Mori ran. There was a clarity to his vision that made every second feel like a sharp knife against his throat. He ran through the carnage left from the battle, registering every splinter of wood from the fallen trees. Every leaf that had fallen to the ground. There were lashes cutting deep into the ground from where Kakuzu's tendrils had struck, thin lines where he could see the roots of the forest laid bare. He saw everything that he ran past at once in perfect detail. None of it seemed real.

He only looked back once, to see curls of smoke rising in the distance where he'd left Haruka behind. Every instinct in his body screamed at him through the numbness to turn back to her. But her last words to him were still ringing through his head. Mori heeded them. He kept running.

He couldn't think. He could barely feel. His body chose his path for him as he stumbled his way through the chaos until he reached a part of the forest that hadn't been touched by any of it. Still he didn't stop. It didn't occur to him that he could.

Mori barely noticed when his legs finally gave out from under him. He saw the ground approach in slow motion but couldn't make sense of what was happening in time to catch himself.

If not for the sunshine pouring in from behind the treetops, Mori would have thought no time had passed when he finally came to. The need to run was still all-consuming, a sharp panic pumping through his veins.

He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself and almost inhaled the foliage he was lying in. Mori coughed and spat, then pushed himself off the ground into a sitting position. He gave breath another try. It only took a few seconds before the pain registered. Once it did, all other thoughts and sensations were swept away as the pain rang out its message clearly, stabbing, pulsing, stinging. His shirt was sticking to his side, still wet with blood. Mori held his breath and gently prodded at the gash in his left side through the fabric, following the thin line from the middle of his ribs down to his stomach. He groaned out in pain, then bit his lip to hold the expression back in, as the movement disturbed the cut across his face.

Only the wound across his side was deep enough to need stitches. But first he needed to clean it. Mori reached for his pack only to realize it wasn't there. Everything he needed was still back at camp, if there was anything left of it to be salvaged.

For a moment he was paralyzed by the reality of what happened. There was no camp to return to, no safety, no…

Mori bit deeper into his lip. He refused to form the rest of the sentence in his mind.

Instead, he weighed his options. This wasn't the time to be anything but practical. He was in the middle of nowhere, with no way to tell if he was still in Grass, or if he'd crossed the border in his escape. He had no idea how much distance he'd covered before collapsing. If he backtracked, he could rummage through the campsite and get a chance to recover a first aid kit. But going back was a risky move. Kakuzu could be catching up to him at any moment. Mori needed to put more distance between them, not less.

On the other hand, without supplies of any kind, he wouldn't last long in the wilderness. He could make do for a short time if he was lucky. If his wounds didn't get infected. But it would be more difficult to survive in the long run with nothing but luck on his side. Mori prodded his wounds again, assessing them more carefully. He was still bleeding from his side, though thankfully not at an alarming rate. But without treatment, he'd soon get into trouble.

He was still more likely to survive blood loss than Kakuzu.

With his decision made, Mori tore off his shirt sleeve and turned it into a makeshift bandage. It was by no means good enough, but nonetheless it would have to do. Getting up to his feet took more effort than he thought it would. Once upright, he pressed a hand against a tree to steady himself. Even his arms felt wobbly.

The woods still appeared to him in perfect clarity, but his tunnel vision was gone. It was easy to see which way he'd come from. Broken branches, mussed up grass, spatters of blood that had dried into the foliage. By the end of his escape, he'd obviously been too delirious to hide his trail at all. Sloppy. But at least he wouldn't back-track by mistake.

Mori let go of the tree and took an uncertain step forward. When he didn't immediately fall, he pushed on, leaving his mess behind. It wasn't worth the time it would take trying to cover the tracks he'd already left. He'd just have to be careful not to leave any further clues behind.

After only a few hours of walking he was lucky enough to come across a stream. His knees almost buckled as he sank down to drink. The second he tasted fresh water on his tongue, he realized how parched he'd been before. It felt as if the inside of his mouth had been coated with a layer of sawdust. After he'd splashed some water onto his face to clear the blood away, Mori caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water. He stopped dead in his tracks and met his own gaze in shock.

His eyes shone red.

Mori blinked but the visage didn't change. Sharingan eyes stared back at him wide open, then fell into a haggard listlessness as they faded back to black. Maybe it should have been a profound moment but all he felt was a stabbing pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his injuries. He turned away from the stream and got back on his feet. He kept walking.

It took days before he made it out of the woods. With his wounds, he could only move at a slow pace, and even that sapped his energy to almost nothing. The initial burst of adrenaline that had allowed him to run was long gone. Mori suspected he'd only been a hair's breadth away from complete chakra exhaustion after the fight. Just walking felt like pushing himself through cotton wool.

By all rights he should have already been found and killed, but he'd seen no signs of Kakuzu. Mori didn't know what to make of that. Tracking him down should be a piece of cake for someone like Kakuzu, yet here he was, still alive. That could only be the result of sheer dumb luck. But he shouldn't count on that luck lasting for long.

It'd taken a while for him to orient himself and he still wasn't sure exactly where he was when he made it onto a road. By his rough estimations, he was somewhere in the northeast of the Land of Rain. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad, or where he should go next. Haruka was the one who decided such things. Mori's role was merely to follow.

Haruka had imprinted upon him a list of places to avoid, but none that were safe. Before the attack, their plan had been to go to the Land of Wind. But that was no longer an option. Mori wasn't accustomed to the desert and wouldn't survive it on his own.

He stood by the side of the road for a time, weighing his options. All he needed right now was to get someplace where he could trade the meager contents of his pockets for medical supplies. It didn't matter where he went. Nobody was waiting for him anywhere. He might as well pick a direction on a whim.

Mori did just that and resumed walking. The dirt road was worn and well-walked, but he saw no other travelers in either direction. He was all alone. As he staggered on, the sun hid behind dark clouds, growing dimmer with each passing moment until darkness reigned. He wasn't surprised when rain began pouring down a few hours into the night, quickly turning the road into a muddy mess. This was after all the Land of Rain.

By the time morning came, he was a shivering wreck. He could barely curl his fingers. Every step forward felt like pushing a wagon full of bricks through mud. Every part of him was cold and numb. Mori wanted very badly for it all to stop.

But he knew that he'd reached such a state that if he stopped, he might not get up again. He had to convince himself that the time for rest would come. It would come soon. But not until he reached safety. Until then he had to keep putting one foot in front of the other and force himself forward.

It didn't take long before his tenacity was rewarded. Early in the morning hours, after coming around a curve in the road, Mori saw a house in the distance. He picked up his pace.

It wasn't until he stood outside the door of the small farmhouse, ready to knock, that Mori realized he had no idea what to say to whoever was behind it. But before he had a chance to think up a story, the door swung open. Mori stumbled backwards, almost falling to the ground.

A thin young man looked down at him in shock. The bucket he was holding dropped from his grasp and fell into the mud. He turned his head and yelled into his house. "Dad!"

"What is it, boy?" a gruff voice replied.

The young man gestured helplessly, and Mori heard the floorboards creak as someone stood up and sighed. Then an older man appeared in the doorway. His eyes locked onto Mori at once.

"Oh no. We don't take in charity cases around here. Can't you see our fields are barren?"

"But dad, he's hurt," the young man said.

"I ain't blind, son. But we can't waste what little we have on a lost cause." He turned to Mori. "Now get."

Mori gave him a pleading look. "Please," he said. "You don't have to give me anything. But please let me stay until the rain passes. I promise I won't be a bother."

The old man scoffed. "This is the Land of Rain. It could rain for months upon months without the skies clearing even once. I ain't willing to keep a stray mutt like you around that long. Try your luck somewhere else."

With that said, the man stepped backwards. Mori flinched at the sound of the front door slamming shut. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Mori wiped the rain from his forehead in vain. How far away was somewhere else? Would the next door be slammed in his face as well?

"I'm sorry, he's a real ass today" the young man said, taking a tentative step toward Mori as if approaching a wild animal. He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. "Come on, you can stay in the barn with the chickens. What my old man doesn't know won't kill him."

"Thank you," Mori said. It came out almost like a whimper.

He trailed behind the young man, who led him across a sad-looking field to the barn. The roof of the small shack had almost caved in, and inside it smelled heavily of mold. But it was wonderful to finally have shelter from the rain. Mori curled up in the straw, not caring if the chickens might peck at him. All he wanted was a moment's rest.

The young man put down his bucket under the worst leak in the roof. "I'll go get you a blanket and some old clothing of mine as soon as I can without my father noticing," he said. "I'm Koutarou, by the way. What's your name?"

"Mori," he mumbled, too exhausted to remember that this was something he was supposed to lie about.

He didn't register Koutarou's reply, already drifting off into sleep. It felt like only moments had passed when hands gripped his shoulders, carefully shaking him awake. Mori tried to lift his arm to bat them away but could barely make it twitch. He blinked a few times, forcing himself to pay attention to what was happening. It felt like the entire world was tilting.

"Hey, let's get you into something dry before you go back to sleep, okay?" Koutarou said softly.

He really was a kind person. Not at all like his grumpy old father.

Mori didn't try to resist as the young man manhandled him out of his sopping wet clothes and patted his shivering body dry with a towel. Koutarou gasped when he saw the cut in his side.

"Oh shit, what happened to you? That must hurt a lot."

It did, but Mori didn't really want to think about pain anymore. The wound had stopped bleeding a while ago, but its edges were still ragged. The last time he'd checked it, he'd had to squeeze out white pus that had been building up inside. The area around the wound had swollen to almost double its size, accompanied by heavy bruising. His ribcage had pulsated with pain, any deep breath sharpening it into agony. Mori did his best not to focus on it, but now that it'd been called into attention it was a hopeless cause. Like being told not to think about a pink elephant.

Koutarou paused with his hand just above the cut and Mori heard him swallow nervously. "Let's get you dressed," he said. "I, uh, will see if I can make you some bandages for that?"

Mori nodded. That was a good idea. Koutarou shouldn't be so insecure about it.

Once he was dressed in Koutarou's old clothes and swept up in a large blanket, he felt a little better. But he could still barely keep his eyes open. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep again once the young man had left him with a promise to return later with food and bandages.

Mori was slowly sipping broth from a cup that Koutarou had brought him when he heard someone approaching the barn with heavy footsteps. It didn't sound like his new friend, who always moved quietly and demurely, as if afraid to upset the ground he walked on.

Despite getting an early warning, he didn't have enough time to hide before the door to the barn burst open. A full two days had passed, and so had the worst of his weakness. But Mori was still far less mobile than usual. All he could do was sit quietly and look up at Koutarou's father where he darkened the doorway.

The old man scowled at him as if he was looking at a particularly nasty cockroach. But instead of addressing Mori, he turned around and yelled. "Koutarou! Get here you little shit! Did you think you could fool me, huh, boy? Think you could disobey me and get away with it as if I'm too old and stupid to notice?"

Mori heard Koutarou jog over to them and stop a short distance from his father. The old man gave Mori one final look of disgust before turning to face his son.

"I'm sorry, father," Koutarou said quietly. "I understand if you need to punish me for my disrespect."

"Oh, I will. Now make your little pest go away before I do." The old man spat at the ground, then stormed off.

Koutarou walked into the barn, his head firmly downturned. Mori could see him struggle to keep his lips from trembling, either from fear, sadness, or perhaps anger. He didn't know him well enough to tell.

Mori gripped the wall for support and got up on his feet. "I'm sorry for getting you into trouble," he said.

"Don't apologize, it was my decision. I couldn't leave you to your fate, and I'm glad I didn't," Koutarou said, looking up to give him a sad smile that quickly subsided. "Besides, he'd find a reason to punish me anyway. He always does."

"I wish I could repay you somehow, but I don't have anything to give."

"That's alright, kid. Just take care of yourself, will you?"

Mori nodded. "I'll do my best."