Quotidian ch.7 pt.2
By: firefly
Reaching Terminus pt.2
Thick, opaque clouds, ominous and steel grey lay still over the horizon, on the verge of coming to shore. Within the enormous, pregnant swells of cumuli, rain simmered amidst the distant rumbling of thunder, momentarily withholding the deluge as the clouds lethargically rolled forth.
The sky was an unusually bright grey, dismal over the brown backdrop of sand, the houses in the surrounding neighbourhood appearing to shrink as they darkened beneath the approach of the rumbling clouds. At 4:27 AM, the drizzle began, accompanied by a faint flash of lightning in the distance.
Temari found her throat parched as she stood by the window in her room, gazing out at the horizon. Mist collected around the warmth of her fingertips on the glass, sweat building in glistening beads on her forehead.
The rest of Suna slept on. The streets were deserted and the air eerily still, an augury of the blinding rain and brutal wind set to descend within the next hour or so.
She'd slept fourteen hours since collapsing on her bed in exhaustion, blissfully ignorant of her surroundings and the unsettling doubts as she slept, for once spared the nightmares. When she'd finally come to, the faint light of her bedside lamp was unusually bright in comparison to the dim blue luminance seeping between the window blinds, and for a moment she couldn't tell whether the light was indicative of twilight or dawn.
A distinct sense of unease crept upon her once she realized it was dawn, and as if to reassure herself, she stood by the window to gaze out at the line of barricades in the distance.
Her grip tightened on the window's ledge.
I'll come back one more time…
"The barricades are up," she muttered vehemently. "There's a monsoon coming."
…when it'll really be just you and me.
She shook her head admonishingly, muttering.
"No sane person would be out in this weather."
The last words of attempted assurance did little to appease her fears, a small bubble of derisive laughter rising in her throat. The word 'sane' did not apply to him in any shape or form.
She turned away from the window, feeling her legs tremble slightly as she did. The clock read 4:31 AM. Her shift had always ended at five.
"You're done," she said aloud, trying to sound firm and failing. "There aren't anymore shifts."
Despite herself, she helplessly turned her head and looked out the window, brow furrowing as the drizzle became more intense, streaking diagonally across the window pane as the wind picked up speed. A moment later, a flash of lightning lit up the entire neighbourhood, disappearing almost instantly and taking whatever light there was in the house with it.
Temari blinked in the sudden darkness of her room, realizing a moment later the power was gone. A harsh rumbling overhead rattled the window pane, and unconsciously she found herself drawn back to the only remaining source of light streaming through the window.
Glancing out at the neighbourhood, she squinted, noticing that the few lights she'd seen in the surrounding houses had gone out, including the ones in the council building. Only the lights in the hospital remained, running on the emergency power generators.
Releasing a slow breath, she turned away from the window once more, turning to glance at her bedside clock.
The digital display was blank.
She stared at it, and the instant she remembered that it was plugged into an outlet, a sickening, gut-wrenching sensation of fear bore down on her. Without thinking, she turned and ran back to the window, staring out at the horizon and the barricades, hands pressed against the glass.
The hospital was the only facility with backup power.
The surveillance cameras depended on the same electrical network supplying power to the rest of Suna. If the power grid had completely gone down, there would be no surveillance. The cameras were as good as dead.
Her fingers left the window pane to entangle into her unbound hair, gripping hard as an overwhelming sense of panic took over.
No one but her knew about him. Nobody but her understood his nature—black and playful and merciless as it was.
Nobody was watching the border.
"Just you and me," she found herself whispering, arms drifting limply back to her sides.
She had no more time to think.
Fifteen minutes later, when she found herself leaping from the last rooftop onto the sand, equipped with nothing but her shoulder pack and fan, the calm voice in the back of her mind returned, reminding her that she was alone, reminding her that her fan would become useless once the rain fell.
Temari listened and couldn't bring herself to care.
Resolve, enough to make her accept the possibility of encountering death at the border, buried the fear and uncertainty.
She was being irrational. She was neglecting the ideologies she'd lived by her entire life. She was acting crazy and was totally aware of it, and embraced it all for the sake of ending the vicious cycle that had uprooted and virtually destroyed her life. For the sake of showing him that she wouldn't and couldn't let him win, she would endure. The monsoon would not get in her way.
Gritting her teeth, she ran faster, ignoring the burning in her calves and the sharp sting of wind against her uncovered face.
When she finally arrived a half hour later, the barricades greeted her alone, bereft of torches and people. The only things remaining were the cold grey skies and a metal wall that seemed to reach the billowing clouds overhead.
Steeling herself, she continued her sprint towards the barricades, focusing her chakra into her feet. The impact of her feet against the vertical wall sent shockwaves all the way up to her thighs, the pain going unnoticed as she sprinted up the wall, squinting into the drizzle that rained down on her.
By the time she reached the top, she felt like her heart would burst out of her chest. Adrenaline and dread combined to form an anticipation so painful it made her chest hurt, and clenching her teeth, she scaled the edge of the wall and found herself standing at the top, clothes catching on the barbed wire.
She glanced down at the oasis and froze.
Empty. The land was absolutely barren.
Blinking, she stared at it blankly, uncomprehending before shifting her gaze to scour the desert around it.
Gradually, as she continued to search the empty landscape before her, the anticipation and gut-wrenching anxiety vanished, only to be replaced with some hollow, empty feeling she couldn't quite identify. Something heavy pressed down on her chest, disquieting and uncomfortable, eliciting a wince as she stood there, negligent of the lightning illuminating the grey clouds overhead.
Thunder rumbled threateningly and she blinked when a raindrop landed against her left cheek, ice cold and sharp.
Barbed wire cut into her ankle but she remained oblivious, expressionless as she gazed at the oasis. Mechanically, she checked her watch.
5:12 AM.
Did I miss him?She wondered. Did he leave?
The feeling of hollowness expanded and her body seemed to cave inwards in response, head bowing and shoulders slumping as the adrenaline completely disappeared and her body became all too aware of its surroundings. It was bitingly cold, the sensation becoming all the more pronounced when she realized the futility of coming here in the first place.
Brow furrowing, she lowered her eyes, staring at the bloody scratches on her ankle with an odd sort of detachment. This hollow feeling—it almost felt like disappointment.
"Why?" she muttered, glaring bitterly at nothing. "I should be happy."
You hate him, the calm voice reminded her. So it hurts to know he got away. It hurts to know you were totally useless in the end—that you suffered for nothing and never got a chance to show him how you felt.
Wordlessly, Temari knelt and carefully grabbed the edges of the wall, keeping her gaze on the oasis even as she lowered her body, a part of her hoping she might catch a glimpse of him. Instead, gradually, she watched the metal wall rise to obscure her view of the oasis as she descended, and by the time the wall had concealed the oasis completely, the rain started to fall in earnest, pelting against her hands and face.
She felt none of it.
A few seconds later, she stood on the sand, staring blankly at the barricade in front of her, blinking the rain out of her eyes.
The landscape lit up as far as the eye could see, followed by rumbling in the distance.
She couldn't bring herself to move.
"Wonderful weather we're having, huh?"
Temari froze, staring at the metal wall before her, wide-eyed as the familiar, sardonic voice met her ears, closer now than ever before.
She didn't give herself the opportunity to wonder if she'd imagined it or how she should react, slowly turning around and staring blankly as she stopped.
He stood only a few meters behind her against the backdrop of Suna, gazing up at the dark clouds. When he lowered his head and found her staring at him in dumbfounded silence, a slow, wry smile graced his face.
Temari couldn't bring herself to speak, rendered paralyzed by the miniscule distance between them. For a long moment, they merely watched each other, his expression coldly amused as her lips moved soundlessly in an effort to speak. When she finally did, her voice came out half-strangled.
"You crossed the border."
"So I did."
The sound of blood rushing in her ears, coupled with the rumbling thunder and patter of raindrops made it nearly impossible for her to hear her own thoughts. Scarcely breathing, feeling numb, she realized she finally had what she wanted.
He crossed the border. He was in her terrain. He'd finally given her the reason she needed to kill him.
But she didn't move, only capable now of staring at him in petrified silence.
The smile on his face grew wider when she remained motionless.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked in amusement, taking no notice of the rain that fell harder and faster from the sky, plastering their hair and clothes to their bodies. "We're alone. Nobody's watching. I'm all yours."
He took a step forward.
"Isn't this what you wanted?"
Temari blinked and felt raindrops fall from her lashes, joining the rivulets already streaming down her face. She remained motionless.
"Didn't you need a reason to kill me?" he continued, squinting through the rain and smirking.
She said nothing, staring at him unblinkingly even as she slowly reached into her pack and withdrew a kunai, clenching it tightly by her side.
His eyes lowered towards the weapon she held, reflecting cold amusement as rain dripped off the point, soaking into the sand. Raising his eyes, he took another step forward, watching her face for a reaction.
Unconsciously, she raised her arm, clenching the handle of the kunai so tightly it trembled in her grip. The wall of the barricade behind her felt like the end of the world.
"Don't take another step," she said, finding her voice unrecognizable to her own ears.
His smirk widened into a grin and she watched, transfixed, her heart hammering in her chest as he reached up behind his back and removed the scythe.
Numbness swept over her, all remnants of fear swept from her mind as he held the scythe by his side, his grip tight on the staff.
She saw death in that moment, saw it in the way he held his weapon and the way he smiled. She saw death and wasn't afraid—only tense to the extent of biting her lip bloody and straining every muscle in her body.
This is what I've been waiting for, she realized, licking the blood from her lower lip, aware of him watching fixedly. I'm not afraid.
Both of them were thoroughly drenched by now, though neither seemed to notice.
Then, just as he took another step forward, he slowly relinquished his grip on his weapon. Temari stared, eyes widening when the scythe fell sideways onto the sand, landing with a soft thump.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes. "Your weapon—"
"You want to kill me," he interrupted, advancing another step. "And you know that you can't."
Temari reached forward with her other hand to steady the first, clutching the kunai with both hands now, trying to resist the urge to back up against the wall.
"So seriously, what I want to know," he said thoughtfully, amusedly, "is what exactly you planned on doing, if I ever gave you the opportunity."
"Stop," she ordered, feeling her left foot slide back of its own accord, connecting with the wall. "Stay where you are."
"What's the matter, Blondie?" he asked, feigning a concerned look. "Scared?"
She swallowed to force back the nausea, disgusted with the delight lacing his undertone.
"Scared of you?" she spat, feeling a surge of hatred flood her. "You're nothing to me."
"'That so?" he inquired calmly, taking another step forward, forcing her back against the wall. "Then why are you running away?"
Temari found herself mute, suddenly, when she realized that this was the closest she'd ever been to him in the past three months. He was only a step away from standing right in front of her.
There was a moment of silence where they just stared at each other, daring each other to make the first move. Temari remained motionless, holding the kunai tight, furiously blinking rainwater out of her eyes as he watched her, smirking.
Her heart nearly stopped when he took the last remaining step forward and instinctively she whipped her arm out, pressing the kunai against the rain-slicked skin of his throat. He stopped, unperturbed by the presence of the blade against his throat, pausing to stare down at her.
Temari stared back, wide-eyed and breathless, seeing him up close for the first time.
Disarming, violet eyes flickered with amusement, blinking away the drops of rainwater that clung to his lashes. The rosary, wet and metallic against his chest, gleamed faintly along with the metal faceplate of an unrecognizable hitai-ate. The clouds on his cloak had darkened from red to burgundy, the faint, heady musk of wet cloth encircling her as the wind picked up speed.
Vile like the crow. Corrupt like the crow. All things bad like the crow. Beautiful like the crow.
The crow hides a black nature behind a pretty face.
As Temari remained motionless, holding the kunai resolutely against his throat, he moved. Her eyes widened, breath catching in her throat when he suddenly leaned into the pressure of the blade, his small smile growing slightly as it bit into his skin.
A thin line of blood emerged alongside the edge of the kunai, blending with rainwater and running in pink rivulets down his neck.
Her knees buckled and the kunai trembled against his throat, cutting into the tender skin as his gaze locked on hers, silently daring her to make a move. She could scarcely breathe. Her mind was blank. He was too close. She had no options left.
"What are you going to do?" he murmured. "You can't kill me."
"You're right," she said suddenly, voice quaking. "I can't."
Then the kunai fell and she threw herself into him with every ounce of force she could muster, a furious scream tearing from her throat simultaneously.
Hidan barely registered the impact of the kunai against the ground when she collided into him, elbow connecting brutally with his sternum, followed almost immediately by her fist against his jaw in a blow that would've dislodged a few teeth if he hadn't turned his head at the last second.
Undeterred by the glancing blow against his face, she whipped around with her other fist, only to have him slap it out of the way, the momentary glimpse of his surprised expression enough to compel her to seize his wrist and fling him against the barricade wall with as much force as she could muster.
His back hit the wall with bruising impact, arms rising to brace him for balance over the slippery mud when she suddenly swung her closed fan towards his head. The collision of the weapon's metal frame against the wall reverberated painfully in his ears as he ducked out of the way, the blow leaving a sizeable dent in its wake.
As she lunged at him again, the sight of her enraged expression and the onslaught of violence she unleashed with her weapon and fists were enough to provoke him into retaliating. He snatched the fan from her grip as he ducked the blow she aimed at his head again, flinging it out somewhere in the sand.
"Bastard—" she bit out in fury, attempting to knee him in the stomach when he seized her wrists. Before she could connect, he spun around and flung her bodily into the barricade wall, the sheer force of the throw and impact knocking her off-balance.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in her back, she staggered to her feet as he took a moment to gather his bearings, glancing up a second too late as she lunged at him once more, inwardly relishing the astonished look on his face before she collided into him.
He flew backwards into the sand, momentarily stunned by the impact of the ground against his back and her weight against his chest. Without wasting a second, she pinned his arms beneath her knees, withdrawing another kunai from her pack as she leaned forward, straddling his waist.
He stared up at her in shock, loose strands of silver hair plastered to the side of his face, arms motionless beneath the weight of her knees. She shook, holding the kunai against his throat, the water from her hair dripping onto his face as rain pelted every inch of her body.
For a moment they just stared at each other in silence, motionless as the impact of their compromising position sank in.
Hidan's silence didn't last long, lips quirking into a grin, laughter reverberating low in his throat as Temari pressed the kunai harder against his neck, drawing more blood.
"You're fucking nuts, you know that?" he managed to get out, eyes bright with some form of euphoric, sadistic glee. "You crazy bitch, you know you can't kill me."
"If I can't kill you," she said shakily, breathing hard. "Then the least I can do is hurt you."
"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" he asked breathlessly, staring up at her in unconcealed excitement. "Hurt me."
Her eyes narrowed into a vicious glare and she felt the poisonous fury take over, quickening her breath till she was gasping and pushing at her throat till she felt like screaming. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to hurt him. Not with a kunai alone. Not without her hands.
She switched the kunai to her left hand, reaching down with her right to grab him by the back of his hair, her fingers twisting cruelly into the wet, silver strands before jerking his head up, forcing him off the ground.
Breathing harshly, she tightened her grip, making him wince as she dragged her nails as hard as she could over the rain-slicked skin of his neck. His expression contorted slightly as the skin peeled away and blood flowed, collecting in thin red pools beneath her nails.
A look of exhilaration flooded his features, eyes closing momentarily as the tip of the kunai bit threateningly into the soft flesh beneath his jaw. She yanked his head up higher, pressing her full weight into his arms to keep him immobile, holding the kunai against his throat.
"You mad at me?" he asked, voice straining as the tip of the kunai dug into his neck. "Upset because I'm in your precious little country? Pissed off because I came without permission?"
"Shut up," she ordered breathlessly, tilting the blade up higher. "Just shut up."
Fighting to keep her rage under control, physically forcing every ounce of her weight on him, straining her muscles to the point of spasms—they all coupled to form an exertion so intense she teetered on the brink of collapse.
Panting harshly, she clenched her jaw, pulling him forward and digging her knees as hard as she could into his arms—anything to make the exhilarated expression on his face disappear. The strain inflicted on his shoulders had him gasping as hard as her, and she had to fight the urge to grin in satisfaction.
"Bitch," he gasped, his voice straining further, fingers digging into the sand. "—you trying to break my fucking arms?"
"Your arms, your legs, your neck," she said venomously. "Everything."
"This really hurts, you know."
"Just shut up," she snarled, leaning forward that bit more to make him draw a sharp breath. "And tell me why the hell you're here."
"What?" he squinted up at her, blinking rainwater out of his eyes. "You still didn't figure that out?"
A stifled curse burst out of him when she abruptly moved the kunai from his throat and clenched her fist, backhanding him across the face with enough force to draw blood. Immediately, a long, livid scratch bloomed red across his cheek, rain mingling with the blood and joining the pink rivulets streaming down his neck.
Temari struggled to catch her breath, glaring hatefully down at him as he slowly turned his head to look back at her, an unnervingly calm expression on his face.
"You know," he said slowly, almost lazily. "If you'd been anyone else, I would've ripped your fucking throat out for that."
"So why don't you?" she spat, forcing the blade of the kunai against his neck again. "What's so special about me?"
"Like I said, you still didn't figure it out?"
Temari grimaced as a mix of something resembling a frustrated, anguished sob and scream caught in her throat, tripping on the way out, manifesting in a violent tremor in her grip against the kunai and the fingers fisted in his hair.
"Tell me," she choked out. "Tell me, or…"
"Or what?" he sneered. "You'll kill me? Why do you wanna know, anyway? Am I supposed to have some shitty little motive that'll make you feel better?"
The look in her eyes became absolutely livid. "Fucker—"
His eyes widened when she raised her hand again, this time pointing the kunai directly at his face. "Tell me, or I'll stab your goddamn eyes out."
He stared up at her in silence for a few moments, brow furrowed slightly, arms straining beneath her knees. After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"Let go and I'll tell you."
Temari lowered her eyes to his arms, well aware of the severe strain his shoulders must have been under as she kept his arms pinned to the sand. Easing the pressure would only give him the incentive to turn the tables, and in response she merely narrowed her eyes, tightening her grip on his hair and lowering her head slightly.
"Tell me," she said icily. "Anything besides that, and you lose an eye."
His breath hitched near her ear, fingers digging into the dirt as the pressure on his arms mounted. After a long moment of silence, his lips parted to speak.
"It's harder than it looks, you know, being a missing nin…half the time you're on the run, the other half you're carrying out orders for an organization you never wanted to join in the first place, and in the middle of all that, getting fucked over and fucked up in fights, getting distracted from what's important…"
Temari listened in silence, brow furrowing as he paused, arms squirming beneath her knees again before he continued.
"And what can I say…you get sick of that shit after a while. You need a way to get your kicks, and some of us miserable bastards don't know any better way than to just kill, kill, and kill some more to pass the time…but you…"
A trace of laughter caressed the shell of her ear, his voice emerging in a soft, malicious murmur.
"Seriously, talking to you—seeing you—fucking with you made it better. Suddenly my shitty life wasn't as shitty, because I was getting my rocks off making your life a living hell. Sharing the misery, or whatever it was—seriously gave me my kicks. And you were so perfect, so naïve, falling for it and putting up with it, you dumb bitch."
She remained motionless, silent as he paused. His fingers clenched into fists to brace himself before he continued.
"And it's your own fault," he murmured. "It's your own goddamn fault you couldn't get a fucking clue, Blondie."
His voice lapsed into silence, the rhythmic pattering of rain filling the expanse once more as Temari remained motionless. Eventually, she lowered her head, the pressure against his throat relenting as she let her lips part near his ear.
"Then get one thing straight," she said quietly. "My name is Temari, you son of a bitch."
The kunai pierced the soft skin of his neck before he could get a chance to speak, only a faint, hoarse sound of surprise escaping him before she forced the blade through the flesh. Dragging it deep, she punctured his carotid artery in a straight line before she flung it away, tightening her grip on his hair as blood gushed from the wound, impacting hotly against her neck.
He froze, lips parting soundlessly near her ear as the pain sank in and the blood streamed in a violent torrent down his neck, washing away the rain and leaving a red sheen against his skin.
Temari remained motionless, trembling and holding him up by his hair, breathing harshly and waiting for a sound. A faint gurgling met her ears and she closed her eyes, unsure of whether it was out of bliss or the verge of syncope.
Without even being aware, she'd shifted so her knees pressed into the sides of his ribs, releasing the weight on his arms. Somewhere between her slitting his throat and flinging the kunai away, he'd blindly reached up and grabbed fistfuls of her shirt.
The gurgling grew louder as she opened her eyes, staring wide-eyed in disbelief down at the wet sand as the sound began to taper into silence, the vice-like grip on her collar slackening slightly.
Dead within minutes, she thought desperately, recalling the quickness of the civilian woman's death. Please, please, please, please.
The gurgling faded into silence.
She didn't dare breathe, staring blankly ahead at the sand, not daring to hope that it was over.
And then a faint, weak sound broke through the rain, slowly escalating in volume and nearly making her cave in on herself as it met her ears. Choking back a cry of despondence, she couldn't bring herself to hold back the words anymore, tears burning at the backs of her eyes.
"I hate you," she whimpered, her voice catching and breaking in her throat. "I hate you."
Hoarse laughter, guttural and harsh against her ear, gradually heightened in volume as the blood flow slowly tapered off.
His fingers trembled before splaying out against the lapel of her shirt, bunching it and curling tightly around the wet fabric. He was laughing, coughing and choking on the blood flooding his mouth, but laughing all the same.
Temari could only stare despondently at the sand, blinking slowly, indifferent to his blood soaking into her clothes and his knuckles grazing her collarbone. The hand fisted into his soaked hair felt numb, the ache in her arm going unnoticed.
The rain fell harder till the sound of his laughter faded to a disturbing hum in the back of her mind, the hard, cold droplets weighing her down into the sand. She couldn't bring herself to move or speak. There were no words to describe what she felt in that moment.
In hindsight, perhaps, she could say she felt the numb shock similar to the kind one experienced upon hearing about the death of a loved one. The sensation was identical, only in reverse. The man whose throat she cut lay laughing beneath her, alive when he should have been dead.
His death would have brought closure. His pain would have quenched at least a slip of her vicious hatred. But he razed both hopes without mercy, laughing in the face of death and her attempts at hurting him. The devastation she felt went beyond comprehension.
The rain lessened and increased in intensity at odd intervals, and just as it began to taper off, she heard the sounds of his laughter change.
Gradually, the sounds of mirth became indistinguishable from the great, hitching gasps catching in his throat, mingling to form an unnerving parody of both amusement and grief. She stared blankly at the sand, listening to the hysterical blend of sobs and laughter in silence.
"Shit," he gasped, his voice half-choked by blood and rain. "Almost…it almost worked."
Despite the overwhelming misery and anguish encompassing her in that moment, the stark oddness of his words brought her out of her reverie. Gradually, she released her grip on his hair, both hands descending to grasp the front of his cloak. When she met his gaze, he was staring up at her with a grimace of consternation on his face, the deep gash in his throat looking surreal against his features.
"What?" she said faintly.
"Got my hopes up for nothing," he said, smiling bitterly. "I seriously thought you'd be the one to do it."
Her heart felt like it would stop in the hollow expanse that had engulfed her body. Numb, trembling, she furrowed her brow, staring at him in confusion.
At her expression, a wavering, humourless grin spread across his bloodstained face, his voice tinged with derision.
"You still don't get it, do you?"
When she didn't reply, his eyes narrowed into a vicious glare, grip tightening on her collar before he flung her off of him and to the side.
Temari caught herself despite the unexpected shove, leaning back on her elbows and staring in detached shock at the sight of him sitting up, undeterred by the blood loss. The look on his face before he'd thrown her aside lingered in her mind's eye, and an instinctual part of her urged her to run.
But as he lifted his gaze from the sand and looked at her, she couldn't bring herself to move, finding her limbs petrified.
An unbearable silence reigned for several seconds, neither breaking the eye contact, until he finally spoke.
"I thought you could kill me," he said, voice bitter. "That's why I came back."
Temari stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"Since the first week," he continued, a cynical smile working its way onto his features. "Since the first time you said you needed a reason to kill me."
Her lips parted. She found herself unable to speak.
"That's why I kept coming back," he said with a sudden, hoarse laugh. "You think I couldn't tell? You think I couldn't tell you hated my fucking guts? I just needed to give you a reason to kill me, and today I finally did."
"Why me?" she managed to get out, her voice hardly above a whisper. "Why did you choose me?"
"I didn't choose you," he retorted. "You chose me. You made me into your fucking scapegoat—pinned me with all the hate you have for the Akatsuki. I just realized it and took advantage of it."
Her heart felt like it would explode out of her chest, her voice escalating and bursting out of her in fury.
"But why me? I'm not the only one who hates you!"
He seemed unperturbed by her anger, regarding her nonchalantly for a few moments.
"You're something else," he finally replied. "No one's hated me like you do."
She couldn't speak, her eyes swimming with tears of loathing and hurt and disgust.
Two months. He'd put her through two months of sleepless nights, withdrawal from normality, hatred-induced obsession, hatred-induced fury, hatred-induced irrationality, hatred-induced anguish, and for what? To use her as a device to satisfy his own morbid desire?
Out of hatred, she'd wanted to kill him. Out of hatred, she would have granted him death and subsequently given him what he wanted. If it had been possible, she could have granted both their wishes. But she couldn't satisfy her own desire and she couldn't satisfy his. She'd failed on both accounts.
"What the hell are you crying about?" he demanded when she bowed her head. "I felt that this was it, that you'd be the one to do it. I never felt so sure about something in my whole fucking life. I should be crying, goddamn it, not you."
"Shut up!" she shrieked, fists clenching in the mud. "If I could, I'd kill you a hundred times! It's not my fault you can't die. You should have found someone else—someone capable of giving you what you want!"
Her voice caught in her throat, breath hitching in a half-suppressed sob, stifling her next words into a choked whimper.
"Bastard…you ruined my life."
He remained silent for a few moments, staring at her expressionlessly before an odd, wan smile lifted the corners of his lips, a low chuckle sounding in his throat as he looked contemplatively down at the sand.
The smile faded as quickly as it had come.
"You think you're the only one," he murmured, voice hardly audible through the rainfall. "You think…what, the past two months were easy for me?"
A slight tremor passed through her as his voice heightened in pitch, keening with what sounded like repressed hysteria.
"You think I was being serious when I said all that shit about getting my rocks off making your life a living hell?"
She instinctively drew back when his head snapped up, violet eyes dark with fury.
"What do you think, you fucking bitch? That I came back every goddamn night for our little chats? That I came back just to piss you off? I don't give a shit about you!"
Reeling back from the shout, Temari was hardly conscious of the intensifying rain, terrified and transfixed as his voice abruptly died into a low mutter, his fingers tangling into his hair.
"This wasn't supposed to happen…I'm not supposed to still be here. You were supposed to kill me. Why couldn't you kill me?"
A retort stopped short of leaving her lips as she warily took in his demeanor, realizing words would only worsen the situation. Somehow, the sight of him like this scared her more than Gaara ever possibly could.
"Said my goodbyes," he murmured, voice hardly audible. "Left them behind. Did everything right. But something's wrong…seriously…something's seriously wrong."
"I'm not the right person," she finally choked out. "You picked the wrong person."
He clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists. "There isn't anybody else."
"You don't know—"
"There isn't anybody else!" he interrupted furiously, voice suddenly escalating into a shout. "There's only you! For two months—two fucking months—only you. Day and night, just you. Couldn't sleep, because of you. Was punished, because of you—"
Her eyes widened in shock, arms and legs scrambling back over the ground to gain some distance when he violently swung his fist downwards into the mud, voice hoarse from screaming.
"You goddamn bitch, it has to be you, because it's the only fucking reason good enough to explain why for two months all I could think about was you!"
Temari stared at him, speechless and wide-eyed as the din of rain gradually filled the deafening silence that followed. For a long moment, he remained in the same position, fists clenched in front of him, staring sightlessly at the sand as he fought to catch his breath.
At the same time, a slew of thoughts assaulted her, rooting her to the spot as she realized the sleepless nights, uncertainty, and obsession hadn't been one-sided. Somewhere in the back recesses of her mind, a sense of satisfaction flourished at the thought of him suffering in the same way she had.
But whatever his reasons, he'd still reduced her to living a hellish existence, had contributed to her almost killing her brother, had ruined what chances there might have been of saving that woman. As far as she was concerned, he had no goddamn right to blame her for his own mistakes.
"…I would've killed you by now for being so useless."
Temari glanced up sharply at the sound of his voice, tensing as he raised his head and looked at her levelly.
"But I don't plan on giving up on this…on you."
She didn't reply, stiffening at his words. They stared at each other, and just as his fists loosened by his sides she mindlessly tried to get up and run.
He grabbed her by the wrist before she could even move to her knees and jerked her forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair to keep her still when she struggled.
Biting her lip, Temari squeezed her eyes shut momentarily at the sharp pain in her wrist, ceasing her struggling as he tightened his grip.
The concept of "shinobi" and its ranks—genin, chunnin, jounin—spontaneously fell apart, all her ideologies and philosophies melting beneath the rain and sinking into the festering mud around her. She was no longer Temari of the Sand, sister of the Kazekage, the wind-user, the jounin. She could no longer recall the best methods of retaliation.
She was reduced to the instinctual urge to run.
But he was stronger than her, frighteningly so. When she opened her eyes, the sight of his livid expression told her there was nothing stopping him from shattering her wrist.
"You're fucked if you try that again," he said in a dangerously low voice, tightening his grip as she grimaced. "I would've killed you by now if I didn't think you were worth something, but seriously, if you don't cooperate..."
He tightened his grip, jerking her forward.
"I'll show you why they let me into the Akatsuki."
"Fuck you," she snarled, glaring up into his face. "Kill me, then, you piece of shit. I'll never help you."
A sensation akin to a cold finger tracing down her spine rendered her temporarily motionless as a small, malicious smirk flourished on his lips.
"Who said anything about killing you?"
She gritted her teeth to stifle a gasp of pain as he dragged her to her feet by her hair, holding her wrist in a vice-like grip. She braced herself to run and wrench her arm out of his grip as he relinquished his hold on her hair, and just as she tensed her muscles to flee, a bolt of pain unlike anything she'd ever felt razed her insides with enough intensity to make her cry out.
Stumbling forward, she didn't even register the sensation of being caught roughly around her middle, her breath coming in short gasps as her held her up, the side of her face pressing into the soaked fabric of his cloak.
His fingers curled over her shoulders, pulling her up and forcing her to stand upright. She didn't resist, too shaken and confounded by the intense bolt of pain, wondering what had caused it even as he released her and took a few steps back towards the barricades, returning with his scythe.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the weapon, and just as she tensed to take a step back, another bolt of pain shot up into her chest. It was all she could do to keep from crying out, slapping her hand over her mouth instead and squinting through-pain glazed eyes as he stopped near her side.
"Like I said, I don't plan on giving up on this…and if I did something wrong, it has to be the fact that I rushed this."
Her knees buckled as he slowly circled her, his smile tangible in the frigid drizzle of rain, words imbued with a warmth that caressed her cold, bloodstained flesh with every slow-tread cycle.
"…so you're going to do me a big favour."
The sharp, inexplicable pains and muscle spasms started coming without provocation and, fighting panic, Temari focused unwaveringly on the effort to remain upright against the harsh tremors.
Breathing haggardly, she lowered her eyes to the ground, brow furrowing at the sight of his scythe's staff dragging through the mud, encompassing her in a circle.
"On second thought, forget this being a favour," he said from behind her, voice nearing with the line drawn by his scythe.
Temari raised her eyes, closing them momentarily and shuddering as the warmth of his murmured words caressed the shell of her ear.
"Think of this as a privilege."
Biting her lip, she strained to remain steady as a sharp spasm in her calves nearly drove her to her knees. If Hidan noticed, he didn't comment, focused resolutely instead on completing the edges of a triangle within the circle.
"What are you talking about?" Temari managed to say, her voice little more than a weak whisper.
He stared at her in silence, his gaze intense on her face, before suddenly reaching forward.
A sharp gasp caught in her throat and the instinctual urge to run erupted with unrestrained vigour, urging her petrified legs to move. Before she could even take one step outside the circle he'd etched in the mud, his other hand seized her wrist, rooting her to the spot.
Pain shot up her arm, siphoning the adrenaline and spilling it into the festering mud around her. She shuddered, eyes sliding closed and brow furrowing, fighting the urge to recoil as his fingertips slid over the skin of her arm, curving over her bicep.
A tremor worked its way through her body at the touch, uncertainty contorting her brow, fear coaxing her eyes open.
When she opened her eyes again, she found him standing within the seal directly before her, found herself looking up at him with an indescribable blend of loathing and fear marring her features and rending her insides.
A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips at her expression, and when he reached forward to cup her cold, wet face with his hands, she didn't resist, stilled by the agony in her limbs and by the look of morbid rapture brightening his eyes.
"It's a matter of time, is all it is. I rushed it, so it didn't work. So all I have to do…is wait."
Then he leaned forward, pressing the pendant of his rosary against the cold, ashen skin beneath her widow's peak, brushing his lips over it.
When he pulled back, his fingertips traced her skin as though stroking a hallowed object, and his voice was thick with something akin to hope and veneration when she gazed up at him in unconcealed horror.
"Consider yourself blessed," he murmured with a wry smile.
Then he stepped back and out of the circle, moving aside with a calm, complacent look on his face.
"Go ahead," he said after a moment, when she didn't move. "I won't stop you."
Temari stared at him, blinking rapidly through the heavy rain and not knowing whether to believe him or not. It didn't matter, really, when the spasms of pain were growing in intensity. If he killed her, it would be no different from dying from whatever was causing her agony.
The first faltering step forward shot waves of pain from her feet to her thighs, the muscles protesting vehemently with sharp spasms. She didn't turn her head to see where he was standing or whether he was watching her. The compulsion to get out of there and far away from him outweighed her concern.
Another step and an inaudible whimper caught in her throat, choked back through sheer force of will as the spasms gave away to seizure. Staggering momentarily, she gritted her teeth, reaching down to clench the wet fabric covering her throbbing leg, yanking it to get herself moving.
She stumbled forward another step, and then another, and another, till she left him and the seal behind, her muscles growing weaker with each consecutive step. By the time she made it twenty meters from the barricades, she was doubled over, struggling to keep her balance as pain blossomed through her abdomen and blood flooded her mouth.
It was all she could do to keep from vomiting when the coppery taste filled her mouth. Letting her lips part, Temari watched in detached shock as a stream of crimson dripped steadily towards the mud.
All at once, the reason behind the blood and pain became startlingly clear.
Too many, she realized weakly in dismay, thinking of the stimulant injections. Took too many.
The physical strain of her attacks had finally pushed her body to the limit and triggered the breakdown.
At the same time she realized this, what had once been drizzle was now replaced with the pinnacle of the monsoon's deluge. The landscape around her exploded with the jarring cacophony of raindrops slamming into the mud, filling her shoes with muck and slowing her steps even further.
Grimacing against the pain, she bowed her head, feeling the rain impact harshly against the back of her head, dripping steadily through her drenched hair. The weight of the water pressed down on her, dragging her down towards the mud.
She cried out with her next step, unable to hold back the sound as the muscles in her torso gave away to spasms, the pain spreading gradually till it encompassed and blinded every sense, rendering her motionless.
Breathing harshly, she refused to turn her head and look back, blinking rapidly through the violent downpour, determined to get back to the village. But the next step she took brought her to her knees, rendering her legs useless.
The terror that plagued her in that moment gave her the last, pathetic rush of adrenaline needed to resort to crawling, her fingers digging vainly into the mud, oblivious to the way it soiled her arms and clothes, bitingly cold against her skin.
She bit her lip, screwing her eyes shut as she forced her fingers as deep as she could into the mud, straining her quavering arms to pull herself forward, all the while suppressing the urge to scream with the effort.
When she only managed to get ten feet from where she'd fallen after fifteen minutes, when the muscles in her shoulders began to seize, when she sank wrist-deep into the frothing mud, the determination left her.
More blood dripped down her chin, lips parting at the sensation of her degenerating muscles. Choking back a cry of pain and despondence, she squeezed her eyes shut, letting her arms and legs fall limp, slumping down into the mud.
She came to the barricades expecting death. But not like this. Never like this—facedown in the dirt, because of injuries sustained by her own careless hand.
With the side of her face pressed against the cool, wet sand, she stopped struggling, lying limp and staring blankly though half-lidded, pain-glazed eyes into nothingness. The water ran into her eyes and she couldn't bring herself to blink, knowing that it would inevitably fill her nose and mouth and drown her in the mud.
A white haze permeated her vision, surrounding the visible landscape in a nebulous grey halo. Unconsciousness was settling in. If she closed her eyes now, she wouldn't open them again.
Her eyelids slid closed partially of their own accord, and for five minutes that felt like eternity, she listened to the deafening hiss of unrelenting rainfall, taking the abuse of the hard, cold drops pelting against every inch of her body.
It was only when she felt the wind subside that she managed to crack open her eyelids.
The black hem of a cloak obscured her view of the landscape, and then there was a shift and a flap of fabric as the cloak disappeared. A weight settled against her exposed frame a moment later, the heady scent of wet cloth and something akin to burnt wood descending with it.
She was overcome with a haze of pain and a sense of weightlessness as rough hands seized her shoulders and the fabric of her shirt, yanking her off the ground. She let her lips part, unsurprised when nothing but a faint gurgle and a stream of blood escaped her throat, or by the limpness of her body and the way her arms dangled uselessly by her sides, knuckles grazing the mud.
There was a pause where she felt the stare on her face. Then the musky scent of wet fabric and burnt wood suddenly grew stronger, and Temari didn't resist as the cloth was wrapped around her and draped over her ashen face.
Faintly, she listened to the sound of his voice mingling with the rain, too weak to protest when she felt herself being lifted bodily from the ground.
"Don't know what the fuck you did to yourself…" he muttered. "But I didn't give you my first blessing just to have you die on me."
Nausea and repulsion encompassed her in that moment; the sensation of being carried so jarring her eyes flew open. Blackness enshrouded her, her senses infused with a smell that was redolent yet repulsive, threatening to smother her.
A faint moan escaped her lips, the effort straining the aching muscles of her throat. He must have heard it, somehow, because he spoke again.
"Still alive?" he asked dryly, voice muffled by the rain. "Keep it that way, Blondie."
A lump of loathing rose in her throat at his next words.
"Stay alive until you've done me that favour. I don't give a shit about what happens to you after that."
Thunder echoed quietly in the distance, the biting chill of rain subsiding into nothingness.
It seemed to crash down on her all at once; the realization that he was in her country, that he was taking her back to the village, that he was going towards the very place she'd spent two months keeping him away from. He planned on keeping her alive for the sole purpose of carrying out his own morbid desire. This was not the end. He would be back.
She was vaguely aware of something snapping, far off, in the deep recesses of her mind, vaguely aware that her heart began to palpitate and her limp limbs shook with an adrenaline supplied by pure rage.
The hatred she felt then was incomparable to what she'd felt the last few months. All rationality, all thoughts concerning her well-being, her brothers, her village—they vanished simultaneously, replaced by a red fog and an all-encompassing desire to hurt him.
Not for them anymore, she realized faintly, thinking of her brothers. Not for anyone. This time…only me. Only for me.
He came to a sudden stop when he felt her move, and her resolve exploded as her fingers closed around the damp, but mostly dry slips of paper in her shoulder bag and the wet metal casement within the folds of her shirt.
A shocked curse burst out of him when she drove the blade of a concealed pocketknife through his side, and the agony that shot through her frame when he dropped her to the ground went unnoticed, unadulterated fury stifling the shrieking protest of her muscles as she tore off the cloak and forced herself to her feet.
He had staggered back with a shocked look on his face, staring at the knife impaled in his side before yanking it out, only to look up and meet the sight of her screaming and lunging at him.
Despite the poisonous hatred flooding her mind and body in that moment, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadistic pleasure at the look on his face when he realized what she was holding in her clenched fist.
She threw herself into him, flinging her arms around his waist and slapping the three damp exploding notes to the bloodstained skin of his side. Then the rage dissipated in an instant, her arms seizing around him as she looked up with a humourless grin twisting her bloodstained mouth, unwavering despite the agony and impending fog of unconsciousness.
He only stared back at her, stunned as she touched her fingers to the exploding notes, digging her nails into his back.
"Consider the favour done," she hissed.
A pulse of chakra—
And then oblivion.