A/N: Firstly, heed the M rating, seriously. Secondly, this fic is purely for fun and can probably be considered a quick-fic, so don't expect strict adherence to canon or gigantic chapters. The length will vary as I write what feels best. Humour is a tag, but it is black/dark humour. If any of this bothers you, peace out.

Huge, massive thanks to jiemae, Enbi, and nora9gina! They are the best friends and writing peers I could ever ask for and keep me going when I think I'm done. You can thank them for all of my current and future writing.

March 26th edit: I've had an epiphany on how I want to write this story, and for now I'm removing the non-chronological tag. Consider this chapter a prologue of sorts. Chapters like this will probably be interspersed throughout the story, but I've realized I'd like to write it in a more linear, slow but sure descent into madness, with present time saying hello every once in a while.

Beta: jiemae, Enbi, and nora9gina all lent a hand in the editing and polishing up of this chapter.

Inspired by: White Hair, Red Eyes, and a Pack of Lies by Ever-changing Creation

Living Dead Girl

the two of us

The night sky is clear, devoid of clouds and unmarred by city lights, and shimmering with cold, dead stars, strewn across the heavens as far as the eye can see. The waning moon hangs between them, twin points as sharp as the stakes nailing her hands to the blood-slicked ground.

It's quite beautiful, Saki thinks, even as her vision further darkens at the edges and pain oozes from her body like her life. She's lost count of the amount of wounds carved into her, though each new one wrenches what breath is left from her lungs.

Which is most certainly odd, she feels. She should be used to it, shouldn't she?

Hidan's shrill, maniacal laughter pierces the tranquility, carried on a cool breeze and booming around them. She can almost feel the chakra thrumming under his skin, pitch black like the void and ivory white like polished bone.

Her clothes and flesh are torn from the curved blades of his scythe; an undoing of her own making if she's honest with herself. How sloppy. She should know his movements as well as her own by now.

They've been doing the same dance for years, after all.

Saki feels her heart thud painfully, squeezing tightly in her chest; a reminder to hold on just a little longer (though why should she if she's just going to come back anyway?). But she really can't, not like this, not with all of his spears sticking out of her like some sacrificial lamb.

Except that's exactly what she is—what he tries to make her every time—and she knows it as Hidan looms over her from inside his circle, a crazed grin splitting his chakra-darkened, demonic face and blood pouring from every new hole he's given himself to give to her.

"So? How is it? How is it this time?" he asks the way a lover might ask, voice full of delight and pride, however it's coloured with bloodlust and she can hear the twang of anger. Are you going to fucking die this time, you bitch? Her existence is perhaps his greatest frustration.

Well, Hidan, Saki wants to say, it blows this time, and has sucked every time, but he just doesn't get it.

A normal man might consider giving her flowers or something equally as trite, but no, Hidan has to be… different. Saki isn't really sure if she appreciates his unique brand of affection—if it can really be called that. She's not nearly naive or foolish enough to believe he loves her; she isn't sure if he can even love in the conventional sense anymore. Yet he still seeks her out often enough that she sometimes wonders what he'll do if he actually kills her.

Won't Jashin-sama be proud of you if you finally manage it? she thinks as her body begins to succumb at last, the thought tinged with defiance and a touch of amused sarcasm.

She sighs inwardly as her heart slows more and more—and Hidan's got a sixth sense for this sort of thing, so he wastes no time in preparing his finisher. Yes, he may be an insane psychopath, but he's her insane psychopath—which says all sorts of terrible things about herself, but she doesn't like to dwell on those.

Idly, Saki watches the silver-haired man raise his spear triumphantly, pointing the blood-coated tip to his chest. Instinctively, she tries to say his name, as if that might stop him the same way it once did when they were children, but only thick, wet noises and a gush of blood comes pouring out.

He eyes her and licks his lips, grin becoming more feral, stretching just that much wider. "Together, let's..." Hidan says reverently, and honestly, only he can make murder sound like sex.

She already knows his words. Let's experience the pain of your death together.

In one quicksilver movement—when combined with his dramatics, his speed can still surprise her—Hidan plunges the spear into his chest and her own explodes in a supernova of pain for one brilliant moment—scream, she wants to SCREAM—and then—

Nothing. It's black.

(Maybe it will stay black this time.)

永

Saki has always called Hidan a passionate person, and while he agrees—but doesn't really care for her constant analyses of him; she can fuck right off with that—he thinks it's total bullshit. It's just her way of avoiding the truth: does she love him or does she hate him?

He thinks with no small amount of derision that she must be insane for holding onto any sort of love—fuck, it makes him want to puke—she has for him. She disgusts him. Hidan wants to kill her, needs to kill her so badly. She's a filthy abomination, her very life contrary to Jashinism's every tenet.

Why, why does she keep coming back? It makes him gnash his teeth in rage. How many times will she force him to pray for forgiveness?

Hidan knows he hates Saki with every fibre of his being, even if the Hidan from Before didn't, but he hates hates HATES thinking of that. His life had been so worthless, so aimless before Jashin-sama. He has a purpose now, one he will fervently honour and believe in until it takes him to the darkness at the end of all things, where only he will be left among the fire and the ashes and the bones of long dead corpses.

Except for her, and that rattles him to the core—she could be standing beside him as the planet dies and crumbles into dust. What kind of judgement will Jashin-sama render at that time, with his ultimate failure standing by his side?

Hidan hates her. (Hidan loves killing her. It's his perverse, not so well kept secret.)

Maybe Saki can't let go of the Hidan from Before. He hates that she can't understand neither him nor what he believes in.

Beneath his feet, the bloody holy symbol burns with power, fueling their twisted bond. If only she could understand the mind-blowing feeling of pure ecstasy that rushes through his veins as he completes a ritual—that pushes him that much closer to Jashin-sama. If she could feel that, maybe she would repent, and maybe Hidan could forgive her.

Another undying person who would kill in Jashin-sama's name… It makes his skin break out in goosebumps. It would be so good.

But she won't say yes.

Her inability to decide really pisses Hidan off, and he drives his spear through his gut, strategically avoiding anything (too) lethal. No, he wants to draw this out as long as he can. The pained noise that leaves her mouth makes him cackle in glee. He gives the spear a particularly violent twist, revelling in the sharp, burning pain that it brings them both, so intense that it spirals into pleasure for him.

Yes, Hidan loves killing her. He's killed her so many times he's forgotten the number, and still he loves it. He's not sure if he should be disgusted with himself—all on Jashin-sama's behalf, naturally.

The way Saki gazes up at him from her crucified position, splayed across the ground like a broken doll, both pleases him and makes him angry. Of course Hidan can see her utter agony, and it's perfect, make no mistake, but he can also see her apathy. Fucking bitch (but she's his bitch). It's never boring for him (it shouldn't be boring for her).

Her deep red—if he's honest, he's always been fascinated that they're the colour of life and death—once bright eyes are fading into dull, shallow pools of nothingness, and it sends shivers down his spine.

He leans down and crouches over her, glaring into those dying eyes. "Do me a favour and stay dead this time," Hidan hisses roughly, pulling the spear from himself with a wet, sucking sound. The bloody, gaping hole that's left behind hardly fazes him.

Saki tries to say his name. Instead, blood burbles up from between her stained lips—blood spills from his in tandem—flowing down her cheeks and chin in crimson rivers. Her ugly hair that can never decide if it wants to be pink or red is dyed with blood. It looks so much better than that hideous cerise, as she likes to call it. (Flowery and stupid.)

She's a lone blossom drowning in blood. It's all very poetic.

Hidan snorts. As if he gives a shit. He stands, sensing that the end is near as she coughs and gasps for breaths that are becoming shorter and shorter. Still, she dares to look at him with those cool, judgemental eyes.

Saki will hardly be able to regard him with such a look for much longer. Hidan grins widely, heaving with mad laughter at the thought. He raises the spear, slowly, deliberately, so she can see every movement.

"The two of us, together," Hidan breathes, unable and uncaring to find the words as all of the pain and pleasure and life and death surging through him reaches a glorious peak. "Let's…"

And then he brings the spear down.

The world stops in this moment as everything collapses in on itself and explodes in a big bang of chakra across all of his lit, screaming nerve endings, better than any orgasm he's ever had. In these moments, it's almost as if he can feel Jashin-sama right there.

Then, Saki's dead and it ends.

Hidan sighs and pulls the spear from his chest, head falling back to stare at the night sky. Chakra disperses from his skin and he appears human again, visage of a reaper gone until another kill. Please be fucking dead forever, he prays in his head, suddenly nervous and irritated as he always is whenever he kills Saki. Damnit, she ruins even this.

Stepping out of the circle that's gone dormant under him, Hidan retracts his weapon and edges closer to Saki's corpse—please please PLEASE—on his knees. First he reaches out to feel for a pulse against her neck. There's never a time where there is one, but he has to check.

No pulse.

His hand goes to her face, searching for any traces of breathing.

Nothing.

Hidan's heart thumps wildly in his chest, spurts of blood arcing out from his self-made hole. Holy shit, is she seriously dead? Is it finally over?

(And why does that thought unnerve him?)

Finally, finally has he given his god the ultimate sacrifice?

With bated breath, Hidan leans down and examines her ghostly white face with trepidation.

Saki's ruby red eyes snap open, sending Hidan flying backwards, screeching unholy hell. There's a throaty cough and a brief choking sound before he watches her tongue dart out to lick her blood-smeared lips.

It's all silent, save for the sound of her resumed breathing. Hidan watches her with narrowed eyes full of contempt, enraged that every movement of her chest is a sin against Jashin-sama.

"Are you quite done?" she deadpans with a raised brow, straining uselessly against the stakes in her hands.

"Fuck!"

Fic recommendation: Crimson Runner by Ever-changing Creation, dancer by jiemae, and Kingdom Come by Enbi. While not a Naruto fic, if you're into the HP fandom, Spindle by nora9gina is pretty fantastic.