Enchantment

The hunter was enchanted, Arata realised as he parried the knife swing aimed at him. No one would mind if he ended this fight with one cut across the chest—it would only be a samurai defending himself against a commoner. He parried again and as the katana tilted towards the hunter's unprotected torso, he couldn't bring himself to swing. The man didn't attack out of free will.

"Get back!" Arata shouted as he crushed the burning flower underfoot, "You're under a witch's spell."

The hunter's face twisted in confusion. “You get out of my house! You can't be in here!”

Nausea crashed through him like a punch to the gut. He had just made a grave mistake. By this time tomorrow, we would have had to break in anyway to extinguish the lanterns, he justified to himself to rail against the enchantment, it's all just part of the job. And the job also included the kick he gave the man to send him to the floor. There were eight more lanterns in this corridor alone, he had to work fast. His katana spun through the air like an iron gale, shredding paper and flower stem alike. With each step he crushed flowers and if the whole house had to be uprooted to ensure no embers remained, so be it. He was doing what was right.

"I said I would extinguish them, just get out!" Arata heard the hunter yell as he climbed to his feet, voice struggling for air. 

"Put down the knife, let me do my duty." Arata turned in the kitchen doorway and levelled his sword between them. Hopefully some base instinct would stop the hunter from doing what he had to know was suicide. And he did stop but reached to the wall instead, drawing a bow and notching an arrow to the quiver.

The two men stared eye to eye for an eternal second, each holding the other's weapon in their peripheral. Arata weighed his options and the idea of an arrow protruding from his good shoulder was difficult to argue against. The hunter could shoot faster than Arata could run but it would take time to notch another arrow. He looked up at the tanuki hide over the kitchen door and swung.

The hunter reacted to the movement, loosing the arrow only for it to pierce falling thick fur. Arata was up the stairs by the time the hunter had the next arrow ready, and it impacted only wood instead.

If each of the lamps is acting as one point in a witch circle, once all of them are gone, the attack will stop, he convinced himself as he rounded the corner, if I get that far... The top floor was in disarray, furniture pulled out into the hallway and their contents strewn across the floor. The hunter had planned on running. He kicked a small set of drawers down the stairs just as his assailant came into view and opened and closed the first door he came to. A simple distraction like that would keep the hunter at bay for only a collection of heartbeats, but it was all Arata needed. He reached the end of the corridor just as the hunter began to climb the stairs.

Turning right, the room Arata found himself in was the only bedroom in the house, its corners marked by lanterns. He made quick work of them and crushed each flower into the floor until he was sure they had extinguished. As he took his boot off the last, the hunter reached the top floor and wrenched aside the first door. Arata could hear the muffled scream of anger and knew he had just enough time to get into a blind spot before the hunter realised where he was.

His heart felt high in his throat as he searched for a place to hide until something caught his eye and crashed it back down. This room had a second door. The first time he searched the house he should have noticed the hallway was shorter than the room. One of the walls was newer than the rest to create a separate space behind it. Now he'd extinguished all the lamps, it couldn't be more obvious. The wood matched the colour of the ceiling instead of the walls and the door had been cut crudely. He ventured the tip of his blade against it and pushed, the door creeping aside to reveal the darkness beyond. The roof's thatching was exposed above and only thin rivulets of light made it through the old reeds. It was small and bare except for the figure crouched in the corner shrouded from view by the wide-brimmed hat she wore. The witch had been here the entire time.

It saw him at the same time and opened its mouth in a scream that sounded far too similar to a child's. Footsteps from outside ran to the room and Arata only had a split second to react. Witch hunters wore dark-glasses during the day to see at night without a flame, he had the edge on his assailant without the lanterns. The man needed at least one hand to slide open the door. When he did, Arata was already upon him. His pommel cracked against the hunter's jaw, sending him stumbling, but Arata didn't let him hit the wall. He flipped his katana backwards, threaded it through the hunter's bow, and pulled.

The hunter tumbled into the room and Arata realised two things at once. His katana was now trapped underneath the man and the witch had just raised her hand towards him. Instinct made the decision for him: he rolled back as a jet of blue flame struck from the hallway, let out a hiss, and rushed towards her, hook drawn.

The witch tried to pull another flame into the room but didn't have the angle. Arata didn't let her recover. If it was the same witch he faced the previous night, she was armed, he had to end it now. He sprinted through the door, tossed the hook up to grab it in reverse, and crossed it over the witch's neck a finger's width from her skin. Only his katana was forged of deitetsu steel—his hook couldn't kill her—but the witch didn't have the time to realise that. The toss had sliced through the exposed thatching slats above. Moonlight pattered from between storm clouds into the room.

The witch collapsed to the floor, her hat rolling from her head. Arata looked down at her and the face of his daughter stared back. Her skin shone like graphite, her cheekbone and jaw cut through the right side in sharp angles.

Since their first meeting, he knew it was her but couldn't believe it. Arata took a step back. It was impossible. He had seen his daughter's footprints fade away into the bog until they became untraceable. And yet. 

The witch saw his hesitation and made to wriggle towards the gap in the roof. He had shouted her name for hours through the night. The daimyo called up a small army to join the search. They found nothing. And yet. 

And yet he was meant to make the final cut across her ears, the only way to truly kill a witch. He couldn't. He had to. Alone, surrounded by demon fire, if he captured her they would think he was enchanted. At best they would kill her, at worst they would kill him. And yet.

Arata stopped her in her path. She must not have had the knife or she would have used it earlier. He had nothing to fear. “I will cut you down before you can even step outside.” She was a witch and had to be treated as one. "You can choose to have an honourable death or you can submit to become a prisoner.” He pulled out his rope, a tool meant for tearing down buildings now about to tear down his life with this offer.

Arata could tell there was hesitation in her coal black eyes, a tautness to her legs that still meant there was a chance to run. “Don’t—” He began, an unintentional paternal tone in his voice. But her shoulder slumped with defeat and she turned around, kneeling away from him. A sniffle broke through her brave exterior.

He made the knot quick, binding her arms, especially her hands. He moved the mass of hair back in place, dense with mud and braids. The ends glowed like incense sticks.

It's not her, Arata.

“This witch is under the direct custody of the daimyo.” Arata leaned low to the man as he stepped back into the bedroom, his voice dark as the mire. “If you speak of this to anyone, even other witch hunters, the full force of the lord's might will come down on you.” He went to retrieve his katana and saw a crack running across its length from the fall. He clicked his tongue. “Just go extinguish the rest of your lamps.”

Arata knew he must still be enchanted. He knew he would never make a decision like this otherwise.

But in his heart, he didn't care.