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“Why do you two walk so fast?! Slow down, would ya?”
The words went unheard, drowned out by the hot wind.
Hidan huffed as more sand flew into his eyes. He readjusted his bamboo hat with more force than necessary to shield them. His squinting gaze went back to the boring duo several paces ahead of him. It didn't matter how far he lagged behind; he could still hear fragments of their stupidly mundane, two-hour-long conversation.
“—Which is why I’m telling you, you ought to try the newest serum I’ve concocted. It’s meant to enhance the longevity of internal organs.”
“Hm,” Kakuzu said gruffly. “Which organs?”
“The spleen, gall-bladder, and lungs,” Sasori listed with an air of stale pride. “I’m almost finished with the latest follow-up serum for the heart, in fact.”
“Interesting,” Kakuzu said contemplatively. “I doubt I’ll need it, though. My heart-replacement strategy is sufficient enough. They rarely give out.”
“Indeed, but think of how much more practical it would be if they could last for forty years instead of fifteen.”
“Sick of this…. Yo, Sasori!” Hidan called louder this time, “Where the hell is the nearest body of water we can cool off at? This weather’s suffocating me!”
The muttering in front of him stopped, but neither Sasori nor Kakuzu turned around.
“...There are no bodies of water anywhere close,” Sasori said after a long pause and sigh, as if it were a pain to answer such an obvious question.
“Idiot…” Kakuzu muttered. “I told you that beforehand. You should have packed more water. We’ve used our respective water releases on you too many times today already.”
“Tch. Whatever.” Hidan tried to ignore the frustration and faint sting the dismissive tone gave him. “Didn’t know it was gonna be this bad. I left my village for a reason, dammit.”
The heat in the Village Hidden in Hot Water had been one of the things he'd been happy to escape when going rogue. He furiously wiped at the endless bullets of sweat running down his face.
Meanwhile, Sasori's puppet form kept him completely immune to the scorching heat, even as he walked free of Hiruko, and Kakuzu seemed to have hell-proof skin, able to withstand any element.
Hidan kicked the desert sand in little plumes to entertain himself, wondering when there would be any enemies in sight that he could paint the sand red with—anything to kill the boredom.
Thanks a lot, Blondie, he thought sourly. Obsessed with his explosions. Lost another spar against Uchiha, and then he just had to try flying on his clay bird with a fuckin’ blindfold on for training—who the hell does that?! Fuckin’ fell off like a dumbass… ‘Course he broke his Jashin-damned arm, and now…
It’s not like he had to tag along. Kakuzu was a solid stand-in for Deidara, and together, Sasori and the miser were a sufficient enough team for the mission. Hidan simply had nothing better to do at base and volunteered at the last minute to join. An extra layer of offense if needed. It had seemed like a genius idea at the time.
The target of their mission was rumored to be located in a small village just near the outskirts of the Hidden Sand: A clan with prodigy-level competence in medicinal herbs. They had secrets to ground-breaking poisons and antidotes alike. They also held an inheritance large enough to buy a hidden village. Luckily, the Akatsuki had connections to learn of that confidential intel.
“—as you know, chelation is pointless if the preservative breaks down at body temperature,” Sasori said. “You need something that binds the tissue without collapsing at thirty-seven degrees Celsius.”
“Agreed,” Kakuzu replied, patient in the way that meant he was still interested. “That’s why I use my water release occasionally on my bounties. The water’s temperature helps to slow decomposition during my transport to the collection’s office.”
“Or,” Hidan called, even louder this time, “—you could just, y’know, kill whatever bastard for Jashin and not worry about the decay or the temperature of the body n' shit. Hell, we could skip the gross collection’s office completely. Saves time, my nose, and you’ll get spiritual riches that way.”
Not even a glance back. The wind took his offering and shredded it.
“Your water release. Smart move, not as practical, however.” Sasori’s eyes slid toward Kakuzu, red hair whipping in the wind. “And as for your beating hearts, they’re breaking down every day. What I’m making will surpass even the most up-to-date preservatives for viable organs. You can't keep a heart indefinitely, even your replacements. Not without a medium to stabilize them.”
“Exactly. That’s why I use my threads like splints to keep the structure from tearing under stress.”
“Makes sense, but why do that when you could have a medicine that does the hard work for you? Like I said, it's very versatile. I’ve been testing them on my art. It'll work for those dead and alive.”
“You could at least pretend not to be an eager merchant in disguise,” Kakuzu said dryly.
Both men chuckled.
“I assure you, it's mutually beneficial. I'll stay in business and you'll live up to your immortal name.”
Hidan kicked a rock peaking from the sand and watched it crash into a tumbleweed far off.
“Hmm. The better the body condition, mine or the dead, the higher the reward...” Kakuzu seemed to be mulling over the words. “How much would you charge for it?”
“Good to know you're interested. I haven't set a price yet for the vials. Just a few more tests, and I'll let you know.”
“Speaking of vials–” Hidan caught up and wedged himself between them, flinging an arm over Kakuzu's shoulder and the other over Sasori's. “Remember that bounty in Grass, Kakuzu? The one who foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog? He had three vials of poison on his belt—thought he could take us down with 'em. I smashed one.” He grinned proudly. “So I sure as hell can snatch some up when we face—”
“Actually, you smashed the wrong one,” Kakuzu said. “You don't recall? What you destroyed happened to be his cologne.”
Sasori smirked. “Oh, got tired of the smell of blood, brat?”
“…Whatever, might as well have been poison,” Hidan muttered, suddenly remembering. “The stuff smelled like shit. Nearly killed me.”
“You're sweaty. And still wet.” Kakuzu shrugged Hidan's arm off. Sasori, as short as he was, slipped away as well with ease.
They kept talking. Hidan rolled his eyes and let his steps drag behind them again, grumbling to himself. He felt their words skate off his brain.
He told himself he didn’t care. He told himself this kind of talk was how old men flirted, but it didn't mean anything. He told himself that for several more hours.
…
It was around 11 pm when they finally reached the clan’s territory. Pastures of sand met smooth cobblestone, giving way to the little sleepy village. Only a couple of villagers lingered beneath the lamp lights, talking and laughing, saying their good nights, oblivious to the lurking Akatsuki.
A gentle, thickening fog steadily blanketed the air.
“Remember, don’t breathe too deeply,” Sasori said under his breath. “That fog is poisonous if you take too much of it in. It’s a night trap for potential intruders. Something the clan is immune to.”
“Right.” Kakuzu subtly tightened a hand over his mask as they kept walking. “We’re almost to the temple. We'll take care of the leader before the vapor thickens.”
Sasori nodded. “I'll keep circling the perimeter. You two make it quick. I'll join if you keep me waiting.”
“On it. You remember the plan, Hidan?”
”…”
“Hidan.”
“Eh? What?” Hidan glared at the miser who had just punched him discreetly in the arm.
“Quiet. And focus. Stop breathing deep,” Kakuzu repeated irritably. “This is a bounty we can’t lose. Don’t mess this up.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard everything—been hearing too much,” Hidan said in a harsh whisper.
He tried to focus. He wasn’t usually one to ruminate or let things get to him, but the day's slights, Kakuzu's dismissive words, and Sasori's slow half smiles kept brushing the parts of his brain that remembered feeling dumb and ignored.
What the hell—get it together! he told himself. You can figure shit out later.
“Let’s go.”
Hidan held his breath.
…
The five guards scattered around the temple were taken down with pitiful ease. Hidan’s wild laughter and deadly scythe chased the only one who almost shouted an alarm before he was silenced. Kakuzu’s threads, quiet and deadly as snakes, bound the remaining charging guards, snapping them like pencils.
Everyone around them was dead in less than ten minutes.
“Wait… That was seriously it?” Hidan gawked, already walking up the temple steps. “Pff. Genin could’ve handled this. Let’s finish it!”
“Hidan,” Kakuzu warned, “Wait—”
The temple doors burst open.
A low creak sounded as the door panels rattled, and a purple fog even thicker than near the village’s entrance spilled forth. It poured down the steps and into the night air. Hidan jumped back.
An elderly man stepped through it, his robes deep blue, hair white. He didn’t look startled. Just tired of interruptions.
“I knew you would come. I should have known,” he said. “Only the Akatsuki would strike a harmless clan for riches and curiosity.”
Hidan sneered. “You got a lotta poison for a ‘harmless’ clan, old man.”
The elder’s gaze fell on him, unimpressed. “Your file said you were loud. What you have done here, to my family—” He made a few hand signs, and the wind shook. “This will be your final desecration!”
The fog thickened even more, getting colder around them as the Zombie Combo sprang forth.
Tch—this fog—I can feel it. Hidan tried to breathe shallowly, but some of the fog, so dense it felt like cotton, still managed to crawl up his nose and down his throat, making him feel tingly, but he was still functional. He gagged reflexively.
“Hidan, don't gulp down air!” Kakuzu snapped as they fought in the foggy cloud.
“Easy for you to say! You've got a fucking mask—” Hidan coughed violently. Although he could live without breathing, something in the fog triggered his lungs to fight hard against him.
Sasori emerged from the shadows, the Third Kazekage puppet looming beside him. “Told you not to breathe deeply,” he called from the sideline. “Don’t cry if your lungs melt.”
“Eat shit!” Hidan yelled, still swinging.
The elder clapped his hands, and the fog thickened further. Hidan lunged at him, scythe lifted. The opponent was slow for a moment–then he lifted his arms, and a thick vapor shot like a cannon from his palms, right at Hidan's face. Even though he held his breath, the toxins somehow pushed past his nostrils again, into his throat and lungs.
What the hell?!
The cough that followed was ugly and wet.
Kakuzu formed a blur of hand signs, and a masked monster emerged from his back as he released Fire Style: Searing Migraine, but the elder narrowly escaped its trajectory before returning with more vapor.
“He’s fast—Hidan—” Kakuzu’s voice carried through the haze.
“I know, I'm fine!” Hidan snarled, desperately fighting his breathing reflex. His eyes stung, his chest constricted, but the thought of backing off, of letting Sasori take over, kept him going.
Kakuzu didn’t sound convinced as he kept moving. “Formation three. You distract, I'll hit.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hidan spat and charged.
A few steps in, another coughing fit doubled him over. The elder struck again; a poison-laced shuriken grazed Hidan’s ribs, its toxin mild compared to the fog, but the impact was sharp enough to sting.
Sasori clicked his tongue, squinting through the fog, the Third Kazekage puppet rising. “Hidan, I don't need to breathe. You’re slowing us down. Get back, I'll–”
“Fuck off! I said I—” He coughed again, choking on the word. “—got it!”
He didn’t. The elder was watching, cunning, evading Kakuzu and shooting relentless bursts of poison full force now at Hidan, forcing the man to move quicker, to breathe harsher. Each swing drew another sharp inhale that his body automatically forced.
“Left, Hidan!” Kakuzu shouted.
“I know!” Hidan barked, veering right anyway—because he saw an opening, and if he hit the elder first, he’d be the one they had to keep up with, the point of the blade instead of the blunt end of the handle.
Instead, he was stabbed in the side, so suddenly, he didn't feel it until his body folded around the blade and poisonous heat shot instantly through his body.
“Jashin damn you,” he hissed. He yanked the blade out, spun his scythe to counter the hidden elder, but the fog had thickened to the point of blinding him.
Another one of the elder's swords swung through the haze, and with a shout, the elder cut brutally through his arm.
Hidan staggered and soared back, left arm almost completely severed. As blood spilled, more painful warmth spread rapidly through his body, lighting his nerves until it became nearly impossible to move.
“D-Dammit,” Hidan rasped, sagging to the ground. Sasori was by his side in a second.
“Hold on.” Sasori had a scroll unrolled containing numerous antidotes. “This needs immediate intervention, your—”
“Don’t touch me,” Hidan said. He planted a hand over his mangled arm and began to laugh, a bit deliriously because he was already starting to feel dizzy, was seeing double, and his voice sounded strange. He hated all that he felt. He growled weakly when Sasori felt his pulse and then continued to prepare the antidote. “I s-said back off, y-yyooou flyin’ puppet fucker,” he slurred.
Sasori’s mask of calm didn’t waver. “Hidan, this specific poison is known for shutting opponents' organs down completely. If I don't act, it'll spread more, and you'll be an even greater pain to deal with.”
“I don't give a shit about the poison; my body will fight it off before it really affects me,” he said, despite the effect it was already having. He didn't want Sasori’s detached medical efficiency; at that moment, all he wanted was— “Kakuzu,” he said, and it came out raw and scratchy. “You stitch me.”
Kakuzu, having gotten the upper hand in the battle and now holding the writhing elder by the throat with one hand, looked so engrossed in his soon-to-be bounty that Hidan was surprised when the miser glanced over at him with a thorough, measured look.
“Let Sasori give you the antidote first,” he said like an impartial surgeon. “Then I'll stitch you.”
“Uuuuggh…” Hidan groaned, but relented under Kakuzu's promise.
Sasori quickly selected the needed vial and shot the liquid into Hidan's arm. The Jashinist could already feel the antidote coursing through his veins like wildfire, beginning to fight the poison.
He hadn't expected overwhelming drowsiness to come with it; within seconds, he could no longer feel his body.
“What the…” Hidan glanced sleepily at Sasori. “What the… can't feel my…”
“Silence. No use expending more energy. What you're feeling is just part of the antidote. Accelerated cell turnover tends to take a toll.”
In the younger’s current delirious state, Sasori’s clinical tone sounded like a lullaby. Soon, he couldn't speak.
Sasori sighed, brown eyes shifting back to Kakuzu. “We'll handle the rest.”
The leader made a gurgling, dying protest in Kakuzu's grasp before the miser silenced him with a neck crack. The leader sagged, and with his death, the fog began to dissipate.
All Hidan could see was Sasori and Kakuzu taking care of one final guard before darkness swallowed him.
…
The corridors of the base were cool and echoing, lit by torches. By the time they’d made it out of Sand and back to Rain, the worst of the toxins were out of Hidan's system, and Kakuzu had already set the broken bones and stitched the torn muscle in his arm shortly after the clan's takedown.
Hidan, drowsy as he was due to the antidote's effects, was left feeling exposed; left feeling too much.
He stomped down the Headquarters hall, eager to get to his room, away from the older duo and the embarrassing reminder of his failure.
Kisame rounded the corner with Samehada slung over one shoulder. He took in the disheveled zealot, the dried blood, Hidan’s face, and let out a low whistle. “Looks like the desert might be your true kryptonite, eh? What happened to you?”
Hidan’s eyes swung to him, sharp, serious, and still a little drug-heavy. “Mind your own fucking business, fish face.”
“Whoa.” Kisame’s grin wavered as he lifted a hand in surrender, taken aback since he and Hidan usually joked together all the time. “I’ll… just tell Leader the job’s done and pretend I didn’t see you sulking.”
“Hidan.”
Kakuzu emerged from the dark halls slowly as he walked past.
“Infirmary.”
“...Bossy,” Hidan mumbled, but after a few seconds’ hesitation, he was on Kakuzu's heel.
…
Kakuzu closed the door to the infirmary behind them and set a lamp down on the counter.
“Sit,” he said.
Hidan sat, grumbling because he had to, because the alternative was showing that he wanted to.
“What do you want?” he tried to say with a lazy, sharp edge, but just ended up sounding tired. “I’m already healed up enough.”
“It's been a day since I repaired the wound. I need to take a look at its progress.”
“Oh. Right,” Hidan said, still trying to sound annoyed. He pulled his bloody cloak off, exposing the raw stitches along his healing arm.
“Perfect. You've already managed to tear it a bit.”
“Not my fault. You stitch too tight. I could barely move my arm an inch without it tearing.”
Kakuzu paused, eyes narrowing. “And I can see one of your rib bones. Why didn’t you tell me about this one?”
“Huh. Yeah.” Hidan glanced down at the wound that had been hidden near the back of his right set of ribs. What had once been a gaping hole yesterday was now a much smaller, yet still deep, tear. He shrugged. “Bastard got me there, too, I guess.”
Kakuzu sighed, moving closer to inspect it. “You’re lucky this one doesn’t look infected. Lift your arm a little.”
Hidan complied to give better access to the injury. The miser’s threads slithered from his arm as he placed his fingers above Hidan's injured rib, the touch acting as a manual brace, and Hidan nearly flinched. Not from pain, but from the contact and the unexpected tingles it shot through his core.
“Hold still.” The threads began their work, a little ticklish and painful as they mended the torn flesh.
Once it was complete, the suture felt like an itchy hug along Hidan's skin.
“You should be able to breathe easily enough without tearing those specific stitches,” Kakuzu said, heading for the counter to wash his bloody hands.
The silence between them felt different, deafening to the Jashinist. But for some reason, he found it difficult to find words.
“Sooo… yeah, about the arm. It's just a tiny tear, too. Since when do you care about little boo-boos?” he teased weakly. “You know I should be healed up by tomorrow.”
“Unlike your rib, your arm is infected. It needs an antiseptic.” Kakuzu turned off the water. Hidan watched him dry his hands, take out his supplies, and then grab a dropper to begin sucking up measured amounts of the liquid with stiff meticulousness.
Kakuzu didn't know just how much Hidan found it relaxing to watch him do his medical tasks. His magenta eyes stayed fixed on every tiny movement, even as the treasurer wiped the counter clean of some of the liquid that escaped the dropper. Kakuzu glanced back at him briefly.
“You’re swaying, idiot. Lie back.”
With a little scoff, Hidan did, letting his back press into the slightly reclined medical table, because maybe it was true that the world still swayed in a way he didn’t want to admit as the last of the antidote finished its work in his body. And he listened because maybe Kakuzu's concerned command made something beneath his ribs flutter.
Only the sound of the faucet and the quiet clang of opening and closing cabinets filled the air for a moment.
“You were sloppy. More so than usual,” the miser said finally, his back still turned to Hidan.
“Huh, so I wasn't completely invisible during the mission after all,” Hidan said snarkily, staring up at the ceiling.
“If you’d followed our formation, the attack wouldn’t have—”
“Why don’t you just go be partners with him?”
The sentence flew out before he could think. Not that blurting things wasn't the norm for him, but the rare, vulnerable tone that bled through almost made him cringe.
He cleared his throat, hardening his voice. “You two have the time of your fuckin' lives talking about murder juice and corpses and whatever. You’d make a better team. Open a bank together. Take over the world. Maybe then everything would all add up for you.”
Kakuzu turned to face him again, dropper filled with antiseptic, gaze fixed and unreadable. His voice was, too.
“Hidan, what are—”
“Save it.” He made a face that was supposed to be a sneer and felt too frail. “I know I’m not a…” He searched for the words. “Not a damn immortal puppet genius.”
“You're definitely not,” Kakuzu said after a long pause. He came forward and unceremoniously lifted Hidan's injured arm slightly. He let a few drops of the antiseptic seep into the cracks of the stitched arm, and instantly, Hidan felt the nerves in the limb strengthen as if being revived. He flexed his fingers.
“Burns like hell.” The sting was followed by a small decrease in the wound's inflammation.
“Good. It's working.” Kakuzu extended his arm, commanding the threads to loop through the small tear and pulling the skin back together with perfectly neat passes. “Jashin’s power may work, but I ensure proper healing.”
Hidan huffed, but eyed his arm with hidden fascination. The kind of look he always got when seeing Kakuzu's intricate patterns being stitched into his skin, like a sacred tattoo.
Once the stitching stopped, Kakuzu brought his gaze up, and the intensity of the look almost made Hidan want to shift his stare to the side.
“As for Sasori, don't be ridiculous,” the miser said. “Leader forced us together for a reason. It would be foolish to partner with anyone else,” he went on, beginning to clean and put away his supplies.
Hidan snorted, side-eyeing him. “Hah. I find that hard to believe.”
“Sasori would irritate me at some point. He’s useful for some things, but he would eventually want to keep and thus interfere with my bounties in the name of his art. Partnership with him wouldn’t be sustainable long term.” Kakuzu glanced over his shoulder from where he stood near a cabinet, brows furrowed as if it were obvious. “Your antics are the price I have to pay up front. But your religious interests don’t compromise my own bounty-hunting and other money-making endeavors to the same degree.”
Hidan blinked. “Oh, so I’m cheap.”
“Cost-effective,” Kakuzu corrected dryly.
“Romantic,” Hidan muttered, but with a little smirk. It made sense. He knew deep down that fact was true.
“Wait,” he said as an afterthought, “So you’re saying Sasori is capable of eventually pissing you off to the point of murder, too?”
“No. He's one of the only ones I've never had homicidal urges toward, actually,” Kakuzu said bluntly. “But hypothetically speaking, if I were to strike Sasori’s heart chamber, he would be dead. Permanently. When I strike yours, it does little.”
“…true, I guess…” Hidan trailed off, feigning detachment despite the faint knot in his stomach. “So, I’m your favorite punching bag.”
“You're resilient. Annoyingly so,” Kakuzu said as if it were a simple cold fact and absolutely not the reason Hidan felt a godforsaken blush coming on. “Your antics create predictable windows of chaos I can price into the plan during battle.”
“Yeah. Usually.” Hidan looked over at an interesting spot on the wall. “Except for when I pull some shit like I did yesterday.”
“You were distracted,” Kakuzu said simply. “Just don't let it happen again, for a partnership fear so irrational.”
A fear so irrational… Those words made Hidan brighten internally.
Externally, he only allowed a small smile. “Got it. Can’t lose my head like that again and die… Wouldn't want you damned to spend the rest of your days with a shittier partner.”
“If I were assigned a partner again, they’d most certainly be mortal, and if I didn’t kill them first, I'd be counting down the days that Akatsuki contract ends. Even more so than I count down ours.”
“To hell with the contract. We're gonna far outlive it.”
“Don't count on it.” Kakuzu closed the last cabinet. “I’ll find a way to kill you permanently somewhere between now and oblivion.”
“Oh man–” Hidan paused, then grinned deviously from ear to ear. “Did you just propose to me?”
Kakuzu snorted. “Don't be ridiculous. Weddings are too expensive.”
Hidan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It came out as a chuckle. “Yeah, that's fair. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”
Kakuzu said nothing. He simply continued cleaning, though the silence between them felt closer to familiar again.
A cool cloth came, wiping the blood from Hidan’s arm until the black sutures were clean and better visible once more. Kakuzu’s hand slowed slightly at the last stitch, to make sure no crusted blood lingered, before he withdrew, wringing out the cloth.
“Don’t be reckless like that again. Next time, I won’t be so gentle when repairing you.”
He tossed the rag in a bin. Finished up cleaning the already tidy infirmary with his usual irritable grumbling.
Hidan watched, his eyes swimming with amusement as Kakuzu finally walked towards the door. He smirked fondly. “You’re so full of shit, you know that?”
“And you're a catastrophe.”
The infirmary door clicked softly as Kakuzu stepped out. Hidan let the quiet settle where the jealousy had once been.
He wasn’t smarter, wasn’t stronger, wasn’t anything easier to handle than he’d been on the mission.
But he was stitched. Always mended. Again and again, by a man with rough threads and unpoetic words that held him together anyway.