To See The Real You

He finally arrives to the errie, yet holy, Temple of Jashin. Almost immediately, he remembers his first arrival here. The day he was bathed in blood, reborn a jashinist, as he saw what he needed to see that day. He scans the area, only to see few priests roaming around as usual, not paying any attention to the entrance. It was as if they didn’t give a damn who rolled up to the entrance. But that really didn‘t matter at the moment, for he was more concerned about the group of Tsuki citizens arriving soon.

“Mai and Company should be here in the next few hours… I wonder if they made it pass the sign? *Sighs*, like it matters.“

He begins to believe that the group would most likely show up. His Wile E. Coyote stunts could only get him so far before the group wised up to his antics.

The someone rather cold air started to maximize in brief waves of discomfort as the wind chill brushed against him. He doubt he could light his pre roll he saved earlier; he groans ever so slightly as he advanced upwards towards the temple. The stairs leading up the temple started to narrow, despite them being quite rather large at the base. He shakes his head at the thought of the asshole who designed the stars. The steps were so small, definiately not tall people friendly. Nevertheless, he finally reaches the entrance. The large double doors slowly swing open, revealing the almost gothic theme of black wood and read ornate signature that coated the entire layout of the temple.

Katsuragi’s Attire:

To top it off, he finally wore his new navy blue Supreme Ryūjin Bucket Hat; it rested snug upon Katsuragi’s head.

He now stands in the center lane, with the doors closing behind him. The red long carpet of which he stood on, was accompanied with rows of seating on both flanks. The drifting black iron lanterns hung from the extemely vaulted ceilings. The layout was bloody basic, but the small details etched into everything really made the place pop; the red was simply everywhere.

Just as he was about to yell out, he quickly catches himself as he was mow within the lords house. Surprisingly, he saunters upwards towards the stage adorned with red stained glass cathedral windows that gave the stage a read aura. “Well that’s new, pretty dope design. I’m glad my 30k went to good use.”, referencing the membership fee needed to get “cool” with Jashin.
—-
TWC/ 677

Having the foresight to arrive to the temple earlier with Hara she paced the inner halls with light anxious steps, the two had separated momentarily to allow Hara freedom to explore the area - and tend to his wound that had begun to soil the wrapping covering it. The anxiety was permeating in nature, the longer she resided inside the temple the more the sounds around her morphed; a creak of shifting foundation became Jashins footsteps, the guttering of the flames became the breath of Jashin watching her. Stopping suddenly, straightening her back in attention as the heartbeat entered her range - the sound drew away from her, causing feet to move forward of their own volition.

The journey to the temple with Hara had already worn her nerves to threads, so this new phenomena did not bode well. Catching herself before she rounded the corner into the open entrance hall, one hand pressing on the inner wall to physically halt her approach, she activated the Byakugan. In chakra vision she was able to make out a very familiar face - Katsuragi, the gambling bandit of the sands and side streets. Swiftly deactivating the doujutsu she would bring slim fingers to her lips to stifle a laugh. Remembering their last encouunter where she wore the skin of another; and lost money for her trouble of challenging the man obsessed with chance.

She had lost a decent amount of pocket change that day, what would a little spook do really? It's only fair after all... Perhaps the consequence of Hara's actions earlier had loosened the bonds of repression she held herself together with - in any case she was feeling mischievous. The words of appreciation echoed distantly through the cavernous space and momentarily into nothing as the seals were activated and she slid into the floor. Sensing his position she would slide up from the ground behind him, leaving 10 feet of space between the two to not invade his personal space. "30k is all you gave? How stingy of you Katsuragi.", the tone was sly and poking, as she moved through her words, sinking into the floor again as the sentenced ended.

If he had turned to face her words he would find empty space where she had once been, instead she perched precariously on one of backs of the bench 20 feet back - only just illuminated by the fringes of light guttering in the lanterns. His attire and demeanor cut a stark contrast through the elaborate temple sanctum it was comical. Tilting her head back to peer down her nose at his clothing choices. Mumbling to herself she would comment, "The way the youth present themselves..." Louder to him she questioned, "What are you still doing around here? Did you not already hustle the money from every street urchin from here to the shore?"

While still sauntering up the red carpet in full swing, he casually agrees with the echoing voice that seemed to bellow within all faculties. “Yeah yeah yeah, I can take a hint.”, he  said, agreeing with the mysterious hard to understand voice within his head. Eyeing the golden collection plate ahead of him ontop of the podium, he thinks of a number between 1 and 10,000. Despite his faith towards lord Jashin, a church is a church. The feminine voice was obviously hinting at tithing, gotta keep up with the maintenance! And who was Katsuragi, a divine asset to the faith, to refuse to acquiesce such a request?!

He then suddenly realizes that, he doesnt have a conscience. Nooo… Well, he never really listened to it in a long time; Not since juvie days atleast.

‘Wait a minute… I don’t think with an accent.’

Halting his advancement, he swings around quickly to discover a lingering remnant of the sands perched upon the back of one of the pews. No, he didn‘t recognize her but the two have met before in the much distance past; he couldn‘t even associate a location with her accent, it was so difficult. It was so, foreign. He dramatically points towards the spectre with his right hand, not having a clue who or what she was. “Who, are you? You can’t be from around here, your accent is insane! And…*glares at the individual standing on top of the pews* Opt! Get down from there, you’re gonna uh scuff up the furniture. *Seemingly looking behind her towards one of the hooded priests*, Don’t worry, I’ll tell her to get down” he says this while advancing towards the stranger to get a better look, as this was his true goal. He saw no identifying looks or logos to help identify who this person was. If she however fell for his trick, because absolutely nobody was actually behind her, the gambling bandit zips over towards her with great speeds to close the gap to place him a foot and a half away from her. His position standing in the center aisle, in front of end of the bench from which she remained perched on.

Although, it was very possible that this person could very well be a fellow follower of the faith. But, the fact that she knew him, and he did, weaved a sore feeling within his gut.
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TWC/ 1,039

With a dramatic point at her person the wiry man was set off on a tirade of theatrics. Seems he hadn't changed much at all, and possibly had he gotten worse? She had recalled the lack of social etiquette the man held all those years ago and it seems they had further rotted with misuse. Who points at someone as a way of greeting anyway... a gawking street gambler perhaps.

The pace at which he turned phrase and reprimanded her would have played nicely into the distraction he conjured up - as if he spoke to a figure of authority at her back he began to advance toward her. There was no one at her back, all heartbeats were accounted for and all stood in front of her, trying with disappointing feebleness to take her for a fool. Instead of sinking into the floor, or putting energy into escaping the sure to close gap.

Instead in the moments she heard his heart rate increase as it worked harder in preparation for a sudden burst of speed, she too prepared. With the concealed left hand she wove through all the seals for Devils Hold - if the gambler wanted to test proximity she was accepting. With expectance, he did close the gap with alarming speed, and as though this was nothing out of the ordinary she simply leaned forward gripping the front of his attire and holding with deceptive gentleness; able to place the prepared seal if needed.

In teasing tones she smiled up at the face, nearly recreating their first encounter. "You wound me Katsuragi. How could you forget your own Kazekage with such ease. You take what you wished from the once great nation, gamble with me on the street not even a year ago and suddenly I am nothing more than a perched wren to shoo away?" With a small 'tsk' sound she released his shirt and pushed him away with no real force, just a way to show her disgust in his lack of manner. As if remembering his words she shot back at him, arms crossing in defiance. "I do not have an accent! You have faulty memory from all the smoke clouding what is left of thought."

WC 370

A brief silence took place within the gothic temple, Katsuragi still as he were, pointing at nothing due to the fact that she did not move at all; not even a silght glance that would’ve prompted Katsuragi to proceed forward. Nobody was grabbing his lapels if he had anything to say about it. Unless, said female was over 6 feet, Amazon! However, this was not the case. He sighs, still facing… whoever this was.

The MaDKat gazes upon the oddity, vexed beyond comprehension as he tried to ascertain the identity of the raven haired fun sized perching Crow. “Gambled? Have, we met before?”, however, if she chose to move ahead and continue with her original choice of words regarding her accent, Katsuragi replies…

“Whah…, a perched whah? Huh?”, he tries to hold in his laugh the best he could. “Just, just keep talking. Holy shit, this is hilarious. Anything to take my mind off the fact that a mob of people are coming here to commune with Jashin. I swear, it must be a new fad or something.”To describe her accent, he hears a southie accent straight outta boston. He wished she came with subtitles above her to to help close the gap in super foreign affairs. That being said, really started to wonder if the two had met somewhere in Quarter Town( Tanzaku Town for the non locals… or Tanzaku Quarters for the poindexters).
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TWC/ 1,274