貪欲の司教

Six months. Hashirama's eyes narrowed as a wave of anger shot through his spine. All he could do now was listen. Because he couldn't take it back, and pity hurt, Kakuzu didn't deserve more pain.

Hashirama exhaled slowly. "So they blamed you for surviving something, tried to uphold their own version of justice by torturing a confession out of you until they felt proven right…" he repeated Kakuzu's words.

"Well, you're safe now. They can't reach you here. Their false justice doesn't hold up here," he reassured him. Then, his expression softened.

"I can heal those wounds if you let me," he said quietly.

"I don't usually treat other people's injuries myself. I send people to the hospital, but… I don't think they would accept you," he said gently. He hated the feeling of healing people, inserting his own chakra into their body circulation. But when the situation was dire, he allowed it.

"You don't owe me anything… I'm not asking for trust. If you want, I can help." He smiled. "After what they did to you… I think you need something to believe in. Maybe a piece of kindness." Hashirama went quiet for a while. He couldn't fully repair the situation, but he could do it a little better.

His eyes dropped to his folded arms, where one of the damning criminal's tattoos had slipped out from under the worn sleeve. No one who saw that would trust him, or hear him out that it was a lie. He had no safe harbor… unless he could find it in him to trust Hashirama's words, even halfway. His shoulders shifted with a bitter, humorless laugh.

“Is it false justice if they now have a true reason to be looking for me?” He rumbled.

“I didn't leave without exacting my own justice. I killed the elders who condemned me— I tore out their hearts while they were still beating.”

Hearts that now beat within his own body, hidden under the bone masks stitched into his back.

He betrayed his own village and became the monster they'd come to see him as… but they betrayed him first. They turned their backs and didn't even question the elders’ accusations when all he'd done was survive.

Just thinking of it had him gritting his teeth. Something… shifted under his skin with the spark of anger, writhing like barely concealed worms as his hands fisted against his biceps. Blood-reddened eyes closed as he drew a deep breath.

“... Do what you can,” he consented, though his body remained tense, like he was ready to fight or run in an instant.

"Many people tried," he said with a chuckle. Not because he wanted to brag, but only because it was the truth. Many of those people didn't even follow anyone's orders but their own.

"But you're different, because they ordered you to assassinate me. Because they sent you to die…" his voice got quieter and lower as he spoke. But he didn't talk to him like talking to a child or to a pitiable thing that was inferior to him. He spoke like an equal who was trying to offer a helping hand.

"I let you live, because I think you have a purpose in this life. Perhaps one you didn't fulfill yet," he said.

He understood Kakuzu's pain too well. He knew people like Kakuzu, betrayed by their own kin. And he knew that these people needed extra care, like bonsais infested with small forest worms that were slowly eating them alive, devouring its bark and roots.

"And I didn't kill you in the first place because I don't like killing people. I don't want to make the world a worse place, I want to make it better," he explained.

But it was good to know he wasn't the only one who had failed to kill the man.

This wasn't a discussion between a village leader and a disgraced shinobi. They were just… two people having a conversation… and Kakuzu found he appreciated the approach. It made talking at all a little bit easier… even if he still kept a healthy distance from the other man.

But at Hashirama's next question, his eyes briefly narrowed, almost in a flinch as he remembered what happened. Hurting him was a gentle way of putting it; his back and shoulders were crisscrossed with whip scars, some of which still hadn't completely healed. He drew a deep breath, his features still pinched.

(Throat) - sender grabs reciever by their throat

(jaw) - sender takes hold of recievers jaw harshly

(wrist) - sender has hold of recievers wrist / wrists

(twist) - sender twists reciever's arms behind their back

(bind) - sender restrains reciever with item of choice

(pull) - sender pulls reciever roughly to them

(drag) - sender drags reciever to / away from something

(hair) - sender pulls or controls receiver by their hair

(pin) - sender pins reciever to the wall

(knife) - sender uses a knife against reciever as a threat

(nick) - sender nicks reciever with a knife

(push) - sender pushes reciever roughly

(eyes) - sender forces receiver to look at them

(neck) - sender grabs the back of reciever's neck

(smack) -sender slaps reciever

(grip) - sender grabs reciever by their shirt

(gag) - sender forces reciever to stay quiet (with hand or with a gag)

(strike) - sender hits reciever with their hand or other item

@bishopofgreed Cont. from here

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senjuhashirama asked:

book of night by holly black sentence starter

you hate me a little, don't you?

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bishopofgreed answered:

Tired, wary, bloodshot eyes moved to the Senju, and Kakuzu found himself pausing for a thoughtful moment before responding. His voice was rough, his speech a bit slurred— he was still getting used to speaking around the changes Earth Grudge Fear had wrought on his body.

“... a little. Though I hate you less than I did six months ago.”

“I hated you for leaving me alive after our fight,” he muttered. “But you weren't the one who sent me on that assassination mission. You weren't the one who locked me up when I came back ssstill breathing. That hatred was better directed at Takigakure’s elders.”

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but he felt he might be able to converse with the Senju with little issue. Why spare him then if he intended to kill him now, when he wasn't even attacking?

His makeshift mask had started to slip as he spoke, and he ducked his head as he tugged the fabric back into place.