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Discalimer: This story is completely original, any similarities with real events or other work of fiction is merely coincidential.


Death of a ghost.

I.

It was now or never. No one had gotten this close to the Ghost, it had to die. It has haunted slave masters, leaders, demons and beasts alike and without prejudice; it has killed them all. But what’s the most impressive is that it doesn’t only punish those who affect our world, it also goes after petty thieves, rapists, simple murderers and abusive figures.
Why go after all of them, even the petty ones no one notices? Why? It can’t get rid of all evil.
Or can it?
The one question that Sashero had no answer for. Can this…?….Ghost rid us of evil?
Whatever the answer, it was his duty to kill it. It went too far this time, that child needn’t to die. She was innocent. It leaves one conclusion, it developed a taste for blood and it can’t stop.
Sword out, he stalked the woods for it. It came this way. He had it two moments ago. It’s quick and slippery, a talent that saved its life before, but now Sashero had an advantage, Kuaru hurt it with a dagger on its back and Aneko said it felt ready to die.
“Well, it’s going to die by me.” He swore before he set out after it.
The trickling of the droplets hitting his sword set a rhythm, the sound waves will tell him where it is. With his eyes closed Sashero began to walk where the sound bounced back and was slightly duller than the rest of the area. “Stay where you are.”
But the Ghost decided it had a chance to run. Unfortunately for it, Sashero had a different idea, and jumped high enough to see it flee to the west and land right in front of it.
The Ghost by instinct took out both its broadswords, but took no fighting stance: its trademark. Many tried to imitate it to strike fear onto people’s hearts, but failed when hitting a stance.
It was a ghost, or at least that’s how people called it. It never spoke, took a familiar fighting technique, and never ever took the hood off. Nobody knew who it was. If people simply saw its coat fluttering when it moved, it was enough to cause terror: ‘The ghost is here!’ they would yell for miles, never knowing whom it was going to attack. It was the only warning.
And tonight he, Sashero, had it staring at him, two feet away. Its face was covered, but the eyes shone silver at him. A horrible sight to be last seen for a demon or beast, and he glared back at it with yellow eyes.
He growled at it, whoever it was and whatever it had done, for him everyone deserved a fair last warning. “Don’t move.”
The Ghost swung its sword at arm length over its shoulder to its back, swinging it back up from the front, meant to hit him from his leg to his neck, leaving a silver trace in the air simulating a crescent moon (another trademark impossible to imitate). Luckily Sashero foresaw it and took a step back and brought out his whip. With a flick of his wrist he commanded it to slither out noisily and wrap itself around the Ghost’s arm as it came up at the end of the of the attack. It pulled to set itself free, but no one, except Sashero, got away once it was wrapped around its prey.
Being no fool, the Ghost used its other sword to hack the whip, but again Sashero acted against it and prevented and attack on his trusty weapon, moving his already unsheathed sword and blocked the massive broadsword.
It still was a mystery to Sashero how someone this small and thin could handle such heavy swords. One explanation: it had intensive training. How good exactly is this Ghost?
One good thing, the broadsword’s weight was an important variable in this fight, Sashero had to use it to his advantage and using a katana to stop a broadsword backed with physical strength took even more power, one that can take a toll on one’s physical condition. He had to push it away.
He pushed the broadsword back up to go over the Ghost’s shoulder. Sashero took the opportunity and stabbed It square on the chest. The gasp, either from surprise or from pain, was the only sound the only sound, to Sashero, that ever came from the Ghost.
When he drew out the sword from its chest, the gasp was clearly out of pain, and for the first time he saw the Ghost crouch in pain. It has its back resting on a tree. No wonder it didn’t run away, it had nowhere to go but stand its ground.
Now before it died, Sashero had to know who was it that struck such terror amidst those who lived to terrorized and understand why.
Carefully, in case it still had some real strong wishes to live, he approached it to uncover its face. The grand mystery that haunted those who feared it or admired it. Finally, after what seemed too long a moment, he touched its head and began to pull on the hood when the Ghost backed away unsuccessfully. With a sigh of relief that it didn’t get away, he began the task again.
The Ghost was staring down making it difficult for Sashero, who was standing above it, to see its face. The hair was visible, light brown with dark blonde stripes adorned this head, and it was beautiful. After admiring the fact that he and only he has been the only living being to uncover the Ghost, he mustered the courage to crouch down before it and be face to face with it, because whomever it was it stood on his same level. His match deserved to see its equal at a same height, even before it dies.
He let go of the whip and the katana, placing them at both sides of his opponent and with his right hand carefully lifted the Ghost’s face to his eye level.
Green eyes stared at him. The same green eyes that belonged to her, the woman he had confessed his love once.
Arianna stared at Sashero, with his hand now caressing her cheek, and for the first time, she, the Ghost, saw a tear slide down his face.