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Sometimes it was difficult, being a religious man.
There were many days when Hidan didn't want to follow the tenants of his faith, when he got weary of the prayers, the offerings, the human sacrifices, the complicated pentagrams drenched in blood that he had to meticulously draw, the staking himself to the ground and chanting the ritual words to offer up the death that he had caused to his god. And even though he could carry the moral superiority of knowing that he killed for good and pure reasons (unlike that money-motivated Kakuzu, the bastard), it was sometimes still so tedious.
But other days, like today, he remembered that the faithful were sometimes rewarded.
He was fighting a young man— a ninja or a rogue warrior of some kind or what, he couldn't tell— who was dancing about with a katana and obvious skill, which made the whole fight a lot more interesting. Kakuzu was standing off to the side, not helping as usual, since there wasn't a bounty to collect, but Hidan had other reasons for making the kill: it had been nearly a week since making a human sacrifice, and he was nothing if not dutiful.
Killing people who couldn't fight back was no fun; he did it occasionally, but took no pleasure in it. But this, this had the thrill of the hunt: the quick footwork as if they were dancing, the autumn leaves kicking up beneath their feet as they dodged between tree trunks, the focused spark in his opponent's eyes, the anticipation of first blood…
And there, he drew it. His triple-bladed scythe barely grazed the man's cheek, and they sprang apart. The man stood with his legs splayed, holding the katana expertly, meeting Hidan's eyes intensely. The man had no idea that the fight was already over.
Hidan looked at the tiny droplets of blood on his blade, and gave the knife a long, luxurious lick. The man he was fighting stared at him, lip curling in his disgust. Hidan drew the scythe away from himself with a flourish, winked at the man, then turned and sprinted back to the circle of blood he had drawn earlier.
This was the most dangerous part: figuring out exactly how much of a head start he needed. But when he skidded to a stop and turned, his opponent was still well out of range, which was good. The man perhaps feared a trap. He was right, but unfortunately for him, the trap had already sprung.
Hidan grinned at him, setting down his scythe next to him in the symbol-riddled circle. Then he drew the knife he always kept at his hip and drove it straight into the middle of his own palm.
The man's garbled scream of pain sent thrills running all through Hidan's body. Blood spurted from his own hand, blossoming in exquisite pain even as the man's hand began to bleed crimson. There was something so nice about watching someone else experience this sensation with him. The man charged at him, but Hidan had calculated the distance carefully. He had time for another non-lethal wound, just for fun. He stabbed himself again, this time the arm, and watched his opponent crumple and gasp under the pain.
From the sidelines, Kakuzu called out, "Are you going to take all day?"
Hidan rolled his eyes. "You know," he said, keeping his eye on his opponent, who seemed unsure whether to advance or retreat, "some of us have religious duties to fulfill. Some of us live for more than just money."
The man chose to rush forward, so Hidan had to stop him in his tracks. He dropped to one knee and plunged the knife into his own thigh, his vision blacking out for a second with the intensity of the pain, and felt an equal amount of giddy thrill to hear his opponent scream and crash to the ground.
The man raised his head, staring at him. "Wh-what have you have done?"
Hidan smiled at him, then twisted the knife in his thigh, sending a surge of pain so intense that he thought he would ascend to a higher plane of being. The man's cries were transcendent. "I just thought that I would share something with you. Sharing is nice, isn't it?"
Kakuzu snapped at him. "Stop playing with your food and get on with it."
"I don't eat my sacrifices, idiot," Hidan said, wrenching the knife out of his thigh and plunging it into his stomach instead. The pain was sickening, but that sensation was pleasurable, too: it was all about variety. The man collapsed, katana dropping from his shaking hands, pressing both hands to his stomach to try to stem the tide of blood. Hidan twisted the sword idly in his own gut, getting a pleasant pulse of pain each time, and let the man bleed out just a few steps away. His own body was already working on healing his wounds. How lucky he was to be have been born with this power.
The man collapsed face-first on the ground, and Hidan pulled the knife out of his own gut just as he heard the man's last gurgling breath. For a moment, all was silent except the wind in the autumn trees.
"Can we go on now?" Kakuzu said.
"You are so annoying." Hidan glared at him; the high of hurting himself was already wearing off. "You know well that I have to prepare the ritual and scatter the blood and stake myself down for a while and say my prayers." When Kakuzu sighed heavily, Hidan added, "Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but one does not choose one's religion. Now, settle in, and give me some nice silence, if you're going to do anything."
Kakuzu made a sound almost like a growl, but he settled against a tree as Hidan moved to prepare the body. The rituals might be tedious, but his body was still buzzing with the sensation of stabbing himself and watching another crumple under the vicarious blade that did nothing but bring him the sublime pleasure of pain.
There were benefits to being a religious man, after all.