"What's taking so long?" Came an irritated voice from the entrance.
The shifting of body weight and clamoring as someone rose from their place on the hardwood floor was far too loud in the dead air of the room. Someone coughed, then answered with a breathless, stupefied response:
"It didn't work."
There was a long pause.
"What do you mean, it didn't work?"
She tried to keep quiet, to keep her chest from rising with each desperate, life-giving breath, but somehow she knew it was no good. She was numb, her mind instinctively shutting out the last twenty minutes.
She could feel blood dripping from her body, staining her dress farther and seeping into the leather of her white flats. Her head rested in a puddle of it and she winced inwardly at the strange feeling of the red liquid leaking into her ears. The smell of bitter copper hung heavily in the air, barely masking the rich scents of the restaurant. There was a quiet squelch near her fallen form and she cringed, failing to control the involuntary action.
The girl scarcely had time to react before she was being lifted by her hair, the roots screaming at the top of her skull. Her eyes snapped open at the pain, arm weakly lifting to clutch at a large hand.
Pupil-less green eyes bored into hers, the electric quality of them making her stiffen. She took in the form of the tall man before her, swallowing at the scarlet clouds on his clothing.
The older man's gaze followed the movement of her throat, before traveling down to the frayed collar of her shirt. He eyed the torn fabric of her blouse calmly, and then in one unexpected movement, tore the cloth directly down the middle. Buttons popped and the young woman jerked back, eyes coloring with a new kind of fear and prying frantically at his grasp with both hands.
He growled, shaking her violently until she stilled. He dragged her limp form closer, arm muscles barely bulging from her weight and alien eyes staring intently at her bloody chest. Her breath hitched when his hand touched her and she bit her lip so hard it bled. Rough fingers ran along her ribs, ignoring her lace bra and stopping just above her fiercely beating heart. He grunted, sweeping the fresh blood away from her skin before turning to his companion.
"You didn't miss, did you?"
The young man scowled, roughly pulling back his cloak and pointing at the still impaled pike.
"Does it freak'in look like I missed? Idiot."
The masked man ignored the insult, wheeling his head back around and looking at where his fingers still met with her unmarred flesh. An eyebrow lifted in mild curiosity.
"Interesting." He said, tilting his covered head.
He dropped her and the young girl fell on her shredded legs, the splinters of glass loudly making themselves known. She exhaled sharply, quickly pulling the ruined fabric of her clothing together and shifting to relieve the pressure on her wounds. She crossed her arms, hugging her shivering frame as she glanced around the room.
It shouldn't have surprised her that the café still looked the same, but it did. Sun light leaked through the full wall windows at the front of the shop, sending scattered shadows over the desecrated tables and overturned meal platters. The girl looked about herself in a daze, ignoring her tormentor's as they conversed and absorbing the chaos with morbid curiosity.
She spotted the huge jagged hole in the bar, recalling with a shudder how she had been dragged out through it and thrown across the room. She still felt slivers of wood in her arms where she had raised them to cover her face.
The corpses around her were cooling, their life blood drying and staining a macabre mural on the once-clean beige wallpaper. She let her eyes trail over everything, sliding over the strange painted symbol on the floor nervously before letting her gaze come to rest reluctantly on the duo arguing loudly feet from her trembling body.
The young woman flinched, registering their raised voices and glancing between the two fearfully. She let out a shaky breath and carefully moved to stand, trying to avoid the pool of blood she had been sitting in.
"…-othing is impossible Hidan. You have your head cut off on a daily basis." The masked man said mildly. The younger one, Hidan, scoffed, gesturing wildly with a weapon reminiscent of a reaping scythe.
"That's a bunch of crap, besides Kakuzu, my jutsu has never failed. It's freak'in Holy." His voice strained with feverish conviction, then lowered snidely.
"Only you're a dumb-ass heathen, so you couldn't possibly understand what it's like to be the Holy Messenger of Jashin. I've got a duty, see, I've gotta save all you damn idiots, 'cuz you're all goin' to Hell." He ranted, crazed eyes glinting. The older man, Kakuzu, sighed.
"One day, Hidan," He tossed a strange knife casually at his partner. "I will kill you."
He ignored the resulting crash and cursing, choosing instead pace slowly towards the back of the café.
"Hurry up, Hidan. She's already left."
His cloak flapped lazily as he passed through the still-open back door, the light summer wind pulling at his mask. He followed the small, bloody footprints, enjoying a quiet moment of peace. It was shattered seconds later, a frown wrinkling his brows as the voice of his insane partner rang through the deserted ally.
"GET BACK HERE YOU STINGY BASTARD! I"LL MURDER YOU IN THE GLORIOUS NAME OF JASHIN!"
AN: I'm uncomfortable putting harsh profanity in my writing, so I'm trying to depict Hidan as his normal crass self without actually littering the story with swear words. How'd I do?
Review Please!
~Delgodess