Witch with a Sword

The witch was the largest Arata had ever seen. As it rose to its full height, Arata looked up to get a look at its face beneath the hat but only the exposed jawbone was visible. Arrow shafts spoked through its faded rags, parting as it raised an arm towards the two witch hunters.

The nearest lantern flashed from orange to blue as flames twisted towards them. Instinct took over and Arata went for the cross guard of his katana. Only one arm meant he was slower on the draw than Sawatari and caught the attack at a rushed angle. It was too much for the blade. The flames crashed through the crack from the last time he was at the house, and the top half dropped into the floor. The inferno was uncompromising and tore on his flapping sleeves as he stepped back.

“Witch! Fi—” Arata began to shout until he saw something he never expected: the witch drew a sword of its own, held it aloft, and lunged. He only had enough time to push the blade away from his heart into his left shoulder. It cut straight to the bone, sending him to the ground. He didn’t have the strength for another block, just that one attack felt like defending against a collapsing roof. Sawatari cut in to intervene. She took the blow with a stumble then the next with another step back. There wasn't time to waste this.

Arata scrambled off the floor towards a hallway until a lantern in front exploded into blue sparks across the floor. Either the hunter hadn't extinguished the flower-wick lanterns downstairs or worse, this witch had the best control of fire he had ever seen. From experience, it took concentration for a witch to exert control over a mundane flame, here it was almost instantaneous. He threw off haori on the embers before they took hold and dove through. Behind him, Sawatari was now pressed to the wall defending from the witch’s onslaught. If he ran back in, that was exactly what Sawatari saved him from. She just needed a second free.

He fumbled at his side for a hook and a rope that obviously weren't there. Of course he wouldn't bring his hikeshi tools to a funeral and look where it got him. He had to find something else. The antler trophies were the answer. Ripping one off the wall, he held one end of the bone between his teeth whilst undoing his obi with his hand. It wasn't perfect, but as he finished wrapping one end of the fabric around a spike, it had to do. With a swing across his body, the makeshift hook built up speed, held firm, and whipped out at the witches leg. It caught hold and Arata pulled, yanking the witch to one knee. 

It might have been caught off guard, but it wasn't stupid. One hand around the end of the sword, it raised the blade like it would catch its fall and pushed away Sawatari's follow up strike. By the time it rolled over into an overarm chop onto the obi, Sawatari had already chased after Arata to the hallway.

The witch hissed with annoyance as it closed the fingers in its free hand to a point then splaying them open again. Every lantern in the house exploded into witch fire. Arata went to shield Sawatari but ended up colliding with her as she went to do the same. Both of them wanted the other to live more than themselves.

Through their tangle of limbs, a cinder made it through to her cheekbone. She tried to smother it with a cry but had little time to make sure it was extinguished. Most of their clothes were on fire, the same as the hallway, and through the blaze, the witch swaggered back to its feet, blade raised towards them.

“Where hath thou stolen Shinutcha?” The witches growl was like old coals crackling on a fire, “Answer and I shall quench these flames.”

“Who the hell is Shinutcha?” Sawatari shouted back as her eyes searched for an opportunity. She found one hooked to the wall. “Arata, go!” The hunter had replaced the bow and she promptly grabbed it, notching an arrow and loosing it at the witch. It slashed the shaft in half and acted surprised when the next arrow came only a second later. Sawatari had been an executor for the longest on the force, she knew how to draw a bow better than anyone. It took the impact into its shoulder with a roar but enough of a pause for Sawatari to notch her third arrow. “Just go!”

And Arata knew he should, it was a direct order from his captain but only he could see the flames were already rising up her robe. She wouldn’t last more than a minute. This house must have been like many in Marshtown, quickly constructed after the Great Fire without much thought to longevity. After all, everyone expected them to burn down the next month. If Arata didn’t have his hook, he’d just have to improvise.

With a momentary scan for where the fire was thinnest on the ground, he raised his katana across his shoulder, and dashed past Sawatari. His aim struck true, the blade sank into the wood between the doorframe and the wall, and he pressed with the force of desperation for two lives in one. A metallic crack sang through the air but the doorframe gave out first. Timbers split, the ceiling bowed, and the witch disappeared from sight behind a cascade of poorly fitted planks.

He didn’t want to check how charred his legs were, all he thought of was getting free. Now the firebells were ringing twice, a pause, then again in full force and he turned to see Sawatari already making for the exit. He almsot lost side of her when every flame exploded skywards.

Sawatari dropped like a lantern on the water, her whole kimono ablaze. He could tell his own must have looked just the same and he dove to the ground in a roll. Beside him, she was a ball on fire, every time she rolled, her haori reignited. He had left his katana in the wall so had to draw his wakizashi to cut it from her. Charcoal scabs already covered her arms and neck but easing her suffering was out of the question. Escape was their only option.

He hoisted her to her feet and pushed through the furnace to the door. If Arata had his other hand, he would have been able to slide it aside when a crash shook the house behind them. Sawatari broke from his support and he turned.

Flames had swallowed the far end of the hallway and the wood must have weakened enough for the witch to push through. Now flames roared from its footwraps and with a kick of embers, it closed the distance between them. Sawatari swung up for a block but there was no force behind its sword, and one burning hand clasped around her face instead. The graphite-coloured fingers pressed in like her head was wet mud.

The door slammed aside and before Arata could turn, a figure surged across his right. A man dressed in full armour except for the helmet. Shibagaki Reiji drew his deitetsu katana across the witch’s body. A strike that would have killed it if it hadn't stepped back at the last moment. Trapped between Sawatari and Arata, Reiji hadn't had the reach.

“Don't make my job harder by standing there,” He shouted, cutting through two arcs of flame, “I don't like an audience when I'm this rusty.” Arata followed his father's orders and pulled Sawatari aside.

“Where doth be the other witch?” Reiji ignored the witch’s question, pouncing into a cross slash. A wall of flames jutted up in front alongside the witches own parry but Reiji saw through it. He tilted the blade, cut metal flush against metal, and the tip sliced through flesh. The flames dropped, one of the witch’s hands clutched around its throat.

It wasn't enough to kill it. But it was enough to make it reconsider. Backing away, it sheathed the sword, and balled both hands into fists. Arata had seen this before.

“Get out!” He yelled from the doorway and Reiji turned to face him as the first support buckled.

Two seconds was all it took for the house to collapse. One for the bottom floor to crumble from the witch’s magic, a second for the top floor to cave in on itself. If there was a third, Reiji would have made it out in time.

Instead, he lay at the front steps, hissing in pain as a crossbeam trapped both of his legs. Arata only had time to check he was alive before they were swarmed by witch hunters. Three helped Reiji up with considerable complaint about gentleness from the older man, another came up to Sawatari just as she began to scream. The numbness from the witch fire wore off and his own wound ignited in white hot fury.

“What happened?” Aose’s wide eyes reflected the growing demon fire as he smothered salve on the remains of Sawatari's face.

Arata’s mind was all blackened wood and crackling flames. Only one answer came to him. “Hell.”