Title: We Always Hurt the Ones We Love
Rating: R because you can't write Hidan without being kind of sick.
Characters: Well, Hidan of course.
Word count: 833
Summary: Hidan had a happy childhood.

Hidan woke with a start, sweat running down his face and soaking into the sheets of the large bed. Jashin, Lord of Suffering, was punishing him again. Punishing him with the nightmares.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sighed heavily. His elbows rested on his knees as Hidan let his head fall into his hands. It had been two weeks now, and the nightmares wouldn't stop. It was almost enough to drive him mad. He stood, the covers falling back to the bed, and the cold night air chilled his unclothed skin, bringing goosebumps. Hidan began to pace.

The nightmares weren't what other men thought of as nightmares. Hidan had long ago given himself up to suffering. It was his lot in life, as it was that of all men everywhere. No, his nightmares were of his childhood. Of playing with friends, of games and toys... And of clowns. Always of clowns.

Hidan's father had been a wealthy man, but distant. His mother had died in childbirth, and his father had always seemed to blame him. Hidan had learned early that there could be no joy in life, only pain. He had resolved himself to it, learned to embrace the pain and make it work for him. Even as a child, he would cut himself and stab his arms, just to feel pain. Just to know he was alive. Pain was the only way to know you were alive. But over time, Hidan grew accustomed to the pain. It didn't bother him, it didn't even hurt so much. And then Hidan began to long for death, because without pain, what else could life offer him?

And then for Hidan's twelfth birthday, his father had hired a clown. The clown had made Hidan laugh. It had used balloons to make animals and hats for Hidan and the children his father called his 'friends'. Hidan's twelfth birthday had been the happiest day of his life.

And now he was forced to relive it, in nightmare after nightmare, whenever Jashin was displeased with him.

After the clown, Hidan had begun trying to kill himself in earnest. He had discovered Jashin, Lord of Suffering, and prayed for release from life, from the memories of happiness that clouded his mind to the truth: Life was pain. If Hidan couldn't even hold on to that, if the pain failed him, how could he deserve to live?

So Hidan tried his hardest to serve Jashin. When he stopped feeling pain himself, he became a ninja so he could bring pain to others. When the other ninja of his village disciplined him for his tactics, he ran away. Couldn't they understand that he was trying to bring truth to the world, to the lives of those he killed? And then even killing wasn't enough. What pain was there in death? Hidan had to HURT. He prayed to Jashin daily, sometimes hourly, and asked for the strength to bring pain to the world. And Jashin granted that prayer. Hidan learned to use his own body as a conduit to bring pain to others. But through it all, he was haunted by clowns.

Even the physical transformations Jashin's rituals effected made him look like a clown. It made him happy, and it crushed his soul.

Then, finally, Hidan had found the Akatsuki. They hadn't shared Hidan's understanding of pain, or of Jashin's glory, but they had their own thirst for suffering. Hidan was more than happy to help. But he had been paired with that foul, base Kakuzu. Kakuzu didn't understand anything. All he cared about was money. For him, pain mattered as little as pleasure. Kakuzu could never understand Jashin.

The sound of Hidan's footsteps echoed through the chamber, and was answered by a small rustle from the bed. Hidan froze, a sense of dread filling the pit of his stomach.

"What are you doing, Hidan?" The voice was a low drawl, irritated.

"...nothing."

"You had the dream again, didn't you?"

"...yes." Shame filled Hidan, and he felt his skin heating.

"Are you happy?"

"...yes." And his skin felt like it was on fire. Happy? How could he ever let himself be happy? Tears poured down Hidan's cheeks.

There was a pause. The voice didn't respond. Hidan began to chant to himself, calling for Jashin. Give me pain. Give me suffering. Give me death. Just don't give me this.

"...Fine," the voice rasped from the bed. "You're no good to me if you're happy. Come back to bed, and I'm taking your share of the next bounty we collect." Another noise, like a snake uncoiling, grated in Hidan's ears.

Relief swept through Hidan, bringing with it still more shame. He turned back to the bed and climbed in obediently. "I hate you, Kakuzu. I hate everything about you."

"I know. This could never work otherwise." The gravelly voice sounded almost amused. Hidan drew his breath to reply, but the words were ripped away when the pain started.