Out of the hole (rewritten)

Chapter one

The wind carried a cold crispness throughout the deep woods. The trees stood tall, unmotivated to move, despite the unforgiving pounding of the air. The branches swayed, though they were not showing much generosity when it came to showing the reflective moon, determined to keep the woods in a blanket of dreadful darkness. The ground covered in bugs, marching along in paths. Leaves, roots, and other unknowns had marked the ground, declaring the messy and unpredictable nature of the forest as its own.

'Lucky bastard.' The tall man thought. Though, it was a debate to really call the so-called bastard lucky. He was trapped in an unloving hell, stuck in a place were the bastards unclean mind was becoming more and more stained. The unforgiving banging of his circumstance. Yet someone was coming for him, the bastard was lucky someone cared that much.

The stitched man sighed, quietness was putting him on edge. The only noise that could be heard were the noises he made. The sounds that could tell anyone else who might of been listening at this ungodly hour of the night where he was. The unsinkable threat made his nerves flare.

No matter how tired was or he may get throughout his journey he would have to fight if he was caught. The fact that it was not a guarantee was also biting.

He knew where he was going, yet the forest was unfamiliar to him. He had grown use to walking down the same path that lead to uneven dirt. The same destination he'd walk to and back each night. He never carried as much as he wanted on his way out, however there wasn't much he could do. The pieces were all scattered and the hours he could safely gather them were very few.

Then, at last he found it, a large patch that was filled with fresh sole. It wasn't easy to see, it was only a mound of earth, but the grass was still in its infancy, and it wasn't as covered with debris as its surroundings. After all the hole was dug into again and again then refilled.

He placed his hands on the ground, threads unraveled themselves from his scars. The strings burrowed down deep into the loose soil. They searched under the ground, burying themselves farther down. Wiggling snd slithering lower and lowers through the maze in the earth, as he tried to ignore the flies constantly droned, while leaving eggs that would eventually to eat away any life.

Finally one thread found it, a mushy texture. The last piece of a disgusting puzzle had been located. The string wrapped itself safely around the maggot infested flesh. He lifted it up as far as it could go, before it hit something hard. He moved his fingers, chasing after the the string as if it was a dotted line on a map. Small rocks and dirt crawled under his fingernails. The dirt gave way fairly easy, soon replaced by large stones. With a grunt he moves the jagged, heavy, rock up and pushed it to the side. The stone clanging against each other made the world seem less safe. As if an unknown beast had growled a hungry snarl.

He looked back at the string, going through a small hole in under the stone he has moved. A smile spread on his face as he saw it. Small ropes of a sliver reflected whatever moonlight it could grab. All of his work was almost complete. The end goal now insight. Relaxation splashed over his body followed by calms dragging him back.

The rocks were now loose enough for him to simply yank the string out, but he didn't want to risk it. The mushiness of the broken body might give way, he might be destroyed when pulled through the small hole. So instead he pushed them aside.

Finally, he saw Hidan. In probably the worse state his ever seen him in. The almost translocation lids opened halfway reviling almost white irises. It was only a moment before they shut again. Once again Hidan had lost consciousness. Kakuzu sighed, the weight of everything escaping with it. He was unable to see all of Hidans features in the weak glow, but he could tell the harshness of nature got to him.

He smelt of mold and shit, you could feel the bugs moving beneath his rotted-black chunks of skin. Once his fully awake it wouldn't take long for the worms to die out, Hidan had been infested before.

Once Kakuzu stood the unnerving spikes of where he was slashed back into his skin. He didn't bother putting the hole back to how it was. To do that would be wasted strength he didn't have. He gripped Hidans hair close to his scalp, noticing how long it had gotten.

His feet moved heavily. He knew about the shadows that were under him. This would be a playground for someone like Nara. An unlimited source to tap in to.

The quiet murmurs of the head in his hand didn't help. In the pure silence it rang out like a bullet. He'd break his larynx if it wasn't more work he'd have to take care of later. The elderly man just listened to the indistinguishable babble drooling out of the younger.

He paused, there was something else. Footsteps folllowing behind them. They weren't close, however it was clear he was caught. He remained still, the darkness cloaked him, to move now would only reveal his position. The footsteps stopped as well, just a few meters away. Silence sat between the two, until the man behind spoke.

"I don't care who you are, drop the fucker and go." The demanding voice was familiar. It belonged to Shikamaru Nara, the boy who buried Hidan. The teen spoke pure venom, poison dripping from his lips, burning the ground beneath him like acid.

Kakuzu turned, hand shoved in his pocket. He came prepared. He yanked out a medium sized rock. He tossed it far, out of the way. While the skinny boy ran after it, Kakuzu rushed. Speeding the rest of the way out of the woods. To safety.