Konan
She stepped back to analyze her work. Her heart was pounding. To Konan's surprise, her hands were also shaking and all the hair on her body was standing on end. Yet, she had to restrain her breath from fluttering out of her mouth as a silent laugh.
She realized she'd unconsciously started to scratch at her gums, which itched badly from nerves. It seemed like a muddled mixture of good and bad nerves. Part of her sent up unwanted thoughts like I should get out of here. This isn't right.
It doesn't feel right at all. The other part of her had to be consciously restrained before it could add the last touch to the design on the floor. She wanted to take a moment to admire her work, before finishing it.
Konan stood on the outer edge of a complex geometrical design, her back facing the basement door. In the center of the basement floor was a large symbol of Jashin; the span from the base of the triangle to where its opposite point met the circle was long enough for someone short to lie in.
Konan pushed any thoughts about that out of her head. The symbol was almost black, its blood having dried from being the first symbol drawn. The moment where line met curve and the symbol had been completed had immediately changed the air of the room, just a little. All the hair on Konan's body had stood up straight at that moment, regardless of their actual exposure to the air.
She had continued to work at a faster pace, losing track of time. She had yet to wonder about any side effects this ritual might have had beyond the basement atmosphere.
Konan stood now at the edge of a strange design composed of 4 intersecting curves inside a square. There were four of these designs in total, arranged in a circle around the central symbol. Between them, she had carefully traced another four designs.
The others were perfectly symmetrical, and she had been able to draw them easily by beginning with her fingers together, then tracing down and out to form compact loops, which cut themselves off below the starting point as their lines converged, her fingers meeting well below the loops.
The result looked like the offspring of a needle and a pair of scissors. It also looked like the representation of the number one. Konan supposed either could be the point, if the design had a point at all.
Each supporting glyph, though smaller than the central symbol, shivered with its own unconnected power. The last step had been to draw lines, connecting the tip of each needle and the midpoint of the edge of each square to the central circle.
Konan reflexively shuffled through everything that could possibly hold significance as she did so. Three. Infinity. Four. One. Eight. All very important numbers. 3 - a traditionally fortunate number, and the number of stability. Four - traditionally unfortunate, related to death. One - unity.
Eight - harmony (not the same as unity). And, of course, infinity - the number of divinity. What struck Konan most forcefully was the balance of it all. Konan was aware of how things were thought of, regardless of her own thoughts on the same topics. Hidan's religion was murderous, painful, barely a religion, actually not a religion according to Hidan's exclamation, and seriously restraining his true battle capacity.
The first two, she knew, would make it seem like something terrible, not belonging to a rational order of things. Hidan's behavior did not help that perception.
Konan was of mixed feelings about Jashinism. For her own reasons, she'd always been reluctant to accept this view of it. If it was terrible, what else was terrible? Too many things she valued would end up in the same boat if she thought of Jashinism as something that shouldn't exist, so she refused to be intolerant of Hidan's religion. But try as she might, she couldn't be anything more than tolerant.
The idea that he (either Hidan or Jashin sama, she never clarified which) was a mistake was out of the question, but that left the question of how exactly he did fit. Where did he go? Why did he exist? Regardless of how he was treated, Hidan held himself like he knew his purpose for existing.
What was that purpose? She'd always wanted to ask, but there was little to no excuse she could use to justify asking that. The Akatsuki was no place for getting to personally know anyone you were not partnered with, except in passing.
It wasn't before, but now… Her eyes narrowed, and hands tensed. Now, the only version of Hidan she had available most likely couldn't tell her anything about his purpose. But that wasn't the reason Konan tensed. Her hands were tensed because they imagined the feeling of blood, and her eyes were narrowed because they were staring into the center of the symbol of Jashin as if it held the answers.
Three, one, eight. Balance, unity, harmony. The air in the room, now charged with occult energy, seemed to whisper to her. Everything said that there was a purpose, there was a place. Konan's eyes flickered around as she tried to figure it out. She felt closer to some understanding. Just a little more!
She wondered if the unspeakable feeling of not understanding could be used to ask Jashin sama for an answer. Certainly his answer would be unspeakable and probably not understandable to her conscious, so her question should be as well. Konan dipped her fingers once more into the metallic red liquid that gave the air its taste of iron, and returned to what she thought of as the bottom of the symbol.
For some reason, she thought of the symbol as facing perpendicular to one's view from the door, with the pointed bottom of the triangle pointing to one's left and the flat top of the triangle to one's right. She lowered her fingers to the tip of the needle glyph, which seemed like it would hum if her hearing was a little sharper.
Konan's suspicions that the blood she traced was no longer entirely deer, that her fingertips opened as she touched each point or side, had been steadily growing ever since she'd drawn the line connecting the third glyph to the central symbol.
She was nearly entirely sure that this, the eighth and last line, contained her own blood. Her breath shook, momentarily becoming harder to take in, but her hand did not shake as it met the point of the triangle.
There was a flash of searing heat. Konan drew in a sharp breath, arching her spine reflexively as the feeling shot out through her eyes, or so it felt. For a brief spark of a moment, she drifted apart from the world in a feeling of perfect clarity, not caring where or what she was. It felt deeply, deeply good and right.
Then she returned to the present. Konan noted that, even though she had, the moment of clarity did not feel as if it had ended. It seemed that she occupied two events at the same time. She shook her head. That makes sense, somehow. Stranger things have happened.
For this same reason, she was also not surprised to see that the supporting glyphs had vanished. Her instinct to admire her work before completing the ritual had been correct. The floor of the basement was now weighted down like a balloon tied to a piano by the symbol of Jashin.
The feeling of weight in it was the feeling of the symbol having gained power. Konan momentarily was possessed by thoughts that she shouldn't have done this, it was wrong, it was dangerous! The symbol itself drove those thoughts from her mind.
Konan let out a sigh as previously unnoticed tension lifted from her. For the first time in a long time, the also previously unnoticed part of her mind attending to her feelings in the background was relieved. Things felt a little right all of a sudden.
She sat back, permitting herself to wallow for a few minutes. Meanwhile, in a patch of dirt far away, Hidan mumbled something and blinked his eyes open. He couldn't be sure why, but it felt like something had pushed him awake all of a sudden.
He unearthed himself, shaking off whatever dirt could be shaken out of his hair, and took care to muffle his footsteps as he passed by Mitsuki. This attracted the attention of several pointed muzzles, with vastly more pointed teeth. Hidan returned straightaway with only his cloak and his scythe once more on his back, and they relaxed.
He knew he was being watched the whole way until he left their territory. Heading in the direction of home no longer made him feel like he might pass out: a good sign.
Hidan zipped the cloak all the way up. Nerves tingled and butterflies were fluttering in his chest, so who knew what might happen? Turning female while he walked was certainly interesting, but not sufficient distraction.
He did not notice switching his sex back and forth several more times during his journey. As he had predicted, using his new powers could be an automatic response to stress. He was no more aware of switching than he was of nervously petting the blade of his scythe. Any onlooker might have wondered how he did so without slicing his hand open.
Odds were good that he would not have noticed if he had. Hidan's mind raced with new kinds of thoughts, thoughts he could no longer ignore but wasn't sure he should accept. After the very real and very botched fight with the succubus, doubt had seized its chance to creep in. It did not creep very far, but nonetheless Hidan now entertained the thought that perhaps his plan for tonight was similarly flawed. He'd thought of it for Konan, but what if it backfired? What if she was hurt?
Hidan decided his important parts were doubt-proof enough for him to accept this, and mulled the question over for several minutes. If she was hurt, he would be just as much and more. Whatever else happened, whether she was angry at him or everyone else thought he was cruel or what, Hidan knew for sure any failure would result in massive pain the likes of which he had not previously subjected himself to.
So would success, for that matter. Really, the critical point of failure in his idea was Konan's ability to push through it. If she could get through the agony, it would work, but if she couldn't he would fail. Either way involved terrible hurting. So, Hidan concluded, he might as well take what was coming and not worry over the inevitable. He was as doubt-proof as he'd thought; this was all it took to make his doubts disappear.
A cricket stopped its chirping as he passed by, then resumed. Mitsuki awoke from his nap and looked around, eventually finding the apologetic note Hidan had left on the table. He had to take it outside to read it. Evening was coming.
Nagato
Something in Nagato's insides twisted as the base came into view. It was pleasant and unpleasant both, and its "flavor" reminded him of Hidan somehow. No, he had no idea how a feeling could come with a particular flavor. He nonetheless detected a strong resemblance between this feeling and his interactions with Hidan, despite the fact that those were entirely different feelings.
He couldn't recall ever feeling afraid of Hidan, for example. Nor had he ever felt as though ice water was trickling through his intestines, or the need to gather his courage. But then...something vaguely familiar had his fingers drumming on his legs, too. He was stopped.
The familiar thing urged him onwards, but should he ignore the ice water in his guts? Ignoring instincts was universally known as a way to get killed. Of course, that might have been his own caution speaking. He was always more reluctant about things than someone like Yahiko, who would have just charged straight in.
That did it. He needed to go in before Yahiko did, investigate any kind of danger. Nagato was opening the door and looking around inside the unlit lobby before he knew it. He flicked on all the lights as he went. He'd gotten off early after a whole day spent wondering about that blood mark on Hidan's cheek. On second thought, maybe he had experienced being afraid of Hidan before.
Nagato resisted the reflex, honed by years of watching scary movies, to stupidly call out "Hello? Anyone here?" He never would have thought of doing that himself, and the point of every scary movie ever was to show how stupid it was, but the movies had installed that as a possible response to his situation regardless.
No, it'd only make me look silly. A ninja wouldn't do that. She'd think I was insane or incompetent. Nagato wanted to be neither of those things. Moreover, he did not feel that such noisemaking was necessary.
Comparing his situation to horror movies made him feel calmer, so he did, and concluded that his current feelings resembled nothing as much as a scene where a character might be walking through a cursed graveyard or other such site.
Was it the sort of scene where a character was about to get jumped at any second now? No, he decided; he wasn't tense enough for that, and he wasn't anxiously looking for anyone. He expected to encounter Konan somewhere, but he wasn't really looking for her.
Part of the reason Nagato figured he was not going to get a jump scare scene was that his feelings had not changed. Something still seemed very different, a little wrong, like he wasn't meant to be so close to it, and he was certainly on edge, but it was no different from his previous apprehension. Being closer did not make him inexplicably panicked, which probably meant that whatever it was was docile. I hope. As long as he found it before anyone stumbled into it, everything would be just -
Konan appeared in front of him, covered in blood and emanating whatever it was that was making Nagato nervous. Aah! He jumped, and upgraded to terrified immediately. His chakra wavered but got into position. His first thought was that she was possessed, just like Hidan had been, and he really was in a horror movie! His hands tensed, feet spread, and Nagato was suddenly extremely aware of his surroundings. He reflexively did something with his arm, and there was a sharp pain in his palm. Ow ow ow what is that? The strange feeling divided his fear. Whatever he what might have done did not happen.
Konan was very glad for this. She'd been startled too, and readied herself for battle in a similar way. Unlike Nagato, she was surprised in a very calm mood, and recognized who he was. She was genuinely worried that he might be unable to stop, until his face twisted. She already had a kunai in her hand as part of her response.
Nagato didn't have kunai on him, but he'd made a similar motion as if he had one in a wrist holster. Konan remembered that, in a way, he did always have blades on him. She stepped forward and grabbed his left arm, being careful not to bend it. Nagato stepped back, wincing and recoiling from the smell of blood. Konan held up the chakra rod he'd generated.
Blood, that thing, the weird feeling, my hand. Nagato sorted out his priorities faster than he had thought himself capable, and looked down at his hand. He could feel it closing up and his tissues getting back into place, but his palm looked like nothing had ever happened to it. How…? He looked back up at the rod Konan was holding. A giant shiver wracked his body as he imagined that thing sliding out of him. What the hell?!
The look on Konan's face seemed reasonable; she wasn't possessed after all. He swallowed and attempted to regain his capacity for speech. "Uh…" What is that thing, and how did I do that? He motioned at the rod with his left hand, which should not have been as okay as it was.
Konan smiled in a way she hoped was reassuring. "It's alright," she told him. "This rod can receive chakra signals that you transmit. Your original used these to control inanimate bodies. They also make useful blades, which is why you drew it. That's to be expected." She held up the kunai in her own hand.
Oh. Right. Expected. He tried to unruffle his metaphorical feathers, and failed. I have giant pieces of metal in my arm somehow! Perfectly expected! And my hands instantly heal! Between standing on the modern day equivalent of a cursed graveyard and having just witnessed an act of unconscious self-mutilation, he was extremely freaked out. Nagato felt something slip, and tried to ready himself for panic.
Konan put all her weapons away, throwing the short rod in her pouch along with her kunai, and grabbed his shoulders. "Nagato!" He let out a high pitched whimper and tried to pull away from her. He succeeded, but then she stomped on his foot. Nagato stumbled and fell, letting out a strangled cry as he touched the floor. His visible eye darted downwards, and that was all Konan needed to finally understand.
"Nagato!" She gripped his shoulders again and shook him back and forth, before reaching beneath his arms and hauling him to his feet. He blinked and seemed to regain control over himself, though he still trembled. Konan kept her fingers dug into his shoulders. "Nagato. It's alright."
He shook his head no. "I just…" he looked down at his hand, "and this place…" Nagato squeezed his eyes very, very tightly and pushed back the fear. "Thank you."
Konan deemed it safe to let go of his shoulders and step back. "Do not worry. It's nothing you need to be frightened of." She held out a hand. "I wouldn't take you anywhere you'd be in danger."
Nagato slapped his hands together like he was praying and concentrated on summoning all his courage. It's okay. She wouldn't. I know she wouldn't. She was currently covered in too much blood to have shed it all herself. She wouldn't. She knows what would be dangerous to me, and she wouldn't take me… She does know, right? Yeah, this line of thought wasn't working. He thought of Yahiko instead and tried to pretend he was as brave as Yahiko was, which was a far more effective strategy. Hesitantly, he took her hand.
Konan tried to project confidence and let no disappointment show on her face. Her brother's clone he may be, but her brother he was not. What right did she have to ask him to trust her? It was a miracle he did trust her at all. The death of her entire new family bit like frost, freezing over its own wound. Like cauterization, it was a minor blessing, but she'd take anything. She tugged him after her, gently. She couldn't hurry him. He wouldn't accept that now, and perhaps not ever.
He followed. At a slow walking pace, they made their way in the direction of the basement. She thought it required to warn him first. At the top of the stairs leading down to the basement, Konan turned and halted in front of Nagato.
"I understand," she told him. "Something feels eerie, wrong. As if you aren't supposed to be associated with it at all."
Nagato nodded.
"That's all right, and exactly what I expected." She had expected nothing, because she hadn't thought this through at all, but no way she was going to tell him that. "What I've done is, essentially, install a giant drain in the floor of the basement. It's not a real drain; it's the symbol of Hidan's original's religion.
You aren't a Jashinist, so I am not surprised you react poorly to it. I ask you to trust me." Konan wished she'd started this discussion while they were near her room. "The instruction booklet I received from the demon boy was very specific. This symbol will not have any significant influence. Beyond the basement, you will be fine, and so will everyone else. You may need some time to adjust, but nothing is actually wrong. I promise."
He nodded again. Why would you do something like that without asking anyone's opinion? We just fought a demon who was angry at us for introducing that god! Who could possibly have wanted anything more? The amount of respect he felt he got was dropping like a rock. He tried not to let that show.
Konan turned and led the way down to the basement door. Before opening it, she took his hand and squeezed. "I know I haven't done much to earn anyone's trust," she admitted, "but this was something important to me. If nothing else, try to trust that I didn't make a mistake with something I wanted to do correctly." She opened the door, not expecting a response.
Every hair on Nagato's body stood on end as soon as the door was open wide enough for him to see the symbol. He felt its power from all the way out by the door. Yikes! That is the definition of a slumbering beast, and I'm right here outside its den. He squeezed Konan's hand for attention and shook his head. He was not going in there.
Konan sighed and closed the door. She sounded almost wistful. "My perspective is different. I see it as a little frightening, in the way of a challenge, not a true danger." She turned and leaned back against the door. "To me, the feeling is more pleasant. It feels somewhat like rightness and somewhat like wrongness, with the balance tilting towards the former. I'm sorry it has such a different effect on you."
Nagato's throat was dry, and his swallowing was insufficient to remedy that. "Were those deer?" he croaked, in reference to the brown and red shapes he'd seen lying on the far side.
Konan nodded. "Yes. I was surprised to learn that any blood could be used for this: human, animal, or even plant for some parts. It seems Jashin sama is more lenient than I thought. I've only ever heard of human sacrifices being used before."
Nagato swallowed again. "Plant blood?"
"Sap." She gestured for them to go back up to the ground floor. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to wash up."
Nagato was surprised to discover that after seeing it in the basement, he really did feel much better. The feeling of wrongness had almost entirely disappeared. It must be a lot easier to acclimate than he had thought it would be. Aside from the blood, he had no problems with walking next to Konan while he thought. He wondered about the aura he'd detected earlier. Was it just a remnant of having recently completed that ritual, or did she still have it and he was getting used to it?
"You're early," Konan observed. "What did you come back for?"
"Oh." Nagato had completely forgotten his reason for returning. "It's about Hidan."
"What about him?" She paused outside her door, ready to answer his question before cleaning her outfit.
Nagato sheepishly told her about the events of that morning, leaving out exactly how close to afraid he'd been before he found a reason to be. "His not replying was disturbing, considering how he's Hidan," he admitted. "I stayed there at the door, waiting to see what would happen. I thought maybe he was sleepwalking. He could have been, but what kind of sleepwalking - Never mind, that's skipping ahead. The next thing that happened was, he dropped his cloak on the floor like it was any random thing, and then he turned around. I'm pretty sure I saw a dark red smudge on his cheek, near his mouth. And his eyes weren't the right color." Nagato paused here to shiver. "They were blue, I think. I didn't want to look too closely."
Konan's eyes were dilating, the only readily noticeable sign she was interested in this story. "May I guess what happened next?" she asked.
"Sure." Nagato had no idea how anyone could expect to predict anything about what had happened.
Konan narrowed her eyes in thought. "Nothing happened," she predicted. "He was unresponsive, did not notice you, did not react. Am I correct?"
"Not quite," Nagato corrected. "I mean, that was true as long as his eyes were like that. But he was just about to go back to sleep, so some pink came back into his eyes, and he mumbled something at me when I asked him a question."
"Interesting," Konan murmured. "Thank you for telling me about this; it may be very important. By all means, what did he say?"
"He mumbled something like…" Nagato tried to play the whole scene again in his head with no distortions. "Ne uh brl," he slurred. "Sorry, that's as close as I can remember it."
Konan tilted her head and squinted like it would make the sounds clearer. "Ni de brl," she tried. "Need. Need...blrd. Blood? Hm...need blood." She nodded to herself.
Nagato's mouth fell open. "What?" was all he could manage to ask.
Konan patted him on the shoulder again. "It makes sense," she told him. "You've seen how Hidan acts like a big cat. He has some reason to. You see, part of the Jashinist ritual that Original Hidan used to use in battle involved ingesting a trace of blood from his enemy."
Nagato was completely lost. She nodded to him, silent reassurance that she would make a meaning out of these pieces soon.
"He was very bloodthirsty, always eager to kill more and greater amounts of people," she continued. "If he was not allowed to, he got on everyone's nerves complaining about having nothing interesting to do. He did not derive as much enjoyment from normal interaction as our Hidan does. He lived for hunting.
"After a while, I began to notice something interesting in his complaining. I occupied a middle position, interfacing between the leader and the rest of the group. Because of that, it was part of my unofficial duties to keep a watch over them, looking for subtle discord. That's why I was the first to take note of his complaints whenever he was held back for a week or more.
"I was in the ideal position: close enough to see his behavior, not close enough to have a default response to him. I never learned to tune him out, so I was astounded to hear what I did the first time he was back for so long."
Nagato nodded to hurry her along. "So what was it?" A little rude, but the symbol and its power had faded to background noise, leading to Nagato not noticing that he wasn't calm.
Konan thought group dynamics would have been interesting. Maybe this version of Nagato had no desire for leadership. "He started complaining of being hungry and eating more."
Nagato blinked. "No." That was all he said.
"No what?" Konan inquired.
"We just fought a soul-sucking demon and had a portal to God installed in the basement. Hidan cannot, I mean cannot, be a vampire. He just can't be." Nagato shook his head to emphasize this point.
"He isn't," Konan said gently. She began to worry as she had worried that day one week before, when she had asked them all to believe the impossible. What they'd learned since was too much for their new limits, but she could do nothing to slow it down. An entire other world was colliding into theirs and all she could do was try to make it easier to swallow. "Hidan is not a vampire. You don't need to worry about that."
Nagato took a deep breath. "Then what are you trying to say?" He sounded desperate. Konan wished she'd never said anything.
"Think of it as an unusual dietary requirement," she tried to advise. "Other food didn't satisfy him unless he had some small amount of blood in his diet. Beyond that, he's perfectly normal." The last sentence was a lie, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
"So, only kind of vampiric?" Nagato summarized.
Konan shrugged. "However you would like to think of it."
"Do you know if anyone's put alcohol in the kitchen yet?"
Konan allowed herself to chuckle. That was a much better idea than freezing, and perfectly reasonable. "I don't believe so. I'm sorry."
"I'm going to be burrowed into my bed, then." Nagato turned in the direction of his room. "I am going to hide like a scared bunny and not come out for possibly a whole day." His words spoke that he was going to commit himself 100 percent to this course of action, no embarrassment, and anyone who wanted to say otherwise was in danger of ending up on the end of his newly discovered blades. As Hidan would have put it, he'd put down all his fucks and left them for the next guy to carry.
That was in fact what Hidan was thinking at that exact moment. He edged out of hiding and over to Konan's side as soon as the door down the hall closed. "I heard some tones of voices and the bit about the alcohol," he muttered. "He's not feeling great."
Konan nodded. "He's been through a lot." She reached over to hold Hidan's hand. That was when she finally got around to remembering those unintended side effects she hadn't been thinking of earlier.
"You okay?" Hidan asked, with full knowledge that the answer was no.
Konan squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry," she apologized.
"For what?"
"Something happened a few hours ago, didn't it?" She knew full well the answer was yes.
"Just something like being electrocuted, and a teeny-tiny blackout, and then I woke up a while away from here," Hidan admitted. "Nothing major. Why?"
Konan thought she probably should have remembered to warn him before completing the symbol. A new knot of anxiety formed in her chest, to add to her collection. She was never like this before. There was a reason she'd held the position she'd described to Nagato. On a mission, she would have remembered to take into account her teammates in any action. In the rain, her mind and soul held themselves together beneath the weight of a cloud-filled sky. Here, the clouds were gone, and something within was straining to get free. Konan's stomach sank, freezing at the thought of her very self breaking up.
"Hidan?"
"Hm?"
"Promise."
There he was, doubting again. What he'd thought of involved a lot of breaking, and here she was, already too close to that. Then again, the flip side of "breaking is going to happen anyway" is "breaking is going to happen anyway." He could take it as a reason to back off and leave her be, or he could take it to mean leaving her be was the last thing he should ever do. Hidan unwrapped his fingers from hers and extended his arm to hold her fully against his side. "I promise. I'll collect you and hold you up for gluing and all that."
Konan leaned into him. "I've lost track of where everything goes," she murmured into his chest.
Hidan rocked her back and forth. "You need a mirror, you get a mirror." He could imagine that on a business card: Hidan, Professional Mirror. The only downside was how many times he would have to explain what that meant. On second thought, he probably shouldn't have a business card.
They stood like that for a few minutes, until Hidan yawned and something in him finally registered the presence of blood. Konan remembered about washing her cloak, and went off to do just that. Hidan scratched his head against the doorjamb and wondered what to do now.
Should he warn her? No, he decided, that would make it harder. A scary thing was always the scariest to anticipate, so he should give her as little time to anticipate as possible. Should he warn everyone else? That would be great, except for the aforementioned anticipation and the fact that he didn't precisely know what he would warn them of. Oh well, looked like the whole production was going to be a surprise. He wondered about how to manage everyone so they were anywhere near ready to handle a surprise like this.
Nagato lay on his bed with the pillow pressed firmly over his head and the blankets wound around him like a cocoon. He just wanted the day to be over. Little did he know it'd barely begun.
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