[Kyodai Utsuwa]

Their body bore the marks of their recent attempts at learning and educating the world beyond the walls of the main temple and hidden cloisters. The wound in their chest has mostly mended, but their neck, now bearing a long line of haphazard stitches was still angry and red. It would be months before the stitches could be removed without risking their throat opening up once more.

Though their voice was more choked and scratchy than it otherwise would have been, and though the magnitude of the wounds their body had sustained on this short pilgrimage would have slain an unbeliever a score or more times already, Utsuwa was undeterred. Indeed, their fervor had built from a flame into a blaze.

Utsuwa's attempt at tracking down their newest and most wayward brother had led them to this unknown land. A land of storms, if the title was to be believed. They had long since lost their brother's trail, but their bare feet had led them to this border village. Shiraio. Their appearance had won them no shortage of stares and wary glares. Their features concealed behind a wicker tengai-gasa, an iron triangle-and-circle medallion hanging around their neck, and their dirty, torn and still blood-stained kimono hardly cut the image of an innocent traveler.

Earlier in their pilgrimage, Utsuwa would have been content to attempt to pass through as a beggar and traveling doctor. Speaking the word of Jashin in hushed, private tones. But the fervor burned in their breast. It was most likely what compelled the Inquisitors to such violence. And there was an urge to put their hands to work, to loose as many of the heathen from their corrupted mortal coils as possible. There was a greater urge, however. To see that shining moment of Ren's conversion repeated a dozen times over. A hundred. A thousand.

Utsuwa appropriated an empty shipping box, and stood upon their improvised podium.
"Take heed, ye heathen!" They called out, Utsuwa filling their voice with as much urgency and affection as they could muster. "I know full well that thee and thine toil 'neath the yoke of pain, of regret, of suff'ring. Lo! This day do I, this humble vessel, endeavor to bring unto thee salvation!" Most passersby resolutely ignored the shouting priest, where others crossed their arms in hostility. "Offer up thy toils, thy struggles, thy being unto Jashin-sama, and thou shalt know freedom true!" That name did cause a small ripple of activity. Some had heard rumors, and indifference and annoyance turned to defensiveness or aggression.

Heedless to the fact they were likely to be driven out of town, beaten, stoned, or lynched again, Utsuwa continued to preach. "Free from pain! Free from suff'ring! Free from doubt! Free from blasphemy! Free from death! Yet take my hand, and I shalt grant this blessing unto thee freely!"

Predictably, no-one took the offer.

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

she raised her fist before she spoke:
"I am the righteous hand of God
I am the devil that you forgot"
※
Kyodai Utsuwa

Her body bore the marks of one who had endured needless suffering. Becoming more fitting as she grew older, but not acquired when most would have considered it justified or appropriate. Still, most of her skin was covered in dark, ill-fit clothing with a grey scarf hanging loosely around her throat. Only the scars on her face visible for strangers to see as she wandered through the town in the outskirts of Arashi no Kuni. Not dressed up as Squeakers, but never technically out of gear and never quite off-duty, even when she wore her natural face and claimed to be a retiree.
    She wasn't quite on patrol, but her attention wasn't averted from possible trouble, either.
    Though, it wouldn't be her eyes that noticed the trouble first, but her ears. A raspy voice shouting praises of a familiar god over the sound of the falling rain, civilians passing by uninterested or weary. And weary they had every right to be--for as Mikazuki's attention perked and she drew nearer to the preacher, the gleam of a silver emblem hanging around their throat caught her gaze.
    Jashin's symbol.
    One she knew too well, and one she was wise to be cautious around--knowing better than most who were unacquainted just how potentially dangerous one of them could be.
    The stranger called out to the people, their voice falling mostly on deaf ears as they tried to proselytize Jashin's word and enlighten the others of his blessings. Though, perhaps, using accusatory language that was sure to turn people away--even if they didn't know of the god's sacrificial demands. Injuries marred the Jashinist's pale skin, detailing of their abilities to survive fetal damage, and without a doubt, Mikazuki knew exactly what she was dealing with. It was only to what extent she was uncertain of.
    The stranger was shouting loudly to anyone who would listen--but they weren't actively performing any rituals, either. Though, the stains on their kimono weren't promising, and Mikazuki knew better than to underestimate a Jashinist just because they weren't actively swinging around a scythe or stave.
    Should I report this to a superior? Escalate and eliminate the threat immediately? Or take the more cautious approach? Perhaps I can dissuade them from entering further into these lands, the thought came to her as she watched with eyes like a hawk.
    It wasn't until a civilian acted that Mikazuki made her decision.
    "Shut up and keep yer religion to yourself you crazy lout!" A man shouted, picking up a stone to throw at the Jashinist to aid in silencing them.
    Before the rock could leave his hands, Mikazuki's hand tightened around his wrist and she glanced at the man with an icy stare. "Stand down. Back away."
    The civilian looked at the shinobi for a moment in disbelief, then stared at the stranger in the blood-stained kimono and decided to heed her warning.
    "You speak in a manner more ancient than you appear," Mikazuki spoke firmly, turning her gaze to lock onto the stranger. "For what reason are you here? If you only wish to speak your beliefs, you will have better luck elsewhere."

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[Kyodai Utsuwa]

Their eyes alighted upon the source of the only voice that did not drip with derision, fear, or hostility. Their smile was hidden as the basket turned towards them, the diminutive priest studying their advisor carefully before speaking. Scars were plain: truly and plainly not a stranger to suffering. But likely a stranger to Jashin. That could be rectified.

"Thy words art more ancient than thee also. But, pray, forgive mine anachronistic speech," Their voice had lowered from the preaching tone, and it bubbled with friendliness and excitement. Their fingers twitched. Oh, would that they could carve full understanding of the blessing of Jashin into this and all the heathen. But they had to exercise reason and caution. Tempering zeal with caution and patience.

"The reason I am here is full plain, no? To share knowledge of suff'ring and Jashin-sama, to beckon these heathen hence to His obviating embrace. As for luck..." They intertwined their fingers together before them, to still their restless fidgeting. "This unworthy vessel hath no need for luck. Yet, lo! My cup runneth over," Utsuwa stared dramatically, and extended an open hand towards the scarred person. There was dried blood under the sharpened nails, and ink stains on the fingers and palm. "Thou'rt full acquainted with suff'ring, 'tis plain. Doth thee not wish to be free?"

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

I wanna see if your blood
is any redder than mine
※
Kyodai Utsuwa

"Not really." Her voice was blasé, her expression drab as she spoke bluntly to the Jashinist. She didn't consider herself to speak from a different era, and she wasn't a skittering child--so her language seemed quite appropriate considering her upbringing and position. Jinchūriki. Political Acolyte. Ame Lord's Right-Hand Man. Genin Squad Leader. Twenty-three years old when she shouldn't have made it to two. She'd had plenty of experience to justify her speech and mannerisms--and she didn't doubt the person before her did, as well.
    Still, it was clearly out of place.
    An outlier.
    And the being before her was more than just an oddity, they were a threat. Whether they realized it or not, spreading the word of Jashin often was acquainted with assault and murder--something that as an Amegakure shinobi, Mikazuki couldn't quite overlook. Especially not when such actions rose to her doorstep and affected the citizens she viewed as her ward.
    Slowly, a smile crept onto the woman's face.
    "Free me of my suffering, you say?"
    Oho?
    "Yes," she spoke, a giggle rising from her throat as a maddening look twisted on her features. Her lips cracked to a grin, and she said, "I was once a naïve dolt, too."
    In an instant, the woman appeared behind the Jashinist--an emerald green katana of Ranmataru Steel held to the priest's throat--and she leaned in closely to speak lowly into their ear. One hand twirled gently around a dark lock of their ragged hair as she said, "You see, it's least effective to spread the gospel to a country that is under the jurisdiction of a shinobi nation. So listen well, my idiot kin. If you fuck around with the civilians and underlings of the Rain, you'll only anger the wrong kind of people. Cause a scene, and you'll draw in the wrong attention. That's why it's so important to ask for permission before subjecting strangers to the ritual, no? You have no idea what kind of ilk you're inviting into your family tree, and you have no idea what kinds of devils you've opened the door to."
    Did Ren truly have a mind after Jashin's own heart?
    Somehow, Mikazuki doubted it. Even if he was slowly initiated, he hardly seemed drawn to it naturally. Unlike she, who had sought out the god in her childhood and still did not revoke his name.
    "I've a question for you," Mikazuki spoke lowly, pressing the blade more closely against the Jashinist's throat. "How well do you think you could spread the gospel if your head is locked away in a box?"

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[Kyodai Utsuwa]

Utsuwa cocked their head, the basket listing to the side. We're not most words spoken older than their speakers? Or had their isolation completely isolated them from contemporaneous language? Some words were unfamiliar or strange, and yet...

The diversion of thought wouldn't last long, as they were presented with much more tantalizing morsels. And a blade at their throat. They blinked in surprise, then smiled.

It was a strange circumstance, to be certain. Not being threatened, nor being in what would be mortal peril for all but the faithful. Few outside the faith spoke like the shinobi did. Even fewer would call Utsuwa 'kin.' Idiot was far from new, though.

As the question was posed, Utsuwa leaned into the blade, risking opening the still-fresh stitches that held their throat together. They could not fear death nor injury. That did not make them eager to die, but it wouldn't make them flinch, either.
"'Twould depend who would come to possess such a box. 'Tis not mine intent to acquire glory or acclaim. Should Jashin-sama decree that my head been imprisoned, so be it." The Shinobi was close enough to see clearly through the grille of the hat, and Utsuwa's red eyes bored into their would-be captor. "I seek merely to welcome all into Jashin-sama's embrace. If this faith be a tree, forsooth; there be room for all within the bough. These heathen, the willing, the unwilling, the strong and the weak. All are undeserving of His grace, and I am truly a poor vessel. But all must needs to granted release. Even those such as thee," Utsuwa spoke calmly, their voice low. "Art thee not apostate?"

They had said enough to indicate as much, but could not be certain. Blood bloomed on their neck, daring her to make good on her threat.

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

She raised her fist before she spoke:
"I am the righteous hand of God
I am the Devil that you forgot"
※
Kyodai Utsuwa

Mikazuki stayed there for a while, listening to the Jashinist as they gave their spiel. Interestingly enough, they made no move to defend themselves. Not quickly enough to avoid being in their predicament, and not in response of their predicament, either. How old are they? Mikazuki wondered, keeping her eyes steeled as she stared into the Jashinst's crimson hues. Are they truly so inexperienced in the ways of this world, that they could not escape my advance? Surely they know, even if they don't die, that being beheaded is still something to avoid.
    "You were given a gift, to allow yourself to be seized by an enemy would be a misfortune." If I had accepted his gift, I would do all that I could to ensure my own autonomy. We are meant to live. To be free of pain and suffering--to be locked away and confined or stolen of your mobility and autonomy, that is not freedom. It is an insult to what Jashin wants for his children. At least, that was how she saw it. "Is it truly his will being enacted upon you, if you are decapitated by a heathen?" she wondered, noting the stitching on their neck. "Do you truly believe it would be Jashin's will that you are locked away and unable to sing his praises and share his love to the less fortunate?"
    She was almost insulted at their perspective.
    No, I have to remember why I'm here.
    Though, slowly... Mikazuki lowered her sword. Sheathing it, the woman kept her closeness to the Jashinist, her eyes not straying from them. No... it could have all been a ploy, and yet... somehow... she was unsure that they were truly a threat to her. At least, she was no longer confident that she needed to resolve the issue with a blade. Not at this moment, at the very least.
    "I'm not here to talk about myself. Do you know a young man named 'Ren', by chance?"

---

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[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Everything is as Jashin-sama wills, in the end." Utsuwa answered simply. They noted that their accusation of apostacy was avoided, which earned curiosity. Who was this woman, and what connection did she have to Jashinism? To Jashin? "I hath no enemies. Even the blasphemer, the heretic, the apostate - lost souls, all, in dire need of guidance and salvific grace." The did not fear death, nor isolation. Utsuwa doubted that they had any great deeds to perform for Jashin, but they would do all they were able.

The truth of the matter was that they were too slow to avoid the blade at their throat, and guessed - apparently correctly - that words would be more effective at leaving here with their head atop their shoulders. So many, within their faith and without, were so quick to choose violence over dialogue. The hammer instead of the scalpel.

"I seek not to be sealed away, 'tis true plain. But consider thee this: imagine that I had resisted with vim and vigor. With tooth and nail. Would that end with thee sheathing thy blade?" Their voice was low, so that they would not be overheard by the crowd. This woman wasn't a Jashinist, that much was plain. But there was some puzzle to be solved here, before they proclaimed something that would doom them both to a needless death.

Death was no evil, but it was not to be pursued.

"And the name; I know it full well. Mine newest and most wayward of brothers. They embraced the truth! Yet, alas, the ministrations prov'd lacking. Fear gripped him, and he flinched from the way." A tinge of regret in their tone. If only they had exercised more care. If only they had been more thorough. Less hasty. "Doth thee know whence Kyodai Ren hath fled? He must suffer so, to have known Jashin-sama's embrace, only to have departed it. He must needs be made to know: there is naught that can not be forgiven, should he only show contrition."

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

She raised her fist before she spoke:
"I am the righteous hand of God
I am the Devil that you forgot"
※
Kyodai Utsuwa

"He isn't quite that all-powerful," Mikazuki argued. It seemed almost, to her, as though the individual before her thought Jashin to be some omnipotent, omnipresent sort of entity. The type of creature that controlled the universe, and could designate fate. Still, though, it was an interesting thought that the Jashinist didn't consider themselves to have any enemies. A different approach, she supposed, but... one that was much easier to work with. "My sheathing of my blade has nothing to do with your behavior," she spoke simply.
    Their existence as a Jashinist was enough of a threat, they didn't need to be actively swinging a weapon around for the woman to know how dangerous they could be.
    She knew well enough.
    Even if she had not seen the state Ren had wound up in--she was well aware of what Jashinists were about. It only happened that she'd realized... this one was different from the others she had encountered. Still no less dangerous--as she had seen what the individual had done to Ren--but not one who frightened her. She felt she could overpower them the moment she needed to, so even if her blade was not directly pressed to their throat, they were still within her clutch.
    "Yes, I do know where he is. He's under my care, now, and I came to provide a cease and desist. A proper warning to you. If you do not want me to hunt you down and behead you, and lock you away where you will never again see the light of day until you've withered away unto dust, I suggest you not harm any other man, woman, or child who lives within the Land of Storms. This country is my ward. While you desire to show people of Jashin's gift, so that they may never suffer again, I seek to protect them from being hurt in the first place. I will not warn you a second time. You may speak your words, but the second that you try to force Jashin's punishment or gift upon someone who did not ask for it--I will seek you out. You will not draw the blood of any of my people without consequence. Do you understand?"
    She hoped so.
    Really, she didn't want to have to deal with a Jashinist stirring trouble in her country.

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[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Verily, Jashin-sama possesseth not omnipotence. And yet all shalt taste death. You, mine own self, yea, even the very stars shalt grow cold and dark ere long," When everything was dead, suffering would be broken forever. No matter the machinations of the heathen, no matter how devoted the souls of the lost were to their pain, all would come to know oblivion. Not the ideal end, but an end, and one Jashin would approve of. He must.

Why else would they slay and offer up the broken bodies of the sinners?

Their thoughts drifted to scripture and eschatology even as they listened, still and silent. They were, at least, listening. And judging by the silence, giving the threat due consideration. "Thou'rt passing strange in truth. Claimest thou to be a shield 'gainst suff'ring, yet thou know full well - as long as the faithless draw breath, shalt they suffer. Shouldst thou wish to be aegis against suff'ring entire, thou needs only speed thy charges unto Jashin-sama's embrace. By blade, by scalpel, by word, by flame, by ruin, by death." The threat needed to be considered. They had enjoyed some success against shinobi ignorant of the depths of their blessing. They sensed that advantage would not avail them here.

It was known that even decapitation would only immobilize, not kill.

There was another pause, then Utsuwa nodded with a smile. "I offer thee my most solemn vow: I shalt not harm any human soul within these lands that does not beg me for education, edification, release, or succor for their soul. Should this vow be broken, I shalt ensure mine own neck is clean for thy retributive fuller." Utsuwa blinked, then cocked their head. "Wilt that suffice? Or shalt I withdraw from these lands?"

[Mikazuki Aikawa]

She raised her fist before she spoke:
"I am the righteous hand of God
I am the Devil that you forgot"
※
Kyodai Utsuwa

Mikazuki stayed silent, her cold blue eyes fixed on the Jashinist before her as she allowed them their own turn to speak. While they were being amicable enough to one-another (all things considered), the Jashinist was not hasty nor had they cut her off--and thankfully it seemed to her that they were truly listening to what she said. Whether they would fully heed her warning or not, however, was yet to be seen. But they were allowing her to speak her piece, and so she returned the same courtesy. Listening.
    "It's true that I cannot shield them from all suffering," Mikazuki agreed. "But neither can Jashin. Just as Jashin can take away all physical pain his children would have otherwise felt, I, too, am doing what I can to lessen my peoples' suffering to whatever ability I have. For them, that means eliminating those who would impose undue harm upon them. It means killing or eliminating those that threaten their health, security, or their lives. It's not perfect, but if I can give my people peace of mind, it is what I will do." Her gaze narrowed, slightly. Her tone was not any more aggressive, though--but still, she had many thoughts on the matter. Difficult, less-than-pleasant ones. And she was uncertain the best way to communicate those notions to the stranger--or, if they had never considered the perspective, educate them on the differences entirely. "Not everyone wants to be free from their suffering. Pain can be a gift. It is not up to either you or me to decide for someone else if they wish to suffer or not."
    Thankfully, the individual seemed willing enough to make their vow.
    Mikazuki was uncertain how true their words were, or if their promise meant anything at all. But it was a start. At the very least, they understood that attacking random civilians or trying to give Jashin's gift to people who did not want it would not go unnoticed or unpunished. Whether they broke their vow or not would be yet to be seen--but they understood, at the very least.
    "It would be best if you left these lands and never returned," Mikazuki spoke with a slow nod. "However, if you do not break your vow, I will tolerate your presence here."
    If they weren't actively posing a threat, then really, they were no different than any religious wanderer passing through the countryside. Who was Mikazuki to stop them, so long as they followed the laws of the land?

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[Kyodai Utsuwa]

"Ah, but doth thee not neglect the most perfect shield 'gainst suff'ring?" Utsuwa asked rhetorically, atheir smile widening. "Death. Oblivion. Jashin-sama's final and most tender embrace. Should thou wishest to make these charges thine immune to suff'ring, thou must needs only take their lives." It wasn't even genocidal rhetoric. It was a justification to kill every person that had the capacity to suffer, and it was clear that Utsuwa's objections to it were far from robust. A disagreement about means, not ends.

"Choice is oft an illusion, thou wayward soul. All shalt suffer. All wilt perish. The only guarantees of life." It was a response to the claim of intent, but even Utsuwa could tell that discussing the point would be fruitless. So few saw life as they did, even amongst the faithful.

"Mayhaps I shalt leave these lands anon. 'Twould appear that my newest brother is now beyond the reach of these clumsy and weak hands mine." That caused a twinge within Utsuwa. An unfamiliar sensation. Regret? Pain? Worry? It was unpleasant, whatever it was. Something to be purged with prayer and sacrifice.

"Yet I would ask a final boon of thee. Pray, tell me plain: what is Jashin-sama to thee?" They were not amongst the faithful, that much was clear. Nor were they an infidel entire. Apostate? Heretic?