Pain, unending, searing, agonizing and excruciating, filled the shinobi's senses. Yugakure no Hidan was of course familiar with the pain which accompanied detonation. All the ninja of the world learned of exploding tags as Genin, there were multiple ninjutsu of Fire which utilized eruption as a motivating principle, and of course there was his lengthy association with Deidara. For most, having a limb blow outward to fleshy fragments or suddenly growing a dripping, gory hole where there used to be the unblemished skin of an intact human torso would be debilitating, perhaps even fatal. Hidan wasn't at all like most ninja, though. He was undying, immortal, invincible.
"And yet, defeated" came the horrid little thought yet again. It was enough to make Hidan scream in frustration, if only the tonnes of rock and dirt pressing around him would let him open his mouth.
Indeed, being blown to bits was no actual threat to the Akatsuki's existence. He could always put himself back together, dust himself off, and return to battle as he had dozens of times before. But not this time. This time, that dour-faced Konohagukure brat had put the immortal Hidan into a predicament so dire he would never again see the light of day. And the pain, which should have vanished in moments as his impossible body cohered itself back from the slivers of meat it had been pulped into, was never going away. Truth be told, every sharp-pointed rock or rough patch of dirt now abrading his raw and exposed nerves did hurt, almost unbearably. What was truly unbearable, though, was the pain of defeat.
(OOC: something like this, SoundNinja?)