Resurected

A warm summer breeze swept past as the last of the dirt and gravel gave way to pale, damaged hands. The once supple flesh that covered them had been tattered and, in its place, bone pierced through and blood seeped from where the nails no longer were. Those hands, strong hands despite there lack of use, gripped at the earth in a mad frenzy for freedom. The ground resisted and yet it was no match for the man to whom those hands belonged. A man struggling to be resurrected. In one final pull, he brought himself up to the surface and out of his now empty grave. Air poured down his lungs, drowning him in oxygen and his chest rose and fell in quick succession.

It took a while for the immortal’s senses to adjust. His ears were used to silence, his eyes to darkness, and his skin to the icy chill of cool dirt and rain water. The brightness of the sun mixed with the humidity made him sick, yet, once his breathing had steadied, he grew calm. For a time, Hidan remained like this, quiet save for the sound of his heart pounding wildly against his chest. He ran his hands and feet over a patch of grass, letting it slip in between his toes as he laid down on his back. Hidan listened to the wind blowing through the canopy above and the sound of birds singing and grinned. It wasn’t necessarily that he enjoyed those sounds, any normal day he wouldn’t even had noticed, yet today was different, today he wasn’t buried under thousands of pounds of rock and dirt. Even the unbearable heat of a summer afternoon pleased him in a way it hadn’t before. Hidan was free.

As the man’s vision returned, color and all, his ruby-violet eyes darted from every tree, bush, and flower, hungry to see anything other than darkness. He was surrounded by life and it made him feel like he was a part of it. A thing living. He stared at his hands, the skin already beginning to seal up and he thanked Jashin for allowing him to be whole again. Whatever punishment that his god intended for him by throwing him in this dirt prison, the man had come out on the other side alive and for the most part well. Hidan glared up at the blue cloudless sky, then back down at the green grass. This place really was beautiful from above. The mound of rocks, caused by the explosion was covered with small white wild flowers and pale yellow grasses that swayed lazily in the wind.

Hidan was so lost in thought that he hardly noticed footsteps, quiet and pensive as a man approached from behind carrying a bundle of food in his hands and a small knife at his side. However, months of silence had sharpened his ears. The immortal rolled onto his stomach and stood at once, bringing his fists to his chest, and struggling for balance. He wasn’t going to go back in that tomb no matter what, even if it meant slaughtering the whole world. Or in this case a young man whose food now lay scattered on the ground as he jumped back with surprise. The man was a shinobi, or so Hidan believed based on the headband he wore around his neck. At most he had seen all of twenty years. The boy stood at a medium height, had short blonde hair, and was adorned with bright green eyes that were full of confusion and an ounce of dread. He stared dumbstruck at Hidan, who was naked before him, then at the grave with the crumbled hole from which this zombie had risen.

Hidan didn’t wait to jump at the other, snarling fiercely as he forced the shinobi to the ground with weakened limbs. Strands of pale sliver hair fell into his eyes and he noticed for the first time how long it had grown, nearly past his shoulder blades. The immortal fought to get the mess of dirty tangles out of his face while he wrestled with the other, his hands grasping at the shinobis throat. The young man was wheezing and tearing at Hidan’s arms with one hand as his other searched for the knife. Quickly, his fingers found it, and, in a flash, the iron blade was sinking deep into Hidan’s ribs. Hidan cried out as the man pulled it out and struck him again a little lower, pushing him to the side so that he could get on top of him. With all that his tired muscles could offer, Hidan held the mans wrist as the ninja tried pushing his knife into the franticly beating heart beneath the immortal’s chest.

There was no way that Hidan could win this with his bear hands, not in his current state. He skimmed the ground searching for something, anything, while his other hand still pushed at the knife with failing strength. It was unto Jashin that Hidan gave praise when he felt a rock, large and rough, rub against the back of his hand. He grabbed ahold of it and in one swift motion, let go of his grip on the man’s wrist, the knife digging into his chest, and smashed the rock into the side of the man's head. The shinobi fell to the ground, unconscious, blood staining his golden locks. Hidan felt the rush of adrenaline course through him. He raised the rock high above his head and with both hands brought it down on the others face, smashing it in. As he pulled the rock back, blood splashed onto his bare chest, and it encouraged him to strike again. The body twitched with every blow, filling him with long forgotten bloodlust, yet as the flesh and bone turned to pink mush, the body began to still and Hidan grew tired.

The immortal breathed heavily and removed the knife from his chest with trembling hands. Blood and brain matter dripped down his body, creating red streaks against his muddy skin. His eyes were wide and wild as they darted around the grove looking for any other threats, but there were none and once again things were quiet. Hidan shuddered as he looked over the other mans face, he had gone overboard, although not for his standards he supposed. He felt reborn; baptized in the ecstasy of his first kill in a long time. Then it occurred to him, though not intentionally, Hidan had gotten himself a perfect pair of clothes, clean (for the most part) and undamaged. The situation truly couldn’t have worked out any better had he planned it.

It only took Hidan an hour and a half to gather himself together. He had picked up the dead shinobis food and scarfed it down, grateful to be eating again. Then, with that gone, he searched the mans pockets finding an average sum of money, a contract which stated that the man was too guard Hidan’s tomb, and some credentials. All of which would come in handy for later. Both the headband and the credentials pointed to the fact that the ninja was from the Village Hidden in the Leaves and the contract was signed by the Hokage himself. After taking everything of any value, Hidan stripped the dead man of his clothes and buried the body in his old tomb. The immortal snickered as he threw the last of the rocks over the shinobis corpse, a joke he would carry with him for an eternity. It didn’t take long for him to find a small creak either, where he washed off years of dirt and grime from his body with cold clear water. He used his fingers to comb out the knots in his hair and though he thought of cutting it, he figured that he could use it as a disguise, being fairly unrecognizable with the long locks covering his face.

Once bathed, Hidan dressed himself in the strangers clothing. Despite the pants being slightly short, everything fit fairly well. He would be able to fit in like this, maybe even go unnoticed. The immortal tied the headband around his arm and let his thick grey hair fall freely over his shoulders. He had to come up with a plan. Something that would get him back on track. First, he needed food. His body was craving to be full again and his tongue was desperate to taste, starved from years of malnourishment. He also needed to find out where he was going to go. Who was still alive. If they would take him back. If he even wanted to go back. Of course, there was no rush, though, Hidan had all the time in the world. He turned on his heel, placed his hands behind his head and whistled a cheerful melody.