super inconsistant with canon, too, but I'm not trying to be consistant. I just wanted to write a sort of half-alternate universe type thing. I might continue it. Might not.
I don't own NARUTO or HIDAN but he's a sexy darling anyway. :D
Silent footfalls padded along the dirt. A wooden patio loomed; a careful leather boot touched the first step. Weight was applied to the step, and the old boards creaked. The dark figure froze. Then it carefully stepped up to the second step. Another creak, but still no sound from the dark interior of the house. The figure padded across the splintery patio. The old wood groaned, but such was the figure's skill that the sound was no more that a tree in the wind would make. The figure approached the paper door, and slid it open expertly, lifting it slightly so it would not catch. Inside the house, it was dark and small. Only dark forms could be made out in the gloom. The dark shadow slipped inside. A small cot was tucked in the corner. Someone was breathing quietly on it. The shadow glanced out the window. The sky was slowly turning from black to dark purple; the job must be swift. They padded over to the cot. The moonlight struck across the pale face there, silver hair in disarray.
He was younger than the assassin had expected; closer to his own age.
But, no matter. Young as he was, this teenager posed a high threat to the nation, and had to be…disposed of.
The assassin slowly extracted a glittering katana from its sheath, and raised it over the sleeping teen.
The katana went up, and then swung swiftly, lethally, down. A dull thrack and the white cot was suddenly drenched in scarlet.
The assassin took three deep breaths to calm his beating heart. Had he succeeded? Where so many others had failed?
The silver haired head suddenly rolled over on its side, so the closed eyelids were facing the assassin. A cold tremble rattled through his body; what was this feeling?
The lids snapped open, revealing alert mauve eyes that were very much alive.
The assassin froze in shock. What!?
The eyes glittered. The next motion was swift and sure; the hands of the corpse reached out and snatched the forehead protector lying by the cot. They expertly wrapped the band tightly around the neck stump and what was left of the neck attached to the head. The man sat up. He cracked his neck slightly, and then began to laugh, an insane laugh that seemed to strike through the trembling boy beside the cot. A long, triple bladed scythe was lying beside the cot; an arm reached down and grasped it. The scythe swung around fast, cleaving the assassin's own head off. The body collapsed to the floor, blood streaming everywhere.
"Not so durable, eh?" the teen murmured, and then the manic laughter began again, echoing through the dawn that was sneaking over the hills.
Hidan of Yugakure laughed wildly.
Murmurs. Discontented murmurs. People glared but turned away, so as to hide their faces. Expressions of fear flitted through eyes, and hair swung down to conceal gazes.
The tall silver haired boy strode through the market square, looking straight ahead, ignoring the glances his way. A thin chain swung around his neck, a silver circle with a triangle inside hanging from it. The long triple scythe was gripped in his hand. He smiled with good humor, though the smile didn't even come close to touching his eyes. A dangerous smile.
Suddenly, the smile slid off his face. A dark look came into his eyes. He strode past a group of people chattering by a stall, sending death glares at them.
Fire country people.
Fire country tourists.
Hidan growled obscenities under his breath and scowled. He made his way to the edge of the square, where the woods began to take over, past the hot springs, and into the forest. He followed no trail, merely memory of where he was going. Finally, a tiny clearing glimmered ahead. Hidan strode into it. It was deep in the wood, where the trees grew so thickly ahead that hardly any light got through. A large symbol identical to the one around his neck was inscribed deeply in the hard dirt. A large flat stone was in the centre of it, the lines of the triangle ran over it where they had been interrupted.
Hidan slowly slid off his shirt and jacket, and walked over to the stone. He lay down in the centre. The scythe was next to him. Grinning with anticipation, he lifted a kunai from his belt, and raised it above his chest.
"Jashin." He murmured, and plunged the kunai straight down into his heart.
Blood ran down all sides of the rock, soaking into the ground below. The mutilated torso of Hidan was flattened on the stone, the triple bladed scythe stabbed into his chest. His bloody hands gripped the handle tightly. He was breathing hard and laughing. His usually immaculately slicked back hair was in disarray, strands falling down over his eyes.
A kunai clattered to the stone. Hidan picked it up with a shaking hand and wiped it off on his pants. However, they were so blood soaked that it did nothing, and he opted to drop it to the ground. Hidan fell back onto the stone, and gazed at the tree cover blearily. A red glow seemed to smear his vision. He heard everything as though pressing his ear to a wall. His brown eyes flickered, his grip on the scythe loosened. Hidan weakly tugged at the weapon, managing to extract it from his chest. "Hahaha…" he gasped, as red-hot wires seemed to shoot through him, "Pain…Jashin! So…fucking…good…" And with that sentiment, he fell into unconsciousness.
"Another one? You are joking."
"No, no. He's got the head on a stake in his front yard. You can go see, but I warn ya, it's a bit gory…"
"Ahhh…I believe you. But…this is the third one this month, right? He's gotta get outta here! He's a danger to the village!"
"I agree. But it's not like we can do anything…he would kill us."
"Do you know that religion he practices preaches total disregard for human life?"
"Yeah. And supposedly it requires regular sacrifice in order for him to retain his immortality…"
"What does he do when he wanders off? He always comes back covered in blood…"
"He's hardly human anymore…"
Hidan scrubbed once more at the second blade of the scythe, making sure it was absolutely perfect before moving onto the second blade. When he had waked on the rock he had been too tired to clean it. He had dragged himself home; ignoring awkward glances at his blood soaked state; and had only the strength to dispose of the corpse of the assassin that he had forgotten about already. He had found the head on the stake pleasing; it sent a nice message to any other would-be killers.
That had been yesterday.
He examined his reflection in the shining blade, and, finding it satisfactory, began work on the third one. As he worked, he hummed an austere hymn that sounded like a funeral march. It was Hidan's favorite Jashin hymn, and it made him feel good about life in general. He was immortal! He had a god that loved him! He was strong! He was devastatingly sexy! Ah, what else could a guy ask for? His head was still being held on by his forehead protector, but it would heal in a few days, and hey, the forehead protector looked even better around his neck than on his head, in Hidan's opinion.
The blade glimmered. Hidan turned it this way and that, admiring its sheen. "Lovely," he said, to himself. "Fucking lovely."
He gently -lovingly, almost- placed the scythe against the wall, making sure it was within reaching distance. He needed to be able to grab it at anytime. Hidan fingered his pendant, rubbing the silver metal until it shone, too.
He had taken a thorough wash, and had returned his hair to its normal state of perfection.
(The sun is shining, the tank is clean, and we are-THE TANK IS CLEAN!!!)
The sun was shining brightly, and Hidan could hear crickets chirping in the long grass outside his window. Just because Hidan was a foul-mouthed masochistic zealot with a thing for heads on stakes didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a nice day.
Hidan sighed in content. He was just laying back to rest after the other day's particularly brutal self-inflicted pain, when there came a light but authorative knock on the door.
Hidan's good temper disappeared a blinking. He hated visitors. Especially when they were sure to be people complaining about his, colourful, outdoors décor.
He reluctantly dragged himself to the door and opened it. The people standing on the porch confirmed his dread. The village elders; the ruling council of Yugakure.
Hidan scowled. "Yes?"
"We have come on account of your behavior, Hidan," the leading elder, Raikashi said, sternly. "Your stalking from the forest covered in blood is scaring a lot of people, visitors included. We demand you put a stop to your…rituals."
Hidan looked incredulously at Raikashi for a moment, then began to laugh. Not a happy laugh, but not the mad, insane laugh he had displayed during his Jashin ritual, either. An angry laugh. "You want…me to stop my rituals? Raikashi-sama I'm sorry, but that is absolutely impossible! Why do you even want tourists…here?"
Raikashi glowered. "The tourists bring the badly needed money. Money we weren't getting when this was a ninja village."
Hidan's eyes flashed.
"Oh, I know your opinion about the tourists, Hidan," Raikashi continued, quietly, "but Yugakure is no longer a shinobi village. Those days have gone."
Hidan clenched his fist. His mauve eyes glittered. For a moment, it seemed he was going to strike Raikashi. But then his fist relaxed and he averted his gaze. The other elders relaxed as well. They had been unsure of how Hidan would react to this.
"Very well," the immortal said, coolly. "I understand your request." He nodded to the elders, and retreated within the house, closing the sliding door behind him.
Raikashi felt slightly conned. Hidan hadn't actually promised anything…he shrugged. "Well, I suppose we must wait, and watch," he said, gloomily.
When Hidan was sure that the elders had gone, his weak, underused self control snapped. He picked up the first thing he could reach –it happened to be a shuriken he had been meaning to sharpen- and flung it with all his furious energy at the wall. It thudded and, dull as it was, embedded itself in the beam. Hidan gripped at his hair and sank to the ground, pressing his face into the woven rug to stifle the obscenities that he was screaming.
"Fucking shit! Fucking fucking fucking tourists!!!"
Hidan, remaining bent over, reached out and grabbed for his scythe. His hand curled around the blade. He whipped it around, and plunged all three blades into his chest. The pain momentarily took his breath away, and Hidan gasped. He pulled the kunai from his belt and furiously chopped at his forearms, viciously slitting and reslitting them, until he began feeling dizzy from bloodloss.
"Ah…" Hidan guessed maybe he had gone a little overboard. He had still not fully healed from yesterday…he tried to stand up and failed. "Jashin dammit," he muttered, before lapsing into unconsciousness.
Blood. Hmm. Hidan rolled onto his side, and spit the blood out of his mouth, letting it mix with the scarlet that was painting the room. "Uhhh…" He tried to sit up, but then quickly abandoned it as he nearly fainted. "Aw shit…"
He must have really done it, this time…if he hadn't been so fucking mad yesterday he wouldn't have done all that. He glanced down at his tattered wrists. "Fucking Hell!" he yelped. Damn, he had never actually exposed bone before…or at least not that much. Hidan attempted to wrench the scythe from his chest, but his damaged arms were having none of it. The immortal lay there on the blood soaked floor, and tried to figure out what to do next.
An hour later, Hidan had managed to extract all instruments of torture from his body, and had then fell back into his state of ecstatic pain. He had also crawled around the room painting a Jashin circle around the room with his own blood, so that he could justify the intense pain he was feeling as 'religious'.
As the infallible body began reproducing the blood it had lost, and the long jagged rips in his flesh began sealing together, Hidan started to be able to think more clearly. And, to his anger and misery, he found that he had given up. There was no point anymore; Raikashi was not going to change his mind, Hidan realized. Yugakure was no longer a shinobi village. It would never again be a shinobi village. A scream of frustration escaped his lips.
So if Yugakure was going to…
Hidan didn't even want to think about it.
But if…then there was no reason for him to stay here anymore…
A groan. Leave…? Well, it was the only thing left to do wasn't it? But Yugakure…
Hidan blinked and shook his head. And then immediately wished he hadn't, because his skull immediately felt like it was being split open. But, was he, he, Hidan, being sentimental? About Yugakure, a village that had betrayed it's calling? Had betrayed him?
Another woozy spasm came over him, and Hidan felt himself begin to lose consciousness. His last sensible thought was leaving is the only last thing I don't need to do-wait, I mean need to…do…
And even that didn't make much sense, out of context, at least.
Morning light streamed through the windows, dust sparkled as it floated gently around the room.
Black, dried blood coated everything, including the still form lying on the floor. The form stirred. The blood cracked.
Hidan sat up. He examined himself; most of his wounds had healed, save a few really deep ones from the scythe, but that was alright. When he loosened his head protector around his neck, he found that his neck was alright again, except for a thin scar that would fade. He jumped up and stretched. He ignored to bloodied state of the room –it would be a nice surprise of Raikashi when he came to investigate Hidan's disappearance. Instead, he ran a bath and got to work cleaning himself off, scrubbing blood from his hair to return it from red to silver, and getting dried gore out from under his fingernails. ("Fucking guts! Get out! Dammit! Dammit!")
When finally all traces of offal, blood, etc. had been removed with a vicious wash cloth, Hidan toweled himself down carefully and pulled on his clothes. He then spent about an hour scrubbed and buffing his scythe, and several kunai and shuriken that he thought he might need. He special ritual needles were safely bundled into a pouch at his waist, along with some food Hidan had thought to take along. Hidan was just about to leave, when he noticed his forehead protector lying discarded in a corner. Hidan scooped it up and gazed at it.
Did he want this? It symbolized him a shinobi of Yugakure…he was the only one in the village who still wore one. He was about to fling it aside in disgust, when a thought struck him. He picked out a kunai and slowly, lovingly, scored a deep line through the three diagonal lines on the metal plate; the symbol of Yugakure ninja.
Then he tied the cloth around his neck loosely, and strapped his scythe to his back.
Hidan, formerly of Yugakure, left his home forever.
Finding Nemo? Oh, I had to go there. Oh yes I did! Thanks for reading! hope you liked...