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Two passport photos taken at a 24-hour pharmacy. One suitcase filled with the basics and checked through the airline, hauled through three connecting flights to the Holy Lands, and dumped at a shitty one-room hostel.
“Seriously?” Hidan wrinkles his nose. “On my pilgrimage?”
As always, God was everywhere and nowhere at once. The sun hovered overhead, soaking the stone buildings in gold, and making the air waver— thick with miracles— and his back sticky and wet.
He slams his luggage onto the last remaining bed. The other guests stick to the lattice windows, like demons crouched around a fire. They squint at his clergy collar, then turn back to each other, clicking and growling in foreign tongues. A roach scurries across his feet, and Hidan swallows a scream. “Fuck!”
The roach wiggles its antenna. The guests laugh.
Hidan scowls. “‘Land of milk and honey,’ my ass. No . Nope. No fucking way.” He snaps the suitcase open. “This is hell.” A Bible thuds onto the sheets, tattered with use. Then a switchblade, followed by several robes, which he scrambles onto, a rosary snaked between his fingers, rolling around to get comfortable.
The cracked ceiling watches Hidan pray, mouth moving silently, feverishly, desperately—praying, until words dissolve into syllables—into static— until a great weight settles on his eyelids, and the guests fade away.
Sleep takes him by the hand, as it always does, leading him down, down, down, into a bottomless pit, where the angel hovers— waiting, as it always does, in the fires of creation. Its eye snaps towards him.
“F̽͏̲̟̗̣͙͙eǎ̝̲͉̺͎̟͘ṙ̮̼̙͛͘ ̹̫̫͎̣͉̞̍͂̒̕no͉͇̱̬͍̓͡t,” it proclaims— as it always does.
“Already pissed myself,” Hidan dazedly replies.
The angel sighs like broken glass. "Exas͉p͇̰̣̠͉ͅe̮̺̯͚̣ra̗͓͙t̞̹̜̯̮ị̬ng͙̟̀.”
“Hah. Right.” Hidan drops to his knees. He licks his lips, and clasps both hands together over the frayed rosary, counting each bead one by one. Twenty Hail Marys. Three Glory Be.
“Jashin,” he exhales. “I’m here. In the promised land,” he adds. “Now what?”
“S͡ǫ ha̴s̛ty,” chides the angel. A shape bursts from its side and splits into a piercing scream, before being swept back into the heavenly host. A crooked nail tips Hidan’s chin up. “You a͠lrea̷d̸y̡ ķnow̴. ͘S̢ay ̛i͘t.”
“Well… God demands blood.” Hidan finds himself saying. He understands everything. He knows nothing. “And death- the return of Eden, paradise on earth. Ashes to ashes, to ashes, to ashes…”
Jashin smiles with lion’s teeth. “H̶ow ob͢e̶di͢ènt,” it praises, flames cupping the priest’s cheek. “M̺͙̪̗̜͞ͅy̼̳̬̲̤͕̙͟͜ H̙͎̻͔̝̖̞͎i̙͈̗͎̥̳̩̝d͈̯̖a͓͕͕ͅṋ̪.”