Hidan looks down at you in a few ways. It isn’t that he hates you— far from it, in fact. In the time you’ve spent together, tolerating Kakuzu’s bounties and petty bouts of silence, Hidan has made note of how...attentive you are. That’s a rare trait, see? People who listen. At first he was suspicious when you watched him pray— no vocal opposition, no trying to take the spear from his hand in horror. You just...watched.

In the sunset of a blood red sky that first day together, somehow the way light pooled on the whites of your eyes made the tone of sacrifice so much more calm.

From then on, the Jashinist has theorized: you aren’t judging him. So why look down upon you if there’s no basis for dislike? For one, he’s just...confused— confused how a poor little lamb could observe him and his work so thoroughly without a word to say. For another, well… It’s kind of hard not to stare towards the ground right now if he wants to get a glance at you. 

He tilts his head from his little plateau on top of this boulder you chose to rest at halfway between missions, nose pointed down to your perch to his side and below. Even now, after watching yet another ritual, you look so...peaceful. Why? Why? 

Things that Hidan doesn’t understand agitate him, but unlike the rest of said group, the idea of you picks at his brain even when it should be dismissed as nonsense. Even as he draws the stake from his chest, the silver-haired man won’t stop groaning in discomfort. It’s often to hear him complain, yes, but it isn’t just his wound that stings.

…You hear him hum.

…You hear him grumble.

…And then finally, you hear him sigh.

“Hey,” he says out of the blue. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?”

...You crack open one eye. This isn’t the first of his outbursts with seemingly no prompting whatsoever, so by this point you know that the prompt, of course, is within his own mind. You look up at him and wait for him to give you a better clue. 

“I mean—” he continues to narrate, almost just talking to himself. “I see you and I’m like… Look at this fucking girl! She’s not an idiot. In fact, she’s kinda smart! But every time I offer her to join the way of Jashin, she says no!”

...It should be of note that he never overtly asked you such a thing and therefore you never overtly said no. It’s fascinating how Hidan is somehow both so straightforward and so roundabout with things; it’s part of why you stick around. You aren’t beyond learning something new, after all.

Hidan, meanwhile, looks at you with his typical lazy, hooded eyes and a slight pout in his pursed lips. His expression says it all: what do you have to say for yourself?

But it matters more what he’s really trying to ask, you think, and you have a good bet it’s not that. You allow the birds in branches above take their time cawing their calls and fluffing their feathers before finally answering Hidan’s pointed accusation.

“...You wanna know why I haven’t requested to join you in worshiping Jashin?” you rephrase, but just as he opens his mouth to insult you for questioning his intentions, you answer. “Well...I never said I wouldn’t, for one.”

There’s a shine on Hidan’s ring as his index finger is raised by its wrist, pointing your way. “But you said you don’t believe in gods,” Hidan is quick to say at the soonest break in your voice for a breath. That isn’t the “gotcha” he thinks it is, however; he sees you shake your head, seemingly unhurried at all.

“You misunderstand me,” you reply, tasting petrichor from the night of rain before on the back of your tongue. “I said that I don’t worship a god. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist. In fact, I’d say that Jashin, in some way or another, has to be real.” 

His brief interruption of a bemused grunt sounds between this and your explanation. He’s been accused of being thoughtless before but that just isn’t the truth. In fact, thoughts race in his brain all the time and now is no such exception. What is it that convinced you?! It’s gotta be something tangible, right? Is it that he has achieved immortality? That he can maim himself and be fine? That he can call upon his lord and change himself down to the very pigment of his skin, the fiber of his being? Is it that even the most wretched of pains can bring him pleasure beyond the scope of words?

No, none of that. He stands corrected.

“You believe in him, after all.”

…

…

“Heh?”

Oh, the way he knits his brow is so adorable when he’s confused. A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth, a hand politely covering a silent giggle. “...That’s really all there is to it, Hidan,” you assure, impossibly.

And here the Jashinist realizes that he has walked into the conversation with one question in mind and is coming out with ten more. You— again— are not stupid; he did mean it when he said so, and despite referring to himself as not the brightest he doesn’t give out that label lightly. Don’t you smart types need…— What does Kakuzu call it? Evidence? 

He tilts his head to the side the same way someone might at an abstract painting. “So you just...take my word for it?” he double checks if Deidara’s last “art show” did more damage to his ears than he thought. “No proof? Nothin’?”

Your response arrives oh, so easily. “Of course.”

…

…

Hidan turns his head back to stare down his toes. 

“...Huh.” Gray lashes blink, but they’re only half successful at wiping away the doubt. “So...why not join me?” And he levels his gaze groundward to you again. “If you really do believe me, then...why not?

Oh, how nicely does your smile reach your eyes. “You really want me to, huh?”

Takes a long moment for the tone of that to reach his ears, but when it does it hits like a brick. Hidan blushes, hitting the ball of his palm into his temple as if to knock himself out of being as mushy-gushy as you. “Well, yeah, fucking duh! Everyone should join Jashin! Either in preaching or in joining his army!”

“By sacrificing them?”

“Yeah!”

Now it’s your turn to blink and think. 

“I have to admit...I don’t always know how I feel about it. To acknowledge suffering is important, yes, but…”

… 

Hidan suddenly feels the brick that hit him sink to the bottom of his stomach. “But…what?”

“But...we are also what breathe life into suffering,” you say, and your eyes look lost somewhere, wading in something as thick as syrup but that he can’t see. “I admire you because you do find meaning in pain. But...would pain have so much power if we didn’t deem it did? That’s what I think.”

“...Explain,” he gestures, swinging a sleeve of his cloak.

“Is it worse to stub your toe or be caught stubbing your toe?”

…

…

Hidan looks at you as if you grew a second head on your left shoulder. “...Eh?!”

“I know for me, it’s the latter,” you continue easily. The wispy clouds crawl overhead, less pinned by your calm gaze and more brushed by it. You watch them move like inchworms, long and slow, and try to meditate upon their shapes while you search the inside of your mind. 

“The physical pain and inconvenience is transient!” you explain. The enthusiasm in your voice takes him by surprise; it always does, the way you go from so relaxed you nearly look asleep to bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “But the perception of it by others… The sight of you being vulnerable and fallible… That’s worse than any physical pain one endures. We are the creators of our suffering. Right? Situations are what we make of it.”

How is it that you know how to slow time? You aren’t a genjutsu user, and yet as a Jashinist stares over an acolyte, it passes as if you aren’t even talking at all. Words taste slow and smooth like sweet cream, and each gap between them is like a mouthful of fresh mint thanks to the cold air.

“Things are what they are in this big, weird world. Think about it. There is nothing holy about a tree growing out of the ground unless you think so; no miracle of birth unless you are awed by it. You say I’m calm. I’m...not. Not really. I just react differently than you’d expect me to. Everything is so ridiculous in existence anyways, so...if I can choose how to react, why would I choose pain?”

…

“That all…makes sense,” a poor young man admits under his breath, though his expression is none the more pleased. “I’m…not sure if this is blasphemy or not.”

You recognize how special it is for him to admit that to you. It tickles you pink down to the high points of your cheeks.

“That’s okay. Didn’t you say that you study his word? Study means interrogating yourself, too. To see if you really believe what you learn and why.” And it’s like you can see right through him, a breeze playing with the ends of your locks of hair. How do you know him? How…?

“...And you do that, don’t you?” you continue, somehow so serene despite it all– the life you both live paved with the blood of his scythe as he clears the path through humanity’s hell. You aren’t stupid, as he said before. You’re just…—

Just…–

…

He doesn’t notice how his lips are parting, inside of the mouth going dry. You wait, and then you say what you meant to say:

“...I know you have to. People don’t find religion without talking to themselves a little, usually.”

…

To that, Hidan raises a brow and voices his concern under his breath. “You sure are fuckin’ blasé about all this. Jashin’s a pretty polarizin’ subject usually,” he elaborates. “I normally either get people afraid I’m gonna cut ‘em down then and there…or I get some asshole just looking for a good reason to kill. Which!” He shrugs way too casually for the subject at hand. “—Helps the cause but…you know. No heart in it.”

…Even now, being so blatant…you don’t challenge him at all. Not in a way that hurts.

“You,” he finds, marveling. A glance forward towards his knees. He feels so…in his own body right now. It isn’t the first time in all his years, but it certainly is only one of a few. A breath in…a breath out. Okay. He knows what he’s thinking:

 “You...Actually consider what I’m sayin’...don’t ya?”

And as if he asked for your opinion on how nice the weather is, you nod and smile. He’s not exactly cozy on this rock in the first place and finds himself shifting, clearly unused to such acceptance. Dammit, though, he’s gotta try anyway. Jashin didn’t immortalize a pussy.

 “Well…” Hidan attempts, poking the sole of his sandal at a pebble near his feet. “I don’t think that all necessarily disagrees with the path of Jashin,” he speculates, cautious. “It’s fine to keep some distance from yer work. I don’t just slaughter for fun— you know that.” A throw of his head your way, hooded stare gravely serious about it.

 …And then his features are relaxed, soft and reverent about things almost no one else bothers pondering in this big, big world. “—I do it for a reason. Suffering is power. And I don’t think that’s necessarily bad.”

With that proverb, Hidan feels an urge to look over his arms. He heals fast and he heals well, but some scars don’t go away. In his twenty-so years on this earth, that gives a lot of time for a lot of wounds. 

“...Huh?”

One last exclamation under his breath to go along with one last surprise for the blue sky afternoon. All of a sudden, you’re not below him anymore; in fact, you’re at his level, comfortable enough with a terrible murderer to feel safe brushing your side against his.

“You call your immortality an experiment, right?” you say, and the way you look at his bright magenta eyes lights a spark in the back of his brain; his heart’s on fire even before the teeth show in your widening grin. “In this absurd existence, that’s what we all are. A great experiment with experiments of our own. I’ve always thought...if you just care about yours enough— and you don’t punish it for failing— then it’s all worth it. And vice versa too. Just…—”

Swish, swish. The leaves hum their rattling song.

“...Don’t overthink it.”

…

He finally stops holding his breath and huffs, a smile finding home on lips curled up like a hammock on the beach. Only you can do that to him… Only you.

“You’re a weird one,” he says to make sense of it all. “You know that?”

He ruffles your hair as you nod in agreement. “You too, Hidan.” The named man rolls his eyes.