Another Scalping

“I can obviously see he’s been scalped, I just don’t see why you left him on my dining table instead of waiting a few moments for me to clear my practice!” Hinoe shouted, checking the pulse as he scanned the victim for signs of life. His breath came up drowning and Hinoe grimaced further as he realised the extent of the work before him this early in the morning. “He’s weak but I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that. If he survives the night, it’s only the first gate of many and every convulsion he has now just makes me more worried that he won’t reach the end.”

“So can you treat him?” Sawatari pushed.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Hinoe tilted his head to face the two witch hunters standing in the entrance to his dining room for the first time in the entire conversation. “Of course I can treat him but whatever effect that treatment has cannot be put on me.”

“That’s all we need.” Sawatari replied before resting her eyes on Arata. “But you’re staying.”

Until now, the interaction had sounded more like the noise of a crowd in another room. Being spoken to almost shocked him. “I can take a minor burn.” Arata mumbled, trying to use his size to push past her.

“Parts of your suit are charred the whole way through." She grabbed him by the shoulder and held tight.

"The fires went out in the bath."

Sawatari sighed but refused to let go. "You're twenty-six, Arata, and that's still young despite what you might think. Leave dying to the veterans.” She gave a small tug to pull him back. "You're staying."

She must have taken his distance for disagreement and took on a maternal tone. “You did great, you survived fighting a witch alone and you even got close to finishing the job." He turned to face her. "But everyone's got a responsibility here. Whilst you’re out doing yours, I’ve got the daimyo breathing down my neck. If you get killed by a witch before he works you to death then he'll make sure I don't last to the end of the month either. So, for me, just get that burn checked on.”

Arata gave her a tight-jawed nod. Almost on cue, Aose ran into the porch lamp light. “We’ve identified the victim, captain. Koseki Torohachi, head of the stoneworkers. We’re about to talk to his assistant if you would like to oversee.”

Sawari stepped past Arata, only the doorway and her lecture separating the two. “And any news on the witch?” She asked Aose.

“We have hunters still searching, captain,” He replied, “But… nothing so far.”

“I'm sure you'll get your kill another night.” Was all she said before leaving Arata at the doctor’s abode.

“Don’t think I’m ignoring you, young man.” Hinoe darted from his practice to the patient, hands curled around salves and knives. “I’m sure you can understand I have a more pressing matter at the moment.”

They could have expected the state of the victim. From the forehead to the back of the neck, the skin had been torn away from the bone. When they found the first body amongst the ruins of a burnt out house months ago, the state of it meant they thought the fire was responsible. Only after the autopsy did they realise the intention behind the wounds.

“The wounds, are they similar to those found on the other bodies?” He asked in an attempt to move his mind onto an easier topic.

“What?” Hinoe gave a pause to consider the question, a bonesaw amongst the pile of items he placed by the victims side. “I’m trained as a doctor not a mortician, you know. If it doesn’t have a heartbeat then that’s out of my field of expertise.”

“But you've been the interim mortician since Yakumo Doan perished in a fire three months ago."

“Alright, fine. Given how no one has come yet to alleviate me of that role, in my unprofessional opinion, yes they absolutely were. A sharp blade, all of them, anything else would have been too ragged” With that note of certainty, he began the process of prising the char from the victim's skin.

Fifteen scalpings in three months and in each case the witch burnt the house down afterwards. Where was the connection? There was intelligence behind the witches eyes, of course there was because—no, he couldn't pursue that line of reasoning.

If the wound had been done by a knife, why hadn't the witch ever used it, even when he had her pinned? Such a sharp blade seemed beyond something their barbarian tribe would be capable of making out in the mire so there had to be something special about it. Maybe it was wrong for her to use a ritualistic dagger in self-defence.

What was the point of all of it? Why scalp when the remainder would turn to charcoal afterwards, why burn down the house to begin with? Arata found himself staring into a glass cabinet on the wall as he thought. The insides were so packed full of china it became difficult to make out what each of the patterns were, one bled from one ceramic skin onto the next. Maybe they'd seen only a small part of the pattern themselves, suspecting the fires to simple rituals instead of seeing a grander plan.

“I'm done with the worst of it. You could at least help me in moving him if you’re going to be taking up room in my house,” Hinoe called, surrounded by bloody black chunks, “After that I can see to you.” Between an old man and one with only one arm, they made a commendable effort pushing the victim into what might be a comfortable position in other circumstances. Bandages covered more of his body than skin did, bound up so high in places, Arata wasn't sure there was any limb left underneath. “I'll need to redress the wounds before the night is over to check I haven't missed any patches, but for now that's all I can do for him. It’s up to his spirit whether he stays or leaves now.” He turned towards Arata. “So, show me the burn.”

Arata undid his hakama’s knot to reveal the outside of his leg and the bandage around it. With a cautious touch, Hinoe removed them to reveal the charred skin below. His medical knife dipped and dove into Arata's flesh like a bird above the water and scab-by-scab, he excised the burn.

“I haven’t seen your father recently, I presume he’s old enough to stay out of trouble now.”

“No.” Arata grunted through his teeth as raw muscle began to show from the doctor’s work. “He’s just not injured as often as he used to be.” And with treatment like this, Arata could understand why. “He retired from witch hunting early this year. He's working directly for the daimyo but it's just a title, he can't find enough to do.”

“Well that’s all the better for him, worse for me, I always enjoyed seeing the novel injuries he would ask me to fix.”

Arata hissed in agreement, clenching his jaw as the treatment reached its crescendo. “Do you know—” He gasped in pain halfway through the sentence but forced himself through. “Do you know of anyone surviving falling into the marsh?”

“Well…” Hinoe made another cut. “Well if they did, they definitely didn't come to me afterwards, why—” But he stopped himself and finally acknowledged who was asking him this question. “Shibagaki, you know I'm sorry about what happened.” He put the knife down. “After this long without coming back, it's impossible for anyone to have survived.” His voice strained as he found the right words to say. “I've lost many patients before, among those were good friends, and even though I know they're gone, the memories I have of them remain.”

Arata couldn't tell him about the witch, he would just believe it to be some enchantment. There wasn't any enchantment, He grimaced as Hinoe picked up the knife again, I'll have to find the explanation myself.

An hour later, the doctor’s front door opened and Arata stood up to leave with an urgency almost stronger than in the burning mansion.

“We already found a few leads on Koseki to follow,” Sawatari briefed him as he hobbled out of the door, “And lucky for you, one’s close to your heart.”

“What does Kurogane have to do with it?” Arata replied, finally stepping from that accursed house.

“Good guess but wrong!” She laughed, “Try something even closer...”