Title: Those who never knew spring
Characters: Hidan, Yugito, Kakuzu
Words: 585
Summary: The trio stays at a tiny village. Lots of unwanted quietude.
One
Something was buzzing in the air, the world suddenly warm and full of life, water evaporating from the soil.
She enjoyed the coming of spring, how the first plants surfaced, lush, tender green, romantic reminiscence. The fields pastel-coloured, bleached by pale light, the grass dead and the trees still naked. Everything seemed bright after those endless days of dark and damp. The weather had kept them off the road for some time, rain and storm restraining even her partners.
The village was rural, people eying them somewhere between wariness and curiosity. Simple lives full of work, oil lamps in low houses, roofs tiled with black shale.
Hidan was sprawled out next to her, cloak gone, shirtless, not minding the cold, laying flat on the ground, staring upwards.
She wished he would go, because he was really close to where she sat, touching in places, her skin feeling like she was going to get rashes there the next day. As if burned, her mind wandering, not at all alone with her thoughts.
Of course he didn't. His nature as bold and agonizing as ever.
As his arm came around her waist she tried to push him away, attempted to get some distance – how minimal it might be - between their bodies.
A scrabbling fight, short and meaningless.
"Aren't you freezing anyways?" She growled it, thread half-hidden, not that she could fulfil it and he knew it.
"It never gets this warm where I come from, or maybe in summer, sometimes." He laughed without opening his eyes, the sun surely shining through the lids, orange and calm. "Imagine, people would call this a darn hot day."
They fell silent, sun-drenched, his weight leaden on her, birds singing. Stillness flooded with light.
Two
The silence bored Hidan, the man not born for serenity and rest. He stalked around the village, pestered the inhabitants, stomped across the fields, people clamouring wherever he went.
She found her own paths, strolled around, crossed through the hills, her hair tangled. Some strange icon, patron saint of descending ghosts and tepid air. She felt the cat nudge at her soul, vivid here among the young weeds.
It was one of those days when she watched them fight from afar, the dispute quick, their voices unrecognisable against the wind.
The smaller man was furious, she could tell. The other somber and unmovable as stone.
More words, this time almost catching her ear, a struggle, the white figure pushed way, hitting the ground then catching itself.
Hidan turned away, apparently humiliated, silent in too many ways not natural for him, insufferable, she the one destined to find that out.
Three
The next day Kakuzu bought them horses.
The villagers seemed glad to have them gone, sticking their heads out of their houses, small children taken by the hand, huge-eyed, watching the bohemian that was so much taller and darker than their parents.
The mounts were hardy, hazelnut coloured with long tangled manes. The kind of beast bred for hard work, their fur smooth, strong heartbeat underneath.
She could feel it as she laid her hand on their flanks.
Hidan swung himself on the animal's back, proud, annoyed and swearing.
One of the beasts shied away as Kakuzu neared himself, terrified, eyes rolling, rearing up but not quite. He reached upward, gripped the reins, pulled down, hard. The horse shook, legs moving frantically.
After he had bestridden it, the creature stepped delicately, tread careful. Kept at bay, obedient. Just like them.