The Chosen: A Kakuzu x Hidan fic CH: 2
I've written about 4 separate chapters, some kind of rambling for this fic. I really wanted to publish something, so here is the next installment. A bit heavy on the narrative, as all my fics tend to be, but I'm really trying to work into the dialogue to move the action forward. Anyhow, here it is!
Oh, and warning for Hidan's mouth, naturally.
Hidan hated to be ignored. Absolutely couldn’t stand it. It was like he needed the constant attention to provide some sort of self-validation. Kakuzu thought it was from possessing such a hugely inflated ego and exaggerated sense of grandeur because of his religion, that Hidan felt superior to everyone and out of some sort of beneficent gesture, deigned to grace the world with his unceasing chatter like some divine prophet whose words were gold.
What a crock.
Hidan had the dirtiest mouth of anyone Kakuzu had ever met. Nearly every other word he spoke was some type of profanity, and everything else was about how his God Jashin would smite everyone for being ignorant heathens, and how Hidan was his only disciple. Like he was cursing people not only with his rituals, but also with every poisoned word that left his lips.
Kakuzu couldn’t have been more wrong.
When he started off from his village, dead neighbors in a mangled pile, scythe in hand and crossed-out hitae-ate around his throat, Hidan had been a very insecure person. Although he was reassured immensely by his faith and ritual resurrection, being able to rise again and again, Praise Jashin! from the blood-soaked ground, proving each time he was The Chosen, his personal life was filled with self-doubt.
He never doubted Jashin, no, his faith was unshakable. His doubt came from his dealings with the outside world. Through his worship, Hidan received confirmation of his purpose and direction for his life, but not comfort. It just wasn’t possible to really feel good about the actual committing of violence against oneself. At least, it hadn’t been in the beginning. Things had gotten confusing after a while.
It was a paradox, see. It was like calling yourself a dirty worthless filthy slut and believing it. Again. And again. And again. Denigrating your personal value, slandering your good name, tromping your worth into the spoiled ground. It took it’s toll. But at the same time, after you called yourself a dirty worthless filthy slut you got an amazingly good reward. Like a full-body orgasm. Really, to be harming your own body, to perpetrate self-injury, why the hell would you hurt yourself? Why would anyone want to inflict such a huge personal insult to their own body? And then like it? Because of that reward that came afterwards, oh, right. Like Pavlov's dog, getting excited at the sound of the bell when really it was the food that it wanted.
That's how it began to happen. Hidan began to anticipate the pain, see it as a good thing, to anticipate it and want it. But not really. He just wanted what came after, his own personal miracle, but it didn't seem to matter to his body, because it craved the pain, ached for it, sought it out even when he KNEW he didn't really want to be hurting. Hidan would find that when his mind wandered, if he was bored, he’d chew his nails down to the quick or pinch his skin until mottled bruises appeared. He’d bite at his cheeks until the metallic, acrid taste of blood filled his mouth and then be startled to realize he’d done it intentionally.
Hidan hadn’t become indifferent towards his own pain, he’d just become apathetic. It was so fucking pointless to try and resist the madness, so much easier to let the struggle slide by and relish in the whole experience. Now, it was all about the control, the power and fear he could force another person to feel. His pain became their pain, his suffering became theirs and all the pain was given in the name of his God. The fear and horror, he savored it, craved it and channeled it to Jashin. To make those filthy atheistic heathens feel the wrath and terror of his God, and then the true power of Jashin when his body became whole again. And when Hidan felt the rush of relief when it was finally over, it made him so grateful, so fucking thankful, such awe and wonder when he felt the healing power of his faith sweep through him. But it was a poisoned bitter greedy blessing, not bestowed out of mercy but like rebuilding an army, awful and terrible.
The really tragic part of it all was that not one, not even one of those damned fools ever got it. They all looked at him and only saw a crazy sadistic zealot, not the harbinger of salvation- his and theirs-, not the resurrection, not the glory of Jashin. How could not a single measly one see that he was fucking miraculous? A one-of-a-kind supernatural wonder? A Jashin-damned apostle whose mission was not to spread the faith but only to make the world burn, and not a single person ever understood. It made Hidan want to laugh hysterically. And before too long he stopped holding it back, and peals of crazed laughter, spine-tingling shrieks of hysterical furor spilled from his bloody mouth.
How could he ever have hoped that Kakuzu would be different? That the man, the closest thing to being immortal as was found this side of hell or heaven, would be able, with all his life experience, to see the marvel and appreciate Hidan as the revelation? What a fucking disappointment. It made him furious. Hidan had heard of Kakuzu and sought him out perhaps not for the express purpose of recognition of the sublime, but for knowledge and guidance and maybe companionship
Hidan had thought Kakuzu would be so much better than the utterly stupid, bland, boring masses of humanity. That his age and experience would make him a valuable ally, someone he could relate to and learn from, how to navigate his way through the ages. But instead, Kakuzu was just as entrenched in the materialistic obsessions as the rest of the world. He was normally as cold as the lifeless gold coins he sought after so diligently. Terribly callous, had a temper of a three-year-old but the strength of five men, and had nothing but utter disregard, even contempt for Hidan’s religion and all faiths. After that epiphany, Hidan had felt doubly cursed. Damned to suffer the pain of death but never die, to haunt the earth for all eternity in a never-ending cycle of suicide and reanimation, taking those who were ignorant with him only in the former. Cursed in that way but also to never having a single one realize the glory and horror of Jashin. He was the only. The singular. The Chosen one.
---
“Fuck. FUCK! Did you hear that stupid little cock-sucking motherfucker scream like a little girl Kakuzu?! Fucking priceless, the look on his Jashin-damned face. Bet he didn’t see that one coming, eh? Hahaahahaaaa! Fucking priceless, the useless pansy-ass.”
Hidan staggered up from where he had been sprawled within the sacrificial circle, casually dusting the seat of his pants off and wiping some semi-congealed blood from the corners of his mouth. He stretched languidly, giving a loud “Shit! Ahhhh~” when his spine popped noisily. Kakuzu’s mouth wrinkled in a frown as he observed his partner’s rather unsavory display.
“Took you long enough. Here get dressed, we’ve wasted enough time.” And with that, Kakuzu shoved Hidan’s cloak at him.
Hidan had learned to discard that part of his uniform prior to sacrifices if he didn’t want Kakuzu to lay into him. Even though the cloaks were waterproof, they still needed a lot of upkeep to get blood off of them, especially the copious amounts of blood Hidan rendered . Although Hidan always wore his open, to both display his Jashinite rosary and so that he had a clear shot of his chest, giving him easier access to stab himself during battle, it was more expedient just to slide the cloak off the shoulder it still clung to and not worry about getting holes in it. Kakuzu would only sew up so many things for Hidan, body- or clothing-wise.
“Jeez, lighten up old man! You can’t hurry greatness.” Hidan said rather smugly, rubbing at some patches of dried blood so that they flaked off into the rust-colored dirt.
“Speaking of greatness, that felt fucking fantastic! Damn, really worked that bastard over didn’t I?” He’d followed Kakuzu over to the collapsed figure of the dead bounty and kicked at the leg.
“You might have used a little more restraint,” Kakuzu sniped, as he sent out threads and began sewing up a number of gaping jagged slashes that would have spilled innards everywhere if he had simply righted the corpse.
“Ha! Fucking ha! That’s rich, coming from you. You lose your shit all the time Kakuzu! Can’t be good for your blood pressure. Hey, you gotta’ watch out, don’t wanna have a coronary now, old man! Hahaha~urk!” Kakuzu’s backhand nearly caught him across the face at that last comment, forcing Hidan to make a flailing graceless leap to the side.
Apparently, the waiting for the ritual to end had used up all the Waterfall nin’s patience.
“Shit! Mmmm, what the hell Kakuzu! Crazy bastard!”
“Shut-up already, you’d probably have enjoyed that too, just like your rituals.” Kakuzu slung the bounty over his shoulder and looked disparagingly to where Hidan was wiping the thin line of blood off his chin.
“Fuck you, Kakuzu! You don’t understand squat about me or my rituals, fucking heathen shit-for-brains.” Hidan spat clotted blood into the dirt as he finished removing evidence of the battle and the covering the Jashin symbol with dirt, kicking angrily at the ground.
Kakuzu raised an eyebrow at that, but decided he really didn’t care; it was high time they get moving so he could reach the bounty drop-point before sunset.
X-posted to kakuhidan
Oh, and warning for Hidan's mouth, naturally.
Hidan hated to be ignored. Absolutely couldn’t stand it. It was like he needed the constant attention to provide some sort of self-validation. Kakuzu thought it was from possessing such a hugely inflated ego and exaggerated sense of grandeur because of his religion, that Hidan felt superior to everyone and out of some sort of beneficent gesture, deigned to grace the world with his unceasing chatter like some divine prophet whose words were gold.
What a crock.
Hidan had the dirtiest mouth of anyone Kakuzu had ever met. Nearly every other word he spoke was some type of profanity, and everything else was about how his God Jashin would smite everyone for being ignorant heathens, and how Hidan was his only disciple. Like he was cursing people not only with his rituals, but also with every poisoned word that left his lips.
Kakuzu couldn’t have been more wrong.
When he started off from his village, dead neighbors in a mangled pile, scythe in hand and crossed-out hitae-ate around his throat, Hidan had been a very insecure person. Although he was reassured immensely by his faith and ritual resurrection, being able to rise again and again, Praise Jashin! from the blood-soaked ground, proving each time he was The Chosen, his personal life was filled with self-doubt.
He never doubted Jashin, no, his faith was unshakable. His doubt came from his dealings with the outside world. Through his worship, Hidan received confirmation of his purpose and direction for his life, but not comfort. It just wasn’t possible to really feel good about the actual committing of violence against oneself. At least, it hadn’t been in the beginning. Things had gotten confusing after a while.
It was a paradox, see. It was like calling yourself a dirty worthless filthy slut and believing it. Again. And again. And again. Denigrating your personal value, slandering your good name, tromping your worth into the spoiled ground. It took it’s toll. But at the same time, after you called yourself a dirty worthless filthy slut you got an amazingly good reward. Like a full-body orgasm. Really, to be harming your own body, to perpetrate self-injury, why the hell would you hurt yourself? Why would anyone want to inflict such a huge personal insult to their own body? And then like it? Because of that reward that came afterwards, oh, right. Like Pavlov's dog, getting excited at the sound of the bell when really it was the food that it wanted.
That's how it began to happen. Hidan began to anticipate the pain, see it as a good thing, to anticipate it and want it. But not really. He just wanted what came after, his own personal miracle, but it didn't seem to matter to his body, because it craved the pain, ached for it, sought it out even when he KNEW he didn't really want to be hurting. Hidan would find that when his mind wandered, if he was bored, he’d chew his nails down to the quick or pinch his skin until mottled bruises appeared. He’d bite at his cheeks until the metallic, acrid taste of blood filled his mouth and then be startled to realize he’d done it intentionally.
Hidan hadn’t become indifferent towards his own pain, he’d just become apathetic. It was so fucking pointless to try and resist the madness, so much easier to let the struggle slide by and relish in the whole experience. Now, it was all about the control, the power and fear he could force another person to feel. His pain became their pain, his suffering became theirs and all the pain was given in the name of his God. The fear and horror, he savored it, craved it and channeled it to Jashin. To make those filthy atheistic heathens feel the wrath and terror of his God, and then the true power of Jashin when his body became whole again. And when Hidan felt the rush of relief when it was finally over, it made him so grateful, so fucking thankful, such awe and wonder when he felt the healing power of his faith sweep through him. But it was a poisoned bitter greedy blessing, not bestowed out of mercy but like rebuilding an army, awful and terrible.
The really tragic part of it all was that not one, not even one of those damned fools ever got it. They all looked at him and only saw a crazy sadistic zealot, not the harbinger of salvation- his and theirs-, not the resurrection, not the glory of Jashin. How could not a single measly one see that he was fucking miraculous? A one-of-a-kind supernatural wonder? A Jashin-damned apostle whose mission was not to spread the faith but only to make the world burn, and not a single person ever understood. It made Hidan want to laugh hysterically. And before too long he stopped holding it back, and peals of crazed laughter, spine-tingling shrieks of hysterical furor spilled from his bloody mouth.
How could he ever have hoped that Kakuzu would be different? That the man, the closest thing to being immortal as was found this side of hell or heaven, would be able, with all his life experience, to see the marvel and appreciate Hidan as the revelation? What a fucking disappointment. It made him furious. Hidan had heard of Kakuzu and sought him out perhaps not for the express purpose of recognition of the sublime, but for knowledge and guidance and maybe companionship
Hidan had thought Kakuzu would be so much better than the utterly stupid, bland, boring masses of humanity. That his age and experience would make him a valuable ally, someone he could relate to and learn from, how to navigate his way through the ages. But instead, Kakuzu was just as entrenched in the materialistic obsessions as the rest of the world. He was normally as cold as the lifeless gold coins he sought after so diligently. Terribly callous, had a temper of a three-year-old but the strength of five men, and had nothing but utter disregard, even contempt for Hidan’s religion and all faiths. After that epiphany, Hidan had felt doubly cursed. Damned to suffer the pain of death but never die, to haunt the earth for all eternity in a never-ending cycle of suicide and reanimation, taking those who were ignorant with him only in the former. Cursed in that way but also to never having a single one realize the glory and horror of Jashin. He was the only. The singular. The Chosen one.
---
“Fuck. FUCK! Did you hear that stupid little cock-sucking motherfucker scream like a little girl Kakuzu?! Fucking priceless, the look on his Jashin-damned face. Bet he didn’t see that one coming, eh? Hahaahahaaaa! Fucking priceless, the useless pansy-ass.”
Hidan staggered up from where he had been sprawled within the sacrificial circle, casually dusting the seat of his pants off and wiping some semi-congealed blood from the corners of his mouth. He stretched languidly, giving a loud “Shit! Ahhhh~” when his spine popped noisily. Kakuzu’s mouth wrinkled in a frown as he observed his partner’s rather unsavory display.
“Took you long enough. Here get dressed, we’ve wasted enough time.” And with that, Kakuzu shoved Hidan’s cloak at him.
Hidan had learned to discard that part of his uniform prior to sacrifices if he didn’t want Kakuzu to lay into him. Even though the cloaks were waterproof, they still needed a lot of upkeep to get blood off of them, especially the copious amounts of blood Hidan rendered . Although Hidan always wore his open, to both display his Jashinite rosary and so that he had a clear shot of his chest, giving him easier access to stab himself during battle, it was more expedient just to slide the cloak off the shoulder it still clung to and not worry about getting holes in it. Kakuzu would only sew up so many things for Hidan, body- or clothing-wise.
“Jeez, lighten up old man! You can’t hurry greatness.” Hidan said rather smugly, rubbing at some patches of dried blood so that they flaked off into the rust-colored dirt.
“Speaking of greatness, that felt fucking fantastic! Damn, really worked that bastard over didn’t I?” He’d followed Kakuzu over to the collapsed figure of the dead bounty and kicked at the leg.
“You might have used a little more restraint,” Kakuzu sniped, as he sent out threads and began sewing up a number of gaping jagged slashes that would have spilled innards everywhere if he had simply righted the corpse.
“Ha! Fucking ha! That’s rich, coming from you. You lose your shit all the time Kakuzu! Can’t be good for your blood pressure. Hey, you gotta’ watch out, don’t wanna have a coronary now, old man! Hahaha~urk!” Kakuzu’s backhand nearly caught him across the face at that last comment, forcing Hidan to make a flailing graceless leap to the side.
Apparently, the waiting for the ritual to end had used up all the Waterfall nin’s patience.
“Shit! Mmmm, what the hell Kakuzu! Crazy bastard!”
“Shut-up already, you’d probably have enjoyed that too, just like your rituals.” Kakuzu slung the bounty over his shoulder and looked disparagingly to where Hidan was wiping the thin line of blood off his chin.
“Fuck you, Kakuzu! You don’t understand squat about me or my rituals, fucking heathen shit-for-brains.” Hidan spat clotted blood into the dirt as he finished removing evidence of the battle and the covering the Jashin symbol with dirt, kicking angrily at the ground.
Kakuzu raised an eyebrow at that, but decided he really didn’t care; it was high time they get moving so he could reach the bounty drop-point before sunset.
X-posted to kakuhidan