Chapter 2: To Sneaking
The Art Of Blood Weaving
Chapter Two
o
Finished with midterms...! :D And thank you for the awesome reviews (heart) God bless your souls :DDD
Temari smirked, unfazed. Living as the only woman in an all-male camp for two years, she had grown immune to whatever a man could throw at her.
"Yeah. I'm willing to bet my virginity that you'd be carpetmunching if you were a woman yourself."
"What did you say?"
"You heard what I said."
"Huh. Someone bites."
Teal and amethyst irises glowered, each refusing to back down from the other. Temari realized that the reports had understated him. While most prisoners' eye levels would get no higher past her ankles, Hidan's face was at her knees. She could tell his muscles were not just from an active life, but painstakingly earned. Narrowing her eyes, Temari nodded inwardly. Yes, his eyes were bred of true Resistance. Activity boiled behind his pupils and she vaguely wondered if he was as clever as he looked. Maybe he would be able to escape on his own.
Glancing at her watch, she noted that it was 2:01 AM. Three hours and fifty-nine minutes to go. She turned to the captive in the cell.
"How did you get here?"
"I was brought over here by you Akumas, no shit."
"I'm talking about what you did to land your sorry ass in this jail."
"Don't they tell you that nonsense before I come?"
"Tell me in your own words."
"The fuck? Really? Why? An Akuma actually wants to hear my side of the story?"
"Say it or shut that mouth, fool."
"Alright, wench! Jeez. Anyway, so I was at my town center, preaching about Jashin and shit, and these sons of bitches wearing Akuma uniforms came up and tried to arrest me. I asked them, 'hey, what the hell did I do', and they're like 'oh, you're preaching resistance shit in the guise of something religious aren't you', and I was like 'really, oh, I guess so, whatever, who the fuck cares man', and they're like 'whose side are you on', and I say 'guess, motherfucker', and then they tried to attack me but I slaughtered those faggots. And then a shitload more of them came and bam! They owned me. Then they checked my history and discovered it was too shitty for their taste, so here I am."
He folded his arms triumphantly. "But I still made four sacrifices."
Temari creased her brows. "Sacrifices?" She inquired testily.
"Yeah, sacrifice them to Jashin-sama. But he probably saw their uniform and smacked them down to hell anyway, saying 'Fuck you. No redemption for an Akuma, bitch.'"
"Someone's a hater."
"No one can do anything now without scum from your faithless group picking us off one by one. You shitsacks butt-fucked freedom and left it in the trash. Seriously jacked up. And I was glad to show it." Hidan collapsed to the floor. "So. There's my story."
Spreading his legs out and picking at his teeth, he spat into a corner of his cell, leaned back comfortably on his arms and simply stared at Temari through the bars. It was silent with the anticipation of nothing to do. She sensed he was hoping for her to do something vaguely interesting other than watch him back.
Settling down on the cold floor against the wall, she noted it was unusually chilly inside the prison. Perhaps the guards refused to turn the heater on for Hidan. Temari checked her watch again. 2:17. He was a bit on the talkative side, but nothing really provocative so far. She also noted that he wasn't, in fact, as clever as he seemed, judging from how he was captured. The silence became heavier. Hidan sniffed and shifted his weight. Temari stood back up and walked a couple paces back and forth to keep her feet warm. 2:30.
"So, lady, to pick up from where I left off..."
Temari glanced at him.
"Wanna hear about Jashin?"
Her tone was icy like the prison. "No."
"Do you know anything about Jashin?"
"I don't give a damn."
"Bitch."
"Hm."
Hidan contemplated for a minute. He stood up and approached the bars. "I think you'd like Jashin."
"I don't care, and I won't care."
There was silence for a moment. Hidan watched Temari, nodding to himself.
"Okay. Okay. I can do this. She's a cunt but I think I can."
Temari stared at him without blinking. Still nodding his head, Hidan motioned for her to sit and unbuttoned the top four buttons of his jumpsuit. He pulled out his pendant and positioned himself before the bars as if he were about to give a speech. Temari looked at the pendant, recalling it from the photo she'd seen of him.
"I'll just tell you what I've been trying to inform to those pitiful heathens who just left. Lemme tell you that Jashin's fucking boss. You know how Jashin works? You pick out some lucky motherfuckers. Kill them and offer up blood sacrifices. For that, he—"
"I don't care."
"Bitch, mind if you can shut the hell up and listen?"
"Don't tell me what to do, fucker."
His tone dripped with sarcasm. "Oh great Akuma shrew, please allow me to finish my short explanation, I beg of you. I'll stop when it's done."
o
Temari groaned inwardly and resisted the delicious urge to smash her iron-toed boots upon Hidan's annoying face. For the past three hours, Hidan sputtered nonstop without taking any breaks. No matter how many times she interrupted him, deliberately ignored him, or even insulted his words, it just succeeded to fuel his energetic prattling on and on about his religion, especially his god.
"—as a messenger of Jashin you must kill a life to save a life, know what I mean? Murder does not exist, it is simply the transference of a soul via Jashin's technique, that's why lots of murderers don't even know that they are actually vital counterparts of Jashinism—"
Chewing on her lip, Temari eyed the Glock .40 Caliber strapped to her belt and seriously considered terrorizing the crazed man to silence by shooting bullets right at his crotch. Or perhaps, she thought, looking at her knife in its sheath, she could carve his lips off. By living at the base she had to learn to deal with impossibly callow soldiers, which certainly extended her patience to large capacities. But never had her limits been stretched so much. This man had the ability to annoy her within the space of just a few sentences, an astounding record compared to the normal weeks-long threshold of her patience.
"It's the concept of...blood to blood," Hidan articulated vivaciously, his hands reeling and motioning as if to scoop out chunks of his heart and place it on the floor before her. Temari scoffed somewhat at his behavior. He acted like his words were set alight once they left his mouth. How could he still be talking without even a hint of a rasp to his voice? Not just that, but it was the dead of night and freezing.
If he is really from Resistance he'd definitely work in converting people, she thought. Unsuccessfully, she added, smirking a little despite her annoyance.
"Like when you stab yourself and you stab your sacrifice. You both feel the same pain, right? It signals that you are on the same level, you know? And then—"
Another consideration to think about: was he even part of the Resistance? It was quite impossible that a bloodthirsty crackhead like him wasn't in the Akuma. Especially since he murdered for his spiritual living.
"When you stab yourself, you have to offer up at least a pint of blood. But the more blood you offer, the bigger your blessing. You have ten pints and you can still survive with five, so five is the recommended amount to donate, know what I'm talking about? Your spilt blood mixes with the blood of the sacrificed, which in turn purifies them so that—"
He seemed suicidal himself, too.
"And through the network of blood you create the pattern seen on this pendant here, see? It sends their soul to Jashin, and since your blood is mixed with theirs then Jashin can know which one of his faithful messengers sacrificed this new arrival for him—"
"Oh, for the fifty-seventh fucking time," she snapped exasperatedly. "I couldn't give a flying fuck about Jashinology or whatever the hell it's called. You did nothing but repeat the same shit for almost four hours. Get to the damn point and shut up!"
Hidan bared his teeth and cursed in a way that could only be described as talented. He jammed his finger accusingly through the bars and exploded. "You know what, lady? I hope you rot within the depths of Satan's salty butthole! You gave me false hope, bitch! I thought you knew that I'm doing you a huge freaking favor! I'm trying to save your tush from the almighty ass-rape in hell but you're just a numbnut heathen like the rest of them!"
"Oh, you just realized?"
"A fucking waste of breath!"
"Boo hoo. I warned you that I don't give a shit about your religion."
"Fuck you! You gave me false hope, you smelly whore. Fucking Akumas, they're all raped in the head but you're seriously the most fucked up Akuma I've ever dealt with!"
"Look at the one with the anti-social personality disorder here."
"What the fuck is that?"
"Just shut your mouth!"
"What's the magic wo-ord?" He warbled in a singsong voice.
"Shut up or else!"
"Wrong, heathen wench, wrong! Jashin will lay a serious flogging on you, remember that! You'll be flogged so bad that shit will pour out of all your holes, remember that!"
"Wanna be flogged yourself? Say anything more about your fucking Jashin and you won't be getting food or water for the next three days."
Hidan's tirade lowered to a snarl. Defeated, he spat at her boots and turned away. Growling, he settled himself in a dark corner of his cell, still cursing colorfully under his breath. Temari sighed gratefully, glad that she was able to keep her icy calm facade under check. But then Hidan hopped to his feet and approached the cell door, pointing his finger aggressively at her.
"Now you be the one who had better shut the fuck up," he snapped. "I'm gonna pray. You better not bother me, bitch."
Scowling darkly, her heart pounding with annoyance, Temari checked her watch for the umpteenth time. It was 5:00. Just one more hour left, yet it seemed a very long wait. Fifty minutes lagged by, during which Hidan busily prayed in the corner and she settled down onto the floor, occupying herself with watching him carefully.
The heater never did turn on. Despite her thick attire, drafts of icy air kept sweeping up from beneath the door and chilling her as effectively as snow. She couldn't believe that the wintry air didn't appear to bother Hidan.
His body shifted back to face the door and he seemed to unfold like a paper fortune-teller, the sardonic twinkle appearing in his eye again and a prepared insult on the edge of his lips.
"Guess what, wench? I wished you a fiery pit in hell. Happy?"
"Why, thank you. I appreciate you reserving a toasty warm spot just for me ," Temari returned sarcastically.
Hidan scowled as another draft of icy wind blew through the door. A sharp static beep suddenly burst through the hall, startling the both of them. Suddenly Shikamaru's voice crackled from the radio transmitter on her vest.
"General, I'm sending over guard replacements right now. Meet me in the office after your shift is complete."
"Aw, is the fun over already?" Hidan muttered sarcastically.
Temari smiled to herself while she walked out the door, alleviation washing over her just like the chill of mist in the dawn. Over? She thought. Oh no. The fun's just begun, bastard.
o
Shikamaru was sitting at his desk inside his office. He stood up when she entered his room, smirking as he noted her ruffled expression.
"How did it go?"
"You have to ask?"
"That bad?"
"He probably hates me the most out of all the soldiers in this camp."
"Really?" Shikamaru deflated. He clearly hoped that Temari would be one to appease the murderer. "He's a pest, isn't he."
Temari paused. "The prisoner swap with Base 023 is taking place next week, correct?"
"Actually, there's been notice that the date's been moved to day after tomorrow. We're giving away twelve of the prisoners in P-04."
"Who's staying?"
"Those two girls. One has pink hair and the other has white eyes, I think?"
"Alright. I'll prepare the chains for the transfers' departure. Know where they are?"
"Inside the weapons storage. It should be in the way back."
"Alright. Oh, by the way, about that Hidan in P-07..."
Shikamaru glanced up. Temari was standing in the doorway, looking out. "I've been thinking...he should be given the Treatment, don't you think?"
Smirking, Shikamaru chuckled darkly. "Go for it, woman."
o
Between the rows of M16's and assortments of other war rifles, Temari stopped in her tracks when she noticed a garishly colored instrument lying on the floor, contrasting with the typical dull black machinery of the room. Peeking through the gun shafts, a red, three-bladed scythe with a long steel rope extending from its end lay beneath the cases of sabers and knives, glinting shards of silver at certain angles in the light. Approaching the scythe, Temari knelt beside it and examined the three blades. Her eyes couldn't stop staring when she recognized several profound smears of brown on the metal as blood. She was eventually snapped out of her reverie.
"Temari, bring the chains!"
"Right!"
Temari ran to the pile of chains in the corner and, grunting loudly, grabbed the chains and hoisted it over her shoulders. Bent over from the burden, she huffed several quick breaths before rushing over to P-04. She grit her teeth as a cuff dug into her shoulder, scraping her skin raw. Thankfully, the door was already open. She dropped the heavy chains from her shoulders, the metal clattering loudly against the concrete. Wincing, she slowly stood up and arched her back to stretch the muscles and ease the sting of her minor injury, both of which were still recovering from the weight of the chains.
The prisoners were all awake, already zipped into their dull gray uniforms. They held expressions of anxiety on their faces, and empty pouches were clasped tightly between their bony fingers. All of them stared at Temari with reverence.
Temari locked the doors to the prison and arranged the chains so that they formed a long line across the floor. She turned back to the cells. Taking the keys from her jacket, she then began to insert a large silver key into the lock of the nearest cell.
"Go straight to the bathrooms and get your hygienic materials," she instructed as she opened the cells. "Squeeze your toothpaste out into the toilet and flush it down. Then throw the tubes into the garbage."
Grouping with their cellmates, the prisoners flocked over to the bathrooms where their brushes and soaps were contained. Under Temari's supervision, each prisoner squeezed out every ounce of their toothpaste into a toilet and threw the plastic squeezer away into the trash can. After every captive collected their property and returned to their cells, Temari flushed the toilet and made sure that no evidence of paste was left. She headed back to stand in front of the group of prisoners, who were all quietly waiting for her by the pile of chains.
"Everyone," she announced, keeping her voice at a safe volume, "Don't worry about your toothpastes, I have prepared more for you.
"The journey to your new prison will take around a week. During that duration, they will feed you a scrap of bread only at dinnertime. Water should be available every day, as your transportation is following the route which goes by a mountain stream. Now, listen very carefully."
The prisoners leaned forward, their tired eyes transforming to sharp gazes.
Temari pulled out a small half-used tube of toothpaste from her pocket. All eyes watched the tube. "Inside this tube, there are six doses of normal toothpaste and ten doses of a corroding acid paste. This means that you will be able to brush your teeth for three days. You must make sure each dose is the size of a pea, or smaller. Otherwise if you get the acid paste into your mouth or on your skin, it will cause rapid necrosis and you will be mortally wounded."
She turned to the small crowd.
"After you finish up the paste on schedule, which should be done on the night of the third day, you will be able to use the remaining paste in here to burn through these chains and escape the truck. You have to apply a dose of this paste to the metal during the morning, noon and evening of the next three days. On the night of the fifth day, use the remaining four doses to melt through what's left of the metal. You must be patient so they won't notice the damage to your chains. And when you escape, I'm telling you, do not cross the stream. Leave footprints on the shore, to throw them off. But under no circumstances will you be going in the water, not only because it's a dead forty foot drop to the bottom but also you can and will get severe frostbite or pneumonia. Open up your pouches and I'll give each of you a tube."
The sounds of zipping echoed through the hall and Temari walked by each prisoner, pulling toothpaste from various pockets and distributing them into the pouches. Then going backwards, she clasped the cold cuffs of metal onto their wrists and ankles and locked them securely. Every prisoner was successfully restrained. Pushing open the doors to P-04, Temari gestured for them to exit the prison. As they walked by, she glanced behind her shoulder to look at the two girls whom Shikamaru said were staying. They were staring at the floor, their faces devoid of emotion.
It was early, and the winds that blew every morning throughout the camp brought some snowflakes. Temari found that strange, as it was only the beginning of fall. She gave it little heed and guided the shivering prisoners to the waiting trucks in the distance. As they group walked past P-07, Temari turned her head to look towards the building. She saw Hidan splayed across the ground, snowflakes flecking his body. His torso was naked and he was shivering with his teeth clenched. Giant scars marred his exposed skin. He was chained down to the only patch of grass surviving in the whole camp. The grass was covered in slushy dew.
The wind was particularly vicious this morning. The chains clanked loudly as the prisoners boarded the truck. The engine roared to life and began its bumpy descent past the southern field of grass. The wind picked up and suddenly reversed, blowing back Temari's hood and tearing her inscribed scarf from her neck. Gasping, she watched as the wind swirled again and carried her scarf down the plains, catching onto a spire on the back of the truck.
o
Temari emerged inside P-07, contentedly chewing a piece of pork jerky. Hidan appeared to be sleeping. The skin below his eyes were noticeably darker and despite his muscular body, a hint of his ribs were showing. His skin was red and swollen from constant inflammation, and cracked in some places because of the cold. He had just survived the weeklong duration of the Treatment, which accounted for his appearance. She noticed his lack of a blanket.
"Hey, it's the shrew again!"
She looked back in surprise. Hidan was sitting up, leaning weakly against the bars. His voice was raspy.
"What's that you're eating? Meat?" He sniffed the air and his eyes widened. "Barbecued pork? That's my favorite flavor! Gimme a piece."
"You already had dinner."
"Dinner? You seriously think that bowl of spit's dinner? Lemme have a piece."
"Say the magic word."
"Blow me, bitch!"
"Not like there's anything to blow. And another thing you also won't have is this jerky."
She smiled sweetly at him and promptly headed to the storage closet, with a barrage of curses following her back. When she returned, he had resumed his position of sleeping except with his back to the door. Taking a key from her pocket, Temari unlocked the door. Instantly, Hidan sat up and glanced behind. A heavy blanket was flung onto his head. He fought through the folds of blanket to see Temari standing high above him, the light from behind casting the shadow of her silhouette onto his face.
"Take good care of it, cause it's the only one you'll have for the duration of your stay," she instructed coldly. She slammed the door and walked away. On a second thought, she returned and tossed a piece of chewed jerky between the bars.
"Eat it now before someone sees. Tell anyone and I swear I'll have you tortured again," she growled threateningly. She spun on her boot and marched away.
Hidan could only stare open-mouthed as she walked away, his eyebrows knit together in utter shock.