AN: This is my first attempt at Naruto fanfiction, and my first attempt at writing in half a year. Comments and critique would be greatly appreciated.
Title: A Circle of Blood
Publication Date: 5.29.07
Author: Ejunknown
Summary: Naruto one shot about Hidan's past. Contains slight spoilers for those who haven't read manga chapter 323. Rated teen for slight gore. He didn't understand.
The crackle of thunder echoed around the room, the residue flash glinting dully off the shimmer of metal all around. Quiet followed, the deep sigh of a last breath slowly fading into nothing. Another flash revealed the litter of bodies scattering the floor. No more sound. The silence of the dead.
Time passed. A shattered gasp broke the silence. In the corner a shadow moved, revealing itself in the moonlight as a figure, blood dripping from his mouth, face scrunched up in pain. Putting one hand behind him, slipping slightly on the blood, he pushed himself to his feet, and stared at those who lay around him. Raising his pale hands and blindly clasping them together in front of him, he slowly dragged them up his chest, stopping with a jerk as they were reached the weapon jutting out of his chest. He stared down at it dumbly, the gleaming metal reflecting the light of the pale moon, gaining a reddish tint as the blood ran down the handle. His blood. Gripping what he could see in both hands, he tugged, becoming panicked as he tried to remember what was happening. Pain radiated through him, sinking into every cell and building up until, with a scream of agony, he finally managed to remove the weapon. Collapsing backwards onto the cold hard floor, he lay still, breathing raggedly, before lifting his hand weakly. His fingers, pale and cold, were wrapped around a pike.
Eyes widening, he glanced around, gaze alighting upon the familiar sign painted in blood on the wall, the upside down triangle encased by a circle. He clutched at his rosary. This was what he had been waiting for, what they all had been waiting for, the initiation ceremony into the faith. He was the right age, and from here him, and all the others, were to go to on their pilgrimage, to the holy city. Glancing once more at the pike in his hand, a pained smile spread across his face, and he scrambled once more to his feet, eyes brimming with tears. So this is what Saint had meant; the pain, so much pain, but also the feeling, the sense of fulfilment, the feeling of being reborn. Turning to his right, he looked for his sister Hiroshi, rubbing the tears from his eyes and revelling in the feeling of being truly alive. Recognising the flash of sandy hair hidden amidst the shadows, he picked his way through the others, not yet awoken from their trip into the fire. Saint had said that for some it would take only half an hour, whilst for the others they would remain asleep for an hour maybe more, and as he was one of the first to start, he was not surprised that none of the others were awake yet. Skidding slightly on the edge of her circle, he smiled down at the golden halo of her hair, brushing a few stray silver locks of his own away from his eyes. There was a deep rumbling roar as thunder sounded outside once more, accompanied by a stick of lightning that struck the ground nearby in a blinding flash. He shielded his eyes against it, glancing once more out of the window as the first drops of rain fell, blurring the little view of the moon that was not hidden by the iron bars. His smile faltered. The moon was… nearing the far edge of the window? He blinked as another flash rendered him blind, a burst of reds and yellows blossoming behind his eyes. He ducked his head and rubbed his temples, coughing a bit as the blood got unsettled in his lungs. The simple cough turning into a fit, he fell to his knees, blood spluttering out of his mouth and into his hands as his lungs cleared. He fell forward exhausted, breathing heavily, and landed on his sister's chest. Wincing, he apologised, sitting up once more, head bowed, scratching the back of his head nervously. He waited for the moan, the cursing, and the slap around the head for the rude awakening, but nothing came. Surprised, he glanced up at his sisters face, and froze.
Her eyes, up until now obscured by shadow, were wide open and staring, gaze locked onto him. He shook his head, and smiled at her, the smile faltering as he got no response. Laughing nervously, he leaned forward and shook her slightly, the remnants of his smile disappearing as she gave him no resistance, head flopping backwards onto the floor, leaving her pale neck exposed. He reached to grab her hand, dropping it as if it stung as he felt her icy touch. A feeling of dread coming over him, he shuffled quickly on his knees to her head, dropping to hover his cheek over her mouth.
Nothing. Breathing slowly speeding up, he grabbed her hand once more, feeling, reaching, trying to find a pulse. Pushing his ear into her chest, he strained, listening as hard as he could, sobs forming in his throat as it hit him.
She was dead.
Gasping, sobbing, he pushed back from her, wide eyed as he took in the scene around him. It was silent, too silent. Skidding on the blood soaked floor he fell into something soft, and hyperventilating turned to see the sightless eyes of Takmei, his sister's best friend, staring back at him. Eyes widening in horror, he scrambled to his feet, stumbling backwards across the bodies to the locked door. Turning the second he felt the solid, smooth surface on his back, he pounded on the wood, clutching at the door handle and scratching at the hinges. After a minute he found his voice, and then he was screaming, yelling, begging to be let out, to be released from this room of death. But no one came. No one heard. After the first ten minutes he had managed to reopen his gaping chest wound, and after two hours he had lost his voice. Exhausted and delirious from lack of blood, he collapsed.
The shuffling of footsteps echoed down the hall and into the room, muffled by the blood that had settled underneath the door. There was a muffled thump, then a clink as keys were withdrawn from a pocket, and than the door was unlocked. The Saint looked inside the room and smiled. They were all dead.
Turning to the side, he bent down to pick up a brown leather bag, when a movement in the room caught his attention. He frowned, straightening as he studied the bodies laid out across the floor, trying to discern what caused the movement. He had nearly brushed it off as a trick of the eye, before the closest figure moved, crawling towards him. He jumped back as the child lifted his face, revealing itself to be a boy. A flash of recognition went off. Hidan.
The boy recognised him too.
"S-saint?" His voice was weak, and hoarse from screaming. He lifted his arm to reach towards him, but Saint shrunk back in disgust. The boy stared at him in shock, shrinking down closer to the floor.
"W-why are they dead, Saint?"
Saint didn't reply, crouching down next to one of the bodies nearest the door, another young boy. Reaching across the boy's chest, he grasped the handle of the pike sticking out of him and yanked it out unceremoniously; oblivious to the blood that oozed out of the hole it left. He turned towards the boy.
"S-saint?" His voice trailed off at the end as Saint reached for him, grabbing him by his blood soaked collar. He trembled in his grasp, staring wide eyed at the Saint's face, his purple eyes reflected in the saint's pale blue. The arm holding the pike rose, and with one swift movement, he stabbed Hidan through the chest.
A gasp. Then silence. The Saint closed his eyes and lowered the boy, opening them again as he watched his blood flood out to join the others. Satisfied he was dead, he turned around once more to the bag and proceeded to out take the jug of oil.
"I-It hurts…."
Saint froze.
He turned.
The boy was standing, clutching at the handle of the pike in his chest. As Saint watched, he drew it out slowly, falling to one knee. The boys eyes, flooded with tears, stared at the saint as he stumbling got back to his feet, understanding dawning.
"They weren't meant to survive, were they." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "I wasn't meant to survive, was I." Saint backed away from the boy before him, fear showing clearly on his face. The boy followed, voice growing stronger. "Why? Why?!" Anguish flared in Hidan's eyes as he turned back to look at his sister.
"They… They weren't good enough for Jashin. None of you are. Filth, Trash, Slum born. You come here, looking for saint hood, yet you aren't worthy. Whilst I spill my blood for him, why don't I get the title?" At Hidan's shocked look, Saint laughed out loud, fear leaving his face as he continued. "HA. I am not a Saint, not yet anyway. After this, I will be though. Those who aren't worthy of Jashin will be eradicated."
Hidan's face stared at his Saint, the man he had looked up to all his life, in horror, and with a cry pain he ran forward, still bloody pike in his hand. Saint, fear completely gone now, dodged easily with a laugh, eyes flashing manically as Hidan crashed into the wall next to the door to the bloody room. Grabbing Hidan by the shoulders, he picked him up and threw him into the room, where he crashed into the wall with a cry of pain. Pulling another pike out of a near by body, he grabbed Hidan once again by the collar, pinning him into the wall.
"So you don't die easily, huh? We'll fix that." Lifting the Pike over his head, he laughed once again, eyes dancing with glee. "To you, Jashin, I deliver another one unworthy of your love." He brought the pike down, positioning it in front of Hidan's eye in preparation for one swift blow to the brain. "Please give him the retribution he dese-"
There was a clank as the pike Saint was holding fell from his grasp and landed on the floor.
Saint looked down at the blood blossoming under his robe and the silver glint of the pike. He looked back up at the boy, still pinned to the wall, pike missing from his hand. He took a shuddering breath.
Hidan watched as the color of Saint's face slowly drained away, the strength leaving his limbs until he fell with a sigh, releasing Hidan's collar. He slid down the wall, breathless in horror, and watched as the Saint's eyes slowly glazed over, swivelling one last time to lock his gaze with his before rolling up into his head. He opened his mouth, but only blood came out, oozing down his cheek and onto the cold stone floor.
There was the sound of one long, last shuddering breath, and then silence.
Hidan sat there, facing the body of Saint. His chest hurt, the two normally fatal stab wounds miraculously healing. He looked around himself at the bodies of his friends and family, and couldn't take it anymore. Curling up into a ball amidst the carnage, he cried.