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Authoress’ Note: Vers. 2.0 for chapter 2 now…

Chapter 2

Hidan was an emotional man. Not in the way that you are thinking, perhaps. He was not THAT kind of man. He simply had this tendency to get carried away.

It was emotional in a way that he could get so worked up during his rituals, so in touch with himself and his body, as the blade pierced his heart. So much pleasure, so much glee and dark enjoyment; he almost felt that he could DIE from it.

Not that he ever would, of course, or that he could. Oh, but if this was what it felt like… if he could, he would have gladly taken it.

Dark splatters of blood covered the walls of his room, smeared and dripping. He lay in the center of the floor, a kunai buried to the hilt in his heart. He could feel a chill, emanating from the cold metal to the inner part of the muscle, with each feeble beat. He stared at the ceiling in a quiet state of post-euphoria. Like the after-effects of a drug-induced high, he was drowsy with the feeling of falling back to Earth. He’d made an absolute mess, he thought apathetically, as the blood dripped, thick and cooling, onto his face from where it had hit the ceiling. But, oh, did it feel so good. He felt SO much better, seeing that built up frustration painted out on the walls. Made him feel light and free. Or maybe that was just the blood loss doing that…

A tap came at the door, a gentle sound that aroused Hidan from his trance-like state. He looked to it, hoping perhaps that he had only imagined it. But the knocking got louder, breaking his hope. Fuck. What a mood killer.

Roughly pulling the kunai from himself, Hidan let out a pleased hiss as the blood spurted forward, no longer contained. After a minute, it dripped to a steady flow. He wiped the thickest part of the blood that covered him, decimating it at least to a thin layer. He was a mess, covered in blood, watered down only by sweat. Not that he particularly minded. He had gotten the stitches removed in the process at least. And if the person on the other side of that door didn’t like it, then they shouldn’t have come to see him in the first damned place. Everyone knew him enough to know what those screams of pain and sick enjoyment meant, the noises becoming a sort of warning.

It took a couple tries for Hidan to get a good grip on the door knob. The slick metal was too smooth, constantly slipping in his blood-covered grip. He used the door as support for his trembling body to stay up, gripping tighter to overcome the shaking that came as the person knocked harder. He could feel the loose flap of his cheek slapping against the part of his jawbone running from his chin. Shit, he’d forgotten about that. He’d have to ask Kakuzu to fix that later.

Oh, speak of the devil…

“Th’ hell d’you want?” Hidan asked blearily, the moment his mind registered Kakuzu standing there in front of his door. He spoke, Kakuzu noted, with a slight slur, most likely owing to the oozing tears on his lips where seams had been ripped in favor of severing. His cheek was still disconnected, of course, and he had just done one of his rituals, as Kakuzu could estimate from the amount of blood and stab wounds speckling the sickly pale man’s body. Ignoring the blood spots covering the floor, Kakuzu invited himself in, pushing past Hidan. He just wanted to get this over with already.

“‘ey, ‘ey!” Hidan snarled as he was bumped to the side. He recovered his wobbly footing, turning with Kakuzu to glare at him. “Who said you could come in?!”

“Oh, shut up.” Kakuzu growled. Taking his cloak, he threw it over a blood stain on the bed, sitting down atop the cover. Hidan seemed strangely awkward in his own room now, fidgeting while glowering at Kakuzu. He mumbled indistinctively, something that was NEARLY along the same lines of ‘make yourself comfortable’, only followed by an expletive of some sort. He then walked to the other side of the room, leaning against the wall.

The following silence was so heavy, it could have suffocated a man. It was barely with patience that both put up with it, until someone spoke again.

“So…” Hidan began, as if jumping at the first thing that came to mind. Which was exactly what he was doing. “… got those damn stitches out.”

“I can see that.” Kakuzu responded in a low growl, already feeling a headache coming on. If the conversation continued on like this, he wouldn’t last long. “Why didn’t you just wait for me to get back from the report?”

“Because you took too damn long! Those things were startin’ to itch, I’d had them in for hours! What’d you EXPECT me to do?”

“Perhaps wait long enough for this to be done properly, so that you wouldn’t screw up your face!” The logic of his partner was maddening to Kakuzu sometimes. Here he was, standing there with a jacked-up face, and all he seemed concerned about was that he continue to defy the other man. He glared with a cold expression, aware that he had no real argument with Kakuzu. Not, of course that that was going to stop him; it never did.

Neither man was budging, and Kakuzu knew that if he was going to get this over with, he needed to make the first move. Otherwise, the entire thing would just pass without incident, time would be wasted, and Kakuzu would emerge from the whole ordeal just plain pissed. Letting out a sigh that sounded more like a snarl, Kakuzu got up, striding over to Hidan’s side of the room. Hidan pressed up against the wall at first in shock. He then let out what could only be described as a screech of protest as Kakuzu grabbed him by the hair, dragging him back to the bed.

“Ah, FUCK, Kakuzu! Not the damn hair, that stings like a fucker!”

“Hypocrite.” The man grunted, sitting down again and shoving Hidan’s head onto his lap, the left side of his face with the ripped cheek facing up. Hidan’s complaints quieted to annoyed mumbles as the threads came out, sewing up Hidan’s face. At last, a more comfortable silence filled the room.

Hidan’s reactions were interesting to watch, Kakuzu thought mildly. As the needle laced through the skin, he would let out a hiss of approval, sometimes a moan. His body would jolt with what seemed like a sense of ecstasy, obviously soaking in the experience of pain with every fiber of his body.

It seemed apparent to Kakuzu that he had been the given the strangest partner he could have ever received. A religious immortal sado-masochist who hated having his hair pulled, claiming it stung. And yet he loved the feel of foreign, sharp objects in his internal organs. And hell, Kakuzu was stuck with him whether he liked it or not.

The thread was severed as Kakuzu finished with the side of Hidan’s face. It took a moment before Hidan realized that the man was done, and once he had, it took another moment of blank stares and blinking before he said anything. “Shi- right, thank, I guess.” he said dismissively, almost jumping up. He was not blushing, but his body language and shifting eyes made it apparent to Kakuzu that he was a bit embarrassed by the fact that he had been lying there so long. He began to get up off of the bed, but yelped as Kakuzu rolled his eyes, pulling him back down again. “FUCK, Kakuzu! What the hell do you want now?!”

“Did you forget those tears in your lips?” Kakuzu replied bitterly. He pulled Hidan’s head back against his shoulder, now going to work on the smaller tears, keeping the close contact for the sake of finer detail. Hidan fidgeted slightly, his pink eyes practically rolling into the back of his skull as he looked back at Kakuzu. “How long is this shit gonna take?” he groaned. His body shivered against Kakuzu’s as the sharp-tipped thread stung at his lips, small stitches sewing them up. Kakuzu twitched away slightly from the man’s trembling body, trying to hide his disgust. Forget interesting. In this close contact, Hidan’s over-excited reactions were sickening. It took everything Kakuzu had to keep a civil face.

“Do you want me to stop, then?” he finally asked, in response to Hidan’s earlier question, though delayed. Hidan stared back at him again, inquisitive.

“If I say yes, will you just keep going?” he continued the questioning game, his response sounding doubtful. He had no faith in his partner, honestly. Not that he really had reason to. His tone of voice made Kakuzu just was to make it hurt MORE in response. There were a couple of things stopping him from doing this, however, the main one being that it would be defying the goal given to him by Pain. The second part, of course was attached to that. Kakuzu had this sneaking suspicion that the two of them were being watched, most likely on Pain’s orders. If he screwed up now, there would be no way to cover it up, and the final sum would be brought down by such an early mistake. No, this had to be dealt with delicately. Delicate… now THERE was a foreign word to Kakuzu. He thought over what type of response would go under that category, and said – mistakenly – the first thing that came to mind.

“No, I’ll stop. But only if you ask me to, of course.”

It sounded acceptable in Kakuzu’s head. But as soon as the words came out of his mouth, Hidan pulled away in a blur, as if Kakuzu had suddenly caught fire. Moving to the other side of the bed, Hidan stared at him, a glint in his eyes that was not so much from fear than from frozen apprehension.

“I didn’t hear you right there, did I?” He mumbled sarcastically. Kakuzu stared back at him, controlling the urge to slap him across the face for being both difficult and incredibly stupid. His patience was held in a way that was painful for him. He hated having to control himself around his partner. Btu with a calming inhalation of breath, he continued.

“There’s no need to overreact, Hidan. Is there something wrong with me trying to help?”

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. At the drop of the ‘h’ word, Hidan jumped off of the bed, his foot kicking up the blood-stained scythe from the floor, and his hands grabbing it quickly, reflexes sharp. His grip on the handle was so tight, his knuckles were turning white.

“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck have you done with Kakuzu?” Kakuzu was not sure which was worse – the sudden outburst or the lack of originality. Even worse was the fact that Kakuzu could not tell of the question was rhetorical or entirely serious. Yet at the same time, Kakuzu could understand why Hidan was so demanding suddenly. He was indeed acting quite unlike himself at the moment. But what else was he supposed to do? His own natural reactions were not befitting to his current needs and requirements. At this point, however, the lies that he had given were not working any faster, at any rate. Choosing for his impatience to rule him again, Kakuzu used his odd tendrils of thread to pull Hidan back down. “Will you shut up and let me HELP!” he snarled. There, nice enough. He was still helping, after all. Still, though, Hidan fidgeted, squawking protests, and feeling incredibly nervous. And it was only in that that Kakuzu felt satisfaction.

Death was something Kakuzu relished in, the control of another person’s life. It was the feel of certain stability, like the kind that Kakuzu had in money. Prices would rise and fall, true, money would lose its worth in hard times. But never did money lose its use, its control. Death was used – in a way – for similar purposes; to put a certain CONTROL over the populace. If things didn’t die, the population would swell, thing would get out of control. Life was as precious as money, but could not last long. If life continued on too long – if people gained too much fortune – then it would lose it’s worth, and the world would be overburdened with it. So just as Kakuzu loved his control over money, he loved the control of other’s destinies.

But filthy little cockroaches like Hidan, things that refused to die… their lives were worth NOTHING. And yet, they continued living, burdening others with their existence. Kakuzu hated it, hated that lack of control, that one fluctuation that messed up everything else. He couldn’t kill Hidan, no matter how hard he may try. So, having this type of control, this grip on Hidan as he struggled now – that was the next best thing. Hidan was scare – or, at least, as scared as an immortal such as him could be. Kakuzu held Hidan as still as he could on his lap in order to apply the stitches. A hand was o the man’s neck, and he could feel the pulsating convulsions of the blood pumping through the veins, vibrating the tips of the older man’s fingers.

With the motion of Hidan’s pulse and the nervous, tiny movements, it took a moment before Kakuzu became aware of the echoing silence in the room. And it was only when Kakuzu became aware of THAT particular factor that he was aware that Hidan had stopped really struggling. The silver-haired Jashinist was still giving fitful twitches, but there was no fight in them. As Kakuzu made eye contact with the younger man, he became aware that his gaze had been transfixed on Kakuzu for quite some time now, his breathing shallow, and his eyes half-lidded. Kakuzu vaguely wondered what had caused the sudden change of reaction, until he unconsciously found himself sliding his hand down Hidan’s neck, relaxing himself as he though. It was then that Hidan shivered again violently, his pulse fluttering lightly.

“Kakuzu,” he gasped, “get your fuckin’ hands off me…”

“I’m not done yet.” Kakuzu replied, calm, but curious at Hidan’s sudden reaction, at this strange control he suddenly had. Curious, he thought for a moment, in bitterness. Why not angry? Why not the one emotion he was usually so dependent upon? He tried to get over the wondering of that, instead pushing his attentions back to this bizarre feeling (CURIOUSITY, he growled to himself again mentally). There was no more time to do anything else about it though, as Hidan shoved his hands off of himself, and stood up abruptly, trembling where he stood.

“Out.” he said, voice cracked and hoarse, but not yet shouting as was more usual. His commanding tone at last extinguished Kakuzu’s interest, making him go back to wanting to strangle him. But still, he reminded himself that if he did that, it would be all over. Not wanting to hear Hidan’s whining, which would undoubtedly push him over the edge - as it always did – Kakuzu left the room without a fight, leaving his blood-stained cloak on the bed. The rest of his clothes were soaked as well, the fabric wet from Hidan laying on him, dripping and covered in blood. He felt disgusting, Hidan’s blood slicked and sticky on his skin. Still hiding how sick all these things made him, he slowly walked away, feeling Hidan’s eyes following him across the room. That gaze finally broke away when he walked through the door, closing it behind him.

As Kakuzu strode away, he heard a shifting sound, like the very walls were moving, changing around him. He came to a slow stop, knowing he had company, and waiting for them to speak.

“I think you’ve upset him.” The voice was soft, almost immature. Kakuzu looked back at Zetsu, hanging from the side of the wall, at an upwards slant. His bright yellow eyes seemed to search Kakuzu for a reaction. Kakuzu was intent upon giving none.

“I behaved myself.” He said stoicly. “I still have two more days.”

“If you don’t break first.” Zetsu’s mouth did not move this time, but he spoke nonetheless. His voice this time may not have been mocking or malicious, but nonetheless was negative, and dark. There seemed to be a glint in the pupilless yellow, orb-like eye on the black half of the man’s body. “You barely survived in there.”

“Oh, maybe he can do it.” With an airy confidence, Zetsu replied to himself, though he continued to stare at Kakuzu. It annoyed the old man. He had no patience for Zetsu at the moment. He walked away quickly, leaving the strange man in the company of only himself.

Zetsu was right, though, Kakuzu admitted bitterly. He had barely gotten through this whole thing, and had still upset Hidan. Well, what else did they expect of him? He could treat Hidan kindly, but that did not change how he truly felt at his core. Not that true feelings helped. Yes, this was a hard bet to win. But he WOULD win, no matter how this affected Hidan.

Honestly, he scoffed to himself. If Pain had wanted to make this a REAL challenge, he should have specified a detail like that. After all, when did things like that ever matter?

~*~

Hidan’s skin was crawling, his heart racing, and pushing blood from the closing wounds all over his body. They, like the tears in his cheek, had already started to heal. He hadn’t needed Kakuzu’s help, he repeated to himself fervently, a little worked up over what had just happened. Why had he just sat there, and let him do that?

The ghost of Kakuzu’s touch was on Hidan’s neck, making him shiver. He cursed himself for having such sensitive skin. It was something he couldn’t help. But because of it, he had made an absolute idiot of himself in front of Kakuzu. No, no just that… he had been practically MELTING in the hands of the other man, becoming an embarrassment to himself. It made him retch, just thinking about it.

And yet, there was one thing he could not forget, could not deny no matter how hard he tried; it had felt good. It felt strange as hell for Kakuzu to act like that, but at the same time, it had a careful, meticulous feel that was calming. Pleasing. To repeat himself, GOOD, plain and simple. Ah, Jashin, Hidan wished he could get his mind off of this! Why did he care? Why the HELL did he care if Kakuzu decided to turn weird on him like this, to do these things to him?

He didn’t. That’s all Hidan had to convince himself of, to tell himself. And in that way, he would not give a care about this, because, as he told himself again, He DIDN’T give a care. He sunk down and laid in the puddle of his own blood, repeating this as a mantra to calm himself. Gah, he was dizzy. Couldn’t think straight, his head swimming. Everything was going black before his eyes, the blood on the ceiling continuing to drip, tickling the sides of his neck as it slid down his skin. No, he still didn’t care. He still WOULDN’T care.

Entering a state of relaxation, sinking back into his post-euphoria he had had earlier, Hidan allowed himself to pass out from blood loss, knowing he would heal faster with sleep. He already felt the regeneration of his cheek beginning, and stubbornly refused to admit that it wouldn’t have happened had Kakuzu not helped. No, he was not going to THINK about Kakuzu right now. He wasn’t going to think about the feeling dancing round his neck, mimicked by the blood slowly dripping there.

Hidan, as was said earlier, is an emotional man, to a point of sensitivity. And sometimes, he could hate himself for it. Because that meant he could feel everything sometimes, whether he wanted to or not.

~End Chapter 2~

Description
Authoress’ Note: Vers. 2.0 for chapter 2 now…

Chapter 2

Hidan was an emotional man. Not in the way that you are thinking, perhaps. He was not THAT kind of man. He simply had this tendency to get carried away.

It was emotional in a way that he could get so worked up during his rituals, so in touch with himself and his body, as the blade pierced his heart. So much pleasure, so much glee and dark enjoyment; he almost felt that he could DIE from it.

Not that he ever would, of course, or that he could. Oh, but if this was what it felt like… if he could, he would have gladly taken it.

Dark splatters of blood covered the walls of his room, smeared and dripping. He lay in the center of the floor, a kunai buried to the hilt in his heart. He could feel a chill, emanating from the cold metal to the inner part of the muscle, with each feeble beat. He stared at the ceiling in a quiet state of post-euphoria. Like the after-effects of a drug-induced high, he was drowsy with the feeling of falling back to Earth. He’d made an absolute mess, he thought apathetically, as the blood dripped, thick and cooling, onto his face from where it had hit the ceiling. But, oh, did it feel so good. He felt SO much better, seeing that built up frustration painted out on the walls. Made him feel light and free. Or maybe that was just the blood loss doing that…

A tap came at the door, a gentle sound that aroused Hidan from his trance-like state. He looked to it, hoping perhaps that he had only imagined it. But the knocking got louder, breaking his hope. Fuck. What a mood killer.

Roughly pulling the kunai from himself, Hidan let out a pleased hiss as the blood spurted forward, no longer contained. After a minute, it dripped to a steady flow. He wiped the thickest part of the blood that covered him, decimating it at least to a thin layer. He was a mess, covered in blood, watered down only by sweat. Not that he particularly minded. He had gotten the stitches removed in the process at least. And if the person on the other side of that door didn’t like it, then they shouldn’t have come to see him in the first damned place. Everyone knew him enough to know what those screams of pain and sick enjoyment meant, the noises becoming a sort of warning.

It took a couple tries for Hidan to get a good grip on the door knob. The slick metal was too smooth, constantly slipping in his blood-covered grip. He used the door as support for his trembling body to stay up, gripping tighter to overcome the shaking that came as the person knocked harder. He could feel the loose flap of his cheek slapping against the part of his jawbone running from his chin. Shit, he’d forgotten about that. He’d have to ask Kakuzu to fix that later.

Oh, speak of the devil…

“Th’ hell d’you want?” Hidan asked blearily, the moment his mind registered Kakuzu standing there in front of his door. He spoke, Kakuzu noted, with a slight slur, most likely owing to the oozing tears on his lips where seams had been ripped in favor of severing. His cheek was still disconnected, of course, and he had just done one of his rituals, as Kakuzu could estimate from the amount of blood and stab wounds speckling the sickly pale man’s body. Ignoring the blood spots covering the floor, Kakuzu invited himself in, pushing past Hidan. He just wanted to get this over with already.

“‘ey, ‘ey!” Hidan snarled as he was bumped to the side. He recovered his wobbly footing, turning with Kakuzu to glare at him. “Who said you could come in?!”

“Oh, shut up.” Kakuzu growled. Taking his cloak, he threw it over a blood stain on the bed, sitting down atop the cover. Hidan seemed strangely awkward in his own room now, fidgeting while glowering at Kakuzu. He mumbled indistinctively, something that was NEARLY along the same lines of ‘make yourself comfortable’, only followed by an expletive of some sort. He then walked to the other side of the room, leaning against the wall.

The following silence was so heavy, it could have suffocated a man. It was barely with patience that both put up with it, until someone spoke again.

“So…” Hidan began, as if jumping at the first thing that came to mind. Which was exactly what he was doing. “… got those damn stitches out.”

“I can see that.” Kakuzu responded in a low growl, already feeling a headache coming on. If the conversation continued on like this, he wouldn’t last long. “Why didn’t you just wait for me to get back from the report?”

“Because you took too damn long! Those things were startin’ to itch, I’d had them in for hours! What’d you EXPECT me to do?”

“Perhaps wait long enough for this to be done properly, so that you wouldn’t screw up your face!” The logic of his partner was maddening to Kakuzu sometimes. Here he was, standing there with a jacked-up face, and all he seemed concerned about was that he continue to defy the other man. He glared with a cold expression, aware that he had no real argument with Kakuzu. Not, of course that that was going to stop him; it never did.

Neither man was budging, and Kakuzu knew that if he was going to get this over with, he needed to make the first move. Otherwise, the entire thing would just pass without incident, time would be wasted, and Kakuzu would emerge from the whole ordeal just plain pissed. Letting out a sigh that sounded more like a snarl, Kakuzu got up, striding over to Hidan’s side of the room. Hidan pressed up against the wall at first in shock. He then let out what could only be described as a screech of protest as Kakuzu grabbed him by the hair, dragging him back to the bed.

“Ah, FUCK, Kakuzu! Not the damn hair, that stings like a fucker!”

“Hypocrite.” The man grunted, sitting down again and shoving Hidan’s head onto his lap, the left side of his face with the ripped cheek facing up. Hidan’s complaints quieted to annoyed mumbles as the threads came out, sewing up Hidan’s face. At last, a more comfortable silence filled the room.

Hidan’s reactions were interesting to watch, Kakuzu thought mildly. As the needle laced through the skin, he would let out a hiss of approval, sometimes a moan. His body would jolt with what seemed like a sense of ecstasy, obviously soaking in the experience of pain with every fiber of his body.

It seemed apparent to Kakuzu that he had been the given the strangest partner he could have ever received. A religious immortal sado-masochist who hated having his hair pulled, claiming it stung. And yet he loved the feel of foreign, sharp objects in his internal organs. And hell, Kakuzu was stuck with him whether he liked it or not.

The thread was severed as Kakuzu finished with the side of Hidan’s face. It took a moment before Hidan realized that the man was done, and once he had, it took another moment of blank stares and blinking before he said anything. “Shi- right, thank, I guess.” he said dismissively, almost jumping up. He was not blushing, but his body language and shifting eyes made it apparent to Kakuzu that he was a bit embarrassed by the fact that he had been lying there so long. He began to get up off of the bed, but yelped as Kakuzu rolled his eyes, pulling him back down again. “FUCK, Kakuzu! What the hell do you want now?!”

“Did you forget those tears in your lips?” Kakuzu replied bitterly. He pulled Hidan’s head back against his shoulder, now going to work on the smaller tears, keeping the close contact for the sake of finer detail. Hidan fidgeted slightly, his pink eyes practically rolling into the back of his skull as he looked back at Kakuzu. “How long is this shit gonna take?” he groaned. His body shivered against Kakuzu’s as the sharp-tipped thread stung at his lips, small stitches sewing them up. Kakuzu twitched away slightly from the man’s trembling body, trying to hide his disgust. Forget interesting. In this close contact, Hidan’s over-excited reactions were sickening. It took everything Kakuzu had to keep a civil face.

“Do you want me to stop, then?” he finally asked, in response to Hidan’s earlier question, though delayed. Hidan stared back at him again, inquisitive.

“If I say yes, will you just keep going?” he continued the questioning game, his response sounding doubtful. He had no faith in his partner, honestly. Not that he really had reason to. His tone of voice made Kakuzu just was to make it hurt MORE in response. There were a couple of things stopping him from doing this, however, the main one being that it would be defying the goal given to him by Pain. The second part, of course was attached to that. Kakuzu had this sneaking suspicion that the two of them were being watched, most likely on Pain’s orders. If he screwed up now, there would be no way to cover it up, and the final sum would be brought down by such an early mistake. No, this had to be dealt with delicately. Delicate… now THERE was a foreign word to Kakuzu. He thought over what type of response would go under that category, and said – mistakenly – the first thing that came to mind.

“No, I’ll stop. But only if you ask me to, of course.”

It sounded acceptable in Kakuzu’s head. But as soon as the words came out of his mouth, Hidan pulled away in a blur, as if Kakuzu had suddenly caught fire. Moving to the other side of the bed, Hidan stared at him, a glint in his eyes that was not so much from fear than from frozen apprehension.

“I didn’t hear you right there, did I?” He mumbled sarcastically. Kakuzu stared back at him, controlling the urge to slap him across the face for being both difficult and incredibly stupid. His patience was held in a way that was painful for him. He hated having to control himself around his partner. Btu with a calming inhalation of breath, he continued.

“There’s no need to overreact, Hidan. Is there something wrong with me trying to help?”

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. At the drop of the ‘h’ word, Hidan jumped off of the bed, his foot kicking up the blood-stained scythe from the floor, and his hands grabbing it quickly, reflexes sharp. His grip on the handle was so tight, his knuckles were turning white.

“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck have you done with Kakuzu?” Kakuzu was not sure which was worse – the sudden outburst or the lack of originality. Even worse was the fact that Kakuzu could not tell of the question was rhetorical or entirely serious. Yet at the same time, Kakuzu could understand why Hidan was so demanding suddenly. He was indeed acting quite unlike himself at the moment. But what else was he supposed to do? His own natural reactions were not befitting to his current needs and requirements. At this point, however, the lies that he had given were not working any faster, at any rate. Choosing for his impatience to rule him again, Kakuzu used his odd tendrils of thread to pull Hidan back down. “Will you shut up and let me HELP!” he snarled. There, nice enough. He was still helping, after all. Still, though, Hidan fidgeted, squawking protests, and feeling incredibly nervous. And it was only in that that Kakuzu felt satisfaction.

Death was something Kakuzu relished in, the control of another person’s life. It was the feel of certain stability, like the kind that Kakuzu had in money. Prices would rise and fall, true, money would lose its worth in hard times. But never did money lose its use, its control. Death was used – in a way – for similar purposes; to put a certain CONTROL over the populace. If things didn’t die, the population would swell, thing would get out of control. Life was as precious as money, but could not last long. If life continued on too long – if people gained too much fortune – then it would lose it’s worth, and the world would be overburdened with it. So just as Kakuzu loved his control over money, he loved the control of other’s destinies.

But filthy little cockroaches like Hidan, things that refused to die… their lives were worth NOTHING. And yet, they continued living, burdening others with their existence. Kakuzu hated it, hated that lack of control, that one fluctuation that messed up everything else. He couldn’t kill Hidan, no matter how hard he may try. So, having this type of control, this grip on Hidan as he struggled now – that was the next best thing. Hidan was scare – or, at least, as scared as an immortal such as him could be. Kakuzu held Hidan as still as he could on his lap in order to apply the stitches. A hand was o the man’s neck, and he could feel the pulsating convulsions of the blood pumping through the veins, vibrating the tips of the older man’s fingers.

With the motion of Hidan’s pulse and the nervous, tiny movements, it took a moment before Kakuzu became aware of the echoing silence in the room. And it was only when Kakuzu became aware of THAT particular factor that he was aware that Hidan had stopped really struggling. The silver-haired Jashinist was still giving fitful twitches, but there was no fight in them. As Kakuzu made eye contact with the younger man, he became aware that his gaze had been transfixed on Kakuzu for quite some time now, his breathing shallow, and his eyes half-lidded. Kakuzu vaguely wondered what had caused the sudden change of reaction, until he unconsciously found himself sliding his hand down Hidan’s neck, relaxing himself as he though. It was then that Hidan shivered again violently, his pulse fluttering lightly.

“Kakuzu,” he gasped, “get your fuckin’ hands off me…”

“I’m not done yet.” Kakuzu replied, calm, but curious at Hidan’s sudden reaction, at this strange control he suddenly had. Curious, he thought for a moment, in bitterness. Why not angry? Why not the one emotion he was usually so dependent upon? He tried to get over the wondering of that, instead pushing his attentions back to this bizarre feeling (CURIOUSITY, he growled to himself again mentally). There was no more time to do anything else about it though, as Hidan shoved his hands off of himself, and stood up abruptly, trembling where he stood.

“Out.” he said, voice cracked and hoarse, but not yet shouting as was more usual. His commanding tone at last extinguished Kakuzu’s interest, making him go back to wanting to strangle him. But still, he reminded himself that if he did that, it would be all over. Not wanting to hear Hidan’s whining, which would undoubtedly push him over the edge - as it always did – Kakuzu left the room without a fight, leaving his blood-stained cloak on the bed. The rest of his clothes were soaked as well, the fabric wet from Hidan laying on him, dripping and covered in blood. He felt disgusting, Hidan’s blood slicked and sticky on his skin. Still hiding how sick all these things made him, he slowly walked away, feeling Hidan’s eyes following him across the room. That gaze finally broke away when he walked through the door, closing it behind him.

As Kakuzu strode away, he heard a shifting sound, like the very walls were moving, changing around him. He came to a slow stop, knowing he had company, and waiting for them to speak.

“I think you’ve upset him.” The voice was soft, almost immature. Kakuzu looked back at Zetsu, hanging from the side of the wall, at an upwards slant. His bright yellow eyes seemed to search Kakuzu for a reaction. Kakuzu was intent upon giving none.

“I behaved myself.” He said stoicly. “I still have two more days.”

“If you don’t break first.” Zetsu’s mouth did not move this time, but he spoke nonetheless. His voice this time may not have been mocking or malicious, but nonetheless was negative, and dark. There seemed to be a glint in the pupilless yellow, orb-like eye on the black half of the man’s body. “You barely survived in there.”

“Oh, maybe he can do it.” With an airy confidence, Zetsu replied to himself, though he continued to stare at Kakuzu. It annoyed the old man. He had no patience for Zetsu at the moment. He walked away quickly, leaving the strange man in the company of only himself.

Zetsu was right, though, Kakuzu admitted bitterly. He had barely gotten through this whole thing, and had still upset Hidan. Well, what else did they expect of him? He could treat Hidan kindly, but that did not change how he truly felt at his core. Not that true feelings helped. Yes, this was a hard bet to win. But he WOULD win, no matter how this affected Hidan.

Honestly, he scoffed to himself. If Pain had wanted to make this a REAL challenge, he should have specified a detail like that. After all, when did things like that ever matter?

~*~

Hidan’s skin was crawling, his heart racing, and pushing blood from the closing wounds all over his body. They, like the tears in his cheek, had already started to heal. He hadn’t needed Kakuzu’s help, he repeated to himself fervently, a little worked up over what had just happened. Why had he just sat there, and let him do that?

The ghost of Kakuzu’s touch was on Hidan’s neck, making him shiver. He cursed himself for having such sensitive skin. It was something he couldn’t help. But because of it, he had made an absolute idiot of himself in front of Kakuzu. No, no just that… he had been practically MELTING in the hands of the other man, becoming an embarrassment to himself. It made him retch, just thinking about it.

And yet, there was one thing he could not forget, could not deny no matter how hard he tried; it had felt good. It felt strange as hell for Kakuzu to act like that, but at the same time, it had a careful, meticulous feel that was calming. Pleasing. To repeat himself, GOOD, plain and simple. Ah, Jashin, Hidan wished he could get his mind off of this! Why did he care? Why the HELL did he care if Kakuzu decided to turn weird on him like this, to do these things to him?

He didn’t. That’s all Hidan had to convince himself of, to tell himself. And in that way, he would not give a care about this, because, as he told himself again, He DIDN’T give a care. He sunk down and laid in the puddle of his own blood, repeating this as a mantra to calm himself. Gah, he was dizzy. Couldn’t think straight, his head swimming. Everything was going black before his eyes, the blood on the ceiling continuing to drip, tickling the sides of his neck as it slid down his skin. No, he still didn’t care. He still WOULDN’T care.

Entering a state of relaxation, sinking back into his post-euphoria he had had earlier, Hidan allowed himself to pass out from blood loss, knowing he would heal faster with sleep. He already felt the regeneration of his cheek beginning, and stubbornly refused to admit that it wouldn’t have happened had Kakuzu not helped. No, he was not going to THINK about Kakuzu right now. He wasn’t going to think about the feeling dancing round his neck, mimicked by the blood slowly dripping there.

Hidan, as was said earlier, is an emotional man, to a point of sensitivity. And sometimes, he could hate himself for it. Because that meant he could feel everything sometimes, whether he wanted to or not.

~End Chapter 2~