The Duty of a Witch Hunter

“Arata, you’ve been enchanted, why can’t you see that?” Kurogane had not moved for minutes, trapping herself as if should she take a step, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself back from punching him.

“What part of it is enchantment?” If his father had found out about Shinutcha, it would have been like convincing the storm not to rain. Kurogane had less steadfast beliefs. “She is allowed this amount of freedom because in exchange she gives me information. And she is harmless.”

“She would not hesitate to kill you even if you were her own father.” The implication was definitely intentional.

"I’m still alive.” Arata gestured wide with his arm. “Her door was open last night, she could have killed me if she wanted to, she could have escaped, but she’s—”

“You didn’t… Arghh.” Kurogane looked like she was close to taking that step. But she considered what Arata said, assuming it was true, and took deeper breaths. "Do you have no sense of self-preservation?"

Arata peered in Shinutcha’s room, saw her cowering in the corner furthest away from the argument, and turned back to Kurogane. “Let’s talk outside.”

By explaining the events leading up to the present, how he acted at the beginning felt borderline unforgivable. Kurogane thought the opposite, she must have presumed the current situation had been the case from the start. With all of his new understanding about witches and her questions included, he only finished speaking as the sun began to dip behind clouds resting on the horizon.

“You’re not thinking of just doing catch-and-release with her, are you?” Kurogane asked as they began to walk.

Back to his internal dilemma. “I don’t know… I did not realise she would be so readily swayed to join our side.”

“That’s what you think?”

Arata bit his words. “There’s a use for her in the force. Giseizawa has a use for her. I just need to introduce Sawatari to the idea.”

“You could always try your father.” Kurogane turned to face Arata, walking backwards. “Surely he’d listen to anything his son had to say.”

“No, he’d be even—”

“It was a joke, I know.” Kurogane grinned for just a second and fell back in line. At least her mood had improved. The sun slipped out of view and they passed a lamp lighter. “I think only the daimyo would be a worse option. So…”

“Yes. So.” Arata clicked his teeth against his cheek. “As it currently stands, Sawatari won’t listen to anything I say, especially not if it involves partnering with a witch.”

Kurogane hummed in thought. “You could prove she’s useful, like if she could put out a fire. But then they might just immediately attack her.”

“I think that’s the only option.” Arata nodded. He looked around, realising how far they walked. They were close to Hinoe’s practice. If Koseki had already woken up or was slipping in and out of consciousness, he could testify on who the monk was and that Shinutcha had no involvement. That would be a great hurdle to overcome, recategorising the witch not as a mutilator but as an orphan.

“And if the pain gave him amnesia to stop him going mad?” Kurogane asked once he explained the change in direction.

“I don’t think that’s how pain works.”

“But just imagine.”

“If he can’t remember anything, we always have other colluders to give information over. One might help.” They turned the corner and saw Hinoe’s practice, with its flag emblazoned with the kanji for 'doctor' outside and underneath, in less neat calligraphy, the word 'mortician' as well. Arata was just about to start speaking again when he saw the edge of the flag darken. It wasn’t a trick of the light or a shadow, he knew it too well. Somewhere, out of sight, a flame had caught hold of the fabric. Hinoe’s practice was burning.

Countless thoughts rushed through Arata’s mind at once but only one seemed to stick. This was his chance to capture the monk. He was glad his habit of bringing a sword with him when he went out hadn't waned in his week off duty.

“Go and inform the fire tower, I’ll find who did this.” He shouted to Kurogane, already taking off running.

"What? There's a fire?" Came her response.

It was freshly started, the house's face still untouched. He pushed aside the door and smoke slithered out from the ceiling. Arata drew up his sleeve across his nose. Images of the last time he was in a burning building without his witch hunter outfit flickered at the corner of his mind. He left them at the door. Following the direction of the smoke confirmed his worst suspicion: it came from Hinoe’s patient room.

He turned a corner of the house and met a blast of heat from the other end of the hallway. Blue flames crept up the walls and across the floor, erratic shapes that could have been anything from man to beast dancing between them. Drawing Crowsbane and preparing for the worst, he took a deep, braced breath. It could have been the last he had for a long time. Arata sprinted into the flames.

The practice room confirmed his worst suspicions: two bodies, both unmoving, their charcoal skin alight with waves of flame. Koseki and Hinoe. The thought tasted like ash. Hinoe had treated him his entire life and his father before him. He gave his life to the community just for someone to reduce him to that. Disrespectful was too light a word. All of that just to get rid of one witness. Arata scanned the rest of the room—nothing—and he turned just in time to see movement through the flames. The turn of his head stilled the image for less than a second: a pair of figures running through the hallway.

Rage built in his neck like it would boil over. He gave chase on instinct, vaulting stacks of fire, kicking off the wall at a turn in the hallway. Crowsbane cut through the inferno, opening a path towards those who dared to do this. Just as the firebells began, he glimpsed a screen close behind someone—there—and rended the paper in two, stepping outside into the cool night air, a hot wind at his back.

His eyes took a second to adjust. As darkness traded itself for light, he only saw Hinoe’s garden. Neatly arranged rocks, moss, ponds. No sand. They had planned out this route, the best way to escape without notice. Arata bit down. He couldn’t lose them. He had trained for this.

A witch hunter’s vision was said to be on equal standing to an owl’s and he intended to use it, feathers and all. Details sprang out as he focussed. The edge of leaves, ripples in the water, and the rustle of branches as someone ran past. They were still close. The moss was springy underfoot, adding levity to each step. He carried it through, across the rocks, into the trees, until he and the figure were close to collision. It was an improvised draw, a diagonal cut across the body where the point soared like a bird taking flight.

Nagami just had enough time to block before it embedded itself in her chest. It couldn’t be her, why would it be her? She must have had the same opinion, glancing between the burning building and Arata’s ash-covered state. There was no wavering in her guard. Either she was an impressive actress or he had lost them. And in the process, incriminated himself.

“Two dead.” He spoke in pants before she could begin her questioning. “Hinoe and Koseki, both were charcoal inside.”

“How did you arrive so quickly?” She paced around him, towards the house, not showing an edge of uncertainty. Her uniform muffled any hint of body language from showing through—it was in pristine shape. It wasn’t her.

Arata sheathed Crowsbane and raised his arm in apology. “I was nearby when I saw the flames. I rushed inside to see if the witch was still inside. I—”

“And?

“I lost them and attacked you instead by accident.”

Despite her previous masking, Nagami’s disbelief was obvious. Arata hissed out breath. He wouldn’t be convincing her.

“I was with Kurogane before, she can vouch for me.”

Nagami nodded absently and pushed past. “Sawatari will be here soon. Tell her what you said to me and just stay out of our way.”

Arata obeyed. Sawatari took more convincing than Nagami but she didn't have anywhere to be. Eventually she came around.

“Well, there goes our witness.” She muttered as he finished conveying the events.

“There’s no way the witches knew that he survived, a colluder must have slipped the information to them.”

She nodded. The idea had merit. “The same colluder you think might be a monk?”

“If he was in the crowd at the manor house, he would have overheard us saying Koseki was alive. They only struck when it was obvious he would make a recovery.”

The theory settled itself into her composure as the house burnt in front of them. She told him they could bring it to the daimyo tomorrow, it was worth investigating. Only once the building had been reduced to embers did he choose to leave. Kurogane had already collected her ash an hour earlier and bid an early farewell. After muttering a sutra, he took the streets alone, thoughts and regrets his only companion. Like that, everything he relied on to solve the mystery had gone up in flames.

He turned the corner to his house, walked the steps, and reached for the front door. The scent of burning peat drifted over before his hand closed around the lock. He reached for Crowsbane instead.

The sword came down fast and heavy with less than a second to parry. Swords clashed, the impact knocking Arata off balance into the wall. He kept his katana raised as recovered, edge pointing towards the witch standing in front of him. Turushno.