20078/It Has a Pool, Gwen

It Has a Pool, Gwen
Date of Scene:	16 February 2025
Location:	Themysciran Arts Center
Synopsis:	Katsumi and Gwen decide to meet up and chat! And Katsumi suggests the Themysciran Embassy's pool! Answers are given and cats can talk, no big deal!
Cast of Characters:	Katsumi Oshiro, Gwen Stacy

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Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Life continues to move quickly for one Katsumi Oshiro. And it damn well should, given she's missed years of it being trapped on the outside. Still, she went from prospective Avenger to living in the Themysciran Embassy and trying to learn how to be a tour guide. It's so laughably mundane, it's difficult to wrap her head around. Obviously it isn't a permanent solution to her life's financial situation, but it'll work for /now/. While the cards are being dealt. Before she really even has a hand to play. And yet, it's never without the insistent proddings of her own 'guide', demanding she waste no nights on frivolity. She has a divine mandate, after all. And one the Lord Protector will not deign to wait forever on.

Still, when she received a message from Gwen, she was pretty excited. Katsumi sorely lacks in opportunities to socialize, much less with people who /deliberately/ seek her out. So it's nice. Nice to feel wanted. And naturally, Katsumi suggested the Embassy; or more particularly, the Arts Center. She needed only the one selling point for it: It has a /pool/, Gwen. A pool in the dead of Winter. Heated.

Which brings us to the present moment, not quite late at night, but late enough that people have generally gone home. Katsumi stands near before a tall, marble column, her shoulder propped against it as she waits. An overtly fluffy white bath robe drapes her figure, cinched at the waist with a sash. But bare feet with pink-painted toenails can be seen poking out beneath. In her hand is a cellphone, scrolling as she waits.

Curled up on a fashionably art deco lounge chair is an unreasonably woolly ball of fur in calico colors, evidently asleep.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Do you know what else has a heated pool? Wayne Manor.

Do you know what building Gwen avoids like the plague even though she lives on the same property, behind the same game, in literal walking distance of it? Wayne Manor.

Sometimes, especially in the dead of winter, it's hard not to think about all the things in the Manor she's giving up on by staying away -- a heated pool, a giant library, about a million cars and motorcycles in a multi-story garage, and even more of Alfred's cookies than she already gets.

Still, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. The Manor is a dangerous place when it's easy for the whole Wayne family to point a finger at you and call you a home-wrecker -- even if you're not. She's already gotten blamed (in a roundabout way) for keeping Dick from being able to marry his sister... which is not a phrase she's excited to repeat for fear of ending up on one of those daytime talk shows. Still, it does mean she's avoiding Tim and Stephanie, just to try to make Dick's life easier.

So, when Katsumi texted back and said there's a heated pool in the middle of winter in the Themysciran Embassy?

Sold. Without even having to think about it.

She's never been there. It's a fantastic opportunity to catch up with a new friend. And a heated pool sounds soooooo nice on aching muscles. For once, her bruising is even pretty minor! But more on that later.

When Gwen shows up, she looks -- appropriately -- like she's dressed for a New York winter. Thick coat, leggings, teal chucks and backpack. And by the time she's made it through to where Katsumi said she'd be waiting, she has the jacket unzipped, but it's still showing off the 'ESU' sweatshirt underneath.

"Hey!"

There's a tug of a warm smile on her lips, her pink streaked hair left loose around her shoulders, though it's been pushed back from her face by a black headband, this time.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Rather contrastingly, but typical her normal style, Katsumi's luxuriously silky ebon mane is let free and loose to spill about her shoulders and behind her back. Fun fact! She used to keep her hair kind of short. Then she had a makeover. She's never looked back. Not that she'd ever admit that.

The voice pulls Katsumi's focus from the phone instantly, and she looks to Gwen with a radiant smile. "Heeyyy, you!," she greets. And just as readily, the princessy punkette departs her perch to all but float across the distance to meet her. "You came! I mean, of course you came. You wanted to meet, right? It's just- I dunno, weird having visitors. Not that you're, like, visiting. It's a public space. More or less, anyway! It's /kind/ of public. Open to the public. I'm saying so many words right now," Katsumi says, the last part accompanied with an apologetically flustered look.

"Welcome to the new digs!," she says, swinging sidelong with a theatric flourish of the arm. "I came to the embassy, talked about furkinis, and they gave me a room!"

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"Of course I came!" Gwen muses, a wry grin tugging at one corner of her lips. "And.. I dunno. Technically, I'm visiting _you_ more than the Embassy, so I think this qualifies! Even if I didn't have to bribe any of the vaguely terrifying warrior women to get in the door."

There's laughter just below the surface of those words, and it shows no sign of sobering at the sweep of Katsumi's arm or the mention of the talk of furkinis.

"So _that's_ how you get a room, here?! Were they sold on the fashion upgrade, or are you still in talks? You know I do modeling as a side-gig. I'm _sure_ I could talk to some people about a whole furkini modeling shoot for the Amazons. You could start a new line of winter bikinis. The designer could share profits with the Embassy... you'd take a cut as the idea-woman. Obviously."

Humor lingers in those eyes as she glances between Katsumi and the rest of the place, already moving further in... and then spotting the cat sitting on the chair.

"Oh, hey! They let you bring your cat!"

Of course, she's already slipping the backpack off of her shoulders, dropping it off at a nearby chair and shrugging out of her jacket.

"We never did get to finish out conversation, before. Things got busy, and you seemed like you were being careful, so I didn't want to push you to keep talking..."

There's a pause as she tosses the jacket over the chair and the sweatshirt comes next, leaving her in a pink bikini top.

"What's your cat's name?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Uugghh, /yes/, I /know/, you're hot, and a model and a genius, and a Bond girl," Katsumi rattles off in 'exasperated' jealousy. Fists plant to hips as Gwen leaves her behind to venture further into the room, her bottom lip pushing forward just enough to achieve full haughtiness. "The /idea/-woman? I think you mean /cover-model/." Should Gwen glance back in her direction, Katsumi will flamboyantly toss her hair over her shoulder.

Fabulous.

The feline in question has awakened during the commotion. Its head raises from the curled mound of wool that is its general body area, jade green eyes blinking open before letting loose with a wide yawn. Then, those eyes sharpen onto Gwen, its expression that epitome of feline frown. But it's a cat. They all kind of look that way.

"I mean, what I was telling you isn't exactly normie stuff...," Katsumi says, the mirth dimming in her voice. She pads after the blonde and folds her hands into opposite sleeves before nodding at the cat. "He's Herukage. It's a weird name," she adds. "..what all.. did I tell you last time?"

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Laughter bubbles past Gwen's lips, but there's some bitterness that slips in with a little shake of her head.

"Hey, I never _asked_ to be a model. I was perfectly fine being a genetics nerd."

The words are past her lips before she really thinks about how much of a story they require to make sense... but it's probably a more common thing than she realizes, right? People accidentally being forced into modeling gigs?

Still, it's out there, so she might as well lean into it.

"Hey, I'd _much_ rather _only_ be the idea-woman, but you could totally pull off both if you wanted to, so more power to you," she muses.

Bending, she unties her shoes and toes them off, then slips off her insulated leggings, leaving her in the matching bikini bottoms.

There are bruises, but only a few, and most seem on the older side. The larger, faded yellow ones are on her rib cage and the outside of one thigh. The newer ones, still purplish, are about half-dollar sized on her upper arms.

"It's a weird name," Gwen parrots without the least bit of irony, nodding as she looks back at the cat with a little smile before shifting her gaze to Kat. "Is he the one you saved? The one that scratched you?"

She slips off the headband and drops it on her bag for later.

"Last I heard, you got a cat scratch, bled on an altar, and now you're an avatar of a monster god that's supposed to punish all humans," she explains. Then without missing a beat continues, "_With_ really pretty eyes. Got a boyfriend. I'm just sayin'."

Amusement dances in her eyes for a moment as she grins, clearly not seeming all that threatened by the whole 'punish all humans' thing.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
As Gwen disrobes the remainder of the way, so to speak, Katsumi pauses to give her a discreet once-over. It can't be helped. On the one hand, there will always be a knee-jerk sense of competition in Katsumi. That's just the kind of girl she is; it's a fire she can't help. She's constantly measuring herself against others, give or take her own distorted self-view. On the other hand, Gwen /is/ strikingly pretty. It's not like she can just ignore that either...

Bruises. She's been bruised.

"Damn. Did Dick slap you around or something?" And immediately, she lifts a hand. "Don't say it! I heard it as /soon/ as I said it." Clearing her throat, she retreads the double entendre more tactfully, "You know what I mean, though. You.. uh.. good? You need me to put some bruises on someone..?"

As she asks, she wanders closer to her. She isn't sure she wants to rush past the question, because she feels so much tonally hangs on what Gwen says, but Gwen /did/ happen to compliment her. And the vanity-driven parts of Katsumi's brain (read: most of it) can't let that slide. "Pffh, come on. You think so? I know wrestling sometimes transitions into that in America for the ladies, but.. yeah?" The aforementioned eyes blink once at the blonde. "Yeah, no. No boyfriend." They then shift sidelong sheepishly, a hand moving to slip beneath the nape of her hair to brush against her neck. "Last.. entanglement wasn't a boy, anyway."

"Oh," adds Katsumi with a glance to the quietly observing feline, "and no. He's not the one that scratched me. He was a statue."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Does Gwen notice the 'measuring up?'

Probably not. In truth, there's not a lot she misses, as oblivious as she might sometimes seem outside of her Ghost-Spider persona.

She doesn't dwell on it, though, and her lips are already moving, ready with an answer to that first question even before Kat cuts her off and replaces whatever she was going to say with a sly grin.

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I'm good. I'm actually trying to learn some hand-to-hand self-defense? And... it's a rough process."

It's not an overt lie. Gwen's never had any formal training. She got stuck with spider powers at fourteen years old and kind of figured it all out on her own. It turns out she's great at using her environment and taking advantage of her webs, but sort of crap against Nightwing in a sparring ring.

Not that she got the bruises from Nightwing, but.. semantics.

The mention of her not having a boyfriend, though, earns a nervous laugh. "Not _you_, _me_," she says with a playful grin. "As in, I'm not trying to get in your... um... robe. I get it, though. After two failed attempts with guys, I was _so_ tempted to swear off guys completely and call my ex-girlfriend again. So when I say I love Dick, I'm being very specific."

Laughter bubbles up again, though, before her eyes shift back to the cat.

"Wait.. the one that scratched you was a statue?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
A flush colors Katsumi's cheeks when she completely misunderstands what Gwen was saying. "Oh. Okay, I- it's just- I got confused with the whole- I mean-."

As she flounders, the feline settles back down. Its head comes to rest upon its paws, listless and aloof.

"Anyway!," she suddenly blurts. "These robes are pretty badass, though. Not sayin' you should? But I totally /could/ fit a whole other person in this thing." She takes the lapels of the robe to give them a mild flap, as if to emphasize. But then it's time to disrobe - in the most literal sense of the word. With a tug of the sash, both halves of the robe fall loose about Katsumi's slender figure, and she shrugs it down from her shoulders. With a smooth, seemingly practiced ease, she unsleeves her left arm from the garment with a sweep, transfers the momentum to the right arm, and casts it forward to gracefully float down onto the lounge chair.

Covering the feline.

Thus, Katsumi is left in a designer bikini coated in shimmering, iridescent 'scales'. She leans forward as she links her arms behind her back and arches, stretching the limbs in limber display with one eye scrunched shut. "Mnh. Nuh-uh," she says. "The cat that scratched me ran off."

Straightening her posture again, she motions a hand towards the lump now sitting upright beneath the shroud of the robe. "That one was a part of the shrine. A cat statue sitting at its base. Apparently over the next few days, it turned into a cat."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"Relax," Gwen practically purrs, soft laughter coloring the words as a playful smile twists her lips. "You're crazy hot. Trust me, if I didn't have a boyfriend, I'd absolutely be testing your theory." A beat passes as warm, affectionate humor dances in her eyes.

Maybe that's true. Maybe it's not. There was a whole period where Gwen had kind of sworn off the whole relationship thing and decided she was going to do life on her own. But, that obviously didn't stick. What is true, though, is that it's said with all sincerity, not a hint of mockery to be found.

She watches the robe arc through the air, tracking its descent as it lands with perfect precision over the cat. There's a beat of silence, then the slightest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"Y'know, I feel like he just got demoted," she muses, hands finding her hips. "One minute, sacred shrine guardian. Next minute? Blanket lump."

Eyes shifting back to Katsumi, she scans the bikini -- not in the sizing-up way Katsumi had measured her earlier, but with the raised-brow intrigue of someone taking mental notes.

"Nice," she admits, nodding at the iridescent shimmer. "Very aquatic chic. Kinda feels like I should be asking if you grant wishes or lure sailors to their doom."

At the confirmation that Herukage was a statue, Gwen tilts her head, gaze flicking back to the cat.

"Huh." She crosses her arms, considering. "So, what, you bled on an altar, got yourself a magic monster god, and also a bonus pet rock that turned into a cat?"

There's humor in her tone, but not disbelief. The whole thing is bizarre, sure, but bizarre is her normal.

"Do you think he -- " she nods toward the cat lump " -- is part of the whole divine punishment gig? Or is he just here for moral support?"

"So, what, he was just hanging out, minding his own business, and then -- bam. Real cat?" Her fingers drum absently against her hip. "I mean, that's got to be an adjustment. Going from being a statue to suddenly needing food. A litter box. Existential dread."

A pause. A slight tilt of her head.

"...Does he do anything, or is he just a really judgmental roommate?"

Because... cat.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Sweet-talker," Katsumi accuses with a playful brand of subtle affection. Crazy hot. Not something non-fans usually say about her. But she's absolutely taking it, especially with her eyes being all different. Small ego boosts are treasured right now. She was rather attached to her old eyes. She grew'em herself, after all!

When Gwen turns her attention back to Katsumi, she quickly recognizes the appraising look. And so, the Japanese diva straightens her back and cocks her hip, arms raised to fold behind her head in luxurious pin-up fashion intended to emphasize the smoothness of her figure and (admittedly more modest than some) curves. Her head turns just enough to give Gwen a coy side-eye through wispy bangs. "If wishes are suplexes and sailors are bitches, that's me all day, baby."

The pose is quickly dropped, however, and she looks back to the aforementioned lump of a cat. "Kind'a? Ohmigod, I've never given him a litter box," she realizes, hands lifting to cover her mouth.

The lumpy shape shifts, squirming, before the feline's head finally emerges from the recesses of cloth. Its eyes are vaguely narrowed, somehow accusatory.

"You realize the more you divulge to humans, the harder a task you'll have." So spaketh the feline. In deep, resonant tones. And a British accent. In fact, the feline speaks with a deep and profound baritone and weighty gravitas, not unlike James Earl Jones reprising Darth Vader. And his delivery is edged in a combination of aloof detachment and judgmental superiority enough to qualify as a furry Orson Welles. He has the perfect enunciation and grandeur of a professional orator, and all the societal loathing of a McRib. "And I do far more than judge her."

"Did I mention he talks?," asks Katsumi dryly.

The feline slides from beneath the robe to land neatly, even primly, upon the hard floor. "I am Herukage, Emissary of Makai-no-Yomorinushi, Lord Protector of the Night, Father of Beasts, Shepherd of Animalkind, and God of Yokai." The feline cants his head towards Gwen in a curiously cordial, refined bow of acknowledgment. "And I do not require a litterbox."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Gwen snorts as Katsumi shifts like she's waiting for a camera flash. She cocks her head, making a show of assessing. "Yeah, okay," she muses, arms folding as she takes in the pose. "I see the vision. Bit more 'death by dropkick' than siren's song, but it's working for you."

Then the cat speaks.

And not just speaks. The kind of voice that belongs in a grand hall, delivering proclamations, not coming from a ball of fur previously buried under a robe. Rich. Measured.

Her brain short-circuits. Mouth open. Words queued up but failing to launch. There's a moment where she doesn't move at all -- just stands there, staring, waiting for the world to snap back to normal.

It doesn't.

Instead, Herukage moves. Fluid. Purposeful. Sentient. And talking like he has spent centuries perfecting the art of sounding both regal and exasperated at the same time. Gwen's gaze flicks to Katsumi, searching for something -- surprise, confusion, any indication that this is as weird to her as it is to Gwen. But there's nothing. Just Katsumi, unbothered.

Okay. That's fine. That's totally fine.

"Okay," Gwen says, hands lifting in a slow, measured let's establish reality motion. "Just checking -- you _can_ hear him too, right? Like, this is a shared experience? Because I have had a week, and I really don't need to be the only one getting lectured by the spirit of Winston Churchill in feline form."

And let's face it. It's not that Gwen doesn't talk to an imaginary pig dressed up like Spider-Man, from time to time. A talking cat is just par for the course, at this point.

Then Herukage steps fully into the open.

"Emissary of Makai-no-somebody," Gwen repeats under her breath, watching as he bows.

Then she clears her throat and manages a very elaborate stage curtsy that the British monarchy would absolutely loath. It looks especially silly given that all she's wearing is a pink bikini with a slender black choker around her throat. Despite that, though, there's something _so_ fluid to her movements -- the grace and precision, the fluidity and straight lines, like a trained ballerina.

"Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy of... Queens, your... Emissaryness?"

She lifts her head, peeking up at the cat with a cringe of a smile.

"Sorry. They didn't really cover any of this in school..."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro opts to step in beside Gwen, enough to give her a sense of not being entirely untethered from reality. "I had my freakout when I first heard it," she offers sympathetically. "Me, She-Hulk, Ant-Man, all in a room with a talking cat. There was shadow puppet theater, too."

Herukage observes the fluid curtsy with the sort of silently critical gaze one might expect from an Olympic committee. And when she's finished, he offers, "You need not stand on ceremony with me, girl. I am a cat."

As if she hadn't picked up on that fact. And equally that this is somehow a normal scenario Gwen should've accounted for.

"To explain my purpose," he continues as he sits upright with paws poised before him, "I was given life to provide guidance for the vessel of the Lord Protector's divinity. To ensure she," he pauses, giving a pointed look up at Katsumi, "understands what she now possesses, and that she wields it properly."

Katsumi, for her part, looks almost bored, with gaze half-lidded. She's likely heard this more times than a few, one might assume. And in the end, she's tilting enough to nudge her shoulder against Gwen's. "I might'a mentioned. If I don't get with the program, this deity is gonna take back its power. Which'll kill me."

"Most likely kill you," interjects the feline. "Or leave your body a hollowed, soulless husk. I imagine death is preferable, but then, you are a strange person."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Katsumi coming to stand beside her shouldn't make a difference. It's not like Gwen is new to weird. But there's something about that casual, yeah, I freaked out too that takes the edge off, loosens her stance just enough to make this all feel less like she's hallucinating and more like -- well. Just another Wednesday.

She glances over, eyebrow raised. "The shadow puppet theater would have done me in," she teases, lips quirking at the edges.

Then, back to Herukage. The bow, the titles, the absolute certainty in his own importance. Gwen snorts. "You're not a cat." A beat. "I mean... you're not just a cat. I've never owned one, but I'm pretty sure the ones I've met don't say things like 'stand on ceremony.'"

The whole thing should be funny. It is, kind of. But then there's that explanation -- guidance, vessel, wields it properly -- and suddenly the edges of the joke feel a little sharper. He's not just talking. He's serious.

And then there's the casual -- oh, by the way, if she messes this up, she dies.

Gwen's gaze flicks back to Katsumi, both eyebrows lifted. The shoulder-bump earns a grin, but the amusement doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"That's... kind of a big caveat."

She exhales, pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek before turning back to Herukage.

"So what exactly is she supposed to be doing, anyway?" Her fingers drum absently against her hip. "I mean, I've definitely got some past due library books. Is she supposed to be smiting me right now? Or are we talking more like biblical, extinction-level stuff because humanity as a whole is wicked?"

She huffs, tilting her head toward Katsumi. "We _just_ became friends. It'd really suck if she had to smite me." A pause, a glint of that oh-so-common playful amusement. "But more so if it's, y'know... a global thing."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Why does everyone keep saying that," puzzles Herukage as he glances aside. Of course he's just a cat. He is cat-shaped. He meows. He tongue-grooms. He even chases animated gingerbread men. In what way is he- oh, the talking. Of course.

The mention of the caveat earns a smile back from Katsumi, but it's distinctly lacking in cheer. The smile exists solely to stand in lieu of a frown, and more for Gwen's sake. "I know. We were trying to figure some way out of it when... that thing happened to me. And I got sealed away."

"At present," continues Herukage, "she is to continue honing her new power. She is /woefully/ unfamiliar with that which she is now capable. The Lord Protector has granted her a grace period to learn, train, and hone. Then he will expect her to perform her duties."

Lifting to all fours again, Herukage proceeds to pad towards the two ladies; tail high and head raised, dignified. "Humanity is not to go extinct. But it is to be punished for its crimes. Punishment will continue until the Lord Protector is satisfied."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"Oookay. Vague," Gwen taunts, rolling her wrist like she's physically trying to coax a better answer out of the air.

She turns to Katsumi, scanning her up and down, eyes sweeping slow -- not in the way Katsumi had earlier, but with the curiosity of someone actually trying to gauge something. "So what exactly is it she's supposed to -- "

A pause. Then, before either can answer, Gwen holds up a single finger. "Hold that thought. I'm getting in the water."

And with that, she's moving, trotting toward the edge of the pool. No hesitation. No testing the water. Just one smooth dive -- arms stretched, body lined up like a practiced motion -- and she cuts into the surface with barely a ripple.

The water is warm and comforting compared to the drafts that keep blowing in from outside. It's bracing in a way that shakes off the lingering strangeness of the last few minutes. She pops up a second later, slicking wet hair back from her face, then starts an easy swim back to the edge.

Once there, she folds her arms on the pool's ledge, kicks her feet up behind her, and lifts her chin toward Katsumi.

"Okay. Sorry." She breathes in deep, lets it out slow. The water helps. "So what kind of powers are we talking about here? Like, actual punish-all-of-mankind levels of power? Because I'm just saying -- " she gestures vaguely with one hand " -- that's a pretty broad job description. Does she fly? Shoot lasers out of her eyes? Turn people to dust?"

She shifts, propping her chin on her forearm, watching Herukage with something almost resembling amusement. "And how do we know when the Lord Protector is 'satisfied'? Does he send a strongly worded memo? Or does it just start raining frogs?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro turns more towards Gwen, nonplussed as she's looked over again. And that curiosity ramps up when Gwen suddenly breaks from them, only to dive into the pool. It's almost a shocking reminder that that's what they'd originally set out to do! And all at once, she feels entirely too exposed in the open. Not that she expects the cat is a leery pervert, but being the odd one out is an uncomfortable feeling. That's discounting even topic at hand!

When Gwen sets up along the wall of the pool, Katsumi moves to its edge near her. "I'll let him answer all that," she says. And without further ado, she follows Gwen's lead - if a bit less gracefully. She hops forward, knees tucking against her chest and arms wrapping around her shins. Cannonball! The splash issued is chaotic, resulting in dampening the otherwise regal fluff of Herukage.

His expression is sour, but then, when is it not?

"Yes. Well." A paw lifts to smooth some tufts of fur. "I presume I will be informed, and then inform her. Or perhaps he will address her directly. Either way, my purpose will have been fulfilled, and I would no longer exist."

"As to the powers...," Herukage changes tracks, glancing to the emerging Japanese girl. "She possesses the traits of yokai. Strength enough to devastate mankind. Speed enough to confound their senses. Endurance enough to weather anything thrown at her. She is to become humanity's fears made manifest. Unstoppable. Unbreakable. Wrath divine."

And Katsumi emerges, finally, with dramatic flair. Her head tosses back, sending her long ebon tresses whipping from the front to behind and issuing a cascade of droplets in the process. Hands lift in balled fists to rub at her eyes, and she turns over in the water to gingerly paddle her way to the wall beside Gwen.

"She cannot turn people into dust. But if she has the will, she can mash them into a paste equivalent," Herukage concludes.

"Do wha' now?," asks Katsumi, looking from the cat to Gwen. "..hey. Hey. I said I wasn't gonna do any of that stuff, remember?"

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Laughter bursts from Gwen, bright and unfiltered, as Katsumi cannonballs into the pool. She throws an arm up instinctively to shield herself from the splash, but it's too late -- water splatters across her arms, her face. And then there's Herukage, soaked and visibly displeased, looking like a royal who just got hit with peasant filth.

Gwen laughs harder. Unholy vengeance cat, defeated by pool water.

But then there's the explanation -- he will be informed, and then he will inform her. And just like that, he'll be gone. No grand conclusion, no peaceful retirement. Just... ceasing to exist.

Her smile fades, just a little. "That's kind of sad, isn't it?" she murmurs, propping her chin on her arms. "To just... not exist anymore, just because your purpose is served? I'd think that'd make someone not really wanna live out their purpose at all."

The hmm she lets out is thoughtful, but when Katsumi surfaces beside her, flipping her hair like she's in a shampoo commercial, Gwen's grin returns.

"You know, I can probably get you paid to do that..."

But then she's there with her at the edge of the pool.

"Oh, I remember," she assures, voice light, easy. "I'm just asking questions. I mean, how often do you find out one of your friends is an angel of vengeance?"

The mirth in her eyes is clear, teasing, but not mocking.

Then Herukage starts listing what she's actually capable of, and Gwen... re-evaluates.

Strength. Speed. Endurance. Humanity's fears, manifest.

She flicks a glance at Katsumi, tilting her head slightly. "So... what if she were to only punish the people she thought needed it? Does that still work, or does boss-dude have, like, a hit list?"

And then -- suddenly -- her elbows tuck in slightly, her posture subtly guarded. "Wait," she blurts out, eyes going a little wide. "Can she see someone's sins?"

Somehow, even asking it makes her press herself a little closer to the pool's edge, like she'd take X-ray vision over that.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"No..," says Herukage, for once slightly more hesitant in his answer. "..I exist to serve at his pleasure. It is an honor to not only have a purpose, but to know what it is."

"To do what?," chirps Katsumi, head dolling innocently to the side. "Do a cannonball?" She turns more onto her side, using one elbow to rest upon the lip of the wall. The rest of her body starts to drift horizontal. "Angel of vengeance makes me sound like a goth kid," she remarks.

"This was asked already. By the ogress, I believe-"

"Oh my god, she's not an Ogress, she's She-Hulk! Learn to talk to women!," chastises Katsumi.

"Yes, she is a she-hulk. Jennifer Fiona, I believe her name is..."

Katsumi groans. Loudly. Meddling by Scott Lang has completely skewed Herukage's understanding of poor Jen. "Fiona is an ogre princess."

"Yes, that is what I said."

"No, you said- she- ugh! F***ing cats, man," Katsumi concludes with an exasperated look towards Gwen.

"If we're quite finished," smartly reproaches the feline. "She asked a very similar question. The answer, however, is /mostly/ no. Humans have lacked discrimination in their crimes. So, too, shall their punishment follow." He pauses, observing Gwen with a little tilt of his head. "No. No she cannot."

"Ooh, you diiirrrty~," teases Katsumi, using her free arm to teasingly knuckle-nudge at the blonde's waist. "There's a Dick joke to be made here~"

Herukage's forepaw lifts, rubbing slowly against his face in vexation.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"Who knows," Gwen answers Katsumi's question with a grin, her voice carrying that easy, teasing lilt. "Probably that, too."

She lets the conversation flow around her after that, watching the back-and-forth with quiet amusement. The moment She-Hulk becomes an ogress, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing outright. It's impressive, really, how much sheer energy Katsumi puts into trying to correct a cat that is clearly choosing to be wrong.

When Katsumi finally groans, loud and exasperated, before turning to Gwen for backup, Gwen just shrugs, unhelpful.

"Hey, on the bright side of things," she offers, shifting slightly against the pool's edge. "After you finish pounding all of us lowly mortals into paste, it sounds like you can pick out a new cat that doesn't talk."

But then -- punishment being indiscriminate.

Gwen frowns. Just a little. A brief press of her lips together, the kind of reaction that could be mistaken for mild annoyance if not for the sharp glint in her eyes. "Well, that just seems unfair..."

She doesn't dwell on it, though, because then there's the nudge, and --

Gwen squeals and shifts a hand to the surface, sending a wave sloshing against Katsumi's front that's not aggressive enough to splash her directly in the face. But that response? It's reactionary, genuine, embarrassing -- and the heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks does not help.

"Look, what we get up to on our own time is nobody's business!" Gwen protests, voice an octave higher than she intended as she flicks water right back at Katsumi in retaliation.

And yeah. Okay. She can feel her face burning. Perfect. Fantastic.

"Besides," she shifts the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically, "if loving Dick is wrong, I don't want to be right..." Because she couldn't help herself.

Laughter, free and easy, bubbles up past her lips. And while she's definitely been enjoying herself this entire time, there's a notable shift to something more... relaxed. The sound of it, the tone is so... relieved, almost, like this moment is an oasis in an otherwise chaotic and closed-off existence.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Herukage lifts his gaze and shakes his head; /children/, he swears. Turning, he pads on his way into the further recesses of the room, possibly to explore.

Thus, Katsumi and Gwen are left alone. And it's just as Katsumi is squeaking in response to the splash! Departing the wall, her arms come forward as if to protect herself! Not that it's necessarily needed, or that she isn't already soaked in poolwater, but it's the /nature/ of the thing. The principal! And the defense to come afterwards, the line!

Gwen knows exactly what she's doing.

Katsumi winces in mirth, curling inwards against herself. "Oogh.. agh.. I-.. I can't.. too much.. to painful..!" Her left arm raises dramatically into the air, reaching! "Aaaghblblbl," the 'death rattle' turns into a burbly torrent of bubbles as Katsumi sinks beneath the surface. Bloop.

A few seconds later, and a mass of dark, wet hair begins to appear in the water on Gwen's opposite side. Her head rises, as if a creature from a dark lagoon, with hair clinging to her face. And she assails what she's positive has turned out to be a weakpoint: Gwen's ribs! Another nudge! Light, but insistent in the water, trying to force another peal from the blonde.

"You /aren't/ right!," Katsumi teases. "That's the ish'!"

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Gwen isn't used to this. Playing. Laughing. She can't even remember the last time she let herself just -- be.

Maybe when she was little. Back when it was Peter and Harry and MJ and Glory and Betty, and none of them had to worry about anything real yet. But then? Spider-Woman. And that was... all-consuming. A full-time job she couldn't even talk about. Not to them. Not to anyone.

So she pulled away. It's easier, keeping people at arm's length. Pulling farther when things get too close, too personal. A sharp quip, a well-placed deflection -- it's second nature now. The mask is safe. The mask knows how to handle things. And Ghost-Spider?

Ghost-Spider doesn't have problems.

It's so much rarer to be able to laugh like this -- really laugh -- without the mask. Dick broke through those walls, but they have history and nothing left in the way of secrets. The fact that Katsumi -- Katsumi -- has her grinning like an idiot, actually having fun?

That's something else entirely.

The dying declaration gets her first. Gwen snickers as Katsumi sinks beneath the surface, watching her go with mock solemnity, one hand pressed over her heart.

"Tragic," she muses. "Taken too soon. We'll always remember her valiant struggle."

But then -- movement.

A dark shape, rising from the water on her opposite side. Gwen barely has time to react before contact -- a light, insistent jab at her ribs.

A sharp gasp, a squeal that turns into outright laughter, Gwen twisting instinctively, writhing away.

"Don't be jealous!" she cries with absolutely no heat or venom to the words. In fact, she can barely get them out through the full-throated laughter. "It's not my fault I'm so into Dick!"

It's reactionary, automatic, but she's back-peddling, splashing wildly as she tries to escape.

It's ridiculous.

It's fun.

And for once, she just lets herself go.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro is, in a way, experiencing a kind of therapy in this. It's more like how she /used/ to be - before the blackouts, before her eyes started to lose their color. It was rare enough already, finding someone who would tolerate her in Japan. But when she would? For those brief, shining moments, she felt normal. Relaxed. And she isn't sure if it's Americans in general, or if it's Gwen specifically, but she's not felt like she needs to curb herself with her. She knows she isn't the elegant little sophisticate her parents wanted; far from it. And she's lived with that for half her life. But Gwen laughing in retreat, splashing, its all positive. All sunny.

It helps tremendously that Gwen doesn't take herself too seriously, nor was she freaked out (too much!) by any of these revelations. Gwen's just Gwen. The unreasonably pretty blonde who also happens to have punky sensibilities, is musical, and... uplifting.

"Oh my goood!," drones Katsumi as her arms lift to shield her already-drenched face and hair. "Could you /be/ more hung up on Dick?"

Her fingers part to let her eyes peek between the digits, cheshire smile worn.

And then she's swimming after her! "You triggered the pool's cublghlb!" She sputters and stops. "Okay, talking while swimming doesn't work still! That's not a superpower I have!"

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"Every chance I get!" Gwen sing-songs, cheeks still bright red, laughter still filling her voice.

She's still reeling, still giddy, when the words are already out.

For a second, there's nothing but water and noise and heat creeping up her neck.

She pauses, though, head tilting at the garbled word. It's all fun and games, but there's something instinctive -- protective -- that kicks in at the first sign of trouble. She spins in the water, eyes locking onto Katsumi's like she's checking. Making sure.

When Gwen's pretty sure she's not going to drown?

She grins, playful but watchful, the last bit of laughter still warm in her voice. "Okay, definitely not a superpower," she agrees, treading water easily.

Then, without missing a beat -- because what's the best way to cover for nearly drowning in your own joke? Deflection. Always deflection.

"...I blame the Lord Protector," Gwen sighs, shifting onto her back, floating effortlessly. "Clearly, my wickedness needed punishing."

She kicks gently, half-lidded gaze flicking back toward Katsumi. Teasing. Poking at the edges of something ridiculous.

"You should talk to Aquaman, though. He might be able to hook you up with some gills." Beat. Smirk. "Doesn't he bum around your girlfriend sometimes?"

She doesn't need to clarify who she means, does she?

Diana. Of course, she means freaking Wonder Woman.

She tilts her head toward Katsumi, eyes gleaming with mischief. "C'mon, you don't have to pretend it's not a thing..."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro is many things. And she can start a forest fire with a promo. But picking up on hints? That's not so potent a skill. So after she's raked her hair back out of her face and landed her gaze on Gwen, she blinks. "Girlfriend? Who?"

Never fear, the wry, entertained grin makes a full recovery. Katsumi's approach to Gwen is more cautious now, bobbing delicately along the water as if creeping up on prey. "You just /can't/ tell someone you need punishing and then drop something like that on'em," she teases. A slender black eyebrow arches at her expressively. "And I'm usually the last person in the room to know what the Hell someone's talkin' about already! Remember~?"

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"Oh my god," Gwen laughs, still delighted.

"Wonder Woman!" she repeats, because really? "The tall chick who took you shopping? She and Aquaman are both in the Justice League together."

She kicks lazily, rolling onto her back for a moment before righting herself again, treading water. And maybe pouting. Just a little.

"You know," she sighs, exaggerated, as if she's been deeply, personally wronged. "My jokes are wayyy less funny when I have to explain them. We're _definitely_ working on context clues... unless you're just surrounded by so many women doting on you that you couldn't figure out which one I meant. That's a whole separate problem that's... probably not all that much of a problem."

She flicks a little water in Katsumi's direction, nothing major -- just petty revenge for making her spell it out.

"So, you never told me why you were at the weird alter-shrine-whatever in the first place," she blurts out after a moment -- probably because the words popped into her head, so she said them out loud.

"I'm trying to piece your story together, but when I remember you're a professional wrestler, it throws off the whole Indiana Jones picture I have going in my head."

She's still treading water, so once she finishes speaking, she lets herself sink just enough for her mouth to go under, idly blowing bubbles while she waits. And listens.

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
"Yeah, well!," Katsumi barks, "It's not Justice League of /Hokkaido/, now is it!?" She pushes out her bottom lip in such a pout.

She's obviously playing up the defensiveness there, but there's a definite element of truth to it. She's very, very unfamiliar with the superheroes of the modern world. At best, she knows the ones specific to her home archipelago and those of such profound global importance that they're unmistakable. Like Superman. Not like Dr. Phil for Fish.

As Gwen sinks, Katsumi's pout softens into a small smile despite herself. It's cute. She suspects Gwen /knows/ it's cute.

"Okay, so in professional wrestling, there are promos. They.. promote things. Upcoming events, a fight, /yourself/, or just sh**-talking your opponent. They get the crowd hype, see?"

Her arms weave smoothly along the surface of the water, legs languidly kicking to keep herself afloat. It's not even a cognizent thing she's doing at this point, her body having chosen to tread. "For the Four Corners international competition, the execs with NLWF - that's my home federation, sweetpea - they wanted me to cut a promo somewhere spooky. Everyone was doing their own promos for the event, but mine was all themed around scarin' the Hell outt'a the other countries. And a scout found this village in the middle of nowhere. Busted down, obviously not touched in /decades/. If there's anywhere that's gonna be haunted, it'd be that place."

Storytime Katsumi tilts her head back with a heavy sigh. "That whole shoot was going wrong. F***ing bug flew in my mouth during one take. I got heated about it, took five, wandered around, and saw jerks kicking a cat around." Her head tilts again, this time towards Gwen. "And the rest, you know! Started having blackouts on the way to America, but I didn't wanna tell anyone. 'Cuz an international event like this can make or break a career."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Gwen hums, somewhere between acknowledgment and amusement, letting herself float, arms outstretched.

Of course Katsumi's entire origin story started with a wrestling promo.

She tilts her head just enough to glance over, smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. "So what I'm hearing is: you went full found-footage horror movie just to intimidate some French wrestlers?"

She lets that sit for a second, kicking idly to stay afloat before sighing, deep and dramatic.

"I mean, I guess that's one way to win a promo war."

She could joke more, could push the banter further, but -- blackouts.

That's not funny. That's not normal.

Her grin fades just a little, barely noticeable, but the shift in energy is there. Katsumi didn't tell anyone. And Gwen gets that. Maybe too well.

Because what do you do when your body starts betraying you? When the thing that makes you you starts slipping away, piece by piece? You push through. You pretend it's fine. You don't give anyone a reason to take it away from you.

She knows that instinct. Intimately.

Her legs drift down, treading water now instead of floating, her voice a little softer when she finally speaks. "Yeah. I get why you didn't say anything."

She doesn't push it. Doesn't ask how bad it got.

Instead, she just nudges Katsumi's arm lightly under the water, like that's enough.

Then, because it's her, because she can't sit in anything for too long --

"So, question. If the whole thing was about scaring the hell out of people, do you think the Lord Protector would count that as punishment? Because I feel like you should at least get partial credit."

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro lets her gaze lift in thought, trying to recall. "There might've been a Frenchie in the event, but I don't think so. France isn't in the UK, right?"

She watches Gwen turn over, to shift the way she bobs in the water. But more importantly, she notes the change in energy. That's the kind of nuance she can pick up on as a performer; as someone who thrives on an audience.

Her arm is nudges, and Katsumi opts to drift closer enough to deliver another light bump of the shoulder with her. "You do, huh?," she asks, her tone turning a little more subtle.

Topic got changed on her! "Prob'ly not! Same reason people turn on scary movies! But I mean, I'm not /scary/ so much as badass and foreboding!"

After a beat, she leans a little more to the side towards her. "So what's up? You know I can bearhug you in half, right..? And that I'm supposed to be this.. evil.. whatever, wrath? But you're not freaked by any of this? Not worried I'm gonna hurt ya?"

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Gwen smiles. "No, it's not."

But then Katsumi bumps her shoulder -- small thing, light thing, intentional. Gwen registers it. The way Katsumi clocks the shift in energy and doesn't let it slide.

Gwen could deflect. Could dodge. Could throw the conversation somewhere safer.

But instead, she shrugs. Easy. Unbothered.

"I'm usually a pretty good judge of character, and you haven't once put off any evil vibes." She rolls onto her back, floating, arms stretched wide. "Except for the cat. If you do get invited to the monthly regional supervillain meeting, be sure to take the cat. Otherwise, I'm not sure they're going to let you in."

She looks over at the corner of her eye, narrowing them playfully as that smile tugs across her lips. "Besides, if I have to be punished for all of humanity's sins, there are worse ways to go than being bear-hugged."

She shifts again, rolling over so she can look at Katsumi properly. "I guess it's just -- I know what it's like to be going through stuff and not be able to talk about it."

A beat. Then, "I don't know. Maybe we all go through that, at some point. Teenagers, am I right?"

She laughs again, but it's forced this time.

"Still, if you change your mind about the whole divine judgment thing, maybe start with someone a little more deserving. I mean, all I do is keep library books too long. You could always start at the top and work your way down. Maybe by the time you get down to jaywalking and texting your dad you're busy just because you need a night to relax, your new boss will have decided you're done."

It isn't until then that something seems to hit her, though, and her gaze seems to re-focus on Katsumi.

"If your cat goes away once your mission is done and losing the power will kill you... what happens to you when you're... finished?"

Katsumi Oshiro has posed:
Katsumi Oshiro is a very physical person, despite her heritage. Though she's weird about certain American customs, such as shaking hands, her tolerance flips wildly depending on the familiarity with the individual. This is most likely owed to her profession. Wrestlers aren't allowed personal bubbles in the ring, after all.

"There's a lott'a people who'd disagree," Katsumi says, her smile dimming. "Coworkers. Acquaintances. Parents." Being so used to bottling everything up, this is a very nice change of pace. Having someone to vent to isn't something she's had in quite a while - Nessa was the last one. And now she's gone. So the bit of information is oh-so-subtly slid in there, before she suddenly gives her a look. "Hey! I'm twenty-two!" She eyeshifts. "I think."

It's hard to tell, thanks to temporal stasis shenanigans.

"Anyway, you're just sayin' that because ya think I'm hot," she asserts with a haughty matter-of-fact nod of her head.

She is /deliberately/ skating right past the impending doom of the last question. She never thought about it before, and that information was never volunteered. She could be damned either way. And that's not something she wants to think about tonight. Instead...

"Hey! How about I teach you some self-defense instead of whoever's smacking you around? I can totally do it during the day when it's a lot safer, too!"

She resumes treading the water, her gaze settled on the blonde before her. "Think about it."