"Tell me what do you see,
When you look into my eyes?
Because all I have left,
Is the demon deep inside,"
-Never Wake Again, JT Music
I pushed aside a white curtain and ducked inside Rie's shop.
There was less room than Rini's restaurant, only a few feet of open space between the doorway and the counter, the front of it a glass case.
Rows of sweet-looking foods were inside. More than one was in the shape of a fox head.
Hanako stood in the corner in front of the counter, holding a brown cone and licking a green, half-melted blob on top. She paused when she saw me, then looked the other way.
There was no one behind the counter, but it had the same kind of wall as Rini's restaurant, pushed out to hide a staircase.
"Nagato sent you?" Hanako asked. She crossed her free arm.
He would be better at this, I thought.
Maybe Bashira wanted me to go not because Hanako didn't like either of us, but because she wanted me to make up with her.
I walked up to the counter and stared down at the desserts. "What happened to Kuu?"
Maybe if I was someone else, maybe if I felt sorry.
The glass was clean enough for me to see her warped reflection. I heard her suck in sharply, watched her angle herself away from me.
"It's not normal not to care if someone you knew dies," she muttered. "You know that, right?"
I hummed but didn't turn. "Okay."
"Okay?" she repeated.
"I don't care what you think is normal," I said.
She turned to stare at me, but I only folded my arms on top of the glass. "Would you like me more if I lied? If I said it hurt bad? If I fell on the floor and cried?" I asked her reflection. "How is that fair? Why should I pretend for you when I never asked you to pretend for me?"
"What?" Hanako asked, taking a step back.
"I've never asked you to kill anyone to understand me," I said. "I've never made you feel like you should know what it's like to have people die or leave you your whole life."
Hanako took another step back, almost out of range of the reflection. I watched her squeeze her arm, watched the half-melted blob drip onto her fingers. She hissed, scrambling for napkins on the counter.
"What do you know about someone hating you so much they want to kill you?" I asked. "About watching the people you care about be attacked, over and over?"
She stared at me again, the cone forgotten.
"You know what's normal to me?" I asked her reflection. "The smell of corpses, that quiet, last breath right before someone dies."
Hanako threw the cone away, shaking so badly she almost missed the can.
"So no, I don't care if Haruto is dead," I said. "If you were me, you wouldn't either."
"God," Hanako said. She leaned against the counter next to me and dropped her head in her hands. "How many people have you killed?"
She sounded almost afraid of the answer.
"Don't remember," I said.
Hanako dropped down in front of the can and heaved. "You're younger than me," she whispered, horrified.
What did you think being a shinobi would be like?
"Naga was ten when he killed someone for the first time," I told her, and she vomited.
I looked up when I heard soft, padding footsteps, and the girl with mixed hair and the gap in her smile turned around the wall.
"Thanks for watching the place for us while—" she stopped, freezing when she saw me.
Sayaka.
She squealed and ran closer, standing on the other side of the counter, staring at me. "You're—" she stopped again, eyes widening at Hanako. "What happened?"
Hanako shook her head, coughing and wiping her mouth.
"Rini told me about your bread pudding," I mused.
Her eyes widened. "She—You honor me," she said, quickly bowing. "If it's not too forward, would you like a piece?"
I looked down at the case. "Which one is it?"
"It's upstairs," she said, backing away. "It's not really popular, but I keep it warm in case Chief Ren comes by. Wait there, I'll—I'll go get it right away."
I listened to her go back up, then saw Hanako sitting against the wall in the reflection.
"Kuu was dads summon," she finally said, pulling her legs up. "In order to bring him back I'd need to sign my name on the summoning scroll and I—I couldn't."
"Why can't Bashira do it?" I asked.
"She's not a Haruno," Hanako muttered.
I watched her reflection shudder. "Kuu might make you feel better.
She pushed the trash can away. "Or worse."
I shrugged. "We need him," I told her reflection, and she looked up. "We need to move stuff, and it would be a lot harder without him."
Hanako looked down. "What happened to Namekuji?"
"With Yahiko," I answered. "Should be, anyway."
She was silent. "When did you stop caring?" she eventually asked, quieter.
I hummed. "I was eight."
I watched her stare until Sayaka came back with a small white carton and a plastic fork.
"It's warm," she said, holding it out. "I hope you like it, honored guest."
"Me too," I said as I moved off the glass to take it.
"Thank you for coming," she added, bowing again.
I waved at her with the fork but didn't look at Hanako as I left the shop.
欠けて
Bashira was the only one who came to say goodbye.
She stood between red columns that marked the west gate, only slightly taller than she was. There were bricks on either side of it, the beginnings of a wall, unfinished and abandoned.
She bowed lightly, hands folded in front of her. "I'm glad we were able to properly meet, Fox-Kissed, even if only briefly."
Naga returned her bow. "I'll remember what you've done for us."
She lifted a sleeve up to her face. "Nonsense," she dismissed. "The blood debt we owe the Akatsuki isn't so easy to pay off. If Ren were allowed to die, if Abhuraya had been left at the mercy of the angry and the betrayed, I'm certain the honorable Lord Aoki would have acted against us. You've done far more not only for me, but for all of us, than you realize, Fox-Kissed."
"Still," Naga said. "Thank you."
The fields around the gate were barren. When would they start planting seeds? Spring? Summer?
"Did Hanako summon Kuu?" I asked.
"Not yet," she answered. I still couldn't read her eyes.
Haruto had stood where she was before, thanking us, telling us no one would forget what we did.
"Let's go," Naga said quietly, nudging me as he turned away.
Yahiko would know how to say goodbye. Konan would know how to make it feel less awkward.
I followed him. I knew Bashira was staring at us, but I didn't turn around. "Why didn't Ren come?"
He didn't answer right away, and I looked at the fields, at the rows and mounds of soil, and tried to imagine what a lavender field would look like.
"He couldn't," Naga finally answered. "His body healed, but not completely. There's a build-up of scar tissue in his chakra pathways. It's like what happened to Joji-sensei. His body over-healed and made too much extra skin to protect itself from being hurt again, but not as bad. There's less room in Ren's pathways for chakra to flow through, and the thickest scar tissue is where he forced chakra out the most."
He gestured at his own stomach. "Enough of his chakra flows to keep him alive, but his body has to push through the scarring to do it," he went on. "I don't think he can use genjutsu anymore."
"And it hurts him?" I asked.
Naga shrugged. "We didn't talk about it. He's adapted to it. His body would be weaker than it was, his hands the most. He would tire easily."
"Could it kill him?"
"It shouldn't, but it could if the scarring worsened," he murmured.
I remembered Joji, who could barely breathe when he came to us. I stopped and half-turned back. I could see the columns, far behind us, and the figure still standing between them.
And I thought of letting Ren in. I liked him, but I liked Haruto, too.
It'll hurt if he dies.
I didn't know how much of my heart I had left to give to ghosts.
It was easier to be made of steel. Easier not to care, easier to be able to leave for months or years and feel nothing when it was all different when I came back. But it meant I was avoided, I was isolated from civilians, even when they accepted me.
I looked up past the gate, at the palace, and I couldn't do it.
Naga, Yahiko, Mamoru-sensei, Maho. Too many people had my heart already.
Would it hurt if Joji died?
He stayed with us when he didn't have to, even when we took a path he didn't like. He didn't train me, but he told me a little about who he'd been in the Land of Iron.
He stayed, even after Hanzo, when he could've gone anywhere else.
It would sting, at least.
But, as for Ren— "I can't," I said, accidentally out loud.
Naga had stopped, waiting for me, but now he came back. "Can't what?"
I looked at him. "I can't care about Ren. I can't."
Naga only looked thoughtful. "We should come back in Spring. Even if they haven't bloomed, something should be growing by then. And I've never been to a festival."
"But if I did then—"
"Then you'd understand Hanako?" Naga finished quietly. He crouched in front of me. "Not true."
She told me she hated me because I didn't feel what she did.
"You should've told her she hurt your feelings," he murmured.
"She didn't," I dismissed.
He only smiled. "Then it won't make you feel better when I say I don't think any differently of you for not being sad about Haruto, and I still won't if Ren does die and you aren't sad. I know who you are, Oka. I don't want you to be anyone else."
I stared at him. And I relaxed.
共感
"Do you think Hanako'll do it?" Naga asked.
He'd bunched up his sleeves and rolled his pants up to his knees, but he was still too hot. His hair was tied back to keep it from sticking to his face. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt.
"Maybe," I answered. The path was covered in small puddles, warm under my feet.
A geyser dribbled into a pool of water as we walked past, shooting up clouds of steam. There were bushes and small, thin trees farther out, patches of curling grass that survived the heat.
"What'll you do if she doesn't?" I asked him. I could feel the heat like a second layer of skin.
"Ren said he'd give her time," he answered. "If Kuu doesn't come to Amegakure by two months from now he said he'd send a message, and then I'll have to start gathering scrolls."
A geyser ahead of us sprayed water in the air, cresting and falling in waves. It overflowed the craters around it and flooded over the path.
Naga held up a hand to protect his face as water rained down.
I stopped to watch it, and I didn't mind getting wet. The water didn't touch the sky like the one I remembered, but it was still twice as tall as Naga.
"Can we go?" Naga asked, both hands over his head. "Please?"
I watched the water splash down, then shoot back up again. "It should be colder, shouldn't it?" I asked, musing. "It's colder in Fire Country."
Sweat slid down my brother's nose. "It feels hotter," he muttered.
I looked at the geyser for another second before turning away. Even being doused made me feel warmer. I squeezed water out of the bottom of my mesh shirt.
Yugakure's gate was ahead of us. It was made of solid wood and bigger, taller than any I'd seen.
Konan would've wanted to see it, I thought and smiled, a little sad.
A shinobi stood in front of it, blocking the way, tensing when he saw us. His flak-jacket was dark blue. I watched his fingers curl, metal bands around his knuckles.
"Identify yourselves," he called, a warning in his voice.
I could see cream buildings with red roofs and a stone path past him, but no movement.
Naga stopped feet away from him. "We're from Amegakure. Chief Sugiyama of Yugakure hired us as mercenaries," he said. "We came to see him about our mission."
The shinobi looked skeptical. He didn't move or speak.
A jagged scar wound around his left arm, just above his elbow. A broken bone that healed, but not without leaving marks.
"I have proof." Naga slowly reached down, the shinobi's eyes snapping to the movement. He unclipped his pouch and reached in.
The shinobi shifted, defensive, ready for a fight, but didn't stop him.
Naga pulled out a scroll, put it on the ground, and took a step back, holding up his hands.
The shinobi glanced at me, wary, and I smiled a little, but stepped back.
He didn't underestimate me, but if we did come to attack Yugakure, it wouldn't matter.
The shinobi came closer, brown eyes narrowed as he took the scroll and unrolled it. I waited as he scanned the mission request, watching until he sighed and dragged a hand down his face.
He rolled it back up. "You're too late," he said tiredly, handing it back. "Chief Sugiyama is dead."
Naga went still. I looked at the still-empty path.
"The missing-nin?" Naga asked.
"No," the shinobi said, then frowned. "He might be with them, but I'm not sure."
"Did he kill everyone else, too?" I asked, and the shinobi's eyes shot down to me.
He didn't answer.
"We're not Yugakure's enemy," Naga told him. "If we didn't want to cooperate, could you have really stopped us, alone?"
He crossed his arms. "Four days ago the village was attacked by one our own. No, someone who used to be one of us," he corrected. "He didn't kill everyone, but those left alive have had their hands full with disposal of the dead. The civilians are helping with the clean-up as best they can, but they suffered casualties too."
And I thought of Hidan, the first time we met, with blood on his face, his mouth.
"Did you capture him?" Naga asked.
The shinobi closed his eyes. "No. He escaped."
Someone capable of taking on a village and surviving, a monster wearing the skin of a boy.
"Would you let us in the village?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No one is allowed in or out until we asses our losses and a temporary Chief is appointed by the Daimyo."
Naga's eyebrows were furrowed. "Do you know where he is?"
"He escaped southeast of the village. That's the direction the inn is in, but he could've escaped to Frost, too," the shinobi said. "You're going after him?"
"I'm not sure what we'll do," Naga answered. "There's no one I can talk to about the mission?"
The shinobi sighed again. "Even if there was, a group of low-level missing-nin are the least of our concerns right now. No one would pay for it over repairs."
Naga looked down, thinking. "Would he have a bounty?"
"You'd have to turn the body in to the Daimyo directly to collect it," the shinobi said.
"We'll find him," I decided.
"Could we know your name, at least?" Naga asked.
"Takkao," the shinobi answered. "And yours?"
"Nagato," he said.
Takkao looked at me, but I didn't answer. I only walked away from him, off the path. After a second and a flimsy goodbye, Naga followed me.
"I'll never hear the end of it if we go back empty handed," he murmured. He paused, then shook his head. "Happy birthday to me."
欠けて
By the time we looped around the village, it was dark.
Sitting with my legs dangling over the side of a cliff, I looked up at the stars. The mountain ended in a canyon with a wide river in the middle. A dirt path led from the village down the side of the mountain, but it was unguarded.
The geysers on this side were small and dry. Instead the space was overtaken by bushes and undergrowth. The trees were full of orange and yellow leaves.
I heard Naga somewhere behind me, eating the last of a cooked rabbit.
"It's Hidan," I said.
Naga paused. "It might not be. It could be anyone from Yugakure."
He could be one of the dead.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and stared down into the canyon. I'd never seen a rocky cliff like this before, but it was only the river and the wider gulf of space that kept it from being a longer Shido Valley.
Was he still weak enough to die so easily?
I thought of where we found him again, of how, if he were so easily to kill, he would've died then.
"He called Yugakure shit back then," I said.
I heard Naga digging a hole to hide the bones in. "There was someone here that made him come back," he told me.
It was a good point.
"Three years is a long time," I said. Maybe he didn't like that someone anymore. Maybe they died.
"We'll see, tomorrow," Naga told me. "But if it isn't him—"
"Then he's alive in the village," I said, leaning back on my elbows. The stars seemed to move with every new place I went.
Naga shifted closer, sitting with his legs crossed next to me. He pointed up at a cluster of stars. "Those make up the merchant who molded the stars into an island," he told me. "The dark space next to him is where they used to be."
I followed his finger. "They don't look like anything."
"It's a man with his hands reaching out," he insisted.
I stared at them, but they didn't rearrange into the shape of a man. I started to disagree when I remembered that he only saw the stars infrequently.
"You're making it up," I said, because when our parents told him the story of the merchant and the island there weren't stars like this in the village.
Even if he showed me them back when he said he would they would've been barely visible through the rain and clouds, or not at all.
"It's there," he insisted, tracing his finger in a vague person shape. But he was smiling.
I looked up again, then over the cliff. I hummed. "Where's the island?"
"In the ocean," he said vaguely, lowering his hand.
"Which way?"
"North."
I stared at him. "Which way north?"
Naga leaned his elbows on his legs. He looked amused. "Selflessness," he said.
I tilted my head at him.
"It's only now that I'm older I'm starting to see the lessons our parents taught me in those stories," he said quietly. "The merchant who made an island. The rabbit from the moon. Lessons that stuck with me for years."
It was Papa's favorite story.
"Lessons that I couldn't let go of for so long," he said. "They were all I had of them, like you."
What else did they teach him?
"And now?" I asked.
Naga laid on his back. "I mostly let go of them," he answered. He closed his eyes. "I don't do what I used to, at least."
I glanced back at the sky. "Today might be your birthday, but it won't really be until we get back to Amegakure."
And I saw his small, sleepy smile.
同情
We took the path to the bottom of the canyon before sunrise and crossed the river by the time it came up. There was a road through to the other end of the mountains, a road for civilians without the stamina to scale up and down cliffsides multiple times a day.
The inn sat along it, past the tunnel.
It was all brown wood and white screens and had a triangle-shaped roof. A dilapidated staircase led up to the entrance. It looked abandoned.
Hidan sat at the top of the stairs, one leg on the top step, the other crossed, a three-bladed scythe lying next to him. Surprise flashed in his eyes when he saw us and he shook his head.
"I know the standards in Yugakure are low and all, but of all people, they hired you to come hunt me down?" he asked, laughter in his voice.
Naga and I stopped at the bottom. I heard my brother sigh.
"You were right," he murmured. "I can already see the look he'll give me."
"The Daimyo here put a bounty on you," I told Hidan.
Hidan stood, bringing his scythe up with him. "Oh yeah?"
And he leapt.
He raised the scythe above his head, gripping the handle with both hands, and I spun a kunai into my palm. Naga stepped back as he brought it down, but I only wedged my kunai in the gap between the blades, my arm caged between the bottom two as I pushed back against him.
The topmost blade hovered over my shoulder.
"Why the hell does everyone do that?" Hidan asked, landing in front of me.
He pulled back and let the scythe fall down to his side, blades aimed at the dirt. "So, what? You come here to kill me?"
I considered my kunai. It was covered in scrapes, the surface too cloudy to reflect anything. "I wanted to see if you were still alive."
He stared at me for a second. "What?" he finally asked, laughter in his voice.
I looked up at the inn. "Are there other missing-nin inside?"
Hidan made a vague noise. His eyes slid to my brother. "What about you, red-head? You want to kill me?"
Naga blinked once. "You know my name."
Hidan didn't acknowledge him. "What the hell is this? You come all this way for a friendly chat with the local missing-nin or what?"
"It doesn't feel very friendly," I said. "You attacked me."
"We were hired by Yugakure to take down a group of missing-nin squatting in an inn outside the village," Naga said, and sat, an arm on his knee. "But you killed Chief Sugiyama, so there's no one to pay us to do it."
Hidan swung the scythe up to lean against his shoulder and gazed at him. "Why do I get the feeling you're severely underestimating me?"
"I don't think we are. I'm confident you can't beat me or him," I answered.
He grinned wide. "You think so?"
I pointed my kunai at him. "Try."
He threw his head back and laughed. "Now don't blame me when you die. May the great Lord Jashin watch me punish these sinners," he shouted, scythe swinging at my side before he finished.
I leapt up, using just enough chakra for the blades to pass under my feet. Then I landed on them, holding my arms out for balance as he stared up at me.
"Too slow."
He laughed harder. "Fuck you," he yelled, and dropped the scythe.
I pushed off it as it fell, but that meant that I was suspended as he flipped through hand signs. Boar. Dog. Ram.
He spat spinning water cylinders at me, one after another.
I only hummed as they hit my body and were absorbed. His chakra felt different from other water style users. Like ice, but somehow colder.
I mimicked the ram sign as his eyebrows furrowed and spat the cylinders back at him.
His eyes widened. He flipped backwards to avoid the first three and jumped up and back over the last two. He landed on the roof of the inn in a crouch as I landed on the ground, small craters between us.
He pointed at me. "Since fucking when."
"Who's Jashin?" I asked back.
He lowered his hand. "Lord Jashin is a god of calamity, you damn heathen," he yelled. He stood and held out his hands. "It's because of my faith in Him that He made me immortal. So, try all the shit you want, but I can't die."
"You can't die?" Naga repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"If you can't die, why dodge the attack?" I called up to him.
"Because that shit still fucking hurts, dumbass," Hidan shouted. He leapt down and walked to his scythe. "And I already spent the last few days sleeping off injuries. I don't need that shit right now."
He picked up his scythe, grinned, and darted at us. Halfway, he let his foot slide forward, turned it into a spin, and tossed the scythe.
I leapt to the left, Naga to the right, and the scythe lodged point-first in the dirt where he'd been.
Hidan yanked it up as he ran past and I watched Naga dodge backwards to avoid a swing up across his chest.
Naga ducked to avoid a second swipe at his head, then sprung backwards to avoid a downward strike that cracked the ground.
"Slippery bastard," Hidan yelled, laughing as he chased after him.
Naga didn't respond. He flashed through one-handed signs as he dodged again.
Dragon. Tiger. Hare.
I watched him jump up and back, take a quick breath, and spew waterfalls down at him.
Hidan stopped and stared up at the crest of a wave, standing in its shadow. He leaned his scythe against his shoulder. "Well, shit."
I pushed chakra to my legs and hopped up as Hidan was swallowed by it, landing on the wobbly surface.
Even as he flooded the area, Naga still poured out waves and waves of water. Waves swept up the stairs of the inn and cracked against the pillars.
A hand broke through the surface past the inn and grasped at the water. Hidan dragged his upper body up through it. "How much chakra do you fucking—" he was swept under another wave and reappeared sputtering, shaking water out of his hair. "What the fuck," he shouted.
Naga stopped the jutsu, surprised, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"He came up fast," I noted.
"I thought it would push him back more," he admitted.
Hidan pulled himself on top of the water, missing his scythe, clothes dripping. "Seriously, what the shit?"
I raised my right hand. Hidan stumbled forward, eyes wide. He braced, feet skidding against the water, but I only pulled harder. He shouted as he was jerked off his feet.
"How many techniques are you going to pull out of your ass—"
I dropped my hand in one motion and cut his throat open in the next.
He tumbled past me, rolling, and flopped onto his back. He pressed a hand to his throat, fighting to sit up even as blood poured through his fingers and dyed his teeth red.
"What the fuck was that for?" he asked, grinning, his voice a thin rasp.
I turned around. "You said you were immortal."
He laughed, a broken, gargle-y sound. He fell back, the water around his head pink. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he managed. "What if I was full of shit?"
"Naga's right there," I told him. "You'd have a few seconds before you bled to death."
He spat blood and laughed harder. I heard Naga sigh.
I walked up to Hidan, the water slowly dissipating under me, and crouched next to him. Blood soaked his already stained shirt. "You really are immortal."
"You fucking cut my throat open," he said, shaking with laughter. "And then you say that. What the fuck."
I crossed my legs. "You should come back to Amegakure with us."
Hidan struggled to push himself up again. "I want to make you a sacrifice to Lord Jashin and kill you. You understand that?"
"I know," I said. "But where else would you go?"
He stared at me, then shook his head. "I don't think you get it. I'm going to keep trying to kill you, and then when you slip up, which you will, I'm going to cut Nagato down, too."
"You wouldn't be the first to try," I mused, staring back at him. "I don't think you'll be the last."
He leaned close, blood gushing down onto my pants. "I'll kill every last heathen in Amegakure. You think I fucking won't?" he hissed. "Lord Jashin would be more than happy to watch me do it. How much blood do you think I can cut out of that bitch Konan before she dies?"
I looked at him for a second, at his vicious grin, and I shook my head. I watched his face freeze, his smile falter, and I laughed softly at him.
"That's too bad, because Konan is already dead," I said. "And you can't make me afraid of you with words. You forgot—" I leaned close, in his face, and he stared at me. "—I was a monster way before you were."
Naga stepped closer, his sandals squishing the dirt. "We should look inside, Oka."
I glanced at him.
There were only puddles left of the waterfalls. His eyes didn't change as he looked at me.
I know who you are, Oka.
I pushed myself up. "Why?"
"I'm not sure when the inn was first abandoned, but it must've been sometime during the war. It could have something of value the owners left behind. If the missing-nin were in there, they would've come out by now."
I looked at Hidan again. He'd collapsed back in the grass. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, but he'd stopped bleeding as much.
"Are you coming back with us, or not?"
His eyes slowly opened. "You're fucking crazy. Seriously," he rasped, but sat up.
.
.
.
A body was in the middle of the entrance hall, facedown, dressed in white robes. He'd been dead for a few days. I could smell him.
Did he do this before Yugakure, or after?
There were more bodies in the dining area, younger than the man in white, older or the same age as I was. Low tables were overturned, shards of wooden bowls all over, rotting food thrown on the walls. Blood had dried into the wood.
"Who were they?" I asked.
I counted nine of them. They all wore brown shirts and pants.
Hidan kicked a body out of his way and picked up a black, leather-bound book wedged half under another. He opened it, quickly scanned the pages, and didn't seem to mind that it was covered in dark red stains.
He tucked it under his arm. "Oh, these assholes? They were third-rate civilians, faithless heathens who thought they knew shit about Lord Jashin. It was fucking insulting."
I looked down at a teal-haired boy, lying on his back, eyes frozen open. Dead long enough to smell, but not enough to decay on the outside.
I wanted to kill Sugiyama for letting people die, but it didn't make a difference in the end.
"I proved just how serious I was by slaughtering them all," he continued, squeezing water out of his hair. "I was the only one here who ever understood the true way of Jashin and look at me! They're all dead and I'm still alive."
"That's just how it was," I muttered.
I wanted someone better to lead Yugakure, someone who wanted to help people like Yahiko. But not everyone could, or wanted to be, Yahiko. Even if the next leader of Yugakure protected the people of Hot Water Country, there would be another leader somewhere else who didn't.
Missing-nin who killed because they could. Me, who killed for revenge.
"And that made you immortal?" I asked.
"Yeah, you could say that was part of it," Hidan answered. "But I mostly did it because I felt like it."
I glanced at a blond girl, collapsed over a table, her right arm twisted oddly.
I wanted to be better than someone like Hanzo, and wanted other people to be better, too.
But they weren't. People could be kind, but they could cruel and terrible, too.
Why should I care what happens here? Why should it matter what happens anywhere outside of the people I cared about?
The blond and the others here still would've died because Naga and I had been hired as mercenaries. And it wouldn't have mattered what I thought of Sugiyama, what I wanted him to be like, because I would've been just as awful.
Who cares if Hidan had a reason for what he did, if they deserved better?
"What was the other part of the ritual?" I asked.
Money for their lives. How much was a life worth?
Who cares, who cares, who cares.
Them being civilians wouldn't have mattered to me at all. Wanting better, while doing worse.
Hidan crouched close to a dent in the back wall where a blond was curled up on his side, blood dried around his nose.
Outside of Suisai, outside of Amegakure, who cared?
"I'll show you," Hidan said, and tossed the body at me. He darted up behind it, but I only held up my right hand.
I blasted it and him through the back wall. After a few seconds, once the crash of wood bursting apart settled, I heard his wild laugh.
"What the fuck," he yelled from somewhere outside.
I found Naga at the end of the hall, standing in the doorway to another room, looking at a rust red circle on the floor with an upside-down triangle at the center. It was covered in dried blood.
"Find anything?" I asked.
"Just this," Naga answered. "And books to his god, Jashin."
A/N: 欠けて - Lacking, 共感 - Empathy, 欠けて - Lacking, 同情 - Sympathy
What can I say? Never Wake Again is a classic.
Sayaka - 11, Nagato - 17, Hidan - 15
canon!Hidan is taller than canon!Yahiko and it unsettles me deeply.