[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Many times, I assure thee. Though I remain mine most common patient," Utsuwa said with a hint of mirth. They resisted the urge to drive fingers into the wounds, to cause agony, so that the wanderer could see. Perhaps another time, when they were presented with a better opportunity.

"I knoweth not a precise number, and would not share it with an infidel even should I possess such knowledge." The unbelievers were to be pitied, to be saved, to be brought into the light. But they were also often enemies of Jashin, by their own choice. "But I shalt tell thee this; most of our cloisters art small, and hidden. Some of our number art bold, bravely loosing the heathen from pain. Most quietly beckoning the suffering into Jashin-sama's embrace." Their work was precise and well-trained, but there was no attempt to mitigate pain. Quite the opposite - Utsuwa has learned to stitch flesh while causing as much pain as possible.

"Prayer is not sufficient, ye heathen. Prayer, supplication, devotion, dogma - necessary, but lacking." Were there those that followed Jashin whilst eschewing His gifts? It was possible. Deeply unlikely. "One must needs offer up the sacred-and-profane spark that burns within the body. 'Chakra,' as thee and thine name it. Forswear its use for the evocation of unholy magicks, and dedicate it, and thy body, soul, and mind entire, up to Jashin-sama. That He may grow strong enough to break the chain of suff'ring and regret." They finished stitching the last of the wounds that needed it, and began to bind it, then other lesser wounds, with those scratchy and irritating bandages.

"Shouldst thou desire it, I can lead thee on the path. Jashin-sama demands much, yet granteth more." Utsuwa offered up a hand, to take the injured and charred hand and examine it.

Electrical injuries like this were not commonly encountered. A pity they would never know its pain.

"Suff'ring is a poor companion. As it strengthens, it weakens. As it builds, it breaks. Believe thee me; life is better without." Their expression was sad, even pitying. A pity they had temporarily forsworn the swiftest route to free this man.

They brightened as the subject returned to them and the path I had walked. "Ere I entered into Jashin-sama's grace, I was blind, deaf, and foolish. A child, literally and metaphorically. Then I was taught the capacity for the body, the mind, the soul, to suffer. The comforting illusion was stripped away, and the glorious truth reveal'd. That suff'ring is our fate indeed, but that fate can be frustrated. Should be frustrated." They rose, to return to their tools and the scant medicines they actually had on hand, as they formulated a treatment plan. "Gladly did I cast off my name, my family, my petty ambitions. What art such things in the face of the salvation of all men?"

[Muramasa Uemon]

a matter of faith

---

Amusement tinged the priest's words as they reassured him of their skill, and their stares did not go unnoticed.

Given half the chance, he felt that the Jashinist might make an attempt at 'freeing' him of his own suffering like some wounded animal. "I best sleep lightly." He thought cynically, though he tended to do so regardless of company. 

'Infidel' they labeled him, and it was not an incorrect title. "You 'would not'..." A mocking narration, his ears already leading him towards what he sought. "...and yet you have told me enough." Concealed enclaves of priests, some like Utsuwa, others more hostile. "...I thought your scriptures forbade hiding." He said. "Or is it only ambush?"

A foolish commandment in either case, and something he might have considered a contradiction had he not understood the necessity for it. Repression existed in many forms— and a wicked religion such as this would no doubt be a prime target for such measures. "Though, if they cannot die..." His gaze glanced once more to the Jashinist's many scars. "...what are they fearful of?" Doubt had shaded his entire interaction with Utsuwa, and after a bit of contemplation it only grew. Words like 'undying' and 'deathless' were make-believe, stories to tell the unfaithful.

Truly immortal beings would have no need for such caution. "Even Yamata no Orochi had Ama-ga-fuchi." He thought to himself. "Even Shuten-Dōji, his mountain." Hiding places of impossibly strong beasts, necessary because even despite their power, they had fear. Death, his original answer to Utsuwa's first question, was the only true assurance in life.

Anything could be killed... even, and especially, monsters. "Chakra..." An echoing of the priest's word, wincing slightly as his wounds were bound. Irritation grew with each passing second, but even still, the priest's odd methods were preferable to bleeding out. "So... you sacrifice yours, devote yourself to Jashin, and are freed?" Stranger and stranger this process grew, but his mind was still moving. Attempting to understand the many different implications as they came. Considering the opportunities to be had. So long as the number of Jashinists was more than one, they could be useful to him. "And if you break this sacred vow?" He asked, offering Utsuwa them his burnt hand with a slight grimace. Though it no longer smoldered, the raw wound throbbed with his every breath.

The flesh on his palm and some of his fingers was split open, likely to result in a scar. "I admit, I am... curious about your faith." He avoided the answering whether or not he desired the path. "Perhaps." Came his reply to their words about suffering. "But then, a fickle companion suits me just fine." As they inspected his wound, he listened to their tale. Vague and full of innuendo, their method of telling it was similar to how he spoke of his own past.

Revealing without explicitly saying and leaving others to interpret as they wished. "On that, we agree." He replied to the bit about frustrating fate. A concept he once believed in, had strayed from, and now thought irrelevant. If it somehow did exist, he would disregard it, for fate would not determine his path's end. Steel, blood, and will would.

No god, lord, or man would decide that in his stead. "You have no regrets?" The wanderer asked, watching them closely as they stood to peruse their tools. "No doubts about what— or who you left behind?" A question.

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"We art called to proclaim and defend our faith, and to bring pain and understanding to the heathen within our grasp. We art not all called to confront and find the heathen. And we art not called to be fools." It was a nuanced discussion, that would require them to dig into centuries of theology. The Inquisitive Order was the spearhead, but the Prophetic Order was larger. Each fed into the other - the Inquisitors carved deep scars into the world, and the Prophets sought to fill them. And that required some subtlety. "Believe thee me, this repartee would not occur were I an Inquisitor."

"If the vow be broken, we art stripped of the blessing until we repent. Or so I am told - I hath yet to stray from the path." The laws were demanding, but difficult to break by accident. No, breaking one was either a lapse in moral judgment, or an act of apostacy. Perhaps the former Shinobi within their ranks felt the temptation to use their prior arts as well. "But yes, indeed, the blessing resideth within. Forsooth, thou hast seen this for thyself, hath thee not?" The wound in their face still leaked blood.

The admittance of curiosity caused a giddy energy to overtake Utsuwa, and they returned to the traveler with tools and a broad, toothy smile. The knelt down, taking his hand in one of theirs, and the scalpel in the other. Carefully, they carved away blackened skin and anything else that could not be salvaged. Working hard to take no more than they had to.

"None. No regrets." Whether or not it was true, it was plain that Utsuwa believed it. "Ah, but there be a prickle of sorrow. That my former family labors without Jashin-sama's guidance. But I feel that selfsame sorrow for those such as thee." After carving away the ruined and charred flesh, the next step was to use a stinging solution to cleanse the open flesh. "Wherefore doth thee treasure thy suff'ring, thy blasphemy, so dearly?"

[Muramasa Uemon]

in one's gods, and in one's self

---

More information, this time in the form of a correction. Apparently, Jashinists were not forbidden from hiding from heathens, only from ambushing those in their presence. "It all sounds foolish to me." He thought to himself...

Though he would keep his personal opinions to himself, for now. "Inquisitors... are your faith's warriors?" A question came, his eyes still watching the priest closely. To hear them tell it, if their devotion wavered and they used chakra, they would lose this immortality. "I do not know what I have seen—" He paused. "What I'm seeing."

Since the fight began, he had fallen back into his old speech patterns. An artefact from his past that resurfaced when he did not actively focus on altering it. A bit of minor annoyance at himself flickered in his features, then faded. 

Then, his eyes strayed to the wound on Utsuwa's face. A lethal injury if he had ever seen one... yet here they were, standing, walking, talking as if it never happened. "A blessing..." He thought, allowing the priest his hand, watching as they smiled and brandished their tools. "...if it is not a jutsu, then what else could it be?" A trick of the eyes? Some lie?  

Cool metal touched his burnt flesh, he inhaled trough his nose, then grimaced as the scalpel bit into his damaged flesh. "Gods, it hurts." He thought to himself, doing his best not to twitch too suddenly as the Jashinist worked on him. Pain not just in his hand— but his shoulder, chest, and face where he was struck. The bandages itched, and Utsuwa carved away the dead skin on his palm, slicing as cleanly as they could, still smiling. "They probably enjoy this."

Jashin seemed the type to encourage this sort of thing, from what he understood. At one point, the knife almost got to be too much... but then Utsuwa spoke. Helping to distract him even as a bead of sweat trickled down his brow. "You... don't miss them?" He asked, near ready to breathe a sigh of relief as the scalpel left. A question about suffering sounded like a buzzing in his ears as he looked at the raw flesh on his hand. "It—" A barely-stifled hiss interrupted his words as the solution drenched his hand. It burnt almost as bad as the jutsu itself. "...keeps me sharp."

Now, his voice was low, trying to mask the agony he felt. "Allows me to... do what I... need to." The wanderer gripped his wrist with his left hand, leaned forward, and looked down. His breathing was sharper now, faster, and he wore a muted glare on his face as he focused on his hand. "My suffering... reminds me... of my purpose."

It sounded so dramatic when spoken aloud, but in his mind, it was simple. Spite drove his actions, fueled by the very same thing Jashin strove to erase. Radical measures he could respect, impossible goals he could understand, but he needed to hold onto his own suffering. Without it, the wanderer would be nothing but a shell, and if that happened...

...then all of this was for nothing. The training he put himself through, the years of waiting, the lives he took. "It has to have meaning." He thought. "It must." Glancing at Utsuwa, his eyes were equal parts pain and resolve. "That's why."

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Indeed, they art. Prophets, like unto mine own self, to beckon and welcome the unbeliever, and to guide the blessed. And then Inquisitors, charged with teaching the heathen of the depths of the world's cruelty, and to deliver them from its cruel grip." Utsuwa admitted such things casually. They were, broadly speaking, a hidden order, but that in and itself was a contradictory. They were charged to proclaim the beneficence of Jashin. Let the others hide - Utsuwa would teach and educate. Perhaps even Uemon, in time. "'Tis passing simple. As thou hath borne witness, I and mine art immune to death's sting, to suff'ring entire. There is naught more to comprehend." What else was there to say? Any more detail would bury the truth in unhelpful minutiae.

They had barred themselves from torturing the wanderer's body, but that did not spare them from the most basic form of suffering. Pain. A suffering that transcended language, understanding, and cognition entirely. The body understood it, even if the mind could not.

Perhaps, through their ministrations, the wanderer's curiosity would grow. And then blossom into a desire to also be free from suffering.

"Kyodai Utsuwa, who stands before thee, hath no family, save for this fraternity mine. Let that be thy answer." Utsuwa answered somewhat cryptically. The topic of themselves - of Kuroyama Rin, to be precise - was of no interest to them. Better to end that rabbit hole with an unsolvable riddle. They focused on their work for a time, ensuring the wounds were cleaned and free of deadened flesh, and anything that would risk sepsis or gangrene. They had promised to heal the body, and they would. In the hope of receiving a capable brother in due time. Penance could be paid at another time.

Utsuwa showed no pity for the wanderer's pain, and did not halt or slow. Apparently fairly used to working on squirming victims.

"Thy purpose?" Utsuwa mused, placing the cleaning solution to the side, and taking out that same irritating but curative poultice from before, and began to daub it carefully on the burns. The flesh was too ragged to stitch. Lightning certainly carved curious wounds. "If such a purpose be built 'pon a scaffold of suff'ring, is not suff'ring means and ends both?" Utsuwa smiled again, though it was tinged by genuine pity. "Thou'rt caught in the cycle of pain, of strife, of agony. The wounds thee inflict art reflected 'pon thee. Thy struggles art in vain, thy purpose void. I pray that thou wilt see this, ere thy life comes to its well-earned end."

They began to wrap the treated limb in more of those rough and scratchy bandages. "Thy hand and limb requireth time to heal - the burns runneth deep. I recommend convalescence, and the cessation of its use, shouldst thee wish for a hasteful recovery." They paused for a moment, then smiled again, more broadly, more joyfully. "Thy soul, only Jashin-sama may heal."

[Muramasa Uemon]

is a sword, its own

---

'Simple', they said, after some more clarification about their faith's dual orders. "There is nothing simple about an elusive group of zealots who can seemingly cheat death." He thought, wondering about the mechanics of it all, of loopholes...

All of his ponderings only hindered by the pain he felt. Perhaps, that was what set the two of them apart most of all. Utsuwa seemed unwavering in their pious beliefs, whereas he had little faith in anything or anyone aside from himself. The wanderer's only convictions stemmed from intimate knowledge of his own steeled determination.

That, and his willingness to go to any lengths to see his goal accomplished. "Kyodai." The word echoed in his mind as soon as it left the Jashinist's mouth. "It must be some sort of 'holy' title." His thoughts were beginning to blur, and he felt the desire to lash out like a wounded animal might. Yet... the more he pondered this, the more uncomfortable it became. Just as Utsuwa left their family behind, so did he. Religion had not appealed to him since he was a boy, and still he was wholly devoted to a higher, grand purpose. "...did you choose your path, or was it forced on you?"

A question, the only fault in his gaze occurring from his wincing as the priest tended to his hand. While he stared at Utsuwa, he was not entirely sure what to make of them. "This priest is mad." He thought to himself, fully understanding that trying to logic out a fanatic's beliefs was as irrational as faith itself. To be so absolutely certain in anything was foolish. "And yet..." Resolve was something he admired in most every case. Without it, he would be lost. 

So here he was, begrudgingly humoring a lunatic he would have otherwise shown the door. As the flesh of his hand was cut, cleaned, and treated with more of that poultice, he continued to listen. Averting his pained grimace eventually after an inquiry about his purpose and its self-fulfilling nature. "It may be both." He muttered quietly.

Voice still tinged with discomfort, his wounds itching. "...but that doesn't matter." The wanderer glanced at his hand as Utsuwa bandaged it, brow furrowing. "I'd give my body, my mind, my life to see it done." He said, looking to his shoulder, chest, then scarred abdomen in turn. "I intend to." Utsuwa was right in that it was cyclical.

Hirohata no Jinzashin had a family, as did Mononobe no Noriyaki, the men at Uda-ke, and those shinobi turning cold out in the rain. And now they were all dead, the suffering he inflicted no doubt fanning the fires of revenge... and it mattered not. "Mm..." He grunted in reply to Utsuwa's prognosis. "Thank you." Despite their clear differences, he was appreciative of the strange, smiling priest's help. "As for my soul, well... I suppose we'll see."

Outside, the storm raged, and his eyes shifted again to the priest's face. "While I rest... what will you do?" He asked. There was only a sole, uncomfortable straw bed with no blankets in sight. "I could sleep on the floor." In the past, he bedded down in worse places. "Oh, and..." A finger rose to point at his own brow. "...you're still bleeding."

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Canst thou choose to believe the sky is other than blue, or is its truth forced 'pon thee?" Utsuwa answered with a question, but their smile and tone were not mocking. "When confronted with the magnitude of suff'ring the world hath in store for all of us, mine will became irrelevant. Beyond this path, there is naught." It was difficult to remember what their life had been like before they became Utsuwa. How they used to think. What they used to do. What they used to value.

Mere words would not break the chains of suffering. It was sad, and Utsuwa longed to teach the wanderer the true depths of suffering. So that he would learn that suffering was an enemy to be defeated, not a guest to be welcomed. Perhaps another time. The seeds of pain had already been down - perhaps they would bloom into a rich harvest, even without their direct instruction.

Utsuwa finished tending to the wounds they could treat. Then the question was turned back to them. They cocked their head, a finger touching their lips.

"As is full plain, I hath wounds that must needs be tended to." There was the hole in their forehead, as well as the kunai still lodged in their chest. "As for after... Forsooth, not even the blessings of Jashin-sama obviate the need for sleep." They placed a finger through the ring of the kunai in their chest, and began to slowly coax out the blade. Brow furrowing in effort , as the blade had been driven in deep. "Would it set thy mind at ease were mine hands to be bound as thee sleep?"

The blade remained stuck fast. Utsuwa frowned. "Ere thee rest, couldst thou lend me thy aid?" The kunai had been caught on bone, but it was an awkward angle. Should they just push it through to the other side?

[Muramasa Uemon]

a bed of coarse straw

---

Another question in place of an answer, this time causing his expression to flatten out ever so slightly. "Gods..." He thought as he stared at the small priest. "The rhetoric of this one." It was never just 'yes' or 'no'— always a lesson.

Questions often had complex answers, this much he knew, but his interest in debate was nil even on a day when he wasn't cut up, burnt, and aching. "..." Slowly, his gaze wandered to the table where Date was. The screen on the frog's belly showed nothing but rain, and just to be sure he closed his eyes and focused on his Sense. "Still nothing."

Not that he could feel, anyway. Utsuwa mentioned that they still had to tend to their own wounds, and that sleep was still necessary to which he nodded. A disturbing wet sound brought his gaze back around to the Jashinist...

...only to find them trying, and failing, to wrest the kunai in their chest free. "Truly..." He thought, still in half disbelief at what he was witnessing. "...this may be the most ridiculous situation I have ever found myself in." By far and away.

Utsuwa asked about them binding their hands, and then requested his help with the knife while he was busy thinking up a reply for them. "Will you make me regret not binding your hands?" He asked in return.

A question for an answer... it seemed irritation from his wounds was letting his snark slip more than usual. Still, the wanderer agreed with a nod and slowly rose from the bed, wincing just slightly as he moved. Everything hurt, and most of that was accompanied by itching. As he neared the priest, he glanced at the kunai's hilt, then to his hands.

It would be tricky, but they could manage. "Hold onto me." He said, gripping the knife's handle with his uninjured hand. A moment passed, and after realizing what he said, his eyes flicked to Utsuwa's face. "...for leverage." For all their strangeness, and aside from the mud, blood, and unnerving smile... the priest did possess some unusual allure.

Something he tried to put from his mind as he squeezed the kunai's hilt, pushed in one direction to adjust the angle of the blade, and pulled. The kunai wriggled, glanced off of bone, then finally was pried loose from their chest.

The wanderer stood there, gaze shifting between the red flowing from their sounds, the stained kunai, and their face. Wrapped in bloody bandages, wet, and with mud-specked hair, they were near reflections of each other. Brown eyes met red, and he did not yet pull away. Desire, for him, tended to be fleeting... but there was curiosity in his gaze.

Bood loss had made him lightheaded, and he soon found himself staring at the slight priest. The chill of the outside seeped in through gaps in the cabin's walls, and in this proximity, the Jashinist was... "...warm." He thought.

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"On the contrary, I believe that the binding of mine hands wouldst give thee regret. For with them, I could swiftly deliver thee from suff'ring in all its myriad forms." The first blessing aroused so much fear, so much screaming, so much blood and agony. But it would give way to the indwelling of the divine. Once the wanderer knew this, they would regret every moment they fled from it.

Would that they had the strength to impose Jashin's embrace upon all. But they did not, so they would wait for what opportunities they could seize. Sowing seeds in hopes they'd grow into vines capable of strangling.

They held themselves fast as bid, allowing their nails to bite at least a little of the man's flesh as the blade was finally pried from their body. Yet more blood oozed out of the hole in their chest, now a faint trickle. In all likelihood, one without the blessing of Jashin would have likely fainted or perished from blood loss already. They had truly received a marvel.

They met the wanderer's gaze all the while, that broad, innocent smile, marred by bruising, by mud, by rain, by blood never faltering. There was a desire in those wide red eyes, but it was not of a carnal or base nature. They longed to rend this man's flesh. To show him that the suffering he bore was naught but a taste compared to the depths of the world's capacity for cruelty. To see him cry out of Jashin's salvation, then receive it.

And if that was truly not possible, to at least see his face, peaceful in death at last.

They cocked their head, realizing that he remained close. They cocked their head slightly, hands still on his chest, nails biting a little deeper. "Passing strange, thou'rt. Thee know full well what I desire of thee. What hath I that thou wouldst possess?"

[Muramasa Uemon]

offers a brief rendezvous

---

Words to the contrary, promising the ability to free him of suffering. "Yeah..." He muttered, a bit of wariness seeping into his mostly-neutral expression. "I'm sure you could." The wanderer tried to always be careful...

...and yet, he could not help but feel that an opportunity was staring him in the face. Years ago, in regards to his aims, he had understood and given voice to the need for an army of his own. Then, he was just a boy barely strong enough to hold a sword properly. Now... "Things have changed." He thought. "I, myself, have." Now, he was older.

Colder, with a better understanding of his own limitations. Initially he planned on building one of his own— the whole reason he took up puppetry in the first place. But in lieu of that, a breathing, undying one might just suffice.

It was a dangerous line he tread, and there was no guarantee either way, but still... "This may a thread worth pulling on... if only to see where it leads." There was no future in which his path did not end in blood. The Tanjo, an order of Jashinists, the other unlikely allies he had gained along the way... "There is a path here." He thought. "A narrow one."

One false step could mean death... but that did not matter, because in all actuality, he was likely as dead in success as he would be in failure. Sharp nails bit into the flesh of his chest as Utsuwa grasped him, and he winced as he pulled.

Now, with the knife free, he could see how thin their blood ran. This priest was mad, enough to put even Muramasa Sengo to shame... but they seemed to speak the truth. "You have..." He began, words trailing as he searched his mind for the best way to go about this. "...knowledge." Awful, cruel knowledge... but that may be just what he was in need of. "You harness the power of something beyond my understanding— perhaps, beyond anyone's."

Barring the priests themselves, of course. Though he doubted even they grasped the full extent of this wicked blessing they received. "I may be... heathen." The word caught in his mouth, his brow furrowing just slightly as he stood there. "But I may be able to offer you and your ilk something." A slight wince followed, the Jashinist's nails digging in deeper. It hurt... but then, it all did. "An opportunity..." He continued, beginning to walk forward in Utsuwa's half-embrace until they neared the table. "...to root out the cause of a great deal of suffering."

The wanderer stopped, tossing the kunai to clatter on the tabletop behind Utsuwa. Dark eyes scanned their face for a time... and then he leaned in. Towards, then past their head. "Tend to your wounds, first." He muttered, his voice low as his body pressed just slightly against theirs. Then, he withdrew, slowly retracing his steps backwards.

To lower himself onto the old, straw bed, and watch them carefully. His body ached, his wounds throbbed, and the reddened scratches on his chest stung. "I hope I do not regret this." He thought... then held out his uninjured hand.

Waiting to see if the priest accepted, eyes fixed on their form. "Come..." He said. "Join me." His invitation. 

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"The boon is simple. But that is thy chiefest of banes - thy mind be poison'd with blasphemy. Unable to understand the sacred once it is plain before thee." Unlike some of their fellows, Utsuwa did not consider Jashin's will or blessings to be inscrutable, or even complicated. They were surpassing in their simplicity.

Kill the suffering of the believer. Teach the fear of suffering to the heathen. End all those who rejected the kinder of the fates. Until all suffering was dead, and none remained who could suffer. A grand design, but a simple one.

Then the wanderer... deepened the contact between them? They tilted their head in confusion, blinking. He had been so adamant about refusing a blessing, about avoiding harm and education at their hand. So why were they making themselves more vulnerable? To test their conviction to keep their word? Anything they swore in Jashin's name was inviolate, so he had naught to fear.

"There be but one root cause of suff'ring - thee and thine and thy refusal to sublimate thy wills unto Jashin-sama." It wasn't quite a refusal, but a reminder that the benevolence of their order was single-minded. Jashin had no time to waste with symptoms with a cause this all-encompassing to destroy. "If thou speakest of rendering up a great number of souls unto oblivion and Jashin-sama, I could, at the least, entertain thee." Slaughtering the unfaithful was a kindness, even if Utsuwa would rather convert a single soul than sacrifice a thousand.

The embrace and the command to tend to their wounds confused them further. Just what was desired of them?

They did as they were bid, neatly and effectively sewing closed the remaining holes in their body, never once flinching. And as they finished, an invitation and hand was extended out to them. Utsuwa cocked their head.

"Join thee 'til whither end, ye heathen?"

[Muramasa Uemon]

to form alliance

---

If he were the type, he might have scoffed at the priest's claim of simplicity. Alleged 'divine' abilities were anything but. "If it's so plain— teach me." He said in reply, finally broaching his intent. "Allow me to bear witness."

Perhaps this way, he would come to better understand these zealots. "I may be able to see exactly how this 'blessing' is bestowed with my own eyes." It was a matter of some interest... but there was another, more important reason for his request. "If they are to be of any help, I will need to ingratiate myself with this lot." Preferably as only an outside observer.

A dubious prospect... but his was a world already filled with endless grey. "The ends will justify the means." He thought as he parted from Utsuwa's grasp. "The means matter not." The priest continued on about suffering and sublimation. 

"Consider it a holy campaign, then." The wanderer said to them in reply. Persuasion was not a strength of his... but from what it sounded like, he doubted these Inquisitors would balk at it. "A chance to deliver your god's wrath upon a particularly blasphemous infidel." In regards to this individual, it would be technically correct.

Like many in his homeland, this person was beholden to old, elemental gods. Keepers of things like iron, the sun, and storms. Doubtless, they and their allies would view these Jashinists as little more than murderous abominations.

Perfect kindling for a blaze that would ultimately consume him. "It would involve that, yes." He confirmed their assumption about a grand loss of life, his gaze unflinching. One way or another, the man he spoke of would die.

Along with any who stood with him or otherwise tried to stop what was coming. "Uemon." He finally spoke, an overdue introduction after he watched them suture their injuries. 'Heathen', while applicable, was not something he wished to be referred by long-term. "My name is Muramasa Uemon." A tilt of the priest's head, then a question.

'To what end' was a crucial question, indeed. "Allyship." He began, his eyes locked onto theirs as he spoke. "As I said, I'm curious about your faith..." Uemon continued, glancing to the sewn wounds on their head, neck, and chest. "...and you, as well." His eyes wandered briefly... then returned to meet their gaze. "I would know you."

Out of delirium, curiosity, or pure human instinct— Utsuwa had his interest. "If you allow..." Physicality was not necessary... but depending on their own interests, it might serve to further his aims from a practical standpoint.

Hand still held out, the offer was theirs to accept, or deny, as they wished. "Besides..." He added. "It's cold."

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Ah, but hath thee not made me forswear educating thee of the blessing in full?" A slightly teasing tone, and a twinkle of amusement in their eyes. A thinly veiled attempt to tempt the wanderer into permitting them to grant him the blessing of understanding. "But if the prior demonstration of mine immunity to death and pain both, then, pray, rise with me and the dawn, and bear thee witness to mine daily prayers. Thou mayest join me, also." Perhaps the wanderer could surrender their chakra of their own will. Abandon their cursed artifice without the lash to prune his thoughts.

"A holy campaign... pray, labor not to maketh we thy assassins. Death is no punishment to be meted out. Nor is suffering. Both are blessings - the education of the horrors of this cursed world, and the release from that horror." Utsuwa smiled, glad to teach more about their order, even if indirectly. "Though fear is suff'ring also. Laying low the mighty would give glory unto Jashin-sama, and the heathen to consider His embrace." Utsuwa cocked their head. "I can promise thee naught, but I shalt consider and pray over thy petition, once thee deliver it unto me in full."

It would not be murder, so they spoke of it gladly. Murder was not possible in this world. Not how it was.

"Thou wouldst know me, Muramasa-dono? Passing - nay, surpassing strange, thou'rt." The invitation became more plain. And more strange. More alien. They looked to the fire. Was that not heat enough? "An vessel such as I be a poor companion. Thy time wouldst be better spent deepening thy suff'ring, not distracting thyself from it." Curiosity burned at them. They only desired one thing of Muramasa's form. "Thou shouldst know what mine intentions are for thy carnal form. Wouldst thou invite me to lay with thee all the same?" Their eyes were alight with desire, but not lust.

If Muramasa sought pleasure from them, it would come at the cost of pain.

[Muramasa Uemon]

bodies meet, amidst

---

Focused as he was on the Jashinist, he could see the shine of delight in their eyes. "That's right." He replied.

Such a 'blessing' was not something that he wished to receive himself— at least in this moment. "I'd prefer to watch and learn... for now." The wanderer said, nodding at Utsuwa's request to pray with them. "I will."

Of course his heart would not be in it... but that was irrelevant. If he could observe and learn enough of their practices, he may be able to make a compelling case to the other zealots for aid. The priest was his way into the enclave, and though they seemed well-versed in Jashin's ways, he had to imagine they were not in charge of clergy.

Then again, this all seemed so foreign to him that it might well be the case. "Stranger things have proven true." He thought, recalling all of the oddities he had seen on his journey so far. Utsuwa spoke, and he listened intently, a bit exasperated at the dogmatism in their words. "Blessings, then." He concurred quietly, wholly uncaring of the distinction. If that was what their religion viewed suffering and death as, then so be it. "As long as he meets his end."

To him, that was the essential part. "Consideration is all I ask." Uemon replied, keeping his gaze fixed on the priest's own. "I believe we can help each other." A mutual exchange was something they could both understand.

Regardless of faith or any ulterior motives they might harbor. "It seems we both are." Came his response to 'surpassing strange'. He watched them glance towards the fire, then back, and speak of time being best spent deepening his suffering. "Suffering will still be there in the morning." No, he was not in a healthy mindset.

Blood on his hands, dizzy from his wounds, fixated on his plot, even now. "I said I would give my body." He replied, in reference to his earlier words. If it would help to see his will done, it was a cost worth paying. Anything was. "I meant it." Pleasure, pain, suffering... "They matter not." To him, they were the same. Inconsequential.

Utsuwa asked if he would still lay with them despite their differing desires, and Uemon beckoned them over. Taking hold of their hand to pull them into his lap. "I would..." He muttered, wincing as he slipped out of what remained of his wet clothes. His uninjured hand rose, fingers trailing up their chest, neck, then around to grip their nape.

The wanderer's eyes met theirs, his hips moved... and the rest of the night was lost to the sounds of the raging storm outside. Rain battered the ramshackle cabin for some time, and when it finally eased, the skies did not clear.

No parting of the clouds to reveal the moon's light, no change in temperature... just a dank, murky, endless grey.

~FTB~

---

[Kyodai Utsuwa]

Curiouser and curiouser. Muramasa's actions and words were strange indeed, but it would be a lie to say that their interest had not been piqued by the heathen.
"Mayhaps the relation betwixt us could become yet more mutually beneficial. We lay low thy enemies, as a blessing to thee and to them, and thou render we faithful thine own aid." A simple offer, and rather transactional. But there was nothing in their scriptures nor strictures that forbade them from receiving aid from the heathen, nor in making use of them. As long as their hands remained unsullied, as long as the heathen could be used to spread the understanding of suffering, and how people may be released from it, it was acceptable.

The other offer was more perplexing, but it was also transactional, at its core. Utsuwa had no great pull towards the idea, but they were not repulsed by it either. They allowed their body to be guided, looking up at Muramasa with wide, wondering eyes. It felt strange to have their empty and scarred vessel treated thus. Usually, their body was, by the understanding of the heathen, abused or ignored. Scars and still fresh wounds, from battle, from torture, from self-inflicted and meaningless surgery.

The night would pass with Utsuwa mostly playing the role of a passive recipient, but they contrasted Muramasa's desire for comfort and pleasure with pain. Applying teeth and nails, without venturing too far towards assault.

Comfort of a sort. Education of a kind.

---

As promised, Utsuwa rose with the dawn, and stepped into the damp earth left behind by the storm that had passed during the night. An orange glow broke through the clouds and the trees, and Utsuwa traced their footsteps back to the muddy, fouled ground, where the corpses still lay. Still too fresh for rot to have taken hold.

They traced the circle-and-triangle into the mud with their toe, their fingers tracing the same shape around the medallion hanging from their neck. A smile spread wider and wider as they prayed, pausing with each line so that Muramasa could repeat and participate, if he so wished.

"O, Jashin-sama, great, terrible, mighty, and benevolent, pray protect me from this dangerous world. Thine enemies bring pain to the world entire, not understanding the extent of their sins. Help me to bring them to Thy light, to show them the atrocities they hath committed. Watch over me as I spread Thy sacred word, as I show the gifts Thee so generously give. Watch over these brothers and sisters mine, that they too may join in this holy undertaking. Aid me in bringing suffering to those who fail to see the agony the world is capable of inflicting. Aid me in making them understand their sins and showing them the path to redemption. In Thy name, Jashin-sama, I give you mine body and mine soul to do with as Thou wilt. In Thy name, Jashin-sama, I walk the world, sheltered by Thy hand. In Thy name, Jashin-sama, I shalt bring suffering to the heretics. In Thy name, Jashin-sama, I shalt do all you ask of me without hesitation or regret."