#-- starter.

ＶＩＣＴＯＲＹ wasn't anything new to either of them. with every step, move, cut, death- each action & inaction inevitably always brought them closer to their goal. really, the perpetual cycle of living & living & fuck, living, grew almost tiresome at times- languidly pushing and pulling against the tide of what could be a quick legacy. but these two were condemned, cursed, blessed to have years on top of years over everybody they encountered. sometimes such a thing was looked down upon, as if immortality was a curse. something to escape.

but today was not that day.

winning never felt so good, hidan regarded fondly, flexing and unflexing curled digits as distinctive purple hues cherished the sight of the man laid out in front of him. a man so sure that he'd finally hold the key to hidan's death, finally rid the world of his preachings but- ah.. doesn't he know? doesn't he know what it feels like to be God's favorite? to be divinely protected? with the way his body curls, lifeless, not a slick quip retorted post losing- hidan is gonna guess, no, he doesn't.

but these are the kinds of things that await heathens ignorant to the pain of others. not an ounce of his body feels regret, or anything really, besides the pure bliss of shared death with someone who sought out his own. but he doesn't relish in this feeling as long as he usually would- he could spend hours here, a drooling mess, but there are more important things to tend to that isn't the death of one (1) shikamaru nara.

potentially, the death of someone else.

that's right. urgh. hidan's palm slaps ungracefully against his temple, chastising himself for even allowing the situation to play out this way. he had been tricked, again, by this fucking kid, again, and this time the consequences were the loss of his partner's heart. something he's sure, if kakuzu survived, he'll hear about for the next week if not month. he groans - loudly, stretching out his body following several reverberating cracks that seemed to echo in this forest. the same body that had been seconds from getting blown to bits. but in the end, he won. in the end, they always won.

well, that he had to make sure of.

phlegmatic limbs make their way back to the last place the fight had picked up. tired. achey. for both their sakes, he hopes the battle is over, and they can hurry up and go get something to eat. killing people really made him so fucking hungry. surprisingly, when he returns, it's silent. none of the little pup kids were running around screaming or being strangled, from what he could see and hear. orbs surveyed the area, gaze falling on the way most of the dust has settled by now. which can only mean two things.

he opts to call out, hands cupping around his mouth to amplify his voice-