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Warning: Material addressed may be offensive to some readers. Graphic content present.

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Excuses

"Why are you doing this?"

Despite the situation, she was completely calm. Deceptively calm. Hidan glared at her, pulling his metal rod of his torso; the body of a boy, his most recent victim, collapsed in a lifeless heap on the floor, open eyes staring up at the ceiling in a permanent expression of fear. He pointed a bloody finger at her.

"Why the fuck do ya' wanna know?"

"Call it my dying wish." She didn't even blink.

For a moment Hidan merely stared at her, wondering how the hell she could be so calm when she was trapped in a room full of dead bodies—her friends—fearlessly facing down her soon-to-be murderer.

"Please?"

Hidan kept staring. And staring. Here was an ordinary girl—young, no later than her teen years, long, straight, plain hair, poor eyes for she wore glasses, an unimpressive build, thin arms and legs, flat nose, pointed chin, earth-toned clothing, overall a very ordinary appearance—pleading him to reveal his reason for killing rather than pleading for her life. She looked deceptively calm. Deceptively ordinary. And because she was so deceptive, he decided to humor her, to find out if she had some ulterior motive (as calm victims normally do).

"It's a ritual sacrifice to Lord Jashin."

It was her turn to stare.

"You mean to say you go around killing people for your religion?"

"You got somethin' wrong with it, bitch?" He growled, pointing at her once again. He poked his bloodied index finger at her nose.

She wrinkled her nose and turned away. "No, it doesn't surprise me, really. All religion has caused death in some form or another throughout history. I just didn't know there was one that called for it so directly."

He pulled away, tilting his head and staring at her bemusedly. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brows.

"You're not religious, huh?"

"Of course not." She looked almost indignant. "Do you see me praying on my knees for salvation?"

She had a point. A point he didn't really want to bother caring about for much longer. So he clutched his metal rod and advanced on her.

"So what, now you're going to kill me for not being religious?"

Hidan stopped. What was with this girl? He smirked.

"Oh, I'm definitely gonna to kill you," he replied. "But not because you're not religious. It's because I am. I don't give a shit about your personal life or beliefs—unless, of course, you're willing to consider joining Jashin." He gave a wicked grin, skeptical but not above trying to recruit her. Her bravery was admirable.

"Devil worshipper." She snapped her fingers as though she finally found an answer to a question that long eluded her. "That definitely makes sense. Well no wonder you aimlessly kill people, you're not really practicing a religion."

Hidan snapped his head back as though he'd been struck, temple throbbing in irritation. He contemplated throttling her.

"Say that again," he spat through clenched teeth.

"Worshiping the devil and practicing a religion are different," she began. "Devil worshippers use their religion as an excuse to kill. Other religions are lifestyles and ways of thinking that have been adopted into cultures over the span of centuries."

She stopped and crossed her arms, cupping her chin with one hand as she ruminated for a moment.

"So I guess it could also be argued that all religion is an excuse to embrace whatever you like," she continued. "But there are societal boundaries that inhibit that. Of course, it could also be argued that killing people is also a way of living—you could go further and say that it is a way of thinking inhibited by societal pressures. Kind of complicated, isn't it? Really none of it makes sense at all, actually." At this point she was actively pacing around, waving her hands and making random gestures as she expressed all of her thoughts.

Hidan wondered exactly how many times he'd end up staring dumbfounded that night. Here she was, waxing philosophical only moments before her demise.

"You're really weird, ya' know that?" He cocked a brow at her, scratching the back of his head as he tried to understand where such a creature could have spawned from.

"I do," she said, ceasing her pacing for a moment to glance at him. "I also know that I will soon die. I'll also go so far as to say that I now know everyone needs an excuse to kill."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" She was honestly getting on his nerves. But curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to slump down into an arm chair, recently dyed red, and flung his arms over the sides, looking as though he had come home from a long day at work and was getting ready to nap. The girl sat down as well, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him.

"Well think about it. People are always killing other people. But we as a society condemn the act of killing. So instead of just outright killing something or someone, we find an excuse—something that justifies the act of killing." More gestures. "It could be religion, revenge, protecting loved ones, self-protection, justice, so on and so forth. Each and every reason for killing is nothing but a thinly veiled excuse to say, 'It's okay that I killed someone. I had a good reason to. I am justified in killing another person.'

But in reality, killing is a normal thing. Animals do it all of the time." She extended her hands in front of her as though to emphasize her point. "Humans are animals too, only somewhere down the line, some influential person or entity or god or whatever said, 'No, killing is bad, especially killing people. Don't do it.' And people listened. So that's why society looks down upon killing now. So now, people who have killed or will kill, find a reason, an excuse to make their actions justifiable. People who enjoy killing—people like you—have to find reasons other than the common scapegoat. They kill too often for the typical reason to be justifiable anymore. So what do they do?"

"They say 'fuck you, I do want I want,'" Hidan supplied dryly. She held up a finger as though to silence him, brow furrowed in thought.

"They turn to religion and worship the enemy being, the enemy power, the Devil. They worship him, call it a religion and go out and kill people," she said, staring directly into his eyes. He felt his temper flare. "They use it as an excuse—one that seems, on the surface, the most justifiable reason—'Oh, I'm just practicing my religion, don't mind me. Just step around the blood puddles if you don't want to ruin your shoes.'—but in fact, it is the weakest reason of them all. It is so thinly veiled, so poorly disguised, that most everyone can call the bluff and recognize the 'reason for killing' as what it really is, an excuse."

Somewhere in the middle of her comment, Hidan and risen and pinned her against the far wall, holding her in a vice grip and trembling with anger. He actually saw red. And he knew it wasn't blood, for that had started to congeal and dull and darken to a crusty brown. That was how long Hidan had endured her presence, delayed her death. That was how long he listened to her spout her philosophical, sacrilege, bullshit.

Some part of his mind silently congratulated her for looking so nonplussed. But that part was ruthlessly smothered by the rest of his fury-driven brain.

"Trust me, I don't need an 'excuse' to kill," he spat. "I kill because I like it, and Lord Jashin gives me more opportunities to kill. You can spout your bullshit all you want but the reality is this; tonight you will die and I'll be the one to kill you."

"Then you're one of the lucky ones." Her voice was quiet, subdued. "You don't care what people think, what society thinks."

"And why the fuck would I? Society's a bunch of bullshit. The only thing worth caring about in this world is Lord Jashin and all he represents!"

"And what does he represent?" She challenged, looking up at him. She stared around him to glance at the rest of the room. On the floor she spotted the bodies of her friends. She took a deep breath, and she looked Hidan in the eye.

"No matter what you say, your reason for killing, your great 'Lord Jashin', is still nothing but an excuse."

Hidan's vision flashed white. He punched her in the face and knocked her to the ground, kicking at her. He stabbed at her multiple times with his rod, impaling her aimlessly. He felt her blood spatter his face, heard it coat the walls, the furniture. The sound of ripping, bleeding, dying flesh consumed the room. Her screams of terror mutated and transformed into piercing cries, quieting into weak moans of agony before silencing altogether. He was consumed with anger and the sensation of killing. He snarled and growled and bared his teeth like a feral beast. He slashed and stabbed repeatedly for an immeasurable amount of time. He was too infuriated to bother keeping track, to bother caring. And he didn't care. All he wanted was for this infuriating, weak, blasphemous, ordinary bitch to die.

It wasn't until the white fury fogging his vision receded that he realized she was dead. She had been dead for quite some time—her blood had started to darken. She was completely unrecognizable. Hidan wasn't even sure it was her he was stabbing anymore. He could have been stabbing himself for all he knew, so consumed by rage as he was.

Hidan froze in that moment, horror-struck. He looked around, noticing the bloody rosary symbol on the floor on the other side of the room. He examined himself, finding his body free of fresh wounds and the usual skeletal markings. In his rage, Hidan realized, he had completely neglected to perform his sacred ritual. It had never once occurred to him that he should do so once the girl had started preaching about excuses.

People who have killed or will kill, find a reason, an excuse to make their actions justifiable.

Hidan looked around at the battered and bloody bodies covering the floor.

People who enjoy killing—people like you—have to find other reasons.

He stared down at his bloody hands, one still clutching the metal rod, his murder weapon of choice. He stared at his other hand, a bloody hole in it, scabbing over.

They turn to religion.

He stared at the rosary hanging around his neck

They use it as an excuse—one that seems, on the surface, the most justifiable reason.

He ran his hand along his prayer beads, holding each delicately until he had made his way all the way down the necklace and to the rosary.

But in fact, it is the weakest reason of them all.

He stared at the rosary. He stared at its symbol painted on the floor in his blood, from his hand.

It is so thinly veiled, so poorly disguised, that most everyone can call the bluff and recognize the 'reason for killing' as what it really is, an excuse.

He threw back his head and let out a guttural roar. He left the room, left the building. He didn't bother turning back when it ignited in flames, blew apart, fragments of wood and bone and skin flying everywhere. The scent of burning flesh permeated the air. He tried to enjoy it, as he normally did. He tried to feel the same sense of satisfaction and ecstasy that normally accompanied a killing ritual. But instead he felt hollow and bitter. He cursed the girl with his whole being. He was glad he didn't kill her for a ritual, glad that her life couldn't poison the rest of the offerings.

He stopped, looking up to stare at the night sky. He stared at the stars, the moon, and the few midnight clouds drifting by. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help but think how it all looked so lifeless, so empty, so completely uninhabited by anything—life, deity, or otherwise. Not for the first time that night, Hidan found himself staring. But he wasn't staring at a person; nor was he staring at a god. He was staring at the total darkness, the black emptiness of the sky.

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Peace,

Chibi