Chapter Text
Heaven Knows
Chapter 1
“I warned ya! Jashin will punish ya!” Hidan heckled Shikamaru from the bottom of the smouldering pit, surrounded by the bits and pieces of his own body, while more rubble came falling from overhead. “’N then I’ll be the one passin’ judgement on ya! Teeth! That’s all I need! I’ll chew ya to bits!” Hidan’s maniacal laughter echoed through the forest before being silenced forever by the rocks and dirt falling onto him, burying him alive. The last thing he ever saw was Nara Shikamaru’s face.
Silence. Darkness. Pain.
The suffocating weight of the dirt and rocks pressed down on him, crushing his limbs into grotesque angles. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional shifting of soil or the faint echo of insects scuttling through the darkness. With his immortality, he could not die, condemned to endless darkness, starvation, and isolation. Every moment he spent buried was a moment he experienced acutely—every ache, every pang of hunger, every frustration gnawing away at his mind. And when his organs shrivelled and died, his bones crumbled to dust, and insects nibbled away his flesh and burrowed through his eyes into his skull to gnaw at his brain, Hidan didn’t die. Jashin wouldn’t let him die.
At first, he had screamed, cursed, and raged. His voice, once a weapon of defiance, had echoed futilely against the stifling earth. “Ya hear me, Jashin?! I’m yer devoted servant! Get me outta here! Punish ‘em! Punish him!”
But the silence remained. There was no divine intervention, no retribution, no miraculous salvation. Only darkness. Only pain.
To self-soothe, he’d utter old lullabies his mother once sang to himself, lullabies of sweet reunion and beaches. Then, the bugs ate away the tongue in his mouth and the songs became a garbled hum, and then—nothing. He could no longer sing, no longer plead his God for help, for release, for death. He was left with his own thoughts, his memories, and the unbearable realization that there would never be an end.
His faith, once unshakable, became his torment. Every moment in the dark forced him to confront the truth he had refused to see: he had dedicated his life to a god who had abandoned him. Or worse—a god who had never truly cared. The sermons he had shouted, the sacrifices he had made, the blood he had spilt—it had all been meaningless.
Immortality is a gift, Jashin had told him so.
But it wasn’t. It was a prison. An eternity of suffering in darkness, a punishment worse than anything he could have imagined. And as the last remnants of his body turned to dust, only his consciousness remained, floating in an endless abyss of pain and despair.
Jashin had damned him.
…
Hidan bolted upright, gasping for air, his chest heaving as he clawed at his neck, half-expecting to feel the weight of dirt pressing down on him. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the cracks in the curtains. Sweat trickled down his temples, soaking his hairline and dripping onto his bare chest. For a moment, he sat there, his wide eyes darting around the room as his lethargic mind caught up with reality. He wasn’t in a hole but in his bedroom.
Just a dream. Just a fucking dream.
He wiped a hand over his face, trying to shake off lingering unease. His heart still thundered in his chest, and for a split second, he could almost feel the suffocating pressure of the earth around him, the endless darkness, the mocking silence. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"Stupid," He uttered under his breath, running a shaky hand through the silver hair that lay loosely around his face. “Ain’t nothin’ but a stupid dream.”
The next day, he and Kakuzu were on a mission to the Land of Lightning to capture the Nibi. So, he had to get as much sleep as he could since they wouldn’t stop until they got to Kumogakure.
Brushing off the disquietude, he laid back down and turned over onto his side. He shut his eyes, his breathing evening out as he fell back to sleep. However, deep down, in the dark, quiet recesses of his mind, the nightmare’s shadows refused to leave him.
…
The mission had gone great—in fact, it had gone better than great—it was perfect. All thanks to Hidan. And Kakuzu, too. Maybe. But they both knew Hidan had been the one to put in the most work.
Hidan grinned as he stared at Nii Yugito, unconscious and crucified to a broken stone wall, courtesy of the Jashinist himself—a successful Bijuu hunt.
“Let’s see Blondie n’ Tobi do better than that,” Hidan jested and looked over at Kakuzu. Except, Kakuzu wasn’t there.
The rubble of the abandoned building they had been standing was gone. Instead, Hidan found himself in the middle of a dense forest, the towering trees casting dark shadows in the mid-day light.
‘The fuck?’ His hand instinctively reached for his scythe, but he discovered he couldn’t move.
Panic prickled at the edges of his mind as he glanced down, realizing he was tangled in something—thin, silvery wires biting into his skin, their sharpness making him wince as he shifted. Not just that, but he was glued from head to toe with explosive tags. They were everywhere. Wrapped around his body, woven into the wires, their ominous red seals illuminated by the muffled sunlight. His heart skipped a beat, confusion turning to alarm as he struggled against the bindings, only for the wires to cut deeper into pale flesh and black fabric. Below, a dark, gaping hole stretched wide, like the yawning maw of a monstrous beast. A shadow shifted ahead of him, and when he looked up, he saw him.
Nara Shikamaru.
Hidan’s eyes went large. It was just like his dream.
“What is this!?” Hidan’s struggles grew more frantic, his mind racing as he tried to process what was happening.
“That is your grave.” Shikamaru’s calm demeanour didn’t waver. The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he pulled a silver lighter from his pocket, flicking it open with a soft click. The flame danced in the faint breeze, casting a warm glow across his sharp features.
“This ain’t real! It’s just a nightmare! It ain’t! real!” Unless, the Nibi…had the Nibi been a dream?
“Yes, this is a nightmare. Your nightmare,” Then, Shikamaru flicked the lighter towards Hidan.
“No! Ya can’t—” Hidan’s words cut off as the lighter’s flame met the first explosive tag.
A split second later, the forest lit up in a fiery explosion, the roar of fire and destruction consuming everything in its path. The ground shook violently, trees splintering and falling under the sheer force of the blast. For a moment, the world was chaos—flames, smoke, and the deafening sound of detonation.
Hidan’s screams were lost in the cacophony as his body was torn apart, his limbs separated and scattered. Pain wracked every nerve, but he didn’t die—couldn’t die, not even now. His immortality forced him to endure every moment of agony, every shred of his being reduced to rubble and bloodied fragments. When the explosion finally subsided, silence fell over the forest, broken only by the soft crackle of flames licking at the charred remains of trees.
Amid the smoking crater, Hidan’s dismembered head lay in the dirt; his mouth twisted in a grotesque sneer as he continued his defiant tirade, even amidst the smouldering remains of his body. “You…ya think this is enough to kill me?!” He spat. “I’ll come back! I’ll… I’ll—”
Shikamaru stepped closer, staring down at the shattered remnants of Hidan with an icy gaze. The earth shifted, the fractured remains of the forest trembling as loose boulders dislodged from their precarious positions.
“Wait—no, no, no! No!” Hidan’s voice cracked, panic drowning out his usual bravado. More rocks followed, cascading down in an unstoppable avalanche. The sound of earth and stone grinding together filled the air, drowning out the Jashinist’s frantic yelling.
Below the surface, his screaming faded into the suffocating darkness, his defiance giving way to terror as his nightmare became his reality. Buried alive, surrounded by endless silence and crushing weight, the words of his own taunts echoed back at him in his mind: Immortality isn’t a gift…it’s a curse.
Suddenly, a loud, angry voice penetrated through the darkness. “Hidan! Wake the hell up!”
Hidan jolted awake, gasping and disoriented. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to regain his bearings, his purple eyes scanning the surroundings with frantic urgency. Instead of the oppressive darkness of the nightmare, he was greeted by bright daylight and a very annoyed Kakuzu standing over him.
It took Hidan a moment to realize he was laid out on the ground in the middle of his ritual circle. The faint metallic smell of blood lingered in the air. His, of course.
“You fell asleep in the middle of your damn ritual,” Kakuzu growled. “It’s been thirty fucking minutes. Are you done yet?”
Hidan blinked, still dazed and shaking from the realism of the nightmare. “I…I don’t…” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Shut up. I wasn’t sleepin’. I was…prayin’.” Grabbing the spike in his chest, the albino man yanked it out with a spurt of blood and a grimace. He pressed a hand to his bleeding chest. Still alive. But his mind struggled to separate the fantasy from reality. The dream had been so vivid—the wires, the explosive tags, the falling boulders crushing him.
“You perform that damned prayer each and every time,” Kakuzu grumbled as he stared at a map to figure out the location of their next mission.
“A commandment is a commandment, ya ol’ bastard. It must be obeyed. It’s blasphemy not to.” Hidan’s retort died on his lips as a sudden wave of unease washed over him. His mind flickered back to the nightmare, sending his stomach into knots. He banished the intrusive thoughts away with a shake of his head. “It’s just a bad dream. Nothin’ more.” He muttered to himself under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothin’,” Hidan said quickly and pushed himself up, his sleeping muscles tingling with static. “Where ya goin’ next, ol’ man?”
Kakuzu didn’t bother looking up from the map, his bloodshot eyes scanning the marked routes. “The Land of Fire is next.”
All of sudden, a soft humming sound drew their attention, prompting both Kakuzu and Hidan to turn their gazes toward its source. It wasn't Yugito Nii reawakening for another round, nor a new foe about to surface; it was Zetsu, rising ominously from the depths of the ground.
“It’s done,” Zetsu’s white side announced, only for the black side to interject with a dry quip. “Finally finished your long-winded ritual, have you?”
Hidan let out an exasperated sigh. “You too? Y’all ignorant heathens, I tell ya wut.”
“Sorrow begets solitude. The only thing you can have faith in is yourself.”
“Wrong,” Kakuzu cut in, bluntly. “The only thing you can have faith in is money.”
Hidan rolled his eyes so hard he could see the inside of his own skull. “There ya go again! Ya know, it’s ‘cause o’ yer money-grubbin’ ways that we got delayed goin’ after the Jinchuuriki!”
Kakuzu leant forward from where he was sitting on an overturned wall. “If anyone has the right to complain, Hidan, it’s me. You said your religion would be profitable for the Akatsuki.”
“Enough, you two.” Black Zetsu interrupted the two quibbling partners. “Head out to your next hunt right away. Leave the Nibi to me.”
Neither Hidan nor Kakuzu were going to argue that, so they got up to start their trek towards the Land of Fire and the Fire Temple.
…
The night was spent in an Akatsuki safehouse on the border between the Land of Lightning and the Land of Frost.
The house was silent, save for the faint creaking of the foundation as the frosty wind howled outside. Hidan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the simple room. A small nightstand with a lamp, a wardrobe that had seen better days, and a single bed—nothing luxurious, but it was better than sleeping on the ground. Kakuzu had claimed the room next door, and his thunderous snoring could be heard through the wall. Obviously, he was as exhausted as Hidan.
Hidan dropped onto the edge of the narrow bed and kicked off his sandals before stretching, the tension in his muscles easing slightly after the long journey. But as he pulled back the blankets, he froze.
What if I have that nightmare again? Whispered in the back of his head.
Hidan scowled, shaking his head to rid himself of the thought. “It’s just a dream,” He said to himself, his voice firmer now, as though saying it aloud would make it true. “It’s ain’t real. Dreams ain’t real.”
The room was silent except for the faint sound of the wind rattling the window. Hidan glanced at the lamp on the nightstand, hesitating before turning it off. For a brief moment, he considered leaving it on, but the thought made his stomach twist with annoyance. What am I, a scared little kid? He scowled and flicked off the switch, plunging the room into blackness.
The darkness blanketed over him, suffocating and thick, except it wasn’t just darkness. It was dirt—cold and damp. It was pressing down on him, filling his lungs, his mouth, his eyes.
He tried to move, but his limbs were trapped, buried by the suffocating embrace of the earth. He clawed at the dirt, desperate for air, desperate for light, desperate for anything. But, the dirt pressed tighter, colder, heavier. Every attempt at freedom met with more resistance, more weight until his fingers were scraping uselessly at packed earth, his nails snapping off down to bloody quicks. The silence around him was deafening, broken only by the muffled thuds of more dirt piling onto him, burying him deeper and deeper, cutting off the faintest glimmers of light.
“No! No!” Hidan’s voice was hoarse, muffled by the earth filling his mouth. He coughed, spat dirt, and screamed again, his voice cracking with raw desperation. “Jashin! Jashin, save me! Help me, you bastard!”
But there was nothing.
The dirt shifted again, settling more firmly around him, pressing against his chest. His ribs ached, his muscles burned, and the weight of his own fear closed in on him. Tears streamed from his eyes, streaking through the dirt smeared across his face. He could feel it now—this wasn’t just dirt. It was the earth itself, alive, suffocating him, punishing him. Every breath he fought for was a battle he was losing. Every second stretched into eternity.
His vision blurred, his thoughts fragmented, and the only thing left was the horrifying realization that no one was coming for him.
Not Jashin. No one.
Then, suddenly, Hidan jerked awake, soaked in a cold sweat and gasping for air as his lungs burned for oxygen. He coughed violently, his body convulsing as his hands clawed at his throat, expecting to spit out dirt. But there was nothing—no earth clogging his airway. Just the cold, still air of the room and the faint hum of the night. He looked around and saw nothing but that same, suffocating blackness.
A quaking hand found the lamp beside his bed, flooding the bedroom with yellow light. Instantly, the darkness fled, but its oppression lingered in his mind. He sat up, scratching at his arms as his skin tingled with the sensation of a million invisible insects until his emerald nails shined with a fresh coat of crimson. He doubled over, his hands pressing against the edge of the bed as he fought to catch his breath, his heart racing. Sweat dripped from his forehead, mingling with the frantic tears that streaked down his face.
It was the same nightmare, that same fucking nightmare again; the claustrophobic terror of being trapped beneath the earth, suffocating in the silence, helpless in the face of endless darkness. He wasn’t used to this kind of raw fear. He was the one who laughed in the face of death, who taunted his enemies with his immortality. But now, this nightmare made him question everything he once took pride in.
Hidan’s hands balled into fists, slamming against the mattress as anger surged through him, overtaking the panic. “Is this some kinda test?!” He shouted into the empty room, his voice cracking with rage and desperation. “What the hell am I s’posed to do, huh? Prove my loyalty again? Spill more blood? What the fuck do ya want from me, Jashin?!”
No answer.
The silence that followed was deafening, as if mocking him. There was no warmth, no flicker of divine presence, not even the hollow comfort of self-delusion—nothing.
He gripped the silver medallion around his neck to say a quick prayer to Jashin, demanding guidance, a sign, anything to make sense of these dreams that had shaken him to his very soul. However, his throat tightened, and he felt a burning sensation against his palm. For the first time, he felt hesitation. He had never hesitated in prayer. It was as if something—or someone—was keeping him from Jashin’s presence, and he didn’t understand why. What if…Jashin was gone?
The haunting thought crept in, making him feel small and vulnerable—just like when he was a boy.
He buried his face in his hands. His rage simmered, and beneath it, a deeper, colder feeling began to take hold—doubt. He gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into his hair as he rocked slightly on the mattress, his mind a chaotic storm of anger and fear.
"Just a bad dream…" He whispered to himself. "That’s it…just some stupid, shitty dream." But, he was finding it hard to convince himself of that.
Determined not to let fear win, he reached a hand over to switch the light back off. But his hand didn’t move. He sat there for a moment, frozen in place, the phantom weight of the dream still clinging to his chest. Finally, with a frustrated exhale, he dropped his hand back to his side and flopped onto his back, glaring at the cracks in the plaster overhead.
He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, his muscles still tight with residual tension. But the second his eyelids shut, the memory of the darkness and the crushing dirt rushed back to him. He opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling as his chest tightened.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Yet, his mind refused to quiet. Every time he tried to let go, the phantom weight of the earth pressed down on him again, and he swore he could hear the muffled echoes of his own screams from the dream.
Needless to say, sleep never came.
…
Hidan was quiet.
Typically, he’d fill the silence with his tirades about Jashin or bragging about his latest "righteous" kill, but nothing. In fact, he hadn’t uttered since they left the safehouse at sunrise. Kakuzu glanced back at his uncharacteristically mute partner, noting how dark and tired his eyes were, as if he hadn’t slept in days.
"You look like hell," He muttered, half expecting Hidan to quip back with one of his lame insults. But the Jashinist said nothing, just shrugging, his exhausted gaze fixed on the path ahead.
The silence lasted between them, and for once, Kakuzu wished Hidan would say something.