title: zenith
rating: t
prompt: "Do I look like I make mistakes?"
summary: Hinata looks into the center of the sun. —Hidan/Hinata.
Hinata looks at the grandfather clock in the northeastern corner of the room with minute horror.
She fell asleep.
Asleep.
What kind of honor student falls asleep, alone, in a public space? Much less her? A Hyuuga heiress? It's like a bad publicity stunt? If word gets out that, she, Hinata Hyuuga fell asleep in the library, with no witnesses and was vulnerable to the naked eye — her father might have a stroke.
She winces at the thought of it all.
Being an heiress, is one of the most aware-conscious thing to be. Aware-conscious, to be described, if Hinata has to explain it, it's being conscious of the fact that you are aware of who you are, what you are, what you're supposed to be doing — she smiles bitterly here, in a nutshell. She's aware of who she is and the life she is supposed to have—to live.
Fingers grasping her textbooks, she shoves them into her backpack – albeit carefully, carefully enough to ensure no crinkled papers and or ripped pages of her notebook – and zips the gold zipper into the cloth of her corduroy bag.
If she remembers correctly, today is the fifteenth, which means that her uncle and her cousin are visiting for solstice, and if she knows her father well enough – at least she likes to pretend – there would be a gala for their welcoming. In any other words: she needs to get home. Right now.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she straightens up, smoothening the pleats of her skirts, she makes her way to the double doors of the library and pushes on the metal lever to exit.
The door does not budge.
Hinata blinks pearly opal eyes and presses against the lever again.
The metal groans underneath the weight of her palms. Her breath leaves her lungs with a quiet sigh and then she presses again. She forces the weight of her body against the lever and it pushes her back.
She looks for a sign – anything. Perhaps she's supposed to pull rather than push because things like these happen, but it's written in red, bold letters: PUSH.
It begins. It starts as a cold, faint, slide of a phantom hand. It tumbles into the back of her neck, slides up her nape and tangles into her hair. The sharp, faint nausea of hysterical disbelief. She wafts it up, like carbon and it tickles the back of her eyes.
Hinata digs her hand into the small compartment pouch at the side of her backpack, rummaging for her cellphone. She grabs the aluminon, a brief brush of relief touches her throat and then her stomach twists when she sees the battery is dead.
Uncharacteristically, she feels a swing of emotions wave over her, splintering from frustration to trepidation.
What will her father say?
Hinata tries to look for another exit, her rubbery soles slides over the carpet as she skids to a halt. The library is a complex thing. Three floors, but only one exit – it's a fire hazard, the back of her mind tells her – she would have to inform the headmaster about this later.
The sun dims to gold and it peeks over robin egg blues. The faint wash of apricot and marigold spills over the study tables; she inhales sharply. It's quiet in the library, only the gentle slides of her feet over the carpeted floor permeated the air.
Her heart beats so very loud, like a thunderous drum roaring in her ears — it breaks.
Wheels, squeaky wheels roll onto the carpet and a type of deep humming rumbles the air. It sounds like a hymn. Something religious and distinct.
Hinata twirls to face the rumble – her voice is caught in her throat and desperately she wants to throw herself behind a shelf, to peek at the sound, but her feet are glued and she can only watch.
She's never seen such bright hair before. Perhaps bright is the wrong word. Maybe shiny would be better. His hair is silver, slicked back underneath his green cap. His jumpsuit is less than inconspicuous, a duller green with black and white sneakers.
"Ah, excuse me," Hinata tries to get the janitor's attention, as he wheels the garbage can to the left and her eyes catch the white chord hanging against his chest, that trail up into his ears.
He can't hear her.
So, she tries to get his attention by putting herself into his line of vision. She shifts her body three degrees to the right, then three footsteps and attempts to wave her hand awkwardly.
The janitor sees something in his peripheral vision, his lips twist and when turns his head — it's her hair that's black and indigo that knocks him on his ass—that and she nearly slaps him in the face with her wave.
"What the hell?" he sputters as he barely, manages to dodge her last wave, "What the hell are you doing in here? The library is closed."
Hinata laughs uncomfortably and straps her arm to her torso, "I, um, fell asleep?"
He stares at her for a moment and then rolls his eyes, "Of fucking course. Let's get you out of here then, prep."
She frowns at the nickname, but still, she tightens her fists on her backpack strap and follows him.
The janitor fishes for his ID card in his back pocket, lifting the blue plastic, he swipes the card into the slot and pushes.
It does not budge.
The janitor stares at his card for a very long moment.
He swipes again.
The door does not budge.
Hinata stomach fills up with dread; again.
The next swipe is more violent, it shakes the hinges of the door frame and it's like the janitor becomes more hysterical as swipes again and again. He shakes the door with the base of his palms and swears colorfully.
"Um, sir," she tries to keep her voice steady, because he's kind of fucked up – she thinks but doesn't say aloud – and it's starting to make her skin itch, "Maybe you could call someone?"
The janitor swivels his head to look at her. It's kind of a deadened stare. The type of stare that is emotionless, calculating and just plain annoying, then his eyes lighten and he nods approvingly, "So, you do have a brain in that pretty head of yours, prep," he speaks more to himself than to her, "Fucking brilliant."
He pulls out his radio and dials a series of numbers. Then he pauses on the last number, his eyebrows furrow and he scowls, "And the name's Hidan — do I look like a fucking sir, to you?"
Hinata opens and shuts her mouth closed.
Hidan snorts, presses the last button and mutters, "That's what I fucking thought," he waits for the radio to make that dial sound and scowls, "Yo, Kakuzu! Hurry up and open the fucking library door. My card isn't working."
There's static and then there's a chuckle, "Then perish."
Hinata takes a step back at the animosity and amusement at the voice in the radio. Sweat beads at the back of her neck and remembers that she has pepper spray in her bag. Glancing at the window in the back of her, she considers her options. They are on the second floor. A broken leg sounds better than whatever the hell this guy could do. Even so, she bites the inside of her cheek, that's if worse comes to worst.
Hidan's eyebrow ticks, "I got a fucking kid with me."
A pause. Static. Crackle. A sigh, "I can be there in fifteen minutes. I'm in the eastern wing. Don't do anything stupid."
Hidan squeezes his radio until there's a protesting groan.
Another step back.
"Hey, I'm not a fucking serial killer," Hidan notices how she inches backward, he frowns, "I mean I could be, but I'm not."
Hinata stares at him, she's not quite sure what she's supposed to say, "Um…"
"What?" he asks baldly.
"You…have some paint on your face," she tries to distract herself, by pointing to the left side of his face.
Hidan blinks and brushes the side of his face with his fingers, "Godammit!"
Hinata almost smiles at the childish pout on his face. Her eyes float, taking in the area and she catches sight of an outlet underneath the window and next to one of the air conditioning vents. She suddenly remembers that she has a charger in her bag and dashes.
"Woah!" he says in alarm and runs after her. His heart falls into his stomach and anxiety thick on his tongue, his voice goes up an octave, high enough to crack, "Kid! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
She drops to the floor and Hidan skids to a halt.
Hinata looks at him as she pulls out a plug, shoves it into the outlet and looks at him with a frown, "Charging my phone?"
Hidan sighs in relief, his hands grab onto his knees as he attempts to recall Kisame's breathing techniques, "At least give me a fucking warning, seriously."
Her nose scrunches, "What…did you think I was going to do?"
He stares at her stupidly, "Off yourself, obviously."
The thought had occurred, but Hinata's smart enough not to say anything, instead, she inquires, "Do things like that happen…frequently?"
Hidan shrugs, "Shit happens."
Hinata grimaces at the image. She sends a quick text to her sister, wanting her to stall their father for the time being, while she waits for the door to unlock. She brings her knees up to her chest and waits. Hidan sits in front of her and they watch each other.
"So…" Hidan scratches the back of his neck, "Your name is Hinata."
Opal eyes widen, "How do you know that."
"Your ID is on your skirt?" he says matter-of-factly and points to the white card dangling from her belt loop.
Hinata flushes, her fingers twitch and replies, "I see."
"And you're a Hyuuga," Hidan shrugs, "You guys have those weird bionic eyes. Do you get like, blinded sometimes? Or is the sun too much?"
She looks at him weirdly, "My eyes are just…sensitive. I'm not blind."
"So like you can look into the sun?"
"No," she replies immediately, "I don't think anyone can look into the sun."
"Don't count your eggs just yet," Hidan snorts, "My boss is working on that."
"…a device that you can look into the sun with?" Hinata tilts her head.
"Something like that," he waves it off like it's nothing, "My boss is going to that shindig at your place."
"I see," she nods slowly, "I'm not going to be there."
"Why not?"
Hinata, for some reason, does not feel uncomfortable telling him the truth, she shrugs, "My sister is the heir, not me."
Hidan raises a brow, "So?"
"So what?"
"So you can't go to a party because of that?"
Hinata nods, "Yes. My father thinks it's counterintuitive."
"What if you just wanna hang out and fuck around?" Hidan asks, violet and amethyst, "Or get drunk or something."
"I'm underage," she points out.
"Right," he drags out the word dryly, "Well that's shitty. Your older sister is gonna go and screw around while you're stuck at home? Lame."
"She's actually younger than me," Hinata winces.
Hidan stares, "I thought you said you weren't the heir."
"My father chose her over me," she admits shamefully, "She's a lot more…outspoken than I am."
"So you're a late bloomer," he scoffs and he's angry when he speaks, "That doesn't mean your parents should play favorites, prep. You're not stuttering or fainting now that you're talking to me. Like what the fuck, you're practically normal."
"I used to faint," she swallows, "Sometimes I get nervous because people are staring at me and then I forget what to say."
"Jashin tells me that only he can judge me and everyone else can fuck off," Hidan says proudly.
Hinata frowns, "Who is Jashin?"
"My god," he shrugs too, "He is the only one that holds power over me and until Jashin comes down and tells me to fuck off, everyone else can just suck it."
"I see…"
"So all you have to remember is that only if some heavenly being comes down and tells you the fuck off, only then you can turn into a mouse and faint and do that shit," Hidan nods his head, "People are always going to be dicks, you just gotta murder em'."
"Thank you, I think," Hinata says hesitantly at the somewhat chopped advice, she smiles shyly, "You're really nice, Hidan."
He snorts, "I know, props of being a janitor."
"How do you mean?"
"When you're a janitor, you hear and see things — everything. There's a lot of fucked up things happening in this place, but the pay is good so I don't say anything," Hidan replies, he rolls up his sleeves, "I mean not everything is black and white. So I don't judge unless they ask me to judge."
"That's a good philosophy."
"That's cause I follow Jashin."
"Jashin is very wise then."
Hidan smiles and it's so fucking bright, that her eyes twitch—the irony isn't lost on her.
"See I'm a janitor and you're an heiress," he says, "The gap is so big, but Jashin says fuck it. I can talk to you and you can talk to me because in the end, we're all people."
Hinata nods politely, "Yes. Still, I think—"
The door creaks from across the wall and it slides open, "Hidan?"
"Finally!" Hidan jumps up and Hinata does the same, "You took forever."
"It was only fifteen minutes."
"I could've died."
Kakuzu with stitches almost smiles, "I was hoping, really."
"Ah," Hinata squeaks and bows her head, "Thank you, for opening the door," she turns to look at Hidan and smiles shyly, "Thank you for listening."
Hidan shrugs, but he can't help but grin, "I just listened to Jashin."
Hinata looks at him strangely, "But still, thank you."
And she scurries down the hallway.
.
.
.
A bottle pops open, "Who is she?"
Smirk. "A mouse."
.
.
.
footnote1: Do I like this? idk. I'm still contemplating.
footnote2: Hidan and Hinata are srsly cute okay.
