Moroa smiled so faintly after the demon had swatted his hand away it could scarcely had been noticed. Katako remarked on it as well.<br/><br/>"Ah, someone's a little testy," with which he chuckled. He was glad the priestess had lead them all to the shrine together, as was his plan. He wanted to keep the thief in his sights. The Buddhist, however, reacted differently than the Samurai would have imagined. He almost seemed accepting toward praying together.<br/><br/>At the cleansing pool Moroa followed their guide's lead. He, however, did not clense his mouth. Why, one could only guess. Katako had seen him skip this many times when they had stopped to pray. He knew all to well why Moroa did not require it. Moroa then did something else rather different. He drew his sword, and poored the holy water over it's blade. At the fire he cleansed his hands as well. He then held the sword over it until it's soot covered it's sharp side in a thin black coat. He replaced it within it's sheathe at his waste, and continued on to the shrine after awaiting his companions.<br/><br/>He watched as the girl took her own prayer, waiting respectively out of her space. When she arose, Moroa removed his katana and placed it before the altar sideways. Turning to Mushibo he spoke solemnly and respectfully.<br/><br/>"Would you care to join me? Pray to whom you like, we both pray for guidance I trust." He then dropped to his knees silently, leaving room at his left and right, and bowed his head in a warrior's prayer.  He knew the thief would not accompany them in prayer, but left this place for another. After a moment he opened his eyes, much too quick for a prayer. His eyes rose to his right, where Katako still stood. Katako flinched at the daggers Moroa stared through him.<br/><br/>"But why do I have to pray? No less with him," he said motioning to the buddhist demon. "I'm dead damnit! Oh for the love of..." And he reluctantly dropped to his ghostly knees as well. Moroa prayed for just what he spoke about. Guidance, a swift sword, and the watchful eyes of the gods. When he finished he placed no coins in the offering box, for he had none. Not that he would have had time reguardless, for just as he finished a woman crawled bloody and grasping for life. His eyes widened, but he was not quick enough to get to her before one of the demons did. He pulled healing items from his sleeve, and Moroa watched him carefully.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"You two can handle this, can't you?"</span>were his words he directed at the soldier and the Samurai. Moroa cast a questioning glance at the gunman.<br/><br/>"You feel it too, don't you Moroa?" Katako's tone was stunningly serious. He was right, Moroa did feel a presence. An evil one. Whomever had done this was unmistakably here for nothing good, as would be obvious to a child at this point.<br/><br/>"Well. I believe we must." Were Moroa's only words before he took off out of the smoky room. He broke into a run, nothing the demon priest couldn't keep up with. Within moments the villain was in his sights. He drew his sword and prepared for battle, it's blade bisecting his stone-blank face. Katako disappeared into Moroa's mind, able to aid his help better there.