Kakuzu looked idly out at the fast moving landscape rolling past the train window. He considered briefly that he should really have flown. It might even have been cheaper - not that that was ever really a consideration on his salary, and naturally, this was coming out of Akatsuki's expenses. They should certainly have gone first class though - the only reason they hadn't was because Deidara said it was elitist and immoral and first class should be abolished. Deidara had also had a few things to say about planes, which Sasori said he'd picked up from Zetsu, but of course these 'principles' hadn't stopped him flying out to Berlin last week...
Still, he had to admit, it was really a lot more convenient by rail - no waiting around at an airport for longer than the time of your actual flight. No trek across London all the way out to the unfashionable end of the Piccadilly Line. The train journey was only four and a half hours, ish. They'd probably saved time.
Speaking of time - Kakuzu glanced at his watch - Hidan had been gone, he'd assumed to the toilet, for nearly half an hour now. He looked up at the toilet light - it still showed engaged. He wasn't feeling at all easy in his mind about Hidan, but it was difficult to know what approach it was best to take. After all, he'd only known him just over a week, though the intimacy that had immediately sprung up between them had made it feel longer. Closing his book, he looked over at his other companions. Deidara was asleep, but Sasori met his concerned frown with a questioning raise of his eyebrows.
"Hidan's been gone a while. Should we be concerned, do you think?"
The two older men regarded each other calmly, considering the situation. Neither of them quite knew the etiquette regarding quite how much you're allowed or expected to look after a man fifteen years your junior. Sasori looked down, running a hand through his hair, and tucked his copy of Gaston Bachelard's 'The Poetics of Space' back into his bag. And started slightly as he noticed that the tin containing his scalpels and finer carving tools was missing.
'Yes, I rather think we should,' he said quietly. Kakuzu didn't ask him why, but merely accepted the fact that Sasori now saw some urgency in the situation. It was one of the things Sasori liked about him. They both got up and made their way down the narrow aisle, Kakuzu instinctively sliding his briefcase off the luggage rack and taking it with him. They left Deidara still sleeping - perhaps both feeling, possibly unfairly, that he might be more hindrance than help. Maybe just a typical reflex of a serious older man towards a younger, wilder version.
The toilet in this carriage was the big round disabled kind, with a door that had to trundle incredibly slowly around at least a quarter circle before you could lock the door. Kakuzu could never resist manually trying to urge it round faster, always realising as he did so that it was entirely futile and he was making no difference to its speed at all. He felt an inner conviction that Hidan would've done the same. He knocked on the door firmly, Sasori standing back a little, as though he was only there to back Kakuzu up in what was rightfully his responsibility. Kakuzu felt both irritated and vindicated by this. He pushed down both feelings as he knocked again, saying 'Hidan,' in that penetrating but hushed tone that people use to hail each other in public places.
"Dude, what the fuck?" came Hidan's voice faintly from within. "I'm taking a shit, man!"
"You've been in there half an hour, Hidan," Kakuzu didn't believe him. Hidan's voice sounded so relaxed it was positively trippy. He wouldn't have been surprised to smell hash drifting out, but instead was beginning to wonder if he could smell blood. He looked exasperatedly and questioningly at Sasori.
"My scalpels are missing," Sasori murmured to him.
Right. That was conclusive in Kakuzu's opinion. "If you don't open the door in five seconds I'll call the conductor," he commanded. "Let me in, and we can sort this quietly." He paused a moment longer. "I mean it, Hidan." He glanced at his watch. "Five... Four -"
"Jeez, man, seriously!" Kakuzu listened closely and thought he heard an irritated sigh, then movement and the press of a button, and slowly the door began its arthritic trundling journey towards 'open'.
Taking in the disturbing scene in an instant, Kakuzu quickly stepped inside, closely followed by Sasori. He pushed the 'close' button hard several times, but of course it insisted on opening fully before it would start closing. No-one was around, but Kakuzu and Sasori stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the spectacle that was Hidan from view anyway.
On the floor lay Sasori's tools, though it looked as though only one scalpel had been used. Hidan's shirt was hung neatly out of the way on the little plastic peg on the far wall, but the rest of the cubicle was liberally splattered with blood. Hidan himself was slumped on the toilet, with its lid down, Kakuzu was glad to note. He seemed to bleeding only from the wrists, and that in a very controlled way mainly over the tiny sink, but he had daubed a strange symbol on the floor - the same as the symbol he wore around his neck, of course.
Kakuzu looked into wary violet eyes and saw that there was more to this than he understood at the moment. Picking up the instruments, he handed them to Sasori, saying repressively, "I'll take care of this; you get these out of here."
Sasori did so, being good enough to go along with Kakuzu's intimation that the presence of the tools was providing immediate risk and emotional trauma to Hidan. Hidan was still slumped motionless on the toilet. Both he and Kakuzu waited until Sasori was out of the door before doing or saying anything else.
The door closed and Kakuzu pressed the lock button. He opened his briefcase and got out the first aid kit he just couldn't get out of the habit of carrying. It wasn't a typical one - it looked more like what you'd expect to see on a surgeon's side table.
"Right, let me look at that," he said calmly, trying to take Hidan's wrist. Hidan pulled away.
"Give me another minute," he pleaded. "I'm not done - I can't fucking leave the ritual in the middle, can I?!"
Can't you? thought Kakuzu, but he looked into Hidan's eyes and saw that he was serious. Also, agitation was raising his heart-rate, making him bleed faster. He let go, and leant against the wall. "Alright. One minute," he said, looking at his watch, determinedly keeping his voice utterly calm. "I'll tell you when it's done. But in return, you have to let me patch you up afterwards without bitching about it." He felt Hidan's eyes on him, still wary, but realisation dawning in them that Kakuzu was not to be quarrelled with in this mood.
The minute seemed to pass incredibly slowly to Kakuzu, but he kept his word. Keeping a monitoring eye on Hidan all the time, he leant against the far wall of the cubicle, frowning. So, this is it, he thought. The source of the 'self-harming' rumours, the 'dangerous cult' rumours. The inspiration for Deidara's notorious film. Which, he reminded himself, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off. Poor kid, he found himself thinking, completely fucked-up. But it was difficult to keep that sensible objective view as Hidan licked the blood off one palm, turning St. Sebastian eyes upwards, mouth moving sensuously as if in invocation or prayer. Kakuzu was fascinated. It was different from the film. Deidara's work had made Hidan appear ephemeral - a brief bright moment that would soon be lost. But then Deidara saw everything that way. Hidan doing this in the flesh seemed eternal - aggressively real, his presence strengthened, imprinting itself on your eye, on your soul.
Kakuzu pulled himself together. It wouldn't do to get sucked into the strange glamour of this ritual. Someone had to think about practicalities here. The immortal invulnerability that seemed to radiate from Hidan was entirely an illusion. Kakuzu made himself look at him as a doctor rather than a - a connoisseur. Hidan was not OK. He probably hadn't lost very much more than a pint of blood, but he looked pale and dizzy and Kakuzu didn't want to take any more risk than was necessary. He began to prepare sterile dressings and antiseptic wipes. From his brief glimpse of the wounds he thought they'd be able to get away without stitches, if he taped them carefully. As soon as the minute was up he set to work.
He took Hidan's left wrist, which seemed to be bleeding slightly faster. "This may sting a little," he said expressionlessly as he wiped over the wound - making Hidan hiss with discomfort - before delicately laying fine strips of medical tape across it then pressing down with a pad of cotton wool. He held it down with his thumb while he bound it tightly in place, then did the same to the other wrist. Squatting in front of Hidan, he took both his wrists and pressed firmly down on both pads. Two minutes, and the bleeding should be under control.
"Ouch, man," said Hidan languidly. "That fucking hurts."
"It'll hurt more later if I don't do this now," said Kakuzu curtly, glancing at the second hand of his watch. "Do you want to arrive in Edinburgh needing stitches?"
"No, man, but I've done this before, and I've never needed stitches." Hidan complained.
"Well, that's a miracle, then, but I expect you've never done it on a juddering train before, have you?" Kakuzu demanded. "I didn't think so. So, let's have no more complaining. I'm helping you out here, and in return, you have to do as I say. God only knows how you thought you'd deal with this by yourself..."
Hidan sighed, but didn't say anymore. Kakuzu felt a twinge of concern. He must be feeling rough to shut up that easily - the religious zeal gone for the time being, he was reduced to being a fucked up vulnerable kid again. He suddenly seemed very young to Kakuzu.
The two minutes up, he unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and, tipping Hidan's head back with one hand, he put it to his lips. "Drink," he commanded. Hidan drank. "Better?" he asked. Hidan nodded tiredly. Kakuzu sighed, made him drink a little more, then gently pushed his head down to rest on his knees. Then he turned his attention to the rest of the cubicle. He dampened some toilet paper and scrubbed the circumscribed triangle off the floor, then ran water into the sink, swilling it around to try and get rid of all the splatter marks.
Finally he looked back at Hidan. He sat him up. He seemed to have managed to get blood smeared up to his elbows, all over his hands and on his face. Sighing, Kakuzu dampened his handkerchief and started with his face, holding him firmly by the chin. By now, Hidan was pliable and obedient, half-closed eyes gazing dazedly and disconcertingly into Kakuzu's. Kakuzu worked faster - he needed to get him moving soon, or he'd end up having to carry him. Taking his hands one at a time, he held them just under the flow from the tap, taking care not to splash the bandages, massaging the dried blood off with surprisingly delicate movements. Patting them dry and cleaning from the wrists up took more paper - Kakuzu was beginning to think he must've used the equivalent of an entire roll by now - but finally he had Hidan looking almost respectable again. As respectable as an ashen pale, wide eyed religious extremist could look anyway...
He took down Hidan's shirt and began to ease it on, checking his wrists to make sure the bleeding hadn't started up again. It hadn't. Then he squatted in front of him again and did up the buttons. He didn't want Hidan moving his hands more than was absolutely necessary. Any movement would make the blood pump harder, potentially re-opening the wounds. He sighed. This kid was trouble, just trouble, what on Earth was he doing letting himself get so involved. But he recognised that he was already in way too deep to allow himself to back off.
"Up you get," he said, slipping his hands under Hidan's arms and lifting him bodily off the toilet. He steadied him while he regained his balance, keeping an arm around him as he pushed the button to open the door. "Now, I'm going to take you back to your seat, and you're going to sit down quietly while I get you some tea from the buffet. Are we cool?"
"We're cool," said Hidan, his voice small. He didn't like Kakuzu disapproving of him. In fact, there was no-one he wanted to approve of him more, but there were some things he just had to do. His shoulders slumped a little. It was unfortunate that the more Kakuzu disapproved of him, the more Hidan needed to do the things of which he was bound to disapprove. Was that a Catch-22? He wasn't sure. Kakuzu would know, obviously.
Kakuzu noticed Hidan's sudden dejection and felt a surge of exasperated fondness. He squeezed his shoulder as he ushered him out of the door. "At least you kept your shirt clean," he said with a wry smile. He was glad no-one was waiting. That could have been rather embarrassing. He pushed the little button to open the carriage doors, and shepherded Hidan through into the articulated in-between area. Then steadied him with one arm as he opened the next set - how many frustratingly slow button-operated doors did one train need? - and finally they were free to slowly make their way along the aisle and back to their table.
Kakuzu deposited Hidan in his seat opposite Sasori - he really couldn't be bothered to manoeuvre him into the window seat right now - and swung the little plastic arm down to stop him falling into the aisle if he got dizzy. "Keep an eye on him," he said curtly to Sasori, grabbing his wallet. "You want anything from the buffet?"
By the time he had made his way along what seriously felt like most of the length of the train, Kakuzu was lustfully eyeing the miniature bottles of gin behind the buffet counter. But perhaps that wasn't a good idea. Sighing, he asked for two black filter coffees and a cup of tea, making sure they didn't fill it too full. He grabbed five milks and six packets of sugar, and picked up a packet of Hula Hoops and one of Mini Cheddars as well. And a chocolate brownie, from a bowl on the counter. God knows what the 'Customer Service Host' made of his selection. Kakuzu felt like he must have 'Sugar Daddy' written all over him. Unless they thought he was an actual daddy. But real children didn't drink incredibly sweet tea, did they?
He checked his watch as he strode back along the train - they had two more hours of journey to go. Damn these slow trains - when would this country get a proper rail system, like high speed network on the continent, or, even better, Japanese bullet trains? Still, it was a relief in some ways, as it gave Hidan a good amount of recovery time before he'd have to move.
Back at the table, the atmosphere was frosty. Hidan was looking rebellious and sulky. Sasori looked primly censorious. They'd obviously had words. Kakuzu silently handed the paper bag to Sasori to hold, and proceeded to shoo a floppy and uncooperative Hidan over into the window seat. Eventually he just slipped one hand under his knees and the other around his shoulders and unceremoniously dumped him in it. Sighing again, he fished the teabag out of Hidan's tea, then opened in five of the packets of sugar into it and proceeded to try and dissolve them with the ridiculous little wooden lollipop stick stirrer that was provided. Then he added the contents of all of the tiny milk cartons and handed it to Hidan.
Hidan nearly spilt it all over himself, but Kakuzu had been ready for that and steadied the cup before any liquid could escape. "OK," he said wearily. "Then we do it my way." He held the back of Hidan's neck with his right hand, tipping his jaw to the angle he wanted with his thumb, then delicately began to feed him sips of tea. "I should've got you a straw..."
Hidan glared at him, feeling emasculated. "I know, it's horrible, I'm sure," Kakuzu soothed, smiling at his discomfort. "Though, to someone who sprinkles sugar on their Coco Pops, it shouldn't be too unpalatable. But it's good for you, so drink it."
"Fuck that, man, I don't, not on fucking Coco Pops," Hidan protested. "Only if I have to mix them with shit like Rice Krispies to make them go further."
"I was only teasing you, Hidan, I didn't know for sure that you did it at all," Kakuzu assured him, giving him a break from the tea and handing him the Hula Hoops and Mini Cheddars. "Which would you like?" he asked. "I'll open them for you."
"These," said Hidan, indicating the Mini Cheddars, before realising the significance of Kakuzu's words. "Aw, fuck you, man!" he protested, "You fucking tricked me!"
Kakuzu couldn't help laughing at Hidan's aggrieved expression, and he wished Sasori would lighten up and do the same. "Cut him some slack?" he suggested quietly as he finally got his own coffee out of the bag and stirred half of the last packet of sugar into it. "This really isn't helping."
Hidan heard, though - the crunching of miniature cheese biscuits was not enough to mask even Kakuzu's discreet murmur. He grinned delightedly. "Yeah, tell this prick, Kakuzu," he said. "He's such a fucking sour-puss, seriously."
"Well, you did steal his precious tools for your nefarious purposes, Hidan," Kakuzu mock-reproached him. "You can't expect him to be pleased..."
"He should get a sense of fucking proportion," Hidan muttered.
Sasori was so offended by this that he rose to leave, but fortunately at that moment Deidara stirred. "What's going on, un?" he asked sleepily. "What did I miss? Where are you going, Sasori, un?"
Sasori hesitated a moment, then sat down again, the sight of Deidara emerging warm and fuzzy from sleep evidently too much for him to resist. Kakuzu met his eye coolly, his expression saying clearly, let's be reasonable - we're the grown-ups here. He chaperoned some more tea on its journey into Hidan's mouth, really just being a safety net this time and making sure Hidan didn't flex his wrists too much.
Deidara blinked, and looked from Hidan to Kakuzu and back with an expression of incredulous delight, then groaned. "Oh, you fucking didn't, did you Hidan, un? On a train, un!"
"Oh, he did," replied Kakuzu. "He fucking did."