"It's a beautiful, delightful day,
And I'm feelin' A-okay,
Mayor, is there something,
I can help you with today?"
-Delightful Day, CG5
Hidan found his mom on the floor of their house.
She laid on her side, lilac eyes blown open, dried blood at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers were half-curled, pressed against the carpet like she'd tried to get up but couldn't.
She was dead.
He knew by her still chest, the unblinking way she stared at the bottom of a cabinet, the pale tint to her skin. He'd seen it before more times than he cared to count.
He'd even watched the shift from animated and alive to dull and still before.
Hidan didn't check for a pulse or call for help because there would be no point. She'd been dead for at least an hour.
Why was his life so shit?
He dropped to his knees and cried for the first time in two years.
.
.
.
Hidan was alone.
He was the only one left.
He sat outside, head tilted back against the wall. His eyes were on the clouds, though he didn't see them. How long had he been sitting in the grass?
His tears dried and left marks down his cheeks, but he didn't care. He was tired and starving and felt terribly alone.
He should tell someone.
Takkao would care, at least on a surface level. He was... an acquaintance, a friend of a friend, someone he knew. But he was on the other side of the village and Hidan didn't want to get up.
People came and went in front of him, avoiding his eyes, tensing at the sight of him, or muttering monster or demon under their breath.
None of those assholes would care.
Did the Akatsuki still care about him, or did they forget about him by now? No matter the answer, they were all the way in Amegakure.
They couldn't help him.
Hidan closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.
.
.
.
He saw a shadow when he woke up.
Hidan, curled on his side, squinted up at the man bent over him. He wore a purple kariginu and a tall eboshi hat. He had to be at least forty.
"What the fuck," Hidan mumbled.
"Are you alright—"
"Why the fuck were you watching me sleep?" Hidan interrupted. He pushed himself up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Fucking creep."
The man frowned. He wore a silver necklace with an upside-down triangle attached. "I stopped to see if you were alive," he said. "I've come across many young people in this country that were in a similar predicament as yourself, except they never woke up. They were from other nations, wounded, or lost."
The bastard thought he was homeless, and the worst part was that he wasn't far off from the truth.
How was he supposed to live in that house like nothing happened?
Hidan glared at him. "Why the fuck do you care?"
The man straightened and looked away from him, thinking. He opened his mouth, then reconsidered. "I'm a sacred priest of Lord Jashin. One of His teachings is that a death without a purpose is a pointless one. He chose me to spread this teaching to others. I give an inevitable death meaning, and in doing so free their souls to be with Lord Jashin in the afterlife."
Hidan stared at him for a moment. "I'm stuck in a shitty dream," he decided.
The priest shook his head. "No dream would be quite this cruel, I think. No one showed seems to show any concern for you. How hungry are you, I wonder? If you were to drop dead right here, pointlessly, would anyone care?"
Hidan thought he might be hallucinating. What else would explain how the priest spoke to him, like they were on the side of the road and not in the middle of a fucking village.
He peered around the crazy bastard and saw a woman deliberately avoid eye contact as she walked past, like the priest's brand of crazy was in the air and she might catch it if she looked. He leaned back, scowling. "I live here, asshole."
The priest looked curiously at the house, then down at him. "And yet here you are outside, desolate."
Hidan's stomach twisted, hunger scratching at his insides. He wanted pork ramen. He wanted to sit on the carpet and shove noodles in his mouth while he told his mom that civilian jobs were shit, that Sugiyama was shit, that this whole village was a giant pile of shit.
She wouldn't disagree but lecture him that maybe, if he wasn't such a disrespectful little shit, people would like him more.
His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into skin until it hurt, but he couldn't stop his thoughts. He would yell at her and she'd yell right back, threaten to kick him out, and call him a leech as she made a second bowl for him, because he would've finished the first by then.
Hidan ducked his head, biting his lip hard. He wasn't some stupid kid. He wasn't going to cry in front of the priest or anyone else. His bravado lasted for three seconds, then his shoulders shook.
"Fuck," he cursed at himself.
"Perhaps," the priest began. "Lord Jashin guided me here to give you more than a meaningful death. You wouldn't be the first He has chosen to succeed me, to continue to spread the word of Him and carry on His will."
"What the fuck are you talking about—" his voice broke and he ground his teeth.
"With my Lord's blessing I created a temple in His name outside of this place of shinobi, where others He chose for a greater purpose are able to live. Through Him, I invite you to join me, young one. Shelter and food will be provided to you. All that will be asked of you is to participate in His rituals and dedicate your life to Him."
Hidan scrubbed his shirt against his eyes. Food. Shelter. And all he had to do was pretend to be interested in the priest's bullshit.
It sounded way too easy, but so what if there were strings attached? What ritual could be worse than cutting down civilians who were defenseless and tried to run? What was whatever it meant to 'dedicate' himself when he had cut scars on his fingers from mishandling kunai?
What did he owe to a place that hated him? It sure as hell wasn't loyalty.
Hidan squeezed his shirt, over his chest. What could be worse than the awful feeling of coming back from a mission alone?
He slowly stood. He was a shinobi that wasn't needed, left to dull and rust and crumble under the weight of sneers and dirty looks. And what had he ever done to deserve it?
He thought of the empty space at the gate and spareribs. He had no ties to Yugakure anymore.
ライラック
The priest didn't leave through the gate but led him southeast out of the village, past dried up geysers, and leaf-less trees, to a civilian path that led down the mouth.
Hidan walked down the winding dirt road and thought there was supposed to be two guards. One to block the path and stop travelers, the other standing off to the side, far enough away to avoid being caught up in ninjutsu, but close enough to intervene should an attack happen.
It took him a moment to realize that this must be the brief interval where they rotated out with another team. It was probably how the bastard entered the village in the first place.
But no one thought anything of it, because if he was in the village, he must've been cleared by Takkao, right? Hidan scoffed.
He followed the priest through a forest, an area he never got to explore since his missions usually took him northwest or northeast. He eyed the priest as they water-walked across a river but said nothing about it.
If the priest minded his business and didn't ask him why he abandoned Yugakure so fast, Hidan would mind his and not ask why a missing-nin was in the Land of Hot Water.
The priest couldn't be one that was well-known. The way he strolled right up to his front door without giving a single damn about people that looked at him weird made Hidan suspect he wasn't in the bingo books at all.
If Hidan was the ruler of wherever the priest came from he probably wouldn't bother reporting him missing, either. But it meant that, at most, the priest was C-ranked. If the priest was leading him to a nice, quiet place to be murdered, Hidan was confident he could take him.
Not only did he know the terrain better, but it wasn't all luck that kept him alive in the middle of war. And he didn't think high-ranking missing-nin usually gave their location to the first person they spoke to. But then again he didn't want to try and understand what went on in the priest's head.
The road continued on the other side of the river. The trees here weren't scattered, like before, but in dense clusters around him. Still didn't compare to the trees in the Land of Fire.
"So, who the fuck is Lord Jashin?" Hidan asked lazily, hands in his pockets. "Some dead Daimyo or something?"
Would anyone in Yugakure bother reporting him missing? Did Takkao care enough to look for him?
No, dammit, he didn't care.
"A Daimyo?" The priest repeated. "No, Lord Jashin is a deity, a god above men who think themselves powerful like the Daimyo or the Kage. Lord Jashin rules over death and beyond it."
Hidan wrinkled his nose. "Of course I get stuck with someone else who worships a dumb god."
The priest paused, surprised. "You've met another Jashinist?"
"Fuck no," Hidan answered. "They were some grain or rice god. Ina-something."
"Ah, Inari," the priest said, folding his arms in his sleeves. "Yes, the merchants of the Land of Fire tend to favor that particular false god. As do the lesser villages around Konohagakure."
"What makes Inari any less real than your god?" he asked.
"Lord Jashin returns the love of His most devout followers by bestowing upon them a small piece of his divinity," the priest answered. "While the false god Inari only exists in the minds of those destined for ruin, Lord Jashin's presence can be felt when we perform His sacred ritual."
It took Hidan a moment to translate the crazy into something that made sense. "What the fuck does that mean?" he asked.
"If you one day prove to have a strong enough faith, Lord Jashin may grant you the gift of immortality," the priest answered, looking back at him.
Hidan stared at him. His stomach twisted again, rumbling emptily, and he looked away, focusing on the promise of food instead of the insanity he just heard.
.
.
.
"Is he a new disciple, master?"
Standing in the doorway with the priest next to him, Hidan surveyed the room. There were five others, around his age or younger looking, standing around or sitting on futon beds on the floor. All of them stared at him.
It was a brown-haired girl sitting nearest to him who spoke.
The priest inclined his head. "Lord Jashin has spoiled us with His generosity. It is His will that this young man join us, and come to understand our faith."
The 'temple' was an abandoned inn, the largest room emptied and repurposed into a barrack.
"I ask you all to guide him, teach him the way of Jashin so that he may spread His word to others one day," the priest continued. He looked around the room once more, then left.
A thin mattress and blankets were neatly folded in the only open space in the back corner beneath a round window. He felt exhausted. He blamed his stupid tears.
What would happen to his shit house? All his stuff? What the hell would they do with his mom's body?
The girl smiled and waved. She sat on the futon next to his, legs crossed, wearing white socks. She wore a plain shirt and pants, matching the others in the room.
Hidan sneered at her. It made him feel better when her smile fell.
Why couldn't he stop thinking about that shit? If he stayed, what would he have done with the body? Bury her? Yeah, right. Like those assholes would've let him.
"So," a boy with mint green hair asked, filling the awkward silence. He moved to stand in front of Hidan, holding out a hand. "What's your name?"
Hidan looked at him, at his hand, then stepped around him and walked to the back. He unrolled the futon, because who else could it be for, and a small black book tumbled out and hit the floor.
The girl winced.
The Book of Jashin, the cover read.
Hidan, at his crazy quota for the day, pretended he didn't see it. He ignored the frowns and confused looks, laid down, and turned his back to the room.
Light spilled in on him, orange-yellow as the sun started to set. Normally, he couldn't sleep with the light in his face like this. It was probably why no one else chose this spot. But he was too tired to care.
Only half-conscious, Hidan thought it was pretty.
It was an odd thought, one that confused him, until he realized the voice attached to it wasn't his own but belonged to a weird girl who thought he might want to look at something pretty, too.
Thoughts of his mom drifted in, an ambush attempt while his guard was down, but then he remembered Yahiko tickling him and he didn't feel as alone.
"That bastard..." he muttered, trailing off as he fell asleep.
テスト
Hidan raised the bowl to his mouth and inhaled it. It was vegetable soup with rice, but he tasted neither the lettuce, carrots, or broth.
The dining area of the inn had been turned into a cafeteria, except without tables and chairs. They sat on mats divided into groups. There were four more kids, hidden away in another room.
Hidan put his bowl down and coughed, thumping a fist against his chest.
The boy across from him, some friend of Brown Hair, couldn't hide his disgust. Next to him, Brown Hair only smiled politely and picked up a soggy carrot with chopsticks.
"I'm Kumi," she introduced. She gestured to the boy across them. "That's Botan. And Issey tried to introduce himself to you yesterday."
Issey sat with another group, playing some game with flattened marbles while they ate.
"Don't remember asking," Hidan told her. He didn't remember asking for company either.
Kumi looked down at her bowl, smile more plastic. "Where are you from?"
Hidan reached over and snagged Botan's quarter-eaten bowl because fuck him that's why. He angled his body away as Botan spluttered, eyes wide, and reached out to take it back.
"You can't just take my meal," he protested.
Hidan, fending off his hands with only one of his own, downed that bowl too. He tossed it back at him when he was done and Botan sat back as he wiped his mouth, staring at the empty bowl.
"That... wasn't nice," Kumi said hesitantly.
Hidan seriously considered her bowl and she carefully moved it to her other side.
"I was hungry," Botan protested.
"Me too," Hidan agreed. Botan looked speechless.
"You're a shinobi," Kumi said. She took Botan's empty bowl, poured in half of her soup, then pushed it back at him.
"And he's a stupid civilian," Hidan said, nodding at Botan. "If we're saying what's obvious."
Botan went red, but, mollified by his new meal, only glared at him. He shifted his bowl out of grabbing range.
Kumi tapped her chopsticks against the rim of her bowl, thinking. "Where are you from?" she tried. "I was a kunoichi, too. In Kusagakure."
Hidan squinted at her. "I don't believe you."
Kumi finally frowned. "I was," she insisted.
Hidan, dismissing her lie, looked at Botan. "What the fuck do you do around here, anyway, other than worship something that doesn't exist?"
Botan's eyes widened. "You don't believe in Lord Jashin?"
Kumi put down her chopsticks and leaned close to him. "Before Lord Jashin found me, I was a genin," she said again. "Why would I lie about that?"
He was supposed to be pretending to believe in all this shit, huh? "No, I do," he said in a dull tone. "I'm just as batshit as the rest of you."
Botan's fingers clenched around the rim of his bowl. "Why did Master Oda bring someone like you here?"
"What's so hard to believe about me being a kunoichi?" Kumi asked. "Botan went to the Academy in Konohagakure before he dropped out."
Hidan picked a piece out lettuce out of his teeth with his pinky nail and ignored her.
"You're rude and vulgar," Botan said, glaring down at his lap. "We're just trying to be nice to you and you make fun of what we believe in. She's telling the truth."
Hidan kept his pinky up, looking at his dirty nail, but he couldn't stay focused on it. He dropped his hand. The burn of his stare made Botan flinch back, nearly spilling what was left of his soup. He grabbed Kumi's hand as he faced her and she inhaled sharply but didn't pull away.
He turned her hand palm up. Her skin was soft. Unscarred. It reminded Hidan of himself, after he was put on Team Chiharu, but before the mission where they all died.
"Have you ever killed anyone?" he asked.
Kumi drew back, eyes wide. "What?"
"You fucking deaf? I asked you if you ever killed another person."
"No, not yet. Only the highest priests of Jashin can kill in His name—"
Hidan tossed her hand away from him. He leaned close, in her face. "Then you were never a fucking kunoichi," he hissed. He pushed himself up.
"Wait, Master Oda hasn't dismissed us yet," Botan warned him.
Hidan held up his middle finger as he walked away.
の
Hidan crouched next to his futon, glaring at the book on the floor in front of him.
What the fuck was so special about a god, anyway?
The book was bound in black leather, tied closed with a tan string. Each futon behind him either had an identical book left on top of the folded mattress, or their owners took it with them.
It pissed Hanako off when he insulted her precious Inari, but what was the big deal? Why would an 'all-powerful' being give two shits about a wheat or lavender field? Or whether a merchant made a profit?
The others were in the cafeteria doing dishes or cleaning or some menial shit.
Hidan glared harder at the book. What the hell could it say that made everyone here spout such crazy bullshit about Jashin? Why worship something they couldn't see? Why devote themselves to a promise as vague and impossible as immortality?
No one was immortal. He didn't understand it.
"What the fuck," he whispered to himself.
Why did he feel like he was the only one not trapped in some fucked up genjutsu?
Hidan didn't move when he heard semi-familiar footsteps come into the room, nor when they stopped, hesitating, before approaching him. Kumi stopped behind him.
"What the fuck do you want?" he asked.
She sucked in quietly through her teeth. "I'm..." she trailed off. "I wanted to apologize."
Hidan paused, tilting his head back. "What."
"The other day," she tried, hands clasped in front of herself. "I was trying to make you feel welcome, and do as Lord Jashin willed, but I only upset you."
Hidan squinted. "Why the fuck are you apologizing?"
She looked away. "I shouldn't have pushed you into answering—"
"Not that shit," Hidan interrupted. "Why do you think you need to apologize to me?"
She looked confused. "If we're going to be working together—" she stopped, eyes going wide. "You don't think I should apologize to you?"
"That's what I fucking asked," Hidan said, rolling his eyes. "And two, what about anything I've said makes you think I believe in your shitty god?"
Kumi squeezed her hands. "Has anyone ever apologized to you before?" she asked gently.
Hidan thought about it. The longer he took to answer, the more pity filled her eyes. He hated it. "Fuck off," he finally said.
She didn't. "As for your second question, well, why were you so focused on Lord Jashin's book if you don't care about what it says?"
Hidan immediately stood and she took a step back. "How about you mind you own fucking business next time?"
Kumi shook her head. "Lord Jashin chose you—"
"I don't give a shit what your god wants," Hidan cut her off, walking past her.
"I can help you," Kumi insisted. "Even if you don't believe in Lord Jashin, if you just want to understand why we worship him, I can help you."
Hidan kept walking.
信仰
An upside-down triangle with a circle around it was painted in red on the floor. A woman knelt at the center, staring up at the priest, who held a small container of red paint. A large backpack was turned on its side next to her, outside the circle, forgotten.
Her clothes were dirty, mud caking the bottom of her trousers. She wasn't a kunoichi, but someone who had been traveling in a hurry, like a client who wanted shinobi for something urgent. Or, as the priest said, someone who wanted to test their faith.
The priest changed from his usual casual wear into a more ceremonial white saifuku robe. Hidan and the others were squeezed into the small room, standing next to each other against the wall, outside the circle.
"Master Oda performs Lord Jashin's sacred ritual once every two months," Botan whispered to him, hands behind his back. "We used to do it more often, but it became harder for Lord Jashin's priests to come around when the war started."
There were more of these crazy bastards out there?
Hidan watched in morbid fascination as the priest dipped his thumb in the container and drew an upside-down triangle on the woman's forehead. Her lips moved, but she didn't make a sound.
The room was lit by three candles on a shelf at the back of the room, below a three bladed scythe hanging on the wall, a 'sacred weapon' of Jashin.
Issey, on the opposite side of the room, hid a yawn behind his hand.
"Today, another who joined the priesthood of Lord Jashin returns from her sacred duty of spreading His will to undergo the ultimate test of faith," the priest said, carefully putting the container down. He pulled a kunai out from under his robe. "May your faith be strong enough for our Lord to bless you with divinity."
Hidan held himself back from gesturing wildly at what was happening in front of him and asking the people around him what the hell this was, if only because he liked being fed.
The priest told him they did rituals, but this was some cult shit.
He settled with giving Botan a wild look, who, with effort, did not look back at him.
"I'm ready," the woman mumbled. "I know my faith is strong enough."
The priest nodded once, knelt, held her still by the shoulder, and plunged the kunai in her chest.
She gasped, smiling wide at him for a second before her eyes dilated and shrunk. She choked, panic and confusion flashing across her face as blood spilled out of her mouth.
The priest stood. He didn't cross the circle. She grasped at her chest and tipped forward, blood smearing the lines. The priest watched her convulse until she went still and shook his head.
"Another liar," he announced. He turned, eyes sweeping over them. "Your faith in Lord Jashin must be absolute. Did you see how she doubted Him at the last moment, how she threw away all she almost had to cling to her own mortality?"
Hidan glanced to the side. Kumi and Botan and the others on his side were eating this shit up. He had to read that damn book.
The priest sighed in deep disappointment. He picked up the backpack by the straps and handed it off to a blond on Issey's side. "I hope all of you take from this the dire consequences of a lapse in faith to our Lord. Everyone may leave."
Hidan shuffled out of the room. He didn't wait, but Kumi and Botan caught up to him, anyway. He pressed a hand against his stomach, frowning.
"You have another stomach-ache?" Kumi asked, on his left.
"If you chewed your food maybe you wouldn't get them so much," Botan muttered under his breath, on his right.
Only recently the tallest of the three, Hidan made a mental note to steal whatever dinner was served from Botan later. But still...
He squeezed the front of his shirt. Why was his stomach so shit lately?
His brow furrowed. There was something, a reason nagging at him. It was probably the lack of meat in his diet because something, something religion. It was fucking his body up.
He loosened his grip. "Or it's because I have to see crazy, fucked up shit every other day," he said back.
"You killed people before," Botan pointed out. "You told us you did."
Hidan shook his head. "Don't compare that to this shit. You have a fucking murder room."
"Absolute faith is required for the ritual to succeed, like Master Oda said," Kumi told him. "They shouldn't ask to undergo it if they aren't truly ready."
Hidan only shook his head.
ソフト
Preface: The Almighty Jashin is the one true god that exists in this world. He presides over death, the dead, and the afterlife. Written in the days before villages and countries by the First Priest of Jashin, who was most loyal, our Lord purposed him with dedicating his life to recording the practices of Him and His teachings, to pass down to the next generation of Jashinists.
The preface was written on the back of the cover in the priest's slanted cursive. The actual first page was wrinkled, the corners shriveled. It felt like it would rip if he pressed down on it too hard.
To be a Jashinist means to walk with death and be freed from the fear of it.
It was written in neat, ink-stained lines in the middle of the first page.
"This really is a fucking cult," Hidan said, looking at Kumi. The book was in his lap.
His sleeves were rolled up. Despite the insistence of everyone, he refused their brown shirt and pants combo and simply hand-washed his own clothes.
Seriously, they looked so cheap thinking about it made him itch.
He did, however, hand over his flak jacket to Chief Crazy when asked.
Kumi, kneeling next to him beside his futon, only flipped the page for him. "This and the next page are about the author, the First Priest, and how he found Lord Jashin."
Hidan didn't look. "Who the shit is the 'First Priest'?"
Kumi traced a finger over a line in the middle and he knew she'd memorized the whole thing like a proper cultist. "We don't know," she murmured. "The book was passed down so much that his proper origin was lost."
"And that sounds like believable shit to you?" Hidan asked.
"As believable as the origins of shinobi," Kumi countered. "Every village with an Academy teaches it differently. Kusagakure taught me that the Sage of Six Paths was once a man who found the Box of Ultimate Bliss, and, when he opened it, wished for mankind to have the power to combat the wild animals driving them to extinction. And that's how chakra and the tailed beasts were born."
Hidan stared at her for a moment. "That's some stupid shit."
Kumi sat back, raising an eyebrow at him. "So how was it taught to you then?"
Hidan blinked once. "I don't fucking remember."
Kumi paused. "You went to the Academy, graduated, and don't remember the basic history of your village?"
"Shit wasn't important to me," Hidan answered lazily. He scratched his head. "Something about there being a war. Some shinobi made earthquakes that made all the geysers form or some shit."
Kumi leaned close. "And that's way different from what I was taught to believe. Does the Book of Jashin really sound more farfetched than what I told you?"
Hidan stared down at the book. He didn't have an answer.
"That shit is about a magic box is still bullshit," Hidan eventually said.
心
Jashin only asks His followers make blood sacrifices in His name. It must be done with his ritual (Pictured Below) after forming a blood connection with the offering.
Page ten, line twenty-eight. It was written in the same neat lines as the first page.
Hidan sat on the floor, back against the counter, the Book of Jashin propped against his knees.
He and Botan were on dish duty.
Botan, standing next to him, leaned over the sink, scrubbing a bowl clean with an old sponge. Dirty plates were piled on the counter above Hidan.
"You're such a—a—" Botan faltered.
Hidan turned the page. "Asshole," he provided. "It's not even that bad of a word."
"Master Oda assigns two of us to do this for a reason," Botan complained.
Hidan turned another page.
Botan made an irritated noise and flicked water at him. Hidan wiped a drop off his cheek but didn't otherwise react.
Issey popped his head in the kitchen, looked around, and shook his head. "I can't find Master Oda anywhere," he muttered. "Well, if I'm asked for, tell him I'm meeting up with some followers on the road."
He paused for half a second, eyes on Hidan's book, then ducked out of the room.
"Followers on the road?" Hidan questioned. He closed the book and looked up at Botan. "What the fuck is he talking about?"
Botan shrugged. "We're only a small sect of Lord Jashin's followers. Master Oda told us that there are more groups like ours, spread out all over the elemental nations. There's usually no one else who risks traveling this way because of the war. It's not that uncommon for Issey or someone else to help followers resupply on their way elsewhere."
Hidan watched him dry a bowl with a ratty towel. "Resupply? Where the fuck do we get supplies?"
"Lord Jashin provides for us through Master Oda," Botan answered easily.
Of fucking course.
A/N: ライラック- Lilac, テスト - Test, の - Of, 信仰 - Faith, ソフト - Soft, 心 - Heart