#pixie had feels

Our favorite (for some of you your not too favorite) story about a ninja and the world he lives in has finally ended ( or has it after reading those last couple of pages at the end). 

It's been a wonderful time, 15 years! 

I, Pixie, would like to thank all of you who were/are still here with this blog as we went through some fun together. I don't plan to close this blog down, most likely ever (or when the number of followers is like finally at 5 or something). I know there's been like no activity for a while but I'm thinking in the upcoming new year that may change. I've missed this fandom, I've missed the people. 

In honor of the end of the manga, but not the anime, I would like to extend a hand to all of you. I was wondering if any of you would like to share your favorite moments as being a part of the fandom, from moments of this blog, to the anime, to the conventions, and everything else in between.  You can add your comment on the end of this post or you can send it in and I'll post them. Every single one. 

*P.S. ALL OF YOU SAI/INO SHIPPERS OUR THERE, HIGH MEGA FUCKING FIVE FOR GETTING IT RIGHT! Like people may have thought you wrong but you were so damn right!*

*P.P.S. CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL OF YOU SHIPPERS WHO ARE HAPPY THAT YOUR SHIP IS CANON! & AN EVEN BIGGER HUG TO ALL OF US WHO DIDN'T GET TO SEE OUR OTP BECOME CANON, IT DOESN'T MATTER THAT'S WHAT FANDOM IS THERE FOR*

No one ever wondered how Hidan got the way he was. No one ever cared about his life other than the fact that he was an enemy with a foul mouth that would need the most powerful water jutsu to clean out the filth that spewed from it. No one ever took the time to listen to him beyond his curses or to ever take the time to actually look into his eyes and wonder how someone like him was created. No one ever cared about the man that was Hidan, well everyone except Kakuzu but he had his own personal reasons for caring and half of them probably had to do with the fact that he could use him to get more bounties. No one ever in his life, and who truly can say how long Hidan’s been walking this land, has stopped to think or ponder in passing how Hidan became the man he was.

  Maybe if a rouge ninja group had come to your small quite peaceful village in the middle of the day, the most misleading time of day, slaughtering every single person you would understand. Maybe you would get it  watching helplessly on the ground as your mother, the one with the beautiful purple eyes that always had little crinkles when she smiled, was hacked to pieces as she tried to protect your little twin sisters.  Maybe you would shut up if you were wounded trying to go aid your father as a ninja raised their bloody katana above his heart only to fall face down with shurikens and throwing knives ebbed into you flesh. How would you feel being submerged in the blood of your village, as their life along with yours dripped and poured out into the greedy ground? And all you can do is watch with big horror filled eyes that burn with anger and pain and everything a little kid doesn’t need to find out about until he’s older, and if he’s even luckier than he’ll never find out even then.  You wouldn’t feel great, most of you wouldn’t even be able to deal with the suffering.

  Hidan remembers the agony and suffering. He remembers praying for an end to his torture and for each of his neighbors, friends, and rest of his village. He remembers wishing in his heart of hearts for vengeance. How he longed to be able to transfer his pain to his enemies, how inside his mind he imagined he could tie his life force to theirs and drag them down in his sure death. Wishing and praying while death came a walking.

  And death did come, a tall lean man dressed in black holding a three blade sickle  across his back. He looked on with anger and like an avenging god he answered both Hidan’s prays and wishes. Hidan fought against the urge to close his tired eyes, he pushed and beat against the closing veil, struggled to gaze on with wonder and amazement as death, his hero, reaped the tainted souls. He held on as long as he could, to gasp out a weaken thanks as his savior walked over the countless dead intent on leavening. Death, no this Reaper, paused and looked down at him with assessing green eyes that bore and tore into his being.  But Hidan wasn’t afraid and had no hate in his eyes, just a slowly starting ember of thanks and heart. Once the Reaper realized this he brought back Hidan’s life with glowing green and blue hands.

  And how would you turn out if your savior with reaper clothes was given nothing but hate, fear, and disgust colored eyes in every village. How would you feel if they mocked his god, the very same which did give him the ability to bring you back and give vengeance. And how angry would you get as he took each barbed word and rock thrown at him with a silence. You would be angry too. Fucking angry. How dare they look on as if they were better? They didn’t know shit. Those bitches who acted as if they were more than they were, as if in their dying hours they didn’t piss and cry like weaklings begging for the Reaper to help them. It’s funny how experiences can mold a person. How year after year Hidan became the anger and hate his Reaper never showed. How he learned to gaze into begging slipping away eyes and snarl a cursed ‘Fuck you and die.’

  When your anchor, your savior in this world, master, teacher, father in all but blood dies…well you would be allowed to slip into the very beast you held at bay for him. When you find out that your god grants long lasting nearly undying life but your Reaper had given you a large part of his life force to save you that wretched day…well you crack. When some worthless peasant thinks it’ll be fun to piss on the grave of your saviors…well maybe you’ll finally see sweet bleeding red.

  The first time Hidan held the Reaper’s blade in his hands he cried…it was his last cry. He lives each day as if he’ll die, even though he knows his religion, his faith, will save him. He makes sure to make his heart harder than steel. But he keeps living as if it’s the last without blocks or regrets for sins because he isn’t sure if he wouldn’t repeat his master’s mistake and save a soul. He goes through his life Reaping and sacrificing souls for life; he’s long given the finger to heaven and hell.

  No one ever asks Hidan how he became the way he was. No one ever cared. He’s killed all his other partners before. But one day as Kakuzu patches him up and stares at him with his green fucking freaky eyes he remembers looking into green eyes that saved him and he babbles. It’s like he’s pissed drunk and can’t put back on a filter. He tells him everything. EVERY FUCKING THING. By the time he realizes what he’s done, it’s too late. And it’s like he’s that kid again, that broken on the edge of disappearing kid again. Hidan thinks Kakuzu will laugh at him, mock him, or something. But all he does is keep fixing him together…and maybe he squeezes his shoulder slightly as if he understood.

  Nothing changes between them. It remains the same. Hidan lives each day as his last. Kakuzu is greedy as if money is his only true love, the only thing he can depend on. But something’s different. Hidan looks into Kakuzu’s eyes sometimes for no reason at all. As long as he’s quite it’s okay. Kakuzu knows to never insult his religion on a certain day of the year. Hidan knows now he’ll never make his master’s mistake…he’s found the one who he would have saved…but he’s already undying.

  No one cared about who Hidan was inside. He was fine with that. As long as they showed him respect, as long as they knew they were maggots under his feet he didn’t care for anyone know him. If they feared the reaper, who was he to stop them?