Chapter 2: Rebirth (and a Dead Horse)

About twenty years ago
Nara Clan Forest

Graves are for dead people.

I said it straight, just because I know that beating around the bush won't work with most folk. My "life" was the very antithesis of death. Death was said to be a democratic thing that surpassed all social barriers. Every great leader and beggar would meet the same fate. But for myself? I could only laugh at the notion.

Now, the only reason I mentioned that was to point out a rather flagrant irony in my life. I was not a dead man. I had never "died" to begin with. But being stuck in a grave made me question what exactly my "life" was if it were neither a perpetuation of life nor a discontinuation of it.

At first I despaired. I spoke to myself, complaining of all the woes I had suffered. I was defeated. Granted, I wasn't killed, but being buried under piles of rock and dirt was just as final as death. It was difficult doing a simple an action as speaking without getting fucking dirt in my mouth. But anyway, it wasn't much later that I grew angry. How could I lose to that mere kid, that little rookie with a pineapple for a head? That raspy voice, those sharp sanpaku eyes, that arrogant demeanor. All of it infuriated me. That little runt was only, what, fifteen or sixteen? I had lived at least ten of his lifetimes!

I didn't just want him dead. No, death was definitely a weak man's way out. I toyed with the idea of gliding the blades of my scythe along his body, etching patterns into his skin. I wanted to see the terror escalating in his piercing eyes as he regurgitated a crimson mess of vomit and viscera. And then he would beg to be spared, but I would deliver him to the hell hounds of Jashin. And there he would suffer for eternity! But those were only fantasies. And none of them came true.

One day, while in the middle of my fantasies, I was visited by someone.

Hidan.

"Who the hell's there?"

Do you not recognize my voice?

In my ear, the sound of rushing wind and a multitude of hushed voices echoed. Flitting whispers commanded for my attention. It was only then when I realized my mistake.

"Shit! Lord Jashin, how careless of me. Forgive this fool for—"

Never you mind that. There are other matters at hand. And you have failed me. Though the collective voices of Jashin were only but quiet murmurs, I could sense his great displeasure with me. I had done wrong.

"My lord, I cannot tell you how much I've—"

I do not care for your excuses. Though you still live through me, your failure has shamed me. I should have you slaughtered and fed to my hounds.

"But I can't die," I said out of my own confusion. "You are the one who gave me eternal—"

I did grant you life, but do you doubt my ability to take it away?

The thought had never crossed my mind. When I assessed the situation, it made sense that Jashin could do that. But the idea of death had seemed so remote and so impossible. I had lived through and witnessed the many births and deaths of kinfolk and acquaintances—so many, in fact, that I assumed I would see to the end of time. But I had this creeping feeling that if Jashin were to strike me down now, I would certainly be reduced to the dust from which I had come. I only wondered why he had not killed me earlier if he was this angry.

"My lord, it was an oversight on my part, but my partner and I were largely outnumbered," I said in my defense. "Those Konoha brats were formidable opponents." As much as I hated quashing my self-pride, I could present nothing short of extreme humility before Jashin. Or maybe self-humiliation.

Your words are found to be true, but you are not blameless for your sin, came the response. The voices quivered in rage, like the howling winds of the seas. My name has been soiled by your failure. What punishment do you deem proper for the atonement of your sin?

In part, his question was rhetorical. Most weaklings would quiver in fear of being tortured. My problem was my high tolerance of pain. I even enjoyed it to some degree. But, if I were to propose something, Jashin would know that it wouldn't affect me at all. However, if I gave him no answer, he would equate my silence with impudence. And what if he really did decide to throw me to the gnashing muzzles of his dogs? Something about it didn't seem too enjoyable.

Do you wish to live again, Hidan? Do you wish to kill the one who killed you?

I pondered his words. Did Jashin mean himself or that Nara brat? I assumed the latter. "Yes."

Then I will grant you your wish on two conditions. You must offer me holy slaughter every full moon.

"Yes. And the second?"

Your heart must remain pure. A softened heart is weak and tainted. Such corruption will sever my ties with you, and you will not be sustained by my power. You will be destroyed and cease to exist. Do you accept this condition?

I did.

Then so it shall be.

My opportunity for escape came one day when I heard someone approaching. The person's shoes crunched in the snow up above, and she began to sing a familiar tune. I easily recognized it as the bittersweet "Ode to the Nightingale," a famous children's folksong. From the sound of her small, lilting voice, I could tell she was only a child. Pity she was so young. It'd be an easy opportunity, indeed.

"Nightingale of the evening air," she sang softly, stepping in beat to the slow rhythm of the song. "Will you teach me how to fly? Your song, so lonely and so fair, is it a whisper—"

"Or a cry?" I finished. At the same moment, I had completed summoning a sizable mass of chakra to concoct a charm of the voice that would put my victim in a trance. Even without hands to complete the seals, this vocal technique alone could be considered something of genjutsu. The only problem was that it took a little more persuasion to get it to work, especially since I was buried in dirt where my voice could not carry easily.

The singing halted. "Who's there?"

"Child, don't be afraid," I lulled pleasantly. Because the dirt muffled my voice, I amplified its volume by surging more chakra through. "I'd merely like to sing with you."

"Where are you?"

"Why, you'll have to find me."

"Are you hiding? Is this a game?"

Her naiveté amused me. Already, her tone had taken on a sleepy drawl, and it would only be a matter of seconds before she would fall completely to my influence.

"Yes. It's a game. Try to find me. Then I'll sing with you."

As predicted, she had departed from her own mind and had become entirely dependent on my voice. I gave her instructions, directing her to my approximate location and then how to dig me out. By the time she had begun to claw at the soil, I felt the weight crushing my head lessen. The fresh scent of winter air—yes, the very scent of it—replenished my lungs and gave me new vigor as I grappled onto large chunks of icy soil between the crook of my chin and neck. With this motion, I was able to inch my way out of my compact prison and into the world once more. I was free.

Most people might have freaked out upon seeing a talking severed head. The girl however, a short brunette of about six years, could not even process the sight before her! Eyes glazed over, she mumbled inaudible broken phrases, only showing sign of adequate comprehension by her silent nods to my every demand.

Meanwhile, I shot a fervent plea to Jashin, offering up a dangerously large portion of my chakra in the process. It might have been the closest I had come to death, the most agonizing pain I had ever experienced that far surpassed the threshold of ecstasy. A blazing inferno rippled through my eyeballs, my throat, my brain. It snaked in and out of me, threatening to rob me of my consciousness. In the past, there had only been two drones of Jashin who had attempted the same ritual for a second birth, but both had become so consumed by the fiery pain that one became blind and the other lame. And handicapped servants were as good as dead. Naturally, Jashin could not stand such weakness and had them exterminated. And good fucking riddance, because they had been annoying little bastards.

But at the moment, I could concentrate on little else other than the mass of fire burning in me. I thought I could almost see and feel the very flames that burned the flesh of my face, but even as I writhed and shuddered in agony, I was satisfied. I could still see the feet of the little girl, standing in front of me, waiting for my next instruction. I was not stricken blind yet. I took it as a good sign.

"My lord, provide me relief just this once. And I will slaughter hundreds in your name!"

You must exchange something. I need blood.

"The girl, my lord. Take this child!"

Just when I thought I would never survive through it, a sharp gasp sounded in the frigid air, followed by a soft crunch in the snow. A limp, delicate hand fell against a fallen tree limb, where it continued to slide down its rough surface until meeting the soft white ground. There, it remained still.

I now found myself staring down at the girl's carcass as her glassy eyes peered up at my newly constructed form. Her brown hair lay scattered all about her face, and her cheeks began to color a lovely blush. Soon, her lips would turn blue. The blood flowing from her side would stain the snow pink as ice would collect in her hair. From what I knew of Konoha, its geographic location generally provided a moderate climate all year round, preventing snow from ever falling upon the village. Yuki-onna must be out for trouble again. Why else would it snow here?

I had no trouble adjusting to my new body. I found no deformations, and when I felt for my face and head, my searching fingers glided over soft hair and smooth skin. Having little problem with my body, I was more than thankful to the deity who had provided it. The little girl also deserved acknowledgment for the successful transaction. She had traded her life force for mine, after all.

"Even if you weren't aware of it," I muttered as I knelt beside her, "and even if you belonged to the same disgusting clan as that sanpaku bastard, I thank you."

With my hand I swept over her eyelids, closing them in eternal rest. I then threw the body into the empty pit, making sure to cover it with dirt and snow. My handiwork didn't look too great, but in time the freshly falling snow would cover my tracks and the spots of blood. By the time I had finished, my hands were dirty and red, and a thin film of sweat covered my brow.

And then I rose for the first time in many, many years. As the snow continued to fall and cover the white-capped foliage, I began to trudge through the forest and set my sights on the village up ahead. The Nara Clan forest was wide, but it was not a long ways off from the village. Rather low from chakra, I decided to forgo transporting straightaway (and risk setting off the internal alarms) and instead travel by foot. It would take longer but I'd arrive by nightfall at the latest. I was in no rush, anyway. I was just content that I could walk at all.

Rebirth. How beautiful it was.

By the time I had walked for about ten minutes, the lack of chakra and the weather had begun to bother me. The cold was severely slowing me down, and my nudity didn't help either. Jashin could have provided me clothes at the very least!

Luckily, as I pressed on, I could hear the sound of rickety wagons being pulled on a gravel path nearby. Following the sound, I navigated through the woods and, at a distance, spotted a horse-drawn cart. A lone man dressed in a dark cloak and a thick scarf walked languidly beside the animal. His breaths came out in tense staccatos in the brisk air, and he rubbed his gloved hands together in a vain attempt to keep warm. From the plain clothes he wore to his haggard, stiff gait, I could tell he was an exhausted merchant. Perhaps he had been traveling a long distance. In any case, he had picked the wrong week to set out for town.

"I h'aint seen such col' weath'r since visiting the Lan' o' Iron!" mumbled the man in a familiar rural drawl. He rubbed his hands furiously and cupped them to his mouth. He cursed when a clump of snow fell into his eyes.

Ah, so he had come from a distant village. Perhaps the Village of Rice Paddies, or something. I recognized his dialect from a visit a few decades ago. While on the run from some authorities, I had made a pit-stop at a dingy motel, where the proprietor and some locals all spoke in clipped accents. And from what I remembered, all the people in that town were harmless homesteaders. Defenseless, weak civilians. He wouldn't know what hit him.

I lacked my scythe, a lot of chakra, and clothes, but my morale did not waver. The sun had already set behind the line of trees as blue darkness descended upon the land. Masking my presence with a low concentration of chakra, I waited for the man to walk a little ways ahead of me before I decided to emerge from the trees. The cluttered din of clacking hooves and wheels drowned out the sound of my feet in the snow.

The man only stopped when his horse came to a slow halt and turned its brown head around. Its ears perked in alarm.

"What is it, boy?"

Tsch, I inwardly scoffed as I hid behind some bushes. As if the animal could tell you, you idiot.

"Tired? Jus' a li'l bit longer en we'll reach the—"

His neck was snapped broken before he could finish his sentence. Before the horse could react, I swiftly executed it in the same manner as I had done to its master. As soon as the animal fell, the cart also toppled over and crashed onto the ground, spilling its wares in a jumbled mess. After stripping the man from his clothes and throwing him into the cart, I quickly dressed and threw the cloak around my shoulders. The pants were a little short and the boots were tight, but I didn't mind.

It came to my attention that I should have spared the animal. If I had tamed it, I could have ridden the rest of the way to Konoha. But then again, riding a horse to the village wasn't exactly the definition of inconspicuousness. Ah well. The money in my stolen pants pocket made up for that. At least I could spend the night at an inn and eat a hot meal. Then I would formulate my plans for revenge.

I soon came across a fork in the road. The left would take me directly to the front gates of the village, where I'd have to deal with the troublesome sentinel and arouse suspicion. The right would lead to the village's flank, an obscure section of town where cheap women and lodging could be found. From what Itachi had once mentioned, that part of town received less funding, so naturally it would house the civilians who could not afford one of the cleaner and larger housing complexes. That also meant that only low-ranked ninja at best were posted there for security. I would still be in enemy territory, but my chances of running into trouble were slim.

I was cold as hell when I found an inn on the outskirts of town. Security was shit there, so it made it all the easier for me. The only odd thing was the amount of people out and about in such a rundown part of the village.

At the inn, the front desk was not much of a desk. It was just a table. Sitting behind it was an innkeeper, whose feet were propped up on the counter as he lounged on a chair and read a book. At the sound of my opening the door and the wild wind blowing in, he looked up.

"Room for one. One night." I could hardly move my mouth because it was so numb from the cold.

The innkeeper eyed me warily. He was a middle-aged man with a high receding hairline. A scruff of mustache hung below his nostrils, and every time he spoke, his breath would make the hairs quiver. "Ye don't happen to be a ninja, are ye?"

"No. Just a merchant." The lies came out smoother as my face began to thaw.

"That's a relief!" he said, thin lips curling into a smile. "The last time I housed some ninja, they blew up one of my damn rooms! I can't afford none of their tomfoolery, I'll tell ye! Damn them!" He spoke as if he were the proud owner of a grand hotel. The modest inn itself only had two floors, each containing about ten cramped rooms. I would have chosen better accommodations if I had the money, but I reminded myself that I'd only have to bear and grin with it until morning.

The innkeeper waited for my reply. "Oh, yeah, I agree," I said. He looked pleased. Hurry up and give me the key, you damn idiot.

"Here ye are," he said, sliding a piece of metal across the table. I exchanged it for some coins. I kept my palm faced down, conscious of the fact that it still sported faint blood stains. He didn't notice. "Second floor, room 2C." Then he lowered his voice. "And if you spot any weird ninja activity, report it immediately, will ye? The very minute I hear of it, I'm going straight to the Hokage to complain, even if it's the last thing I do!"

"If you hate ninja so much, why do you live in a hidden village?"

"Oh, my boy, I don't hate ninja. I'm grateful for their protection. I very much prefer it here than in a civilian village without any protection. But I can't help but resent some of their idiocy that the Hokage seems to condone—idiocy that puts my business into jeopardy! Ye get my drift?"

"The Hokage? I thought she was a tough stickler for business."

"She? Ye must be talking about Lady Tsunade. Why, she stepped down ten years ago."

Ten years already had gone by? The discovery shocked me. How much had changed since then? "Ah, I must have gotten swept into the business too deeply. I haven't visited this village for a while." I wasn't really lying, actually.

"Where ye from?"

I figured it wouldn't hurt me to tell a truth. "Yugakure."

"Ah, the lovely village with those nice hot springs. Ye must love it there. Why, I wish I could be there right now to escape this blasted winter! It hasn't snowed here since, well, forever, I reckon."

I nodded thoughtfully but scoffed mentally at his words. This fool would not stop talking! "Say, do you know a place where I can eat?"

The innkeeper directed me to a few nearby eateries. Before he could launch into another one of his dreadful rants, I left the front desk and immediately headed for a restaurant. I only had to cross the street and turn the corner to find one open as a crush of men emerged from its doors. Inside the pub, the stench of beer and fried grub wafted in the air. It was a full house tonight, and everyone seemed to be out with their friends.

"Hello!" welcomed a woman. "Party of how many?"

It always used to be a party of two, Kakuzu and I. He had often opposed eating out because he was such a stingy asshole when it came to money. Ten years ago, he had been Akatsuki's unofficial treasurer, but the position was utterly pointless, at least in my opinion. Akatsuki's "funding" was mostly supported by embezzling the poor saps we murdered. When we felt particularly merciful, we cast genjutsu to get what we wanted in an effort to avoid outright stealing from someone—or murdering someone. But although Kakuzu was a miserly bitch ninety-nine percent of the time, he and I understood something that no other members could relate to. Immortality was our common ground, and we quietly respected each other for it. Honestly, though, I didn't really care about Kakuzu, but vaguely, I wondered what had become of him.

"One. Just one."

As I was being led to a small table at the corner of the restaurant, I could feel a pair of eyes discreetly watching my movements. In the past when visceral intuition didn't work, Jashin's whispers would reinforce my suspicions. And at the moment, both were telling me that I was right.

"Here is the menu. I will be back shortly with some tea, sir," said the waitress. After I seated myself and nodded at her, she left.

I feigned ignorance of my observer's presence by casually scanning the length of the menu. So far, I had yet to figure out to whom those eyes belonged, but I couldn't risk blowing my cover as a weary merchant. If it was a ninja who was staring me down, he'd obviously detect my sharp senses. Maybe I could humor him for the time being.

The waitress came back with a kettle of tea and a cup. "Ready to order?"

"Yeah," I answered, "Three orders of this bacon stuff and two orders of that."

The waitress left. By now, I was not only hungry but also growing antsy. Who the hell was the little shit who kept staring at me?

Jashin-sama, who is it? I asked in my mind.

The reply came promptly: An old woman.

An old woman? I didn't know any old women. Hell, I wasn't interested in knowing any at all to begin with. Could it be a village elder who had recognized my identity? I was tempted to turn around and accost her for her rudeness. True, I was a foul-mouthed and rude bastard myself. People told me all the time and I generally agreed with them. However, I wasn't a fan of staring the fuck out of anyone.

"Your order, sir," chirped the waitress as she slid the steaming food onto the table before leaving once more.

I ate quickly. When I finished, I slapped a few bills onto the table and pivoted on my feet, heading for the exit. There was only one old woman in the vicinity, sitting alone, her piercing eyes regarding me closely. Her sunken, wrinkled face and gray hair shocked me. She was definitely old, but who the hell was she? I offered a cold glare before walking out. A moment later, a bell jingled as the restaurant doors swung open and shut.

I spun around to face her. "Who the hell are you, lady? What do you want?"

She didn't flinch at the sound of my voice but merely stared at her feet. Dammit, she was a fucking deaf. I was yelling at a deaf old woman.

"Look," I said, enunciating every syllable clearly, hoping that she'd understand me. "You," I pointed to her for emphasis, "are annoying me. If you want something from me," I pointed to myself, "then tell me what you want and leave me alone."

"I'm not deaf," came her response, voice raspy and thin.

"Well, fuck, then answer my goddam question."

She lifted her brown eyes timidly. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"What?"

"Hidan."

Shit. Maybe she was an elder. Dammit! I hadn't been in this village for more than two hours and already I had been caught. "I don't want any trouble." Not from an old lady. I'd very much rather kill that Nara kid and wash my hands clean of him forever.

"Neither do I, Hidan. You still look the same as the last time I had seen you. Not a day over twenty." For some reason, her tone wasn't an accusatory one but rather a sad one. Maybe she wasn't an elder.

"Do I know you?"

She chuckled humorlessly. "It has been a while. I suppose you wouldn't recognize me. I'm an old woman now." She paused, as if trying to find the right words to say. "It's me. Mika."

The moment she had said it, memories of our youth came rushing back in an overwhelming torrent. This was ten years after I had joined Jashin at the tender age of twenty. At the time, I had been walking on the earth for thirty years but had been twenty for ten. I recalled a brilliant smile, bright eyes, and perfectly dewy skin. None of it remained in the crone before me.

I must have looked shocked because the woman said, "It's been nearly seventy years. And here I am. I didn't think I would ever see you or hear from you after that day."

"That day?" I questioned, my shock quickly turning into something hostile. "You have some nerve to speak to me again and bring that up, of all things."

Her voice became desperate. "It was my mistake for having done that."

"A mistake? Don't give me this bullshit."

"I'm sorry."

"Leave me, woman." Her tears stirred a bit of regret in me, but I could not forget the hatred I had harbored against her for a good portion of my life. Over time, the flames of contempt had been extinguished long before I had joined Akatsuki, but they were reignited once more today. "You are nothing to me."

"All I ask is your forgiveness. And I will leave you be forever."

I turned away. She waited for my response.

"I never knew you," I said. And then I left.

If I recall, I was pretty mad. No. I was damn fucking mad.

I tried not to let that old bitch get to me. It was a little insulting to think that she could get me so riled up, especially after so many years. I had assumed she had died a while back, but apparently the hag had lived to see the passage of many moons. I wondered if she had grand kids. Probably. She was old enough to have great-grandchildren by now. But I could clearly see the traces of decay upon her gaunt face and thin bones. The way her sobs had racked her frail body had convinced me that she would keel over from the mere exertion. She was going to die soon.

She was a pathetic, weak woman—a conniving, manipulative, vile woman. She was a fool to think that I would give her the redemption she wanted. I wouldn't let her pass in peace even if it meant becoming mortal again. Never in hell.

As I walked away from the restaurant, opposite of the inn, I found myself wandering the streets aimlessly, merely taking in the sights and smells. In the far corner was a takoyaki stand. Off to the side were a few pachinko parlors and bars. Strangely, there were a number of people out tonight for some reason. Had Itachi and the Konoha informants misinformed us? The streets should have been near empty, yet everywhere I went there was something to see, something to do. I guess in ten years, things really had changed.

I must not have been paying attention, because I bumped into someone.

"Shit," I cursed, "watch where you're fuckin' going!"

I didn't care that it was probably my fault. The world was my enemy at the moment. I hated everything and everyone. And if I still had my three-pronged scythe with me, I would have murdered this little shit without blinking twice.

"Jeez, sorry, sir," came the apology, though it didn't sound too heartfelt.

When I turned my head, I was surprised to find a short girl with odd hair and big eyes staring petulantly up at me. Her brows creased in impatience and her lips curled in a snarl. Apparently I wasn't the only one with a bad mood tonight. Not like I gave two shits, though.

"You better be. Stupid cunt," I added the last bit for good measure and began to walk away when a small hand held a death's grip on my arm. "Get your grubby little hands off me!"

"Look, you asshole. I'm not in the mood to punch your head off your shoulders and then have to clean it up at the hospital, so I'm giving you five seconds to apologize," she demanded, her voice rather girly and otherwise not very threatening.

"Kiss my ass." I intended to walk away but her tiny hand prevented me from moving.

"You have three seconds."

"You can go tell your mommy on me now, kiddie."

"Two seconds."

Her big-shot antics were starting to bug me. "Fuck off, kid!"

"Alright. Have it your way." She sighed.

Next thing I knew, I was knocked to the other side of the street.

Glossary

sanpaku: The more the whites of your eyes show (and the less your pupils show), we call this sanpaku, meaning "three whites." Though scientifically inconclusive, Japanese folk believe that the more severe sanpaku eyes you have, the more likely you are to be a psychopath. Hidan recognizes that Shikamaru has sanpaku eyes. But this is really ironic coming from Hidan...

Yuki-onna: A ghost woman of folklore who controlled winters and snow. She murdered men and children by sending spontaneous blizzards their way.

takoyaki: Fried ball-shaped dumplings with octopus and sauce

pachinko: Japanese pinball