note: very quick and blatant inanity from me before NaNoWri

In the dark, Hidan is a ghostly specter at his side.

His body is mostly broken now, save for his threads.

It doesn't happen often—never, he corrects—but sometimes it still does. Kakuzu is careful, precise in his fighting. He cannot be put back together as easily as Hidan; his body breaks, it takes time to heal. He may stitch a wound closed, but it is still there, raw, painful.

Hidan is not a true mercenary, so he is still alive. There is no sport in it, killing someone who is already half dead.

He lies here now, in their little camp hours away from any other soul, with only Hidan's white face and white limbs for company. He is waiting, Kakuzu thinks, but for what, he does not know. His face, it's concerned, predatory, Kakzuzu cannot place it. It is not open, he can only theorize blindly. Together, they both wait.