[Kyodai Utsuwa]

The world beyond the temple was vast, expansive, and alien.

They had not set foot outside the grounds until the fervor had driven them. Not for years, and before accepting this divine calling, they had not set foot outside their homeland.

Now their bare feet traced paths in the roads that connected the villages. A virus in the arteries of trade, bringing sickness in order to affect a lasting cure.

The isolation and quiet was not new, but the faint sounds were. Instead of the rustle of books and scrolls and the sound of ink brushed on paper, they could hear the wind through the trees, distant bird calls, and the rhythmic plodding of their gait.

Utsuwa turned their gaze skyward, their face and head shielded by the tengai-gasa. Not that the sun stabbed at their eyes today. Dark clouds boiled overhead. Promising-

Rain. It started slowly: drops felt on an outstretched hand. But it built, and before long, a few drops had built to a torrent. The dust of the road turned to mud, and their threadbare clothing was soon soaked through.

Shelter. The thought occurred to Utsuwa, distantly. While they did not fear the suffering sickness would bring, it would not do to have their holy mission stymied. At least not without witnesses to Jashin’s providence.

Red eyes scanned the horizon, seeking a spot to wait out the storm. A sturdy canopy, a cave, a-

A light won Utsuwa’s attention, along with a tilt of the head. An abandoned cabin, dilapidated and rotting. And yet, a light in the window. Another traveler, seeking refuge from the squall?

The movement of their feet preceded their decision. Curiosity, fervor, and a desire to escape the rain has all pulled their strings, and Utsuwa was a willing puppet to these urges.

By the time Utsuwa had arrived, their clothes were soaked through, and even their hair - the tengai-gasa a poor defense against the downpour. They raised a hand to rap against the rickety door. It would be improper to simply barge in, after all. Wet and cold penetrated their clothing, but the would wait outside until they were answered, or it was clear that the abandoned domicile was indeed utterly abandoned.

[Muramasa Uemon]

a nation of laws

---

Rain, an uninhabited cabin, candlelight, petrichor on the faint breeze, and a lone figure trekking through mud...

Over the past several days the wanderer had been busy. A seemingly impossible encounter with that woman from the Tanjo that ended in a skirmish with a samurai from the Masamune clan, a wrecked caravan, and pointless death.

'Fate' a concept he had long since lost belief in, but the sheer number of coincidences he had been part of lately was almost enough to give him pause. Things ended violently and multiple casualties laid on the road back in Moku no Kuni, fresh for any pursuing force to follow from. So west, while not his true destination, was where he fled.

To throw off any would-be trackers and more importantly— as a precaution for Kota. He could go nowhere near his ward with a hostile force in tow. So under the cover of a brewing storm he retreated into isolation to wait out the danger. Finding a dilapidated cabin that would serve as shelter enough for the meantime. Per usual, he traveled light, taking with him only the bare necessities. If any of the Ishi-nin were actually foolish enough to come calling...

...he would be waiting for them all. Before setting up inside of the structure however, he went about setting up some precautions. Removing a few scrolls from a holster near his waist he summoned up his surveillance puppets, a rotund green frog and a white rabbit appearing in puffs of smoke via the Kugutsu Kuchiyose no Jutsu. It only took a swish of his fingers to command the hare up a nearby tree with chakra threads, making use of the Kugutsu no Jutsu so that it could lie in wait with an overhead line of sight to the cabin. "No surprises, this way." He thought as he promptly checked the exterior of the cabin before carefully moving inside to clear it. Date, the frog, leapt atop his shoulder as he opened the rickety door. The structure was old and dank, with only a dingy straw bed, a rotting wooden table, chair, and some dusty cookware inside. After some rifling around he managed to scrounge up a few candle stubs.

Any supplies had long since been looted, but he could always go hunting if needed. Once a lone candle had been lit he had his amphibian puppet hop down onto the table and pressed a button near its stomach, a screen there flickering to life. Inclement weather meant that Tsuki's microphone would be all but useless though the visual was adequate enough for the meantime. So he took a seat in the only decrepit wooden chair in the place and sat in wait. 

Time passed, and in the silence of the rainy afternoon eventually a lone figure appeared on the screen. Slowly shuffling towards the cabin. "Is that..." He wondered, squinting at the image. "A tengai-gasa?" Instantly he thought of Kumogakure and the disguise Shosuke had worn during their mission together. "A priest, perhaps... or a scout." If his bearings were correct, he was somewhere near Hō no Kuni. The wanderer did not know if it had a sizeable religious population of any sort but deception was par for the course for shinobi. If this was one of those Ishi-nin... then they probably were not alone. "I cannot sense anyone else." He thought to himself, clutching his katana's saya and slowly drawing it as a few faint knocks thudded against the door. "Still, best to be careful." Quiet as he could, he placed the scabbard on the tabletop, switched Date's screen off, rose, and crept slowly towards the cabin's front entrance.

His footfalls were quiet, barely making any noise at all. Positioning himself on one side of the portal he gripped the tsuka of his weapon with both hands, placed the tip of the blade against the old wood, and crouched down just slightly. Readying himself to plunge it clean through at a moment's notice. "...who goes there?" A single question.

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

There was an answer. A smile graced Utsuwa's features, concealed by the grille of the basket-like hat and the darkened sky.

"My name is like to have but little meaning for thee, but 'tis Utsuwa. A humble and profoundly unworthy servant of the all-welcoming and beneficent Jashin-sama," The introduction was cheerful and light, the small figure clearly not bothered by the fact they were soaked to the bone, and either ignorant or uncaring of the killing intent of the one on the other side of the door. The tengai-gasa dipped downward in a shallow bow, then narrow and sharpened fingers held the medallion hanging from their neck as way of evidence. It was possible, after all, that they had a brother on the other side of the door. Inquisitors ranged far and wide, after all. Though few exhibited such an air of... caution. "I would weather this storm here, if thou'rt permitting. Forsooth, I hath naught material of value to provide recompense, but should thou have a price, full willing am I to pay it, if able."

The tengai-gasa brushed against the door, as they stood directly before it. Not yet attempting to open it, but some of their paltry weight was beginning to press against it. "I could offer thee what few blessings I bear. A word of untested council. A receptacle of thy wrath, of unfettered instinct." They were remaining polite, but there was something of desperation in their tone. Not to escape the rain, not really. They had experienced drowning, hypothermia, and disease before. Meaningless obstacles without a witness. It was, in truth, a desperation to share their understanding, and to grow it. Who knew what the resident of this abandoned hovel knew? What suffering they bore, or could teach? If their soul cried out for obviation?

"But name thy price. Else strike me down as intruder. The choice is thine." Their voice was earnest, and their footsteps undisguised, despite being made with bare feet. No visible weapons on their person, and, should one be attuned to such things, barely a trace of chakra at all.

Rain and wind lashed at them, teeth chattering involuntarily as cold began to grip them. They remained otherwise still, awaiting a response, either with words, actions, or steel.

[Muramasa Uemon]

concealing a dark secret

---

In the brief moment of time before the response came, his grip tightened on his weapon's hilt.

One breath, one second could be the difference between life and death where ninja were concerned... but it seemed this stranger was not intent on harming him. "..." Silence was his initial response, his eyes narrowing on the door.

An odd speech pattern delivered a name and invoked a deity. "...and I thought I sounded stilted, at times." An artefact of his Tetsu no Kuni heritage. Sometimes, if he did not make a conscious effort, he found his words drifting back to that archaic way of talking that so many of his former countrymen used. "Jashin... that name sounds familiar."

Doubtless, in some old scroll that belonged to one of his mentors though he could not recall the specifics of the religion in the moment. He was no theologian, and his homeland alone had more than enough gods to remember. It took him several moments to consider his options... but eventually he stood up straight, held his blade at his side, and slowly pushed open the door. Watching for any sign of a threat as he finally came face-to-face with the stranger.

Slight in stature, dressed in a worn kimono, a basket covering their face, and sporting a medallion of some sort. An odd sight on a cloudless day... but in the rain they almost looked like some sort of yōkai. "Stranger than strange."

"No payment necessary." He muttered in response, eyes narrowing as he quickly scanned them. No weaponry that he could see, but if was going to share a space with them he had to be sure. "Are you armed?" The wanderer asked with a nod towards their kimono. With his blade still in hand, it seemed that this was a one-way restriction. 

The last thing he needed was to end up with a kunai in his back due to some paltry act of charity. If the traveler proved they were in fact weaponless, he would step aside to let them in. Keeping his eyes on them all the while as he closed the door again and gathered his thoughts. "...I take it you are a priest of some kind?" Eventually he asked, moving slowly to collect the scabbard from atop the table but making no other effort to sheathe his weapon.

Too many unanswered questions to ease his guard even a little bit. At least for the meantime he would reserve the majority of them. For their part, the stranger seemed plenty talkative. So for now he would merely wait and listen.

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Truly? Thy charity must lead thee to suffer," Utsuwa said cheerily. The implied invitation was accepted, Utsuwa still shivering from the cold, dripping water from soaked hair and clothes. Their movements were unworried, hands not raised in supplication or alarm at the weapon. The stranger was welcome to carve their flesh. If that was Jashin's will.

"My pack containeth barber's tools. Scalpels, needles, hooks. Not weapons in truth, but that which soothes also bringeth calamity." They brushed fingers against a small pack nestled into the small of their back. Large enough for a few compact belongings, but small for one as far from civilization as they. "'Tis not mine intent to take thy life, ye heathen. Yet shouldst thou wish it, full willing am I to oblige." Utsuwa drifted further into the abandoned cabin. It mattered not if their erstwhile companion struck them down, after all.

Back still to the other, they reached up to remove the tengai-gasa, then perched it atop a shelf. They clasped their hands behind their back, and turned back to the man. Rain-slicked hair obscured some of their pale features, but their red eyes, wide with innocent curiosity, were plainly visible. "Unworthy as I am, remaineth I a prophet of Jashin-sama. Charged with revealing the foundational truth to the heathen, and beckon them into restful oblivion, or service." The medallion was held up, as some means of explanation.

"What of thee? Art thine own strings pulled by divinity? By authority ephemeral? By the stirrings of thy treacherous heart?" A shiver crossed their body, the cold penetrating them. Disrobing would wait until this first curiosity was satisfied.

[Muramasa Uemon]

old and sinister

---

A word about charity and suffering sparked a hint of confusion in his gaze, though it was muted as his expressions tended to be. He said little as he watched the small worshipper, taking full advantage of their garrulity instead. 

First, there was assurance that they were in fact unarmed. "Empty your pack on the table." He said, his voice soft-spoken yet terse as he gestured towards the old furniture with his weapon. Trust was not something easily given and considering the tumult of the past few days, caution was not undue. "You are not hiding anything in there?"

More pointing, this time towards their kimono with the tip of his sword. Having just fought with some Ishi-nin had not put him in the most hospitable of moods. Despite his wariness though, he still could not detect any chakra signatures within his range... and oddly, the one right before him felt faint. Fainter than even the average civilian which lent some level of credence to their tale but he was, if nothing else, vigilant. It could just as easily be a ruse.

Just as there were those who could sense chakra, shinobi who could mask their own existed. "Heathen?" An echoed word in his mind as the alleged Jashinist told him they meant no harm. The title was not entirely false, he had long since abandoned any semblance of religion himself. But this felt... off. "I will judge your intentions for myself."

The wanderer spoke again, watching as the stranger removed the basket from their head to reveal waist-length black hair along with a pair of red eyes. Sharp nails, an eerie, crimson gaze, hair soaked through by the rain outside...

Now they looked even more like some creature than with the basket on. "A... prophet." He mused to himself internally, his naturally stoic face appearing just a tinge incredulous. He was no expert in seeing through lies, but at least they seemed to be sticking to their story. "...I am hesitant to ask, but what is this 'foundational truth'?"

If his assumption was right, he was in for an earful. As he watched them the shiver did not go unnoticed. His own clothes were all-but soaked through as well, but if he was feeling any discomfort, he did not seem to show it. A by-product of the training he had been subjected to in his youth, no doubt. After a moment of deliberation and as they asked their own question, he nodded towards one corner of the room where an old, rusted wood stove resided.

"Start a fire, if you need." He said, raising the saya still clutched in his free hand to slowly sheathe his sword. It took him a moment to weigh whether or not he should even answer, but then... "I guide my own hand." Not the divine, and certainly not any authority. Mention of a 'treacherous heart' did give him some slight pause, however.

Sheathed sword still in hand, he used his right to remove his hood, his own dark locks barely concealing a scar on the left side of his brow. Umber eyes appeared almost black in the shadow of the cabin, careful, and ever watchful.

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"And what wouldst thou do should I refuse to oblige thee, I wonder," Utsuwa mused, though they did eventually remove the pack and set it on the table. Unarmed and clearly at a disadvantage with a wary, bordering on hostile, host, Utsuwa clearly did not fear him. Slight hands extracted and laid out their meagre belongings. A carefully packed roll of surgical tools was unfurled, a simple and rather crude scalpel accompanied by forceps, scissors, needles, forceps, splints, a small bonesaw. Dangerous and razor sharp, but too fragile to be used as weapons, really. Another pouch was set next to it and the contents laid out. A small supply of medicine. Bandages, herbal remedies, poultices. A notable lack of painkillers, to the keen eye. Other than that, a trio of scrolls, in waterproof tubes, containing the teachings of Jashin, all branded by the triangle-in-a-circle, and a notebook bound together with a case for ink and a brush. Some vitals for travel as well - steel and flint, a spare kimono, a bowl, a simple mess kit, and various sundries. Seeds, nuts, and berries in a small wooden container. Hardly the equipment of a shinobi.

"I hath no reason to hide, and the strictures of my faith forswear the use of ambush." They said as they laid out the last of their things, open to inspection. The only things of true value were the teachings of Jashin, and they would welcome the stranger examining it for themselves. They stepped back, and began shrugging out of the outer layer of their drenched kimono, idly looking for some place to hang it, and to start a fire. They had teachings to offer, after all.

Allowing him to search their belongings, they began taking bits of broken furniture, and whatever wood they could take with their meagre strength. Gathering them in the fireplace to make a fire for the both of them. Small comforts emphasized suffering, after all.

"To answer thy question of the foundational truth, I shalt return it with another," Their tone shifted a little, from innocent wonder and curiosity to that of a scholar, or perhaps a teacher. "What is the one experience guaranteed to all those aware of the fact they draw breath?" Everyone knew the answer. The only true answer. The heathen merely suppressed it, ignored it, fled from it. But they knew it.

Utsuwa's task was to make them realize this.

[Muramasa Uemon]

a sole guarantee

---

A question was posed as to what his actions would be upon refusal, his eyes narrowing slightly during the pause...

Compliance followed soon after, but judging from the stranger's expression it was not given due to any intimidation on his part. "Now you can keep wondering." He muttered, watching the Jashinist remove their bag to reach in.

To his relief the contents were exactly as they described. Tools of varying shapes and sizes, some basic medical supplies, a set of old tubes, spare clothing, a notebook, some gathered food, and other essentials. Still holding his scabbard in hand, he took a few steps towards the table to examine their things, eventually fixating on the herbs.

Some of the contents he recognized— from past personal use in emergencies and other less savory applications that he turned to at times. "No willow bark? Ginger?" As he asked, he glanced up to meet their red gaze. The implication obvious enough in what he was getting at. A host of remedies but no pain-relievers. "Interesting." It was too early to assume much, but it definitely caught his eye. Soon they spoke again, claiming that not only were they not concealing anything, but that they could not. "That sounds... inconvenient." A quiet comment in reply.

All that he offered as he leaned his sheathed weapon against the table, close enough to draw it quickly if needed, and began examining the belongings more closely. Normally, he was not quite so unwelcoming. A bit aloof, perhaps, but as a wanderer himself, he was often greeted with a similar level of hostility which he thoroughly disdained.

"I cannot take any chances... not now." He justified to himself, fingers grazing the tubes on the table. The circumstances called for caution at a minimum, and hospitality had never been his strong suit anyway. One by one he opened the containers, not to read, but to check for any hidden arms or seals. "No explosive tags, no fūinjutsu formulae..." A good sign, though of course there were other ways of concealing things. Ways he himself used to secure an advantage on unsuspecting foes. Still... their cooperation was sufficient enough for now. "Scripture?" Internal commentary as he glanced over some of writings on the scroll. Teachings about their religion and its tenets from what it looked like.

Despite his wariness, he was mildly curious about this all and so he began to peruse them more in depth. Making sure to split his attention between the paper and watching the Jashinist as they moved in the background. As they removed part of their kimono and hung it up to dry he squinted at their figure. "No weapons, after all." It was something, at least. Next they moved to start a fire in the old stove, and in the time that their back was turned he took the opportunity to remove his own jacket and drape it over the back of the lone chair. Only a white undershirt protected his torso now, still damp from the rain bleeding through. Its bottom hem barely hid a holster containing several scrolls of his own secured around his waist. Again they spoke, and he glanced up from the parchment at the slight worshipper, unamusement in his gaze. "Answering a question with a question..." Clergy... always so roundabout.

Fortunately for them both he was a patient person, and combined with the fact that so far the stranger appeared to be telling the truth meant that he could humor them... for now. "Death." Was his initial answer— for his foes, for himself, and for everyone eventually. It was the sole thing assured to all at some point or another. But he kept seeing one word being repeated in the scroll's writing. "...suffering." The answer came curtly and quietly, dark eyes still observing them as they tended to the fire. He could only guess the answer they sought was this 'truth' they spoke of.

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"I hath no need of them." It was a blunt reply to the commentary on medicine. Medicines to dull the senses or relieve pain had no meaning to a Jashinist. And those heathen who found themselves under Utsuwa's knife... well, the pain of surgery was often the least of their concerns.

Utsuwa's own concerns were with the scriptures. Anything else would be easily replaced, and even though these were mere copies, they were handwritten. Securing replacements would be time-consuming and troublesome. But it seemed wariness had given way to curiosity, and Utsuwa paused to study his face as he read. The scriptures were an old and, to the heathen, unfamiliar history, telling the take of how Jashinism had come to be, and the mission he had come to fulfill. The elimination of suffering, the preservation of the world, and the elimination of perversions of nature. Of how Jashin would grant release from suffering to all, either through supplication or elimination.

Eventually, the firewood was piled up, and Utsuwa returned to the table, as an answer was given. An answer that caused Utsuwa smiled wide.
"Indeed. Suffering. Even a babe who perishes ere its first nameday suffers. Even a king who knoweth not but luxury suffers. We all suffer. Greater, lesser - all life suffers to myriad extents. Joy is ephemeral. Pleasure is not guaranteed. Yet all shall suffer." Utsuwa tucked their arms into their sleeves, and extracted their arms, letting to top half of their drenched kimono hang from the belt about their waist. Though still obscured by a mess of hair, their pale body was criss-crossed with scars. Cuts, burns, rope and chain marks. Even an unlearned eye could see the lines were too straight, too symmetrical for these to be battle wounds. These were deliberately placed, an artist using Utsuwa's slight and thin body as a canvas.

Utsuwa reached for the steel and flint. Slowly enough to not raise the alarm, just yet, but not slowly enough to wait for permission. "Suffering me and mine hath been freed of. Jashin-sama took us, and reformed us. Purified our bodies so that we may not know pain. Purified our minds that we may not know doubt." They laid their hand on the steel and flint, still staring directly at the young man. "Thou doubt mine words. Full willing am I to evidence these claims."

[Muramasa Uemon]

promised to all who draw breath

---

A slight raising of his eyebrow, barely perceptible occurred upon hearing the Jashinist's words.

Ostensibly, they had no need of healing herbs. "Folk remedies are not exactly a replacement for proper medicine... but this one doesn't strike me as the doctorly type, either." An odd thing, but no stranger than anything else they had said so far.

Perhaps there was some religious precept forbidding their use. Or perhaps they were a glutton for punishment, quite an  given how unbothered they seemed to be by demands given at swordpoint. "What are those for, then?" He asked them, glancing towards the remedies in an attempt to understand. Other people? Doubtful, given their words.

Not long after he answered their question, the worshipper grinned wide, their expression looking equal parts ominous and innocent. Unnerving to say the absolute least. "I believe I am in for a sermon..." The thought occurred as he listened to Utsuwa's rambling. Suffering is absolute, all else is fleeting, et cetera. In spite of his lack of faith, he did not necessarily disagree. Yet it was only when they disrobed further that their words were given the context that he sorely lacked. "You... really do not have to—" It was too late. Seconds later and they were topless. "Gods..."

Somehow, for some reason, clothes always seemed to end up off when he was involved. Utsuwa's lack of modesty did reveal something else however, and as fast as his dulled expression stretched in exacerbation, it sharpened upon seeing their form. Lacerations, restraint marks, old burns... all appearing to have been carefully inflicted. He too had his fair share of old injuries, but none like these. They were too neat and much too deliberately placed. Just the sight of them alone was enough to speak volumes. Utsuwa reached for something, and the wanderer's hand instinctively went for his sword, only to ease back once he realized their intention. Dark eyes watched them as he listened to their words intently. More talk of suffering, of being freed from its constraints and pain entirely. It sounded like...

Madness. Madness and zealotry of the highest magnitude. "Is that how they 'purified' you?" He asked, nodding towards their scarred body. Once, his mentor told him of the training he underwent as a SHUKAN Operative that involved interrogation resistance. "If so... what you are describing sounds more like torture." Closer, at least, than the sort of blessing Utsuwa made it out to be. Before now, all he knew of Jashinists were that they were reviled... and he was beginning to understand why. "I really should not have opened that door..." A thought as he skimmed some more of the scroll, only to have his attention ripped away by an offer. Proof to erase any doubt of their words. "..." The wanderer glanced to Utsuwa, then to the jagged steel. "...I would rather you not." Came a reply.

The last thing he wanted was some religious nut bleeding all over the floor. Before he could think or say anything else, several pings ripped through his head. Three, to be exact, at the bleeding edge of his sensory range. "Shinobi." It had to be judging by how clear the signatures were and how briskly they were moving. At first, he thought they might just be a patrol... until they began moving exactly in their direction. "How?" The wanderer thought, quickly replacing the scroll in its tube and closing it up. "I did not leave any tracks this time..." Days ago, he had to carry someone else which explained how the Ishi-nin trackers found him then. But while unencumbered he always stepped lightly—

Months of training and focus served to eliminate that particular weakness. It took only a few moments before it finally dawned on him, and a glance towards the worshipper's bare, muddy feet told him all. "...of course." If he were the type, he might have sighed aloud. But there was no time for that now. "We are about to have company." He muttered quietly, rounding the table's edge to reach for the frog puppet that still sat there. With a click of a button, the screen on its belly hissed then turned on, revealing an elevated view of the cabin's exterior. "If they are who I think, they are hunting me." The wanderer squinted as he leaned on the table and peered at the screen. No visual yet, but he could feel the trio of unknowns drawing closer... which meant he had only minutes to prepare for them. 

Unfortunately he did not have enough supplies to set any effective traps. "Battle it is, then. Again." A tinge of frustration simmered inside of him. He was unrested and underprepared... but he did at least partially anticipate something like this happening. The choice was no longer his. "Assuming I am right... they will be expecting an accomplice, too. I doubt you will be spared." He explained, standing up straight to retrieve his sword from the table. Utsuwa was not the Tanjo they sought, but he seriously doubted that mattered to a squad of jumpy ninja. He glanced at Utsuwa, then drew his blade in one sharp motion. "...can you fight?" A question came. "If not, run."

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Cleaning of wounds. Treatment for sepsis. Aggravation of nerves. Poultices to aid the knitting of flesh and bone." Most of those were things that a doctor or surgeon would want to have on hand. Most.

They had not disrobed with the intent of showing their scars - their clothes were simply soaked through, sapping their warmth and making their movements sluggish. Being immune to death and pain did not mean they wishes to invite pneumonia or hypothermia. They took the steel and flint, crouching down to start a fire. An act they clearly had practice with, timing the strikes to not miss the young man's words.

"The eldest were done for education," Utsuwa traced their gaze along an arm, where jagged cuts made exacting patterns across their skin. "The greatest for sanctification," They were likely referring to the massive circle-and-triangle on their back, put there by a red-hot blade. "The newest for atonement and edification." They blinked, the sparks beginning to catch on the kindling. "Canst thou name it torture in truth when it causeth not pain? When it brings naught but surety? Nay, 'twas torture but once. Terrible. Unbearable. Necessary. Now sacred frivolity." Yes, their cloister had tortured them, when they were still a blind and foolish child. How they had wailed and gnashed their teeth. But it served a greater purpose. One only desired the cure when they knew themselves to be sick.

Even the alarmed tone did not seem to phase Utsuwa, They finished breathing life into the nascent flame, then thrust their hands back through soaked sleeves. "Thou'rt hunted? Passing strange, for one possessed of thy charity." Their smile was lazy, perhaps even teasing. They were unarmed, and their slight form was hardly threatening. But there was a shift in stance, weight shifting to the balls of their feet. Their hands remained at their sides, but it was something approximating a fighting stance.

"'Run?' Wherefore shouldst I fly?" Amusement sparkled in their eyes. "'Where art these enemies mine; when I claim death for an ally?'" They quoted, though the quote would have no meaning to his still anonymous host. So few had read the scriptures, let alone the commentaries. "Shouldst ambush be thine intention, prithee, make haste. I am compelled to announce my presence and the name of Jashin-sama ere the battle is joined." They would not run, and they could not hide.

Not a trace of fear in their heart, nor face, nor voice.

[Muramasa Uemon]

suffering; boundless

---

Their explanation for having the remedies in their possession only led to more questions arising— were they healer, or injurer? "To mend without relieving pain..." He considered the implication. "If nothing else, it would create more suffering..."

It was the only answer he could think of that made sense... according to their doctrine, anyway. As they knelt down, he could see clearly the extent of their ritualistic disfigurement. The rune carved on their back drew his eye most of all. "Sanctification?" Of their body? 'Extreme' did not even near a descriptor.  "...perhaps it is a good thing I no longer pray."

Worship had only ever been something he did out of tradition, and never with this much zeal. "Frivolity..." He repeated, any revulsion in his face mostly masked by its natural stoicism. "...to each their own, then." He breathed.
 
Misgivings aside, he was in no place to cast judgement. Of all the things that affected his life, divinity was least among them. Besides... he was no morally righteous person. Plenty of blood had been shed by his hand at this point, and plenty more was yet to be spilt. If someone wanted to subject themselves to torment— so be it. In some ways, he too walked a similar path. Full of pain, tumult, and violence with no guarantee of benefit to himself at all.  

Like Utsuwa, he was devoted to his way. Unwilling to stray far, and too deep to backtrack. A sideways glance was all he offered the Jashinist as they spoke again of his 'charity'. "Yes, well..." It was hard to tell from their unsettling smile whether or not they were ribbing him, but he assumed so. "Not everyone appreciates it, I suppose."

He could snark too, when he needed. The wanderer watched as the small worshipper's stance shifted slightly to simulate readiness. It looked... unimpressive. "...this one does not stand a chance." He thought with a shake of his head. But the choice was theirs and every second wasted was one he could have used to set up. As the Jashinist continued on, he tossed his scabbard on top of the old straw bed and flicked a finger. A thin, nearly-translucent wisp of chakra materialized from it to command the frog on the table to hop onto his left shoulder via the Kugutsu no Jutsu.

Utsuwa seemed not only determined to stay, but also utterly incapable of hiding. "Have it your way." A muttered word as moved towards the cabin's back window. Rain still buffeted the cabin, pouring down in torrents from atop the old, thatched roof. He glanced at the screen on his shoulder, then towards the tattoo on his left forearm. The visage of a three-headed serpent now plainly visible without his jacket. "In is still too damaged to use with Yō, and any explosions from Tsuki's bunshins will probably only bring more of them running..." A light frown crossed his face as his eyes narrowed on the dark ink. Ishi-nin were never meant to be its intended target, but... "I may have no choice, now."

Both of his other creations were still under construction, so he would just have to make do. Still frowning, he propped a foot on the windowsill, glanced one final time at the Jashinist, then leapt through the small portal out into the cold rain. Immediately the downpour soaked him to the skin, but paid it no mind even as his hair stuck to his face and his clothes sagged with moisture. In one bound he cleared the muddy ground behind the cabin and made it into the tree line— so as not to leave foot prints. There was a slight quickening of his heartbeat, a dilation of his pupils, and an uptick in his focus as adrenaline began to course through his veins. Battle was approaching...

...and now he had to ready himself for what was to come. "Thirty seconds." An estimated as he skirted around the edge of the forest. The signatures were drawing nearer, and he would have to be in position before they got here. It took him only moments to find a thicket of brush and duck within it. "I need to see what I am up against." A thought, his dark eyes shifting to Date's screen. Slowly, as cautiously as he would dare himself, a sole silhouette appeared on the camera. "They are already fanning out..." The storm masked all but the loudest of sounds, but he could tell from how the figure moved they were versed in stealth. None made even a splash as they surrounded the cabin, and they communicated with each other wordlessly, using only hand signals to direct their advance. "...and they are well-trained."

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Jashin-sama offers unto thee a release from pain and suff'ring also, heathen." Utsuwa beamed, clearly proud of the canvas of horror their body had become. Many acolytes had perfected the art of torture with their body. Understanding the anatomy, how to cause pain without dangerous damage. How to make even healing agony. So that more could understand the magnitude of Jashin's eschatology. But perhaps this serious young man needed a demonstration? That their words were no idle boast?

They had no great strength to speak of. It was not power that Jashin offered, but liberty. One way or another.

Utsuwa watched him prepare and surveil with amusement and an utter lack of understanding. Ninjutsu was mere blasphemy, so they knew nothing of its function. Utsuwa was curious, tilting their head as he pulled on strings, and revealed tattoos. Something about how he stood made Utsuwa's fingers twitch. How much suffering would it take for him to accept Jashin?

But there were more heathen to reveal the truth to, and they had already made their hostility clear to their host's mind. There was nothing preventing working with the heathen for the greater good. And if those hunting him were strong, they would make potent offerings indeed. Utsuwa shivered with excitement. If the two of them were up to the task, then Jashin would surely smile down upon them. "So fearful, so afraid for thy life. Come, and bear witness to this simple fact: all art bound to suff'ring and death, yet 'tis of no moment to Jashin-sama's devoted," Utsuwa's tone was teasing and relaxed, clearly not nervous at all. Their build was slight, they were unarmed, clearly had no power or ability with ninjutsu, and their stance was hardly one of a hardened martial artist. And yet they boldly retreaced their steps to the front door, swung it wide, and strode out into the wind and rain. They glanced back at the sword-wielding stranger, smiling widely, before the wind caught the rickety old door and slammed it shut.

Utsuwa turned back to the woods. It was dark, and rain lashed their body and eyes. They could hear no footsteps, see now shadows. But they believed the stranger when he had claimed that the hunters were here. Their blood would make a fine offering unto Jashin, and they found themselves impatient for them to appear.

While their bare feet squelched in the mud and water, they raised their voice to cut through the din. "Ye sinners, ye blasphemers, ye heathen! Rejoice! Cometh I to thee in the name of Jashin-sama, and offerest thou release from the endless suff'ring the world bringeth to thee! Come to me, and be released!" Their offer was largely complete by the time they had reappeared in the wandering puppeteer's view, standing atop a stone, with their arms open wide. As though inviting an embrace.

A decision utterly bereft of any tactical thought, though it would likely make for a distraction. Particularly when they began to sing.

"Foul child; bastard and beast! O lost lamb; first to the feast! Come, claim if thou'rt able; a place at this table," There was a certain joy in their words, and, even through the storm, it was clear that Utsuwa was actually fairly skilled at singing. Perhaps more skilled at that art than combat, though they were still ready to do combat, as inexperienced as they were. "Mild and meek; down on thy knees! Thy life, they seek; 'tis time that they feed! Thy heart it raceth; thy blood runneth cold. Thy fractured will, whispering: 'Fly away! Far away...'" They turned their face skyward, a wide and innocent smile spreading across their face. "Here be lions..." They showed no signs of stopping, and they stood and sang, inviting whatever harm these supposed hunters had for them. It wasn't quite a song of worship, but it was certainly tinged with religiosity.

It mattered not what they did. Even should they grant Utsuwa final death, it would not matter. As long as they understood even a sliver of Jashin's grace.

[Muramasa Uemon]

two flashes of steel

---

An offer of release, of the same kind of hallowing that Utsuwa had undergone reached his ears. "I will pass."

The wanderer's straying from the old gods had been a quiet thing. Unceremonious, as his worship of them had been in the first place. Tradition, blessings— these things may have had some slight meaning to him once, but no longer...

...and he certainly did not abandon the pantheon of his homeland just to flock to some sadist's idol. The Jashinist spoke some credo and strode out to meet the advancing ninja directly. "That is suicide." He thought as he watched, but theirs was not his life to save. Besides... "If nothing else... they might serve as a half-decent distraction." Callous, but true.

In his current state, he was going to need every edge against them he could muster. Through the window, into the downpour, and inside of the underbrush he went. Dark eyes peered out from concealment, keeping track of where the shinobi traveled within his sensory scape, waiting for his moment... until a voice cut clear through the storm. "What in the—" Shock, though muted, crept across his face as his gaze settled on the source. "...you are kidding."

Utsuwa was standing atop a rock, holding their arms out and screaming a challenge into the rain. "Insanity." In his youth, he had known samurai to sometimes forsake the element of surprise to do battle 'honorably' which was foolish enough, but this was on an entirely different level. "Forgoing an ambush is one thing, but this..." Some rustling cut his thoughts short as one of the figures passed near the bush. Breath caught in his throat as he held completely still.

Quiet as he could manage, watching them pass without so much as blinking. "I could probably take this one out... but if the others hear, they will fall upon in seconds." For now, his best bet was to allow them to regroup. Up close he could see that the figure wore a short waterproof cloak, though even its modest hood could not mask the slight gleam of their hitai-ate. "Definitely shinobi." An assumption proved right, and judging from the dull-colored flak jacket peeking out of the bottom of the fabric... "Chūnin, at least." Not good for either of them. His sight narrowed as he followed their movements, all three of the ninja eventually rallying near the source of the sudden disturbance. They approached cautiously to crowd the small priest, all brandishing their weapons of choice. And then, abruptly...

Singing. "..." To everyone's collective surprise, it sounded... good. Though the hymn's quality was more than a bit overshadowed by the sheer ridiculousness of it all. The wanderer observed the ninja keenly, standing in wedge formation with who he assumed was the leader at the fore. "That one is stronger." A thought... then a series of movements. Silent, deliberate sidling out of concealment followed by brisk flanking along the tree line. Each of his steps were carefully executed, but even had they not been, the rain and the belting of the Jashinist provided more than enough noise to mask them. His advance was as swift as he dared, and as he drew near parts of a conversation could be heard over the song. "...Jashinist?" One asked. "Not... target." Step by step he moved, his hand tightening around his weapon's tsuba. "I'll put an end to it." The leader said, now clearly identifiable as a woman.

Kunai flashing into her hand from within a sleeve as they stepped towards Utsuwa. "Keep on singing." He thought, picking up the pace. Not out of any desire to save the small worshipper— but to capitalize on the distraction. In the instant after the ninja slashed at the Jashinist, the wanderer closed the distance on the leftmost shinobi, bent at the knees, and thrust the tip of his sword into their back via his Tsuke. A cry of pain came after a spray of blood, then panicked gasping as they struggled for air. "Now that the odds are a little more even..." Immediately the others turned, only to witness most of a katana's blade protruding from their comrade's chest and a soaked stranger glaring coldly at them from behind the ninja. Recognition shone in their expressions and they tensed up to strike. "...battle, it is."

---

SPOILER: Click to show

OFFENSIVE TECHNIQUES:
NAME: Tsuke [Thrust]
RANK: C
CHAKRA USAGE:Low
CLASSIFICATION: Bukijutsu
REQUIREMENT: Slashing/Bludgeoning Weapons
DESCRIPTION:
One of the most fundamental moves of the Rōtetsusen-ryū. After drawing one's weapon the user then readies themselves for an instant before delivering a dazzlingly fast stab towards their target. Because of the neutral stance this technique comes out of this single stab can be aimed at many different areas and performed from different directions. Versatile and capable of piercing armor.


SPECIAL ABILITIES:

KASHIRA-WARI・首割り - ENHANCED CHAKRA CONTROL
Puppeteers must maintain expert control over their wide selection of puppets, and so too must a shinobi with their chakra. Necessary for his Puppet Ninjutsu and applicable to his other techniques, Uemon has trained extensively in order to mitigate the amount of chakra he uses with his jutsu. Compensating for his average chakra reserves this allows him to stay in the fight that much longer.

TSUKURIMONO・作り物 - INTELLIGENCE
Stage and setting can make or break a performance. A director needs vigilance and flexibility to ensure all the moving parts of a play go off without a hitch. A learned strategist with a quick mind, Uemon is always observing even in the midst of combat. This allows for him to find gaps and weaknesses in his opponent's techniques easier than some, and allows him to formulate strategies and deceptions to take advantage of these shortcomings. A knack for tactics cues him on which approach works best depending on his target.

ASHIZUKAI・足遣い - SPEED
Operating the legs of a puppet requires dexterity and agility. Much like moving one's own body. As a child in Tetsu no Kuni Uemon trained in Jujitsu and Kenjutsu, finding his aptitude for speed rather than strength. Honed after years on the road with his mentors, Uemon is surprisingly light on his feet and his hand-to-hand strikes are faster than most expect. Able to strike and weave with deft swiftness he is capable of holding his own against Taijutsu specialists of his rank and outright overwhelming those of lower ranks in terms of speed.

SHOMEI・署名 - SENSOR TYPE 
Lighting is a crucial part of any play. Identifying the actors and drawing focus to them in the dark. With much training Uemon has become a Sensor Type, able to detect and hone in on chakra signatures akin to a sixth sense of sorts. A useful tool when it comes to tracking or surveillance. As of now, he is capable of passively sensing chakra up to one hundred meters from his body, or one kilometer if actively searching. This also allows him to more efficiently utilize his puppets without needing a direct line of sight to his targets. Knowing the placement of actors on stage at all times is essential.

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

Lifting their long of lament and challenge into the air and onto the wind, their prey and predators came to Utsuwa. Their smile widened as they continued to sing, fearless in the face of imminent death. Outnumbered, outarmed, outpowered. It mattered not. They would cut Utsuwa's flesh. Perhaps grant them final release. It mattered not.

Everything was as Jashin willed.

The kunai darted towards them, in a simple slash. It cut through their soaked clothing, and carved a line across their chest. Deep enough to open multiple vital blood vessels. A mortal wound. They staggered back with the force of the strike, and the pair was distracted by their host driving a blade to the hilt through one of their compatriots. Utsuwa smiled ever wider, ignorant of pain. Impervious to wounds.

"Ware the night;" The song continued, and Utsuwa moved suddenly as battle unfolded, darting forward, hands raised in a stance that reminded one of snakes coiled to strike. Hands formed into piercing points. The numbers even, and surprised by the fact that the strike had struck true - Utsuwa was certainly no clone, based on the amount of blood mixing with the rain - and yet had not fallen, the battle would turn to a pair of duels.

The female ninja, at center of the group and closest, turned to Uemon, to avenge their wounded comrade. The kunai flicked towards the swordsman's eyes in an accurate throw, but it was a feint. A pair of handsigns, and then a thrust triangle of hands directed at the Iron Lander. A trained eye would recognize it as Inazuma no Jutsu - Lightning Technique. Projecting a bolt of lightning directly at her ambusher while his sword was still occupied.

Meanwhile, Utsuwa charged at the other, eyes wide, still singing. The chūnin brandished a kunai, shaking off the shock of a mortally wounded and singing foe directly charging at him, unarmed. "With each bite doth thy sanity die!" The kunai was thrust forward to arrest the charge, taking advantage of the superior reach of even his short weapon, considering the difference in height. Utsuwa did not dodge, simply raising their left arm, and accepting the kunai between their radius and ulna, twisting it out of his grasp. A precise and clearly practiced maneuver, not one of desperation. A martial arts technique, even though the way to practice it was clearly insane. Insane for those bereft of Jashin's blessings.

Utsuwa thrust a hand at the extended wrist, but their opponent was not so green, and the shock had worn off. They withdrew their hand, the other darting out with a follow-up and thrown kunai as they retreated, wary of the small fighter's strange abilities.

The kunai found its mark, piercing Utsuwa between the eyes. There was a stagger, a twitch, and a moment of silence. "Drawing out life, permitting the dark within," The singing resumed. Blood ran down their face and arm, and the masked chūnin's eyes widened in horror as Utsuwa slowly and deliberately plucked the kunai out of their body, and left them on the ground. "Say a prayer as the light leaves thy eyes!" They adopted a fighting stance again, their song becoming more and more joyful as their eyes radiated the madness of a true zealot. "Scream all thou wish; thy gods shan't hear thee!"

SPOILER: Click to show

Relevant Jutsu:

NAME: Raiton: Inazuma no Jutsu [Lightning Release: Lightning Bolt Technique]
RANK: C
CHAKRA USAGE: Medium
CLASSIFICATION: Ninjutsu
ELEMENT: Raiton
HANDSEALS: 2
DESCRIPTION:
This technique is probably one of the most basic Raiton Jutsu out there that deals with actual lightning. The user will first perform the needed hand seals in order, then make a triangle with both their hands with the finger tips as the vertex and two thumbs acting as base. After which, the user will then begin to focus their Raiton Chakra to the Single Point while targeting the opponent within the open Triangle palm as they begin to channel chakra to the mid-point of the triangle. Then user will then pulsate a single bolt of lightning towards the opponent. The damage the bolt can deal is substantial, able to scorch a tree while leaving a dent at full power.

NAME: Hone no Junkyōsha [Martyr of Bone]
RANK: D
CHAKRA USAGE: Very low
CLASSIFICATION: Taijutsu
ELEMENT: None.
HANDSEALS: N/A
REQUIREMENT: Death Prevention
DESCRIPTION:
An utterly foolish technique for anyone save a Jashinist, this technique attempts to catch a blade between the radius and ulna, allowing it to completely pierce their forearm, then twisting their arm. If successful, this would disarm their opponent, while also rendering the arm effectively useless until the blade was removed.