Akatsuki Drabbles

I'm a pizza driver and I delivered to someone in the middle of a ritual (Hidan)

It was just another night. A little longer than you would have liked, as you had had to cover someone's shift, but still, you couldn't really complain. You did hate this job, true, but it paid the bills. Just until you got a better job in the career you wanted (whatever that may be). And when you had been given the choice, delivery driver seemed better—to you, at least—than simply working in the shop. You hated dealing with a lot of people. Let alone in food service with their ridiculous demands, and at least no one expected you to be chatty and upbeat. Sure, there were always weirdos, but you didn't have to deal with them long—especially in neighbourhoods like this one.

You didn't have far to go for your next one, and you knew the apartment building well enough. So finding a nearby parking space, you checked over the order to make sure you had the right one. That pizza may have been for a regular, but you'd never actually delivered to this place before, so you wanted to make sure you got it right. With that settled, however, you looked over the address and as you stood up with the pizza you glanced around, picking out the direction you needed to go and making your way over there. The song you had previously been listening to in the car popped back into your head as you went up the stairs, and you found yourself humming it quietly as you went along the corridor, looking from the numbers on the doors to the piece of paper you held in your hand and back again. They barely registered in your thoughts, knowing they weren't what you were looking for and therefore not worth paying attention to—until you finally reached it and came to a halt in the front of the door.

You paused only for a moment before you knocked, freezing as you abruptly heard something smash and then a stream of curse words. Cringing at the idea you might have caused something to happen, you decided to give him a little extra time to deal with it, only for the door to fling open a few seconds later. Flinching slightly at the force with which it opened, you weren't sure how to react at first at what you saw. You'd seen a lot of shirtless guys answer the door during your career, but you'd admit he had to be the best one yet. He was a little rough around the edges, with slicked back hair and a strangely intense stare, but he could definitely pull it off—and you liked it. But you didn't get a chance to do anything more as he instantly turned and disappeared into his apartment, leaving you standing there bewildered as he called out,

"Just put it on the table, would you?"

Pausing, you weren't sure how to proceed considering he was a stranger, but there was something about him. Whatever force it was that called you, you gave into it, feeling strangely excited as you walked inside to place the pizza on the table. As the door closed behind you, you finally noticed how dark it was in here, and turning around to find a source of light, you abruptly froze at what you saw. Whatever you had been expecting, this was not it. The furniture had been pushed to the edges of the room, markings had been drawn on the floor and candles placed in strategic places, leading you to decipher this was, in fact, some sort of ritual. Shattered glass was in a pile near the middle, indicating what had happened when you knocked, along with some sort of knife...which looked like it had blood on it. You'd almost forgotten he was even there until he greeted you, causing you to spin to face him, immediately taking in the bandage on his hand.

"Yeah. When you knocked it kinda fucking surprised me...dropped the knife. Cut myself. At least I fucking got pizza now, right?"

He couldn't stop himself from grinning. He wasn't ashamed of what he'd done, of course, but there was how you would react to take into account. Looking you up and down, he attempted to guess what you'd do, but there was no fear in your eyes, and he was curious. Nonetheless, he hadn't quite predicted you to question bluntly,

"That's not Satanic, is it? I don't recognise the markings."

Raising an eyebrow at that reaction, he took another look at you, impressed. From there, however, the encounter was weirdly—disappointingly—normal. He shook his head to your question, instead asking how much the pizza cost. You told him the price, handed him the receipt to sign as proof, and with that you said goodbye, automatically smiling back at the smug smirk that appeared on his face. When you finally got back into your car, you took a moment to reflect, looking at the receipt to check his name and blinking in surprise as you found his number, along with a note.

You better be my delivery driver next time. 

Most people in this situation would have immediately put him on the no delivery list. But as you started up your car and left, you could only laugh.

That was a special request you'd be happy to make.