Fate Wheel | Naruto

𝟔𝟏| Starve

"Every damn time... That's not something you say to me... if they can kill me, I couldn't be happier. Although... I don't think they can."
— Hidan

───※ ·❆· ※───

HIDAN

What does it mean?

What does everything mean? How do you simplify something as complexed as a world filled with multiple, unsolvable equations. So many answers, so many lives, so many creations, so many deaths. It was never-ending, so when does it end?

What do you do when it ends?

Where do you go?

Who do you meet?

His glazed, purple eyes froze just as a shoulder gentle breezed past his. A human, much like him. All skin and bone. Exhaling and inhaling. Vulnerable to the sharp edge of a blade. A mind webbed with branches of stories, of tales, of beliefs, of morals, of family, of friends, of contradictions that made it too difficult to differentiate what was right and what was wrong. What was the truth? What was the beginning and how would it end?

Hidan had already met his end the moment he devoted his life to a religion dedicated to becoming a reaper of death, the taker of life, a forsaken individual who marvelled at the sight of blood and grew impatient as time ticked too slowly. Everything felt slow, in his eyes.

And now it all came rushing down at an unbelievable pace.

What does it mean?

To be evil? Were people born evil, destined to live a life of being hated for their very existence? Hated for being different from others? For believing in something else that filled them with faith- fuelled their beings with a sense inclination towards living for the very thing they believe in? Could being evil simply mean to be different? But then, doesn't that make you unique?

"Unique?" Hidan murmured, a tension weighing heavily on his chest.

The amulet he bore around his neck dispensed the mark of Jashin: an upside down triangle within a circle. Hidan wasn't one for sentimentality, he found it bullshit how someone could connect an emotion with a worthless object, and yet he couldn't bare to dispose of his scythe and the mark of who he was before his rebirth: the mark of a killer. The mark of a sadistic, masochistic individual who indulged in the taste of his victims' blood. It was a meal- no, an appetiser in preparation for the main course which often resulted in a massacre. He relinquished in blood, bathed in it, drank it as if he was starved. And yet, he never felt satisfied.

What does it mean to be satisfied?

Satisfaction? In his opinion, meant to fulfil the wishes of Jashin- because that was all he had. He went from nothing, to having something. Even if that something was created out of what others would deem evil, it was still something. That evil gave him company. Being alone? It didn't matter. Feeling alone? It created a hollowness in his heart. Even if Jashin was there for him, he didn't- he didn't...

He didn't what? What didn't he do?

"The fuck am I doing?" Hidan cursed. He stopped, staring at his surroundings.